Ugh...

He awoke to murmurs around him. He attempted to stand but it felt like his back had been nailed to the ground. He sat up groggily, tilting to the side to land on all fours before shaking his head to dispel the cloud of confusion. The incomprehensible murmurs and grunts in the crowd accompanied his journey back to reality and as soon as his mind started settling, he did his best to rifle through his closest memories.

"Good morning, calf!!", a boom assailed his left ear. Alarmed, he twisted to identify the source of the sudden noise and leaped back to distance himself from the potential threat.

Ding!

'That hurt! -'

A peal of laughter jarred him from considering the pain further and a raucous ensued as the crowd joined in on the laughter over his misfortune. He'd hit the alarm tin attached to the tree behind him on the way back and apparently, this constituted some form of comedy for these beasts. His mishaps always seemed to. LongHorn approached him and as he leaned towards Calf's face, a sudden silence settled on the crowd. The disorderly crowd split into two groups, moving away from each other to create a clear path to Calf and LongHorn. A group of important-looking people approached them, led by a small contingent of the royal archers and trailed by a single centaur. The centaur's stature was diminutive when compared to the royal archers but his majestic set of antlers, paired with the palpable thrum of ether emanating from him eclipsed the whole contingent.

The only match for his presence was the bull in the middle, whose stature outshone them all. The ground shook with each step and his whole body would sway towards each plant of a hoof. Several gulps could be heard in the crowd but no one dared even whisper a syllable. The group finally made it to Calf. The royal archers made way for the bull and the stag, who stopped directly in front of LongHorn and Calf. LongHorn righted himself and stepped to the side, nodding towards Red, the imposing bull, and bowing his head to face the space between Red and the centaur. Red stepped forward and stood next to LongHorn.

"Some things never change hey, cadet! Now hurry along will you, and try not to trouble your superiors overmuch, you are not here as a guest this time around", rumbled Red.

He hadn't even bothered looking at LongHorn when addressing him. This supposed display of disdain was meant to show impartiality towards Poncho the Longhorn, one of his sons, but Calf knew better than to take the gesture at face value. LongHorn acknowledged the command with a deep bow of his head before departing. There was no sense of urgency in his saunter but seeing as Red indulged him, the rest of them had no choice but endure. Once he turned the far corner and his hoof clops receded, Red's attention was directed at Calf.

"So, princeling, or is it still officially 'Calf'? Things haven't changed here as well I see. Ever the infant..", addressed Red, letting the unfinished sentence thicken his insult.

"Ehem! Last I checked General, our duties as Royal Officiators only extend as far as announcing the Prince's results. Deliberations on the next steps and his naming will be left to his highness and the oracles", intoned Green, the centaur.

"Ever the moderate, ay, Warden. Well, not that I'm that interested, but this is his eighteenth... I mean 8th Generation testing, no heir has ever required such accommodations. Even taking his shortcomings as half a being, this is just...", Red trailed off.

The general turned to walk away from the fallen Calf without another direct word to him. The warden took his place, offering a hand to help Calf up. He dusted him off and squeezed his shoulders in encouragement.

"There you go my Prince, no matter what setbacks you face, you should learn from every experience and pick yourself up again. That said,", he turned his back to Calf to address the gathered masses, "I hereby declare this session of the annual testing complete! All cadets, orderly report to your instructors for grading in the order of your testing names".

Green and the royal guards held their positions as the cadets filed away for their grading. Green escorted Calf to the King's residence once the town circle cleared. The escort left him to his thoughts and Calf finally felt the dread of the situation sink in. He was on his way to see the King, a failure for the 8th time in a row. He'd done his best, gone above and beyond, and used all the knowledge he had gained over the last 4 years for this trial. The first few trials had been a total bust. At that time no amount of wit could have bridged the gulf between his human attributes and those of the Taurs. He'd hit a growth spurt in his fourth year with the Taurs and though it wasn't enough to triumph over the trial, he'd managed to hang on long enough to learn from the experience.

In his fifth year his habits had earned him another derogatory name, 'Chaff', for like chaff he'd blow from vocation to vocation without ever qualifying for a grading. He didn't mind, for this whimsical act allowed him to study his opponents with minimum suspicion. He'd singled out a class of opponents to tackle for the three years before his final chance. He'd then bet everything on it and failed. He'd almost done it, he'd had a measure of most of this year's crop but LongHorn's addition to the ranks had been unexpected. This had raised the difficulty of his trial, but that hadn't been what had doomed his attempt. No! That last arrow that had held him in place for LongHorn to finish him off. The fact he hadn't detected the archer spoke volumes of their skill and the fletching was also telling. He hadn't had time to look at the knots and feathers but from the way, the arrow had pinned him to that trunk, and the fact someone had gone out of their way to dust away traces of the fletching told him more than inspecting it ever could. Green had noticed something from the feathers left on his person and had acted to conceal... something.

Calf did not suspect Green of enacting the foul play himself but assumed he had dusted off the evidence to protect someone. Either someone in his camp or under his tutelage, for though he held the moniker 'The Impartial', he was still a teacher and thus not above protecting his charges. He wanted to voice his frustrations but held his tongue, for confronting Green with his suspicions would not do him any good. Green might ignore his tirade, or circle the wagons around whoever he'd acted to protect. This would not only make his investigation all that much harder with a vigilant Warden but he would have alienated the Warden in the process. One of the few people who seemed willing to at least indulge a possibility of him growing into his role as heir to their land.