9: The Interview

I felt like a pig who was being weighed and scrutinized before being bought, while in the lineup of knights who had signed up to advance to King's Guard. It was simple, all we had to do was stand before a panel of judges, if that's the proper term. And then go to a room where they asked us quite personal questions.

When it was finally my turn, I approached the door, sweaty, feet aching from standing for so long, and nervous for who knew what awaited me behind those doors. Two middle aged men and a woman: a human, a griffin and an enlarged fairy, awaited me behind the door.

"Sit," the griffin said, motioning to the chair between us, eyes glued to the papers before him.

I took the chair and sat, knowing full well that the fairy and the human were watching my every move.

"Mo Dalk?" The scrawny yet well-dressed human man said.

I nodded. "That's me."

"It says here you were a page and squire to Darrell Dalk?" The griffin said, still flipping through and staring at the papers before him.

"That's right." The words sour on my tongue. Lies are always sour.

The griffin cleared his throat and finally raised his head. As our eyes met, my self-esteem plummeted. His eyes were like the sun, they easily made one feel weak and insignificant.

"Alright let's not dwadle on the unnecessary details," said the griffin. "What are you?"

Why was that such a popular question?

"I'm sorry I don't quite understand the question," I confessed.

"He means what race are you?" Said the fairy woman in a thin whiny voice. I couldn't help but stare at her glittery butterfly-like wings.

I nodded and thought my answer through. "My parents are mages."

"Alright so you are fully blooded mage," the human jotted down.

"No," I said, "I was adopted."

"Then who are your real parents? What are they?" The griffin asked, his tone growing irritated.

I gulped, feeling the sweat slide down the back of my neck. "I don't know who my real parents are."

Philip promised me this was going to be a breeze. Look where trusting him got me.

The griffin scrutinized me with his remarkable eyes. "Why do you hide your face?"

I swallowed. "They're quite hideous. I don't like scaring people, so I hide them with the scarf." For the first time ever, I pulled my scarf down for someone to see. And as soon as it was off, the griffin's eyes widened, and so did the fairy's and human's. It always felt unnerving to have people look at my bare face.

"My word," the griffin gasped. "Are your parents still in contact with your real parents?"

"My parents are not available at the moment," I said, swallowing a hard lump in my throat.

"Can you breathe fire?" Asked the human.

I was very uncomfortable. But I had to get through it. "Not always."

They exchanged astonished looks. "Do flames hurt?" The fairy asked.

"No."

"Are you strong?"

"Well, strong enough." How did she expect me to answer that?

"Do you do magic?" The human asked.

"No, I don't think I can."

"Not an elf or mage," the human muttered to himself.

"If that is all from both of you," the griffin said, eyeing the fairy and human. "Then we'll send her off for now." And to me he said, "you pass, you may leave." If he had tried to hide his eagerness he had done so poorly.

I passed. Yay?

~~~

Philip was waiting for me by the manor gates. But when I returned to him he was flirting with a beautiful woman.

As his eyes landed on me, realization filled his gaze. He whispered into the woman's ears, she kissed his cheek and left, making sure to sway her hips as she did.

"Where did your little lady friend go?" I asked him.

He watched her leave biting a lip. "I'll see her around."

I gagged. "Yeah, make sure I'm not around to see it."

He eyed me suggestively. "Jealous much?"

"Conceited much?" I scoffed.

"Oof."

"Oof, indeed," I agreed.

He let out an infectious laugh. "How did it go?"

"Passed."

"Victory hug?" He stretched his arms out for an embrace.

I chuckled. "No thanks."

He retracted his arms and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, as if to hide his failed attempt at a hug. "Don't fall for me."

"Trust me, I won't."

"We'll see." He smirked. "So who interviewed you? The old griffin?"

"Yeah, know him?"

"He interviewed me too." He smiled to himself, then remembered I was still here. "We'll have to work on your combat skills, fitness and special abilities, the others I'm sure you can work on yourself."

"Yeah, I think so."

"Combat skills and special abilities is a must. Let's get started shall we."

We took a passing carriage to the outskirts of the town where we'd practice. It was quiet and cold out there, you could kill a person and hide their body not to be found for days, months and even years. Because people were too focused on their little lives in town to care about what happens out here, but let's not dwell on that, it was a nice place to practice.

Philip threw me a wooden stick. I caught it midair.

"Let's start with the basics," he said, swinging his own wooden stick. "Knees apart, stand firm like your trying to poop, shoulders back, never hold the pommel, keep your hands on the handle." He spoke like an actual teacher, I forgot for a moment that he was just a showoff. "Why don't we try a simple duel; I'll go easy on you."

My arms felt like strings. Hopefully my motivation made up for my limpness. But I was afraid my lack of motivation would add to my limpness. I held my stick in both hands and held it over my shoulder.

"Calm down, you look like I could tip you with a finger and you'd fall over." Philip held his sword towards me.

I growled. "Try me."

He perched a brow. "Okay, I like that attitude. Keep it up, I guess? Let's begin!" He swung his sword, I swung my own. Our swords clashed. That's when he twisted his hand, thrust and poked me in the chest with his sword.

"Ouch," I said, more amused at how easily I could've died than actually in pain.

He moved his sword and swung, I parried and again our swords met. In a split second he turned his hand and drove the sword forward towards my throat. "And you're dead."

We lowered our swords. "I watched you fight Kent," Philip said. "He was able to outweigh you with his sword because he used the lower thicker end of his sword to push the lighter thinner end of your sword, the tip, down. In that moment you could have disengaged or moved your own sword but he probably already picked up that you have probably never used a sword in your whole life. No matter how strong you are, you can't defend with the difference in weight."

"I noticed." I nodded.

"Why don't we try that and you see for yourself."

Again our swords met, but this time I forced my sword forward and pushed his sword down.

Philip smirked. "I went easy on you."

I knew he did.

We tried out different techniques and methods which mostly ended in me almost getting stabbed but I could feel that I was getting a hang of it. I was getting used to having the sword be a part of me. I don't know if that scared me more than it amused me.

A (long) while, blistery hands and achy feet later we found a rock to rest on, eat bread and drink ale.

"Do you ever use your fire?" Philip asked.

My hand froze just as I was about to eat the last of my bread. I regarded Philip, then looked across to the fields. I could've told him about how much I wished I couldn't but I didn't need his sympathy. "Sometimes I start camp fires, but only around my family."

"Well can you make one now?"

I chewed the last of my bread and leaned against the rock. Swallowed and sighed, with that sigh came a release of flames from my mouth.

"Whoa," he whispered. He bristled, suddenly turning to face me completely. "Do you know why you passed?"

I faced him as well. "Why?"

"Because you're a Vuruk, your parents are of different races. And I have a feeling one was a dragon."

a/n: if you're secretly a sword fighting master forgive me for that disgrace of a sword fighting scene. how r u liking the story so far?