"Hahaha! You've done it now, welcome to your path!" the old man laughed in congratulations, but Calf couldn't help but pick up the undertones of mockery in his tone. He was sure he'd succeeded since the old man hadn't spoken against his methods, but something didn't feel right, what was the reason for his mocking? The voice was then accompanied by a figure as the old man materialized before Calf. He tapped his crutch to the wraps on his left leg, which seemed to creek at the impact. Like over-dry cakes of mud, the wraps flaked off the leg, which he then brought down to the ground, supporting his stance along with his right leg. He held the crutch up, which folded upon itself before flattening into a pelt-like form. He opened his left eye, which had remained shut till now, revealing a milky film over it. He blinked the film away, revealing an eye as healthy and piercing as the right one. The man straightened and Calf watched as a few years fell off him, leaving a spry man devoid of infirmity in front of him. The man approached Calf, tapping him on the forehead before directing his attention to the moon with a finger. The moon hit its zenith and Calf's vision blurred as an intense pain shot to his temples. He rubbed them this time, only stopping when the ache subsided.

He looked around and was shocked at what he saw. All this time he'd thought he was undertaking the standard test of exception, but if his eyes were not deceiving him, then the old man had done that instead. The trees around him were an assortment of unfamiliar shapes and hues. Given how familiar he was with their capital and the surrounding areas, this place was way beyond the bounds of their capital. He looked up, taking in the now glowing rooster with an arrow attached at its breast. A few drops of silver blood dropped from its wound, sizzling on contact with the ground. It wiggled briefly, failing to shake off the improvised net around it. Failing on its first attempt it adopted a different approach, drawing in a deep breath, puffing up to a surprising ball of feathers, and expelling the arrow at its chest by consequence. The net rose a bit with the efforts but not enough for the bird to shake it off. The bird's chest stopped expanding and as if in resignation, it exhaled. Surprisingly, instead of the chest shrinking back to its previous proportions, the rest of its body grew with the exhalation. Once the rest of its body was in proportion to its chest, it continued growing uniformly till the net ripped from the expansion. The bird stood at tenfold its original height and even wider by the end of the transformation. The bird and the perch were now quite the site, the slender branch beneath it none-too-strained, for it remained steady under all the supposed weight of the gigantic bird. A single spread of its wings produced gales that buffeted Calf, spinning him before depositing him on his bum. With a beat of its wings, the rooster took for the mountains further east, leaving a still reeling Calf in its wake.

⯁ ⯁ ⯁

"What was it again? '... and normal roosters crow at the break of dawn, but this one...'", the man quoted his own words with a grin before pausing for effect, "... does not crow at all! Hahaha".

Calf’s anger bubbled up in response to that laugh and those words. He'd been tricked into taking the extended test, betrayed into urgency, and he had been so close to failing. Though he'd met the requirements for the test the old man had given him, he couldn't be sure what his prize would qualify him for come dawn. As if reading his thoughts, the old man went into a long berating speech, rubbing salt on the fresh wounds of his trickery.

"And trust comes back to bite you, Mankind's orphan. Exiled in a foreign land, hungry for your own people's validation and so empty even lies fill you. Far removed from the tales of your forefathers you fail to see what would be obvious to them, ignorant of the forces above your and your captors' ancestors…"

Each word from the monologue was like a blow to him, drawing his patience taut till it snapped. Driven by the urge to swing at the cryptic and pompous man, he sprung to his feet and lunged. The man threw his burden into the air as he approached, attracting Calf with its ascension. When Calf faced forward again the man had vanished, reappearing behind Calf’s over-extended form, and grabbing him by a foot. The man raised a hand and held him up by the foot, growing larger till he held Calf a meter off the ground. With his free hand, he produced two anklets made of fresh monkey oranges held together by snaking vines. He attached an anklet to each of Calf's ankles before letting him drop face-first to the ground. Calf extended his arms in time to save his face from meeting with the ground directly, but the momentum still ensured he wouldn't get out of this unscathed. He rolled on impact and took a second to calm his emotions having resigned to the fact this man was more than he could contend with. He got up, dusted himself off, and tried to take a step backward but failed to lift the foot. Testing his foot, he found it easy to lift the front when anchoring on his heel but the moment he tried to lift the back foot, the new anklets weighed him down.

"Easy there, they will relax their pull once we're done with this portion. My challenge has been completed and now, your rewards."

The old man held out a hand, catching the parcel he'd thrown into the air earlier. He unfolded the skin, presenting two obsidian objects and two folded napkins of polished brown skin. The black objects could be likened to scalloped arrowheads, albeit overlarge even for the Taurs. They were both in the older styles, the first long and slender with slight protrusions, flanges for the hafting; whilst the second was stockier with a narrowing tang. He wrapped the blunt end of each piece with a napkin before throwing them towards the rooster's former perch. They landed with a satisfying thunk, embedding into the trunk.

"As promised, 'a reward that is more than fitting', and in black to symbolize subordination. Find a master fitting and gift these arrowheads to them as the price for your apprenticeship. As for the throne, collect the droplets of the rooster's congealed blood and present them to the King. They might wash away the stain of your shame as you accept your new station or better yet, buy you another 8 years of retrials. Now that the rewards have been conveyed, I shall take my leave."

The old man snapped his finger and disappeared, the only remnant of him a broken sandal.