The word war echoed through Spike’s head. The last war that was fought was for the Crystal Empire and that had been thousands of years ago. How could any species possibly live using war as baseline?
“But what about friendship, friends help each other,” Spike protested.
Ch’tulash leaned back in his chair and delicately folded his claws in front of him. “Consider the implications of that statement. Suppose you needed help and I helped you because we are friends. Your being weak has caused me an inconvenience. Therefore if you were truly a good friend, you would endeavor to be strong enough not to burden me. Furthermore, as your friend, I would be doing you a grave disservice by helping you.”
“That doesn’t make sense! How is helping me not helping me?”
Despite Spike’s outburst the elder dragon’s demeanor remained placid. “Tell me, young Spike, have you ever encountered a difficulty you thought yourself unable to surmount?”
“Well sure, this one time in the Crystal Empire-”
“Ah yes, forgive the interruption but I have heard that tale. It also serves to illustrate my point nicely. No one helped you deliver the crystal heart. You were forced to face your fears and, in the end, you emerged stronger.”
Spike was forced to reluctantly agree. “Well, kinda but Twilight was there too.”
“But it was you alone who delivered the heart and won the admiration of the empire. Had Twilight done it for you, you would never have been forced to face your fears.” The ambassador paused to let his lesson sink in. “If I am truly your friend, then I want you to be the strongest possible version of yourself, and only by confronting our weakness do we gain strength.”
“But what about whelps, and dragons who are sick or old? You’re telling me that it’s okay to steal their hoard?” Spike asked, thinking he found a loophole that would cause all of dragonkind to re-evaluate their thinking.
“We are not heartless!” the elder dragon said, pounding his fist on the table. Ch’tulash took a moment to regain his composure. “Of course we care about our offspring; they cannot be expected to contribute to a families hoard until they mature. And the elderly are venerated as they should be. There is no honor is claiming gold from a dragon whose wisdom now outstrips his physical abilities. Of course, dragons live a long time, and very few live to see an age that old.”
“It still doesn’t seem right to take other dragons stuff just because you’re stronger than they are.”
“You asked how dragons see the world; I have answered your question. That you are unsatisfied with my answers does nothing to change them,” Ch’tlash said unfolding his claws as if to say “this is all I have to offer”.
“I’m sorry. It’s just I didn’t realize dragons saw things so differently than ponies did.”
The elder dragon nodded in contrition. As an ambassador, arguing with those who possessed fundamentally different viewpoints from his own was pretty much the entirety of his job. “We are different creatures young Spike. Through no fault of your own, you make your home amongst the ponies and that has shaped your world view more than your bloodline.”
Despite it being a rather obvious declaration Ch’tulash’s words struck a nerve with the young dragon. This wasn’t the first time he was made aware that he was missing a part of his cultural heritage, but it did make him wonder where his egg even came from. It wasn’t hard to imagine that in a different life he could have been raised under very different circumstances; it also raised another question. “Do you know how I came to live with ponies?”
Ch’tulash shrugged, the muscles in his shoulders bulging slightly. “I’m afraid it is not as much of a mystery as you would hope. A female’s clutch has many eggs, until they are hatched they are but ornamentation. It is not unusual for un-hatched eggs to end up as novelties in far away kingdoms. It is almost unheard of that another creature could hatch a dragon egg, but that is a mystery for another time.”
“So my real parents?”
For the first time since they met Ch’tulash expression softened. “They could be one of a thousand dragons. The last time they saw you, you were but an egg that held no more value to them then the lamp next to their bed.”
“Oh,” Spike said, his gaze downcast.
Ch’tulash opened the front drawer to his desk and pulled out book. It wasn’t a very thick one, maybe 100 or so pages depending on the type face and how large the index was. The maroon jacket was well worn and the title read Hoard in gold flaked letters. Ch’tulash turned it over in his claws a few times before reaching out and offering it to Spike.
The young dragon took it gingerly. As far as he could tell it was merely a book, but years of living with Twilight had taught him that even mere books were worthy of respect.
“That book is one of the seminal works of philosophy ever written by a dragon. I believe it may have some of the answers you seek.”
Spike stared at the weathered tome in awe; much the way an archeologist would stare at a relic thought to be previously lost. “I spent all of yesterday in the library, how come I couldn’t find a copy in there.”
“Not many exist, the ones that do are often part of very large hoards.”
“So this is part of your horde?” Spike asked with a raised eyebrow. “And you’re just giving it to me, isn’t that helping me?”
Ch’tulash smiled at Spike’s nascent grasp of dragon culture. “I prefer to think of it as reuniting a lost dragon with his birthright.”
Spike spent the rest of the day reading the gift he had been given. It was written by a dragon named Bel'Terras. The narrative of the book described a symposium wherein a bunch of dragons sat around debating what it meant to be a ‘good dragon’. The protagonist of the book, if that term could be applied, was a dragon named Balroth. Balroth would go on long diatribes about how a dragon should be strong and wise and how weakness was a danger not just to yourself but to those around you. Sometimes a dragon named Nefalon would interrupt to ask the questions Spike was thinking; “What about fairness?” the fictional antagonist had asked in the middle of a long sermon about how it was immoral to let a weaker dragon keep that which you also desired. Each of Nefalon’s questions were met with a sharp rebuke and Balroth would be allowed to continue his musing.
According to Balroth, strength was the most important thing a dragon could cultivate. Nature had given them an instinct to hoard, and denying this instinct would be to deny what they were. Rather, they should embrace it and strive to do as they were meant to do. To be a good dragon was to be a strong dragon, and to be a weak dragon was the greatest of all possible evils; and every possible decision could be weighed in those terms. Favors were done between friends, only when there was a mutual beneficial arrangement to be had. Peace was pursued when the cost of war outweighed the gains for all parties.
There were a few passages that approached a school of thought Spike could recognize as morality. As Ch’tulash had mentioned, taking gems from a whelp was deemed immoral. For one, the gems didn’t belong to the whelp; they belong to his or her parents. But also there was no strength to be gained, nor lessons to be imparted, by bullying children or the infirm.
Spike didn’t agree with most of what he read, but it did make sense, in a logical sort of way. If Fluttershy had been braver, or stronger, she wouldn’t have needed his help and then he could dig for gems with Rarity ensuring more gems for both him and her. The thought of Rarity spending time with Treble sent a fresh wave of pain through his heart.
But this time instead of trying to bury that pain, he used is as fuel for his fire as he forged his new dragon code.