A Question of Tine - 2. Of Tradition and Honor...

In the fading light of the setting sun, Tine plucked another blade of grass, stripped it into three parts, and wove them together to form a ring before idly looking down into the center field of the natural amphitheater and wondering how much darker it would have to be before tonight’s match would be finished. Down on the field, two contestants – a student named Aife and the Imperial called Esban - were sparing while the rest stood in two distinct groups. On the near side were the remaining four Imperials, and on the far side were the dozen or so students who had been chosen to engage the Imperials tonight. As per custom, all the contestants had stripped to their skin. Tine had been playing close enough attention to the contestants to notice there was no significant physical difference between the Imperials and the students, unless size mattered; even he could see that the Imperials were somewhat larger than the students, some by a head and shoulders, although they were supposed to be of a similar age – somewhere between sixteen and twenty years.

It was a tradition that the year-tens challenged the Imperials to various feats of skill, and it made sense to Tine that the students chosen would be those who had the most experience. But, it was still boring for those who were required to be in attendance but not allowed to participate. Like the year-eights, which is why Tine sat in the grass, watching, sort of. At the school, staff was the first weapon taught to the boys, often mastered before they were officially old enough to attend classes. Tine had no idea when the Imperials learned any of their weaponry, but it seemed that they were always better than the students. It didn’t seem to matter which two fought at any given time, either, although certain pairings were more interesting to watch. Around him, his year-mates had picked their favorites and cheered loudly when they were called forward. Many favors had been exchanged between them as one or another of the contestants won or lost. The students didn’t often win, but the betting made the matches at least a little enjoyable.

Unfortunately, Tine was not truly interested in the sparring, betting, or even in the Imperials. Just this morning he had received his Whites, and he needed to think of a way to break the news to his near-brother, Aiden; preferably before he would be required to take on the responsibility that came with the uniform.

Tine’s attention kept drifting to the Imperial with the long black hair -- the one that was introduced as Bra-Neche. He thought it odd that one of the Imperials that came out to their school would have a noble honorific; none of the others had one for as long as he could remember. None of the instructors had one either, at least not one they used. He also noticed that, unlike the other Imperials, Bra-Neche kept looking around, including back toward where he was sitting weaving another grass ring. As he finished weaving his latest ring he smiled and nudged Aiden. Aiden looked questioningly at Tine who grinned as he slipped it onto his best friend’s finger. At that simple gesture, Aiden smiled the smile that Tine had grown to love, the one that threatened to move them beyond friends. Then Aiden blushed and returned his attention to the field, which caused Tine to redirect his attention to the field also -- just in time to catch Bra-Neche scowling in their direction. Tine scowled back and made a rude gesture.

The Imperial snarled, curling his lip and narrowing his eyes. The image prompted Tine to laugh aloud and his laughter caused the instructor sitting a row up and a few students over to glare in his direction. Aiden elbowed Tine in the ribs for bringing unnecessary attention to the two of them. Tine could not help himself and continued to giggle, causing the Imperial to continue to scowl and turn more fully to face Tine.

Finally, the instructor, Jivan, stood up and came to stand in front of Tine.“You find the demonstrations amusing?”

Tine burst out into a fresh bout of giggles, causing his cropped blond curls to bob around his face as he shook his head, contradicting himself.

“He’s not usually like this, sir,” Aiden said to Tine’s defense.

Jivan arched a single eyebrow, “Really?”

Tine began hiccupping, punctuating his giggles as he tried to catch his breath and regain some semblance of dignity.

“I think you need a lesson in reality. Up on your feet,” Jivan told Tine.

“Yes sir,” Tine managed to gasp out between giggles and hiccups. The grass rings he had made fell to the ground at his bare feet when he stood. Tine did not argue, like all the students he learned early that arguing with the instructors was an exercise in futility. They were always right.

Jivan led Tine over to Yani, the weapon’s master, who was in charge of this competition. “Tine has agreed to give a demonstration of his skill with the staff.”

“Has he now?” Yani asked as he looked Tine over. He was one of the smallest boys in his year, but he had mastered staff like all the rest.

Jivan glared at Tine, who had not stopped giggling. “Yes, he has. Haven’t you Tine?”

Tine nodded his response as crimson crept up his cheeks.

“Well then I suggest you pick yourself a stave, then, Tine, while Jivan and I go see which of the Imperials would like help you with your demonstration.”

Tine headed over to the staves and picked each of them up, testing for balance, weight, and length. He found one he liked with little trouble and gave it a few swings. Satisfied, he moved over to the prep area where he stripped off his clothing. After neatly folding his well-worn, faded-brown, homespun tunic and trews and laying them on the grass, Tine stood waiting near the year-tens in just his skin. Most of the year-tens ignored him, which wasn’t uncommon; he was just a year-eight after all.

By the time he was able to look over his competition, the black-haired Imperial who had scowled at Tine had stepped forward. The other Imperials seemed to be teasing him good-naturedly. It was immediately apparent to Tine who he would be facing for his ‘demonstration’. He felt his skin flush with excitement.

“You need to keep that under control,” Aife commented as he stepped over to Tine, plucking the younger boy on his cockhead.

Tine cried out in pain and gripped the stave in his hand in an effort to not knock the older boy on his arse.

“I’m sure you’ve been paying attention,” Aife continued, “but, in case you haven’t, sparring with an erection is bad form, so keep it under control.” Aife cocked his head and looked Tine over, “You think you can take him?”

Tine nodded and hiccupped.

“Well good luck then, because I’m sure he will try his damnedest to take you. I know I would if I were him.”

Aife patted Tine on the arse just as Yani called for the two contestants. Aife grinned at Tine’s blush then moved back over closer to the other year-tens as Tine took his place in the arena.

The difference between Tine and the Imperial was clearly apparent as they entered the combat area. Tine began giggling in earnest again at the absurdity of it. The Imperial scowled as they came face to face, bowed, and stood at the ready. Yani held them there for several long minutes, while one glared and the other giggled, in an attempt to give them a little more time to settle down. Then he signaled ‘go’ and got out of the way.

The rhythmic tapping began, interspersed with deep-throated grunts, and, eventually, heavy breathing. Tine held his own, working up a good sweat in the process. His focus narrowed to just his opponent, their staves, and himself. He didn’t score many strikes, but managed to block everything the other youth threw at him. He was, however, unprepared when his opponent managed to manipulate himself close enough to press their staves tightly between them.

Breathing deeply and a bit raggedly, Bra-Neche’s nostrils flared as he caught a whiff of Tine’s scent. Then, their eyes locked. Tine saw the nearly black pools come alive with swirls of color. His heart raced, and not just from the exertion of the fight as blood rushed low. Tine pushed hard, taking advantage of the lull in the action to regain some control over the match. Bra-Neche swung his stave wildly, but only managed to knock them both off balance and into the grass, landing, somehow, with Tine on top. Relative size forgotten as their skin came into contact, Tine attempted to pin his opponent and make him yield, to submit as he had been taught. He pressed his body tightly against the other youth, discovering he was not the only one displaying bad form. Thinking he might have a little advantage, Tine grunted out, “Give?”

Bra-Neche lifted his hips, pressing his fullness hard against Tine’s groin, “Give what?” he asked as he rolled, taking Tine with him. The youth planted his hands firmly on either side of Tine’s head just above the shoulders with his knees between Tine’s legs.

Not unaccustomed to wrestling, although not typically during a staves demonstration, Tine managed to wrap his limbs around Bra-Neche. Tine’s buttocks came in contact with his opponent’s crotch again as his fingertips brushed against a differently textured patch of skin along Bra-Neches’s spine. When Tine moved his hand downward, the strip was slick, but when his hand moved upward, it was rough, nearly cutting him. Bra-Neche sharply sucked air and narrowed his eyes to mere slits. Thinking this might be a weakness, Tine stroked his fingertips along the flesh again. Bra-Neche ground his erection against Tine who bucked upward in an attempt to dislodge his rider. Tine could feel silken short hairs and a weapon of another sort pressing its advantage.

“Give?” Bra-Neche asked his eyes sparkling. Tine felt himself falling in those eyes, ready and willing. Responsively, he tightened his leg muscles, pulling their bodies even closer together. . Then Bra-Neche grunted, his back arched, and his eyes fluttered.

The sudden feeling of dampness surprised Tine. He made a small, satisfied grunt and flipped his opponent, sitting purposefully on Bra-Neche’s softening member, his own jutting out proudly for all to see. “Give?” he asked softly, his voice almost a caress. Bra-Neche blushed, but was not given a chance to answer as someone pulled Tine up and off the Imperial, nearly dragging him to the student’s side of the field where Aife sluiced off his flushed skin with cold water. Tine looked over to the Imperial side of the field, his opponent looked up at the same time and they exchanged smiles.

“You did well against him, Tine,” Aife told him as they walked back toward the dormitory buildings in the darkening twilight. “You know they will count that as a loss, right?”

Tine grinned, but didn’t say anything as he was still a little confused about what had happened and what he wanted to happen.

Aife laughed, “You made him loose control. Those guys are taught to be in control all the time and they expect people to be afraid of them. It’s one of the reasons they come here, you know, to learn that not everyone will cower before them.”

“Really?”

“Yep, now let’s get you cleaned up.” Aife said He stopped outside the door to the baths, “They know they aren’t supposed to um… do that… on us.”

Tine blushed, “I didn’t mean to make him…”

Aife laughed again, “Of course you didn’t, I mean, with all that rubbing and bucking and grinding the two of you were engaged in.”

Tine began heating his bath water.

“Make sure you wash really well. If you develop a rash, you need to let your instructor know. Some boys have gotten really sick from just skin contact before,” Aife warned him. “After you wash, you should get to bed; your year should be heading up here anytime now.”

“Thank you, Aife.”

“It’s no big deal. Someone did the same thing for me not too long ago.”

Tine heard the door close and he sank into the warm embrace of the water, remembering the scent and feel of the Imperial. And his eyes. Tine shuddered as his body found release just thinking about those eyes.

Much later, the other boys entered the dormitory room, talking excitedly about the boys who were picked to spend more time with the Imperials. Tine smiled as he heard Aife’s name mentioned, and then he rolled over and went to sleep.

Shortly after Bra-Neche lost to the young human, the instructors gathered their students and began heading back to the dormitories. The students who had participated in the demonstration were gathered as a group and escorted away, presumably to a bath and more lessons. The four other young Imperials gathered a discrete distance from where Bra-Neche was being chastised by Jivan and Deven. They couldn’t help but to hear what was being said, nor could they help but notice that Bra-Neche was paying them little mind, focusing instead over his uncle’s shoulder in the direction the little human went. When they finished, Deven dragged Bra-Neche over to the others and thrust the young lord into their midst.

“Take him with you when you go to feed since he wants to behave as a common…”

“We will take care of him, Deven,” Esban said, interrupting him, as he placed a calming hand on Bra-Neche. “Come along, then, the beast-master said he would have our herd by the river.” Esban guided the still nude Bra-Neche away from the adults. The other three followed, silently closing ranks around Bra-Neche. When they were far enough away as to not be overheard, Reetik looked over at Bra-Neche and grinned, “So, are you going to claim him or is he up for… consideration?”

Bra-Neche looked at Reetik, his expression pole-axed. “You would consider him?”

Reetik nodded. Perow did as well. Canton spoke, “He is a little small, but he has a great spirit. And, he didn’t immediately burn when you marked him. If he’s eligible, I think we all would consider him.”

“I wouldn’t,” Esban said with a chuckle.

“You wouldn’t?” Bra-Neche asked.

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“I do believe the one called Aife and I will be very happy together,” Esban grinned at them. “So you lot consider him claimed.”

The others laughed and congratulated Esban in his choice. Bra-Neche cautiously joined in, and the others accepted his presence much easier than he thought they would.

When they were an acceptable distance from the dormitories, the Imperials stopped to shift forms from human to draconic. The ridge row of scales that each Imperial gained along his spine sometime during puberty swelled upward and outward. Joints popped as muscles and tendons rearranged themselves while spines lengthened becoming more serpentine. Claws grew from nail beds as metatarsals elongated and spread to better balance this form. Noses widened and lengthened into snouts. Fangs replaced teeth as jaws squared and became double hinged. The biggest change, though, was in the eyes where intelligence gazed from kaleidoscopic reptilian orbs.

At approximately thirty cubits long and six cubits high, Bra-Neche, being of the purest blood, was nearly as large as Esban, who was the eldest. However, Esban’s coloring -- red so deep he appeared black in the night -- surprised Bra-Neche who sported multihued scales that collectively appeared black even in the daylight. He had always been taught that the closer an Imperial’s coloring came to black, the truer his heritage. The others ranged in size from twenty to twenty-eight cubits in length with colors as varied as they were, although all were dark hues. The smallest stood just over four cubits at the shoulder while the rest ranged upwards to just under seven cubits.

Moving as quickly and quietly as possible for large lizards, the five headed toward the river and their dinner making quick meals of the fattened cows staked out for them. When they finished, they basked together under the baleful light of the half-full moon in silence as they digested their meals.

“So, will you consider him, Bra-Neche?” Perow asked as the silence of the night pressed down on them.

“My father wanted me to see how you all go about choosing a mate, not choose one of my own. I am to observe only,” Bra-Neche sighed, “but there is something about that boy that makes my mouth twitch and my skin itch. I want to possess him, to see him writhe under me, his eyes fluttering in pleasure. I want to hear him make those soft sounds like the servants do when they couple under the stair at home.”

“Have you ever, um, made a servant make those sounds?” Reetik asked.

“No!” Bra-Neche protested, “I would never put anyone in danger for my pleasure!”

Esban chuckled. “You are aware there are other ways to bring pleasure that does not involve harming them. You do know they are not poisonous to us, right?”

“It’s true, Bra-Neche, there are ways,” Canton interjected when he saw that Bra-Neche wasn’t going to believe Esban. “My brothers told me about them.”

“But…”

“You were probably told that only your chosen could bring you such pleasure.”

Bra-Neche nodded.

“Well, that is true,” Canton said, “but it is also true that you can bring him much pleasure without loosening your laces.”

“And if you bring him pleasure, he may be more willing to consider being considered.”

Esban chuckled at the confusion on Bra-Neche’s face. “Did they also tell you that it was your decision? That they have no choice? That it is an honor they would do well to accept?”

Bra-Neche nodded.

“Would you be honored if someone came up to you one day and told you that you were no longer going to be a Lord, but that you were now going to be a personal servant instead?”

“They would never be…” Bra-Neche started, but Esban silenced him.

“No they would never be a Lord, but most of them dream of becoming Imperial Guards, which is the highest level of achievement they can hope to obtain. When we choose our companions, some of them do not see it as an honor, but as a dashing of their hopes, dreams, and aspirations. Not all of them realize that by being chosen, they are ranked above the Imperial Guards, and that they will have more duties than just warming our beds at night.”

Bra-Neche sat silent for a long time as he considered what he had learned. He was certain they would not tell him untruths, but he was also not totally sure as to the whole truth of it all.

After a while Bra-Neche seemed to have come to a decision when he looked over at Canton and asked, “So, how do I make him want to choose me?”

The four Imperials laughed companionably and started their young Lord on his road to true education.