I was bleeding all over. All of my nerves were on fire but there was nothing I could do. The only thing I could do was try and win. Winning means no more pain is what I keep telling myself. My body wouldn’t have it though. Luckily my opponent was just as injured as I was, if not more. It was just a matter of who would collapse first. Maybe I should back up a little bit. Maybe even start at the beginning. Yeah, I think I’ll start at my horrid childhood. As a child, I lived on the outskirts of Viking Port, the beach city of Diamondor. My father worked as a restaurant owner in the middle of the city. My mother stayed at home with me. I was a lonely child, mainly because there were no neighbors where I lived. The nearest home was about three miles away and we almost never went to town because my father did all the shopping for us on his way to and from work. So I never got any social practice before going to school. My only practice was playing with my mother. But that was not nearly enough for the spoiled brats of Viking Port’s elite rich citizens. Little old me, who was practically a country boy, was no match for them. And by match I mean with swords. In Diamondor, fencing is celebrated as the country’s national sport. I had never even held a sword, let alone fought with one. My first match was involuntary and was against one of the best kids in the class, whose name was Cramer. Cramer was the popular kid in school and even though we were only in 1st grade that made an effect on himself and others. I think it made him feel as if he were invincible. He had blond hair and shocking blue eyes. Basic handsomeness for back then, even though he was a bit short. I was essentially the complete opposite. With black hair that continually fell into my eyes and super dark blue eyes like the ocean, I would later be described as tall, dark, and handsome. I had just been walking to the playground, when I bump into Cramer. Many other people had bumped into him, but for some reason he really got annoyed when I did it. “Think you can push me and get away with it hillbilly?” he roared at me subsequent to the bump. “Let’s see your skills!” Two of his lackeys grabbed sufficiently strong sticks and gave them to us. He immediately charged after we both got our sticks. I had no idea what I was supposed to do so I simply moved out of the way. Before he could realize what I did Cramer crashed right into the wall of the school behind me. His stick broke and he started crying. His crying attracted the attention of our teacher, Mrs. Satsidia, who came running. Mrs. Satsidia is not the good kind of teachers you hear about in other books with bouncing red hair and a terrific sense of humor and imagination. She had grey hair and eyes with a sense of self protection that enables her to do anything to her students as long as it lets her keep her job with no feeling of guilt. After she calmed Cramer down she yelled at us, “What happened here?!” One of Cramer’s lackeys volunteered some false information. “Mrs. Satsidia, Ord pushed Cramer into that wall then hit him with that stick.” Mrs. Satsidia turned her attention upon me and asked, “Ord, did you do that?” I was stunned. I hadn’t done a thing yet people were blaming me. This is the point in the story where the protagonist gets a clue at how cruel the world can be. I had to tell her that the lackey was lying. “No Mrs. Satsidia, I didn’t do that.” Of course Cramer had to get his two cents in. “Mrs. Satsidia, he is lying! Ord pushed me into the wall and then hit me with that stick.” Maybe I could use logic on her. “Well then why do you have a stick too Cramer?” At this point Mrs. Satsidia was just getting tired with the whole thing. Considering it was two against one it was just natural that she would choose me to get sent to the principal’s office. “Ord, to the principal’s office this instant!”, Mrs. Satsidia roared. What did I tell you? I sauntered down to the principal’s office intent on clearing my name.
Chapter 1
I was bleeding all over. All of my nerves were on fire but there was nothing I could do. The only thing I could do was try and win. Winning means no more pain is what I keep telling myself. My body wouldn’t have it though. Luckily my opponent was just as injured as I was, if not more. It was just a matter of who would collapse first.
Maybe I should back up a little bit. Maybe even start at the beginning. Yeah, I think I’ll start at my horrid childhood. As a child, I lived on the outskirts of Viking Port, the beach city of Diamondor. My father worked as a restaurant owner in the middle of the city. My mother stayed at home with me. I was a lonely child, mainly because there were no neighbors where I lived. The nearest home was about three miles away and we almost never went to town because my father did all the shopping for us on his way to and from work. So I never got any social practice before going to school. My only practice was playing with my mother. But that was not nearly enough for the spoiled brats of Viking Port’s elite rich citizens. Little old me, who was practically a country boy, was no match for them. And by match I mean with swords. In Diamondor, fencing is celebrated as the country’s national sport. I had never even held a sword, let alone fought with one. My first match was involuntary and was against one of the best kids in the class, whose name was Cramer. Cramer was the popular kid in school and even though we were only in 1st grade that made an effect on himself and others. I think it made him feel as if he were invincible. He had blond hair and shocking blue eyes. Basic handsomeness for back then, even though he was a bit short. I was essentially the complete opposite. With black hair that continually fell into my eyes and super dark blue eyes like the ocean, I would later be described as tall, dark, and handsome. I had just been walking to the playground, when I bump into Cramer. Many other people had bumped into him, but for some reason he really got annoyed when I did it. “Think you can push me and get away with it hillbilly?” he roared at me subsequent to the bump. “Let’s see your skills!” Two of his lackeys grabbed sufficiently strong sticks and gave them to us. He immediately charged after we both got our sticks. I had no idea what I was supposed to do so I simply moved out of the way. Before he could realize what I did Cramer crashed right into the wall of the school behind me. His stick broke and he started crying. His crying attracted the attention of our teacher, Mrs. Satsidia, who came running. Mrs. Satsidia is not the good kind of teachers you hear about in other books with bouncing red hair and a terrific sense of humor and imagination. She had grey hair and eyes with a sense of self protection that enables her to do anything to her students as long as it lets her keep her job with no feeling of guilt. After she calmed Cramer down she yelled at us, “What happened here?!” One of Cramer’s lackeys volunteered some false information. “Mrs. Satsidia, Ord pushed Cramer into that wall then hit him with that stick.” Mrs. Satsidia turned her attention upon me and asked, “Ord, did you do that?” I was stunned. I hadn’t done a thing yet people were blaming me. This is the point in the story where the protagonist gets a clue at how cruel the world can be.
I had to tell her that the lackey was lying. “No Mrs. Satsidia, I didn’t do that.” Of course Cramer had to get his two cents in. “Mrs. Satsidia, he is lying! Ord pushed me into the wall and then hit me with that stick.” Maybe I could use logic on her. “Well then why do you have a stick too Cramer?” At this point Mrs. Satsidia was just getting tired with the whole thing. Considering it was two against one it was just natural that she would choose me to get sent to the principal’s office. “Ord, to the principal’s office this instant!”, Mrs. Satsidia roared. What did I tell you? I sauntered down to the principal’s office intent on clearing my name.