'You took your time, you skiving whore's son' hissed Padrick. As the nephew of Lord Massant, he'd already made his displeasure clear at waiting on lowly girls and an even lowlier Griffin Master.
'Make yourself useful now!' Padrick thrust a serving tray at him, deliberately angling it so that goose fat spilled down Neb's tunic. Warm greasy liquid surged across his chest. Padrick sneered, and although he was almost a hand shorter, somehow managed to look down his nose. Neb narrowed his eyes; Padrick's stubby pig-like snout filled his vision through a red mist. Drawing back his hand and curling it into a fist, he smashed it into Padrick's face. Padrick stumbled backwards, clutching his nose. The brawny youth collided with a seated trio of girls in pink silk dresses, two of them were knocked forwards, banging their faces on the table. The third, perched on the bench's edge, was shoved sideways. Her hand went down to save herself from falling and a soft wet snap sounded just before a howl of pain. Collecting himself, Neb hurried to pick the girl up. Anderra rose to her feet, her usually serene face twisted with rage. Another howl sounded, and Padrick's weight landed across Neb's back. Seconds later, his fingers locked around Neb's throat.
'Stop this now!' Anderra shouted, pinching Padrick's ear between her finger and thumb and twisting it. Romulus picked the white faced girl from the ground, and shoved her in Chantress Ma'ave's direction. 'See to the lass,' he rumbled. Glancing around at the other students staring wide eyed, he bellowed: 'Stop catching flies. New recruits over there and calm those young griffins down.' Then he grabbed Neb's arm. 'What do you two knaves play at?'
'He started it.' Padrick moaned, crouched over in an effort to get away from Anderra's grip. 'Let go of me,' he added. Anderra tugged tighter on his ear, forcing him to the ground, and only then released him.
'Is this true, boy?' Romulus asked, giving a vicious shake.
Neb gritted his teeth in an attempt to stop them being rattled from his head, and refused to answer. Eyeing Chantress Anderra, Padrick climbed to his feet and dusted himself down.
'He can start things, but I finish them.' he boasted. The next moment Padrick collapsed on the ground, clutching his ear again, staring up at Romulus with a dazed expression.
'Wrong. I finish things!' The grizzled old warrior spat.
'I saw what happened – he deliberately spilled stuff over him.' A dark haired new student pointed confidently from Padrick to Neb.
'Thank you Phillip. No one likes a tattle tale,' Chantress Anderra said. To Neb she said, 'Go and change that tunic. Take those plates with you to the kitchen.'
Thinking his life was over anyway, and wishing he'd punched Padrick harder, Neb obeyed. His shoulders slumped further when he heard Anderra snap at Padrick: 'and you – get up! We expect better things from you than brawling with ragamuffins.'
Padrick got to his feet, smirking. His smirk disappeared when he looked over to see the other recruits already mounted on their preferred griffins. Only Balkind remained. Romulus jerked his head.
'Mount up. I want to be home before sun-down.'
Straightening his red woollen cloak, newly streaked with grass stains, Padrick lowered his head. Then with a grim face, he strode over to the grey griffin, who everyone knew was trouble.