The door swung open slowly. Terync shrugged and pushed it in, not bothering to wait until it swung open all the way on its own. It was exceptionally rude, of course, but Terync was emboldened by the idea that he was somehow earning praise for being somewhat of a rebel.
“There he is, our champion of the day,” the voice was recognizable, even though it was slurred. Ser Meartin was one of the oldest knights still serving in the Order and, despite his advanced years, he was still considered one of the best on the field of combat and at the war table. There were rumors that he was considering retirement, possibly to come and teach armed combat or battle strategies.
What any of that had to do with Terync, he couldn’t even fathom to guess. Stepping into the well-lit room revealed three individuals. Ser Meartin, as he had identified from the voice, was slumped in a chair swirling a large goblet in his hand. Terync would never have picked the man for a lush although he wasn’t terribly surprised. If anyone deserved to live in the cups, it was Ser Meartin.
Next to the drunk knight was a tall lady in a pale blue dress. Her hair was long and raven black, save for a small streak of dark blue running out from her right temple. Across from the both of them, next to an empty seat, was the Commandant.
The man who ran the entirety of the Dragon Knight’s training arm was short, yet exceptionally muscular. It was well known that Commandant Levenstone lived off of about four hours of sleep each night, though no one knew exactly how. He spent half of the remaining day working and the other half working out. He could outrun and outlast any of the cadets, not to mention outeating them. The Commandant was famous for eating as much as four grown men in a single sitting and doing so in about half the time. As was usual, the Commandant’s pet panther lay by his side, nearest the fire, with her eyes closed.
Although he felt bold and slightly rebellious, even Terync knew that proper protocol was required here. He executed a crisp salute, first to the Commandant as he was the highest ranked knight in the room, then to Ser Meartin. He followed it up with an elaborate bow to the lady and was rewarded with a soft smile, barely an upturn at the corner of her lips.
“Are you well and finished whelp?” Ser Meartin muttered, taking a long pull from his goblet, and sighing when it became empty.
The lady shook her head and looked over at the drunk man, “Maybe you should slow…”
“The days of you avisin’… advizz… advising me what to do are over, I’m thinking,” he muttered back with a glare.
“Stop being a child about this,” she retorted. They were clearly familiar with each other which made Terync wonder if they were a romantic couple.
Commandant Levenstone cleared his throat and the two stopped their bickering immediately. Even his panther picked her head up and Terync felt like she was laughing, given the way her whiskers were twitching.
With his two other guests now settled, the Commandant turned his eye to the newcomer. “Sit down Terync,” he ordered gruffly, gesturing to the seat next to him.