A blue flag shot up from the judge’s booth, followed almost immediately by four more. The judges finally regained their senses from the initial shock of it all and pronounced Terync as the victor.
A shrill whistle sounded, signaling the end of the match, and the sound seemed to be the spark that ignited the explosion of sound throughout the arena. The axes fell from Lewis’ limp, seemingly lifeless hands, and the upperclassman dropped to his knees with his head hung down in shame.
All of Terync’s first-year classmates crawled their way over the arena wall, some leaping nimbly while others were simply carried by the tide of bodies, and surrounded their class hero.
Back in the Commandant’s office, Terync paused for a moment from his remembering and looked up at the lady sitting serenely across from him. “You were there,” he said. “I don’t know why I didn’t realize it before but you were sitting in the Commandant’s box, right behind the judges. How is it that I didn’t recognize you?”
The lady shrugged, “Until now, I didn’t want you to.”
“How is that possible? I mean, you’re quite easy to remember in a crowd full of cadets.”
Meartin snorted, “Aye, she is, but she speaks the truth.” He raised his hand up and made twisty motions with his downturned fingers. “She gets all up in your mind, she does. Twists and pulls and plants little seeds. She was doing it during the whole tournament…”
“Enough Meartin,” the Commandant snapped. “The point was to ease him into this. This is a lot to take in, if you don’t remember.”
“You can stop telling me what to do now. I ain’t got any need to listen to you or any knights anymore.” He turned and jabbed a shaky finger at the lady next to him. “And I don’t need to listen you anymore either, so don’t even think about getting up on that high horse of yours.”
“You may not be required to listen to me, but you damn well will while you’re sitting in my office drinking my alcohol.”
Meartin sat back in his chair and muttered something into the cup he raised to his lips. The Commandant ignored the disrespect and turned back to Terync. “What Ser Meartin so unceremoniously alluded to is quite possibly the worst way to phrase what Lady Azulaphael is capable of… what they all are capable of.”
“All? All of who?” Terync was leaning forward again and wore a look of concern on his face. It was understandable given what Meartin had just said, and the Commandant didn’t ease his mind any.
“Dragons dear,” the Lady Azulaphael said in her sweet melodious voice. “Honestly, I would have expected you to have caught on to that idea by now given that you are training to be a Dragon Knight. Where else did you think the name of your order came from?”
Terync fell back in his chair and covered his face with both hands. He took several deep breaths, inhaling like a drowning man and exhaling like a trumpeting elephant. Of course, he knew there must be dragons associated with the Dragon Knights, but he had always thought it more of a symbolic link than a real personal connection. He tried to glance surreptitiously over at Azulaphael to see if he could note any resemblances to what he had read about.
“Every time,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Every time we reveal ourselves to you block headed knights you try to spot the scales and tails.” Terync snapped his eyes in the other direction, embarrassed at being called out for his transgression.
“I tell you,” she continued, “that you need to start updating your classes with some historically accurate texts about dragons. No more of this ten-ton beast with claws and fire mentality. I mean, just because we can doesn’t mean that’s all we are.”
“Dragons,” Terync whispered. “Real, actual dragons.”