“Oh, very well,” he said in a mockingly disappointed tone. “Whelp Terync, you may sit at ease.” He seemed to consider something for a moment before he added, “You may, for the rest of this evening, consider yourself to have knight’s privileges if only to spare my ears from that idiotic phrase you pissants spit out when you’re asked a question.”
The Commandant was referring to the minutes long spiel that the whelps were required to use as one of their only four responses to any question from an upperclassman. The other three responses being, of course, “yes, sir or ma’am”, “no, sir or ma’am”, and “no excuse sir or ma’am”. The long apology, as the fourth allowable response was sometimes called, was another one of those hand-me-down pieces of knowledge. It was also one of those things that seemed to have grown a life of its own with new parts added on as the years went by.
Now, the long apology was more like a speech, yelled in unison by the whelps when asked a question whose answer did not fit neatly into one of the three primary responses. Terync was thankful that the Commandant had relieved him of the need to use the long apology response though, as he never was very good at remembering anything past the first twenty words or so.
Terync had just scooted back and settled uneasily into the comfortable chair when a huge hairy hand holding a large silver goblet thrust itself into his face. “Drink boy,” Meartin snarled. “You’ll be needin’ the courage.”
Terync took the offered cup and considered whether taking a long pull would be wise or not. Judging by how his eyes were stinging, the goblet was full of some pretty potent liquor. Even if he had privileges now, he had no desire to report back to the barracks in an inebriated state nor to wake up before dawn with a hangover. Still, he took a long sip as he would never let it be said that he refused a drink from the fabled Ser Meartin.
He missed the Commandant’s first words because of his sudden coughing fit, followed by a hard slap to the shoulder blades from Ser Meartin that left his ears ringing from the force of it.
“…and she was Ser Meartin’s partner. This is something that is exceptionally unique among a very small cadre of Dragon Knights. To date, there are less than four dozen now in the service. We are a small, but powerful faction within the Order and thus our membership, and the particulars of our individual partnerships is a of the utmost confidentiality. Do you understand so far?”
Terync nodded, though he desperately wished he had been able to catch the lady’s name when the Commandant introduced her. He did have a question though, and it must have been evident on his face. The lady waved her hand as if motioning for him to express his thoughts.
“I suppose I have to ask the eternal question, even though it might make me sound ungrateful, which I assure you I am not… but why me?”
Both the Commandant and Ser Meartin looked over at the lady as if deferring to her completely on this topic. “An excellent question, young man,” she said, folding her hands in her lap and giving him her full attention. “First though, let me reintroduce myself, as I believe you missed it the first time. I am Azulaphael, and though they call me a lady, I have no official title to speak of.”