"No."
"Reku'un, this isn't a matter we can discuss," Figanti said sternly. "There are more lives than this planet at stake! You barely fought off a small pack, what if it was a horde?!"
"Why can't we just stay?!" Draco shouted. "I barely know any of you, even if your are my family, and I've fought too hard for what I have!"
Jerosh placed his hand on his uncle's shoulder, shaking his head. "Reku'un… our father and mother gave their lives to make sure you survived, so that you would one day defeat the Arthanians," Jerosh said softly. "You are only ten cycles and I can feel the powers you have are beginning to surface. Without proper training you'll never be able to fight, and you'll have no control."
"The Loki'irians need a leader, Reku'un," Jaqeluu added. "You were always meant to do this, just as father did."
"Why me? Couldn't any of you lead them?" Draco questioned.
"We don't have the Ashla living within us," Agner sighed. "Reku'un, believe us, we know it will be long and hard for you to understand your role as Makti and it will be even more difficult for you to accept it. But it is what MUST happen."
"You can't abandon your people, little brother," Fermot added. "Think of what will be lost if you do. Your mother, your friends, your home… just like our old home."
Derekosh grunted angrily and slammed his hand down on the table. "Reku'un, I don't give a damn what they're saying. MILLIONS of families have died to keep you alive, including our mother and father!" Derekosh shouted, much to the family's dismay. "And you're going to sit here and say you WON'T go back because of them?! If you don't fulfill your role, they'll all be the next meals and this planet will be a burning wasteland!"
Draco glared into his big brother's, both of them snarling angrily. The door suddenly burst open, and a warrior rushed in. "Figanti, rok (Figanti, sir)" The warrior bowed. "Ut kioket vru belashkek op ut Doshu'um'et agremoet. Jre'ot vuskant ot grull i etcho bendakote ech ot Ragnok (The clans are speaking of the Doshu'um's abilities. They're looking to have a man challenge him to Ragnok)"
The brothers visibly tensed, as well as their uncle, and the princesses noticed. "What did he say?" Celestia asked, recongising her son's Loki'irian name.
"Herr grak brook vutol op ech grasko yurt ut Ashla. Bevi welt ut Ninik grak Hrasgot kioket ando mendofo (Try and spread rumor of his control over the Ashla. Make sure the Nunik and Hrasgot clans hear especially)" Jerosh ordered, the warrior bowing and running out.
"What's wrong?" Draco questioned. His brothers stood and called their Nera'ak mentally.
"The clans know you are inexperienced and untrained," Derekosh growled. "They want a suitable replacement for the Doshu'um."
"They're going to kill him?!" Celestia exclaimed.
"No. We need to make sure they know the Ashla is coexisting with him," Figanti sighed. "But if they are to know he is a formidable opponent, he needs to fully grip his power."
"The rumors won't give us much time," Jaqeluu told them. "A few days at maximum."
"But who is allowed to challenge him?" Luna questioned.
…
"Every Signa ten cycles and older."
Celestia's jaw dropped, as well as Luna's. "The only thing that will give them a second-thought is the Ashla's presence," Fermot said. "But the eldest warriors are all wise enough to know he isn't in full control."
"Reku'un, if we don't train you, ANY of them will kill you and take your place as Doshu'um and Makti," Agner warned. "Please… we've lost enough of our family. The last thing we need is-"
"RAGNOK!"
The doors burst open again, and a daunting warrior with a large axe stepped into the room and pointed at Reku'un.
"Jra bendakote Reku'un ot Ragnok, bevkot'et bruke (I challenge Reku'un to Ragnok, tomorrow's noon)" Netu'ung announced, several Signa behind him.
Figanti and the brothers stood up immediately, their hands hovering near their weapon handles. "Ek Loki'irian druu jru grull i beko ot vankat (By Loki'irian law we have a week to prepare)" Jerosh stated.
Netu'ung growled and placed the weapon on his back, turning to Draco. "Hreek tuvni ut ech'et vreok? (Why delay the boy's death?)" Netu'ung chuckled. "Ech vorcer beart, grak jru burv i Signa ot vex jrim ekte ut vruko'et norktog, elop bruuch ech (He cannot lead, and we need a Signa to lead us into the horde's homeworld, not some boy)"
"Jra'el elop hurtu ot gruhop (I'm not going to fight)" Draco retorted.
"Gruush jra'ol fiik (Then you'll die)" Netu'ung chuckled. He turned with the members of his family, then walked out to return to his ship.
We've been challenged.
I'm not going to fight.
Reku'un, you don't understand. If you are challenged, and you refuse to fight, by law you will be killed by any Signa that gets within reach of you.
WHAT?!
"Nyla isn't lying," Figanti said. "Nephew, your life depends on your choice. If you refuse then, by law, we can't do anything to stop them from killing you. Uncle… Uncle would have to… attack you as well."
Draco, Celestia, and Luna turned to Figanti. "It is my duty as the leader of The League to make sure our race survives and protects," he said sadly. "I'm sorry, Reku'un… but they will all come for you if you don't fight."
"He's your nephew! You can't let them do this!" Celestia shouted, standing up. "I'll have the entire Guard here!"
"They wouldn't stand a chance against one of us, so if you want to WASTE your army, go ahead!" Derekosh shouted back, causing his brothers to sigh. "But if he doesn't fight, and you intervene, they'll kill you all!"
Luna glared harshly at the battle hardened warrior. "You're all savages," she remarked. The six Alamonshuor family members stood up in anger.
"WE ARE NOT SAVAGES!" They said at once. "OUR KIND HAVE PROTECTED THE GALAXY SINCE THE STARS WERE BORN! YOUR PONIES ARE UNTRUSTWORTHY, UNDISCIPLINED, SELFISH, AND WEAK!"
"If the horde came here you'd die by the first cruiser!" Jerosh shouted.
"You barely managed to survive the soldiers! Imagine an army of Alphas!" Agner added.
"It's not our decision! If it was he wouldn't TUVEKOT fight!" Derekosh growled. "But it is a tradition we have always honored!"
"Our fathers and their fathers before them have always done what is best for us!" Fermot yelled. "We must honor them and do the same."
"It was only because of father that Reku'un wasn't going to kill him himself!" Jaqeluu shouted, louder than the rest.
Everything went silent at Jaqeluu's words. "What do you mean kill him himself?" Celestia questioned.
Figanti sighed and sat down, followed by his nephews. "When Reku'un came of age, he would face his father in Ragnok Ukaot," he explained. "He would become Makti and obtain the Ashla from his father's body."
The sisters gasped, and Draco backpedalled mentally.
Is… is that true, Nyla?
…Completely.
"The Ashla doesn't pass on. It only takes a new host, the warrior that can defeat it's current form," Figanti explained. "Reku'un would kill his father, take the Ashla, and lead us like those before him. But my brother… he stayed behind, on the Drigont… so that Reku'un would never need to do such a thing. But before he passed on, he was able to transfer the Ashla into Reku'un. Transferring it caused it to gain more control of it's own actions, and that is why he lost control."
"But it has decided to keep dormant," Jaqeluu said. "Without the Ashla, you'll be slaughtered."
"Unless you allow us to train you," Agner added. "It is the only way, and though we have a week, we can at least give you a chance."
The room fell silent once again, Draco turning to his mother and aunt. Celestia could see the reluctance of fighting… but even she could see the small spark. It was there, ever since he was little. That urge he had to jump onto the roofs of houses and just leap across Canterlot. The impulse to climb as high as he could, to test himself in the smallest of ways. It was camouflaged by conflict of his loyalty to her as a son, but now his life depended on him following his instincts instead of following her words.
"It's your choice, Draco."
He was surprised to hear that from her. He wished for her to have said no, so that he could stick by her word and not have to deal with the arguments. But, aside from the fact he faced death, he had… an urge, to fight. The sound of going against an opponent that was stronger, older, faster, and more experienced made the aspect even more exhilerating. Would he die? Would he survive? Would he be able to lead the Loki'irians? Could he become a warrior stronger than others? He was already better than any griffon, pony, or fighter dragon. The minotaurs would pose a challenge, but they didn't have the abilities his kind, the Signa most importantly, had. His brothers could see the thought turning into an instinctual desire, one that ran through every Loki'irian's blood. They were born warriors, with skills matched by very few. The Signa stood unopposed, the only thing making the Arthanians a threat being their daunting and terrifying numbers. Draco sighed, then turned to his uncle with a spark Figanti had seen in the boy's father.
"We only have a week right?" Draco questioned.
"One day for each of us to train you," Jerosh nodded. "By law, if the battle goes on longer than fifteen minutes, the fight is over. But five minutes is enough for Netu'ung to plow through a battalion of soldiers."
"We'll have very little time, but I'm sure we can show you enough basic techniques to keep you alive," Derekosh scoffed. "But you'll have to go through Nedafan for those six days if you wish to bring out your true Signa nature."
"Even so, we believe in you, Reku'un," Jaqeluu smiled.
"And perhaps, you will reconsider," Figanti shrugged. "The people need you, Reku'un. Your father promised them a time of peace that would last longer than the war last. Honor your forefathers and finish this in the name of all the families we've lost."
Draco looked down to the floor and exhaled slowly. "Let's just get through this training."