[A Date]

"I found her," Camus stated as he approached a tired Miklotov, who had just pulled himself under the sheets for bed. Miklotov gave him a genuinely confused face. Found her? Who is "her"? He was too tired and mentioned the first thing that came to his mind.

"What? Your sword?" Miklotov mumbled, yawning. Camus had allowed one of the newer knights to hold his sword while he went to the bathroom during training today. "I told you not to give to someone you didn't know."

Camus sighed. "No, Mik, I found your date. She'll be meeting you outside the castle at 7 PM tomorrow night," Camus corrected. He began to unbutton his training coat slowly, his slender fingers dancing around each golden button.

"Well remind me tomorrow. I'm tired," Miklotov gumbled before closing the covers over himself. He vaguely remembered Camus walking back and forth a bit, but forgot the rest. He was probably sleeping soon enough.

*****

"Come on. Aren't you excited or something?" Camus asked when he saw Miklotov in the hallway on the way to the dining room. "Today you have your first date."

"Oh really?" Miklotov exclaimed. Had Camus told him before? He had forgotten. "What's the girl's name?"

"It's Theresa. Is there anything else you want to know?" Camus asked. Miklotov shook his head.

"No. I'll find out when I get there," he replied. He locked his fingers together, stretching his arms above his head. A nice name…but it's not like…

"Oh," Camus said, interrupting his thoughts. "Do you want to be surprised?" He probably wondered why Miklotov was diving in without knowing what she liked, etc.

"It doesn't matter," Miklotov replied. I'll find out when I meet her. It's not like I'm going to…change…for her.

"Miklotov, you should have a better attitude. She really wants to meet you," Camus said, stressing "really". Miklotov noticed the slight frown that traced Camus's lips. I guess he might be disappointed in me…he's the dating expert, anyway.

"Okay," Miklotov muttered. Camus cocked his head to see if Miklotov was smiling, but Miklotov had soon changed his thoughts from the date to today's training. It wasn't a silent conversation to the dining hall; it was just a one-person debate with Miklotov rambling on what sword he should use next. Of course Miklotov didn't notice Camus's silence.

*****

"Do I look okay?" Miklotov asked as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. Camus stood behind him, dressed up as well, and smiled.

"Mik, you look fine. You're going to do well tonight," he said. He put his rough hand on Miklotov's left shoulder and whispered, "Just be yourself."

Miklotov said nothing. He felt a bit warm with Camus's reassuring words, but that soon didn't matter when someone knocked on the door. Miklotov started feel a bit nervous as Camus walked swiftly to the door, opened it, and shut it firmly behind him.

Miklotov was a bit confused when after half a minute or so he was still alone in the room and Camus was still talking to the person outside. It's seven o'clock right now. Isn't my date supposed to be here?

Finally after some time, Camus opened the door again. Next to him stood a blonde-haired, pretty girl with a blue dress on. "Hello. Are you Theresa?" asked Miklotov politely.

"Yes. Nice to meet you," she replied. Miklotov walked up to her slowly and took her hand. "I'll see you later, Camus," the girl replied before the two left. Camus smiled back and mouthed "Good luck" to Miklotov. Miklotov was confused when the girl said she would see Camus later, but did not dwell long on it. He had more important things to do.

The two entered the famous Rockaxe restaurant hand in hand. Camus had already secured them a reservation, and they were led to a secluded spot of the restaurant, close to the windows and a view of the sunset. The waiters served them the best dishes in the restaurant, because Miklotov insisted. The girl seemed to smile the whole time, so Miklotov forced himself to return it. When the food finally arrived, Miklotov was amazed at the tenderness of the meat, which was obviously much better than any food he had before. He took one conservative bite and felt the seasoning sting his taste buds. He would have stuffed his face like a ravenous beast if not for Theresa sitting across from him. After swallowing completely the first few pieces of meat that he had cut off, he asked, "So how is the food?"

"It's good," she replied, poking at her beef. She took another tiny slice while Miklotov sipped his ice water.

"That's nice," he replied. The small conversation that he had brought up seemed to fall back down again. An uncomfortable silence pervaded as Miklotov wondered what to say next. He proceeded to out the window as the last bits of the sun vanished beneath the trees around Rockaxe.

"Um, what do you do everyday?" he asked Theresa, looking back at her. She had cleanly finished her portion of meat and now chewed on some vegetables.

"I'm a maid," she replied after swallowing the piece. "You're a knight obviously," she added.

"Yes," Miklotov answered. He wondered where she was going with this.

"I always think that knights are the best of men," she added. Miklotov smiled. It was a compliment too him, and nothing more.

"We try our best to protect Matilda. That is our duty," Miklotov responded.

She smiled, but it seemed like she was frowning at the same time. It seemed impossible, but yet that was what Miklotov was seeing. Did I give the wrong response? I did answer her question…

"How long do you train everyday?" she then asked, flipping her hair. Her plate was completely clean, and Miklotov guessed she had saved her appetite for some kind of dessert. He felt a bit embarrassed to be eating still while she watched him.

"Maybe 5 or so hours," Miklotov guessed. "I train before breakfast by myself and with the others," he added. That sounds about right…2 hours before breakfast, 3 with the others…

"You're dedicated," she replied. "Do you do anything else?" she then asked.

"Not really," Miklotov replied. "What about you?"

"I like to read romance novels," she responded unashamedly. "Have you heard of the book Destiny?"

Miklotov hesitantly answered, "Um…no. I don't read that much." Just then, the waiter asked if the couple wanted desert. Miklotov didn't care for desert, but Theresa ordered a slice of white cake. When the waiter left again, Miklotov continued. "If I do, it's tactical stuff," he added. He thought he saw disgust cross her features, but her smile was present on her lips as usual, so he berated himself for imagining things during the middle of the date.

The table was silent once again. Miklotov told himself that he didn't want to disturb Theresa while she gobbled her white cake, but in truth he had nothing to say. After Theresa finished the cake, Miklotov paid the bill and the two left the restaurant, this time not hand in hand. When they were outside, Theresa pulled him off to the side.

"I'm sorry to tell you this, but you're a really boring person. Think about improving that before you go on another date," she said. The statement confused Miklotov, who thought he did okay because she had smiled the whole time.

"You won't see me again?" he asked, feeling a bit desperate. I failed? Suddenly he had turned this date into a mission, just like a mission he would do for the knights.

"Nope. Goodbye," she said. Without even a wave she turned around swiftly and stalked off. She left no time for a second chance.

"Goodbye," he mumbled before clenching his fists together. Strangely he was not angry with her or with himself but with Camus. How can he raise my hopes up? To think that someone would like me…

He resisted punching the wall. Damn you, Camus. Damn you. With each repetition his fist clenched harder, until his nails imprinted themselves on the palms of his hands.

Deciding to return home, he stalked off silently, mindlessly finding his way to the castle. He went into the room and found Camus asleep, curled up in HIS bed, looking as peaceful as an angel. That scene somehow cooled his temper as he gently lifted Camus from his bed and tucked him in the correct one.

Oh, I forgot that he said that she really wanted to "meet" me, not that she liked me. He could never accuse Camus of anything, not matter what happened. It was unjustified, anyway, to blame Camus when he was the one who twisted the words.

Miklotov threw the covers over his face and tried to fall asleep.

To be continued…