DISCLAIMER(Pay attention, 'cuz I'm only gonna do it once!!!)- Joren and most all of the other characters are property of Tamora Pierce, I am not Tamora Pierce, have no connection to Tamora Pierce, blah blah blah *Gasp*
~ Chapter One ~
"Block!"
Joren scrambled to block the jab coming at his chest, but his sword was knocked from his hand by a well-timed swipe from his father's blade. It fell to the ground, raising a cloud of dust as his father's own sword snaked up to lightly touch his throat, tickling his neck, but not- quite- breaking the skin.
"You'd have been dead if I'd had wanted you to be," Joren's father remarked, lowering his weapon. Joren stared at his feet- and the sword so easily knocked from his hand.
"A real enemy will want you to be dead," his father continued. "When you go to the palace, you will learn to be a knight of Tortall. The fief of Stone Moutain has gained honor over the years, and I will not be ashamed of my only son!" His eyes flashed with anger as he glared at his son, that ridiculous long blonde hair shielding Joren's face from being read as he gazed at his feet.
Joren had never taken the name of Stone Mountain seriously. The knights of Tortall had to be kept pure. Old, noble families. Male knights. His blood practically boiled as he thought of that girl from Trebond. She'd gained a shield. A female as a knight!
Sighing, Burchard of Stone Mountain raised his sword again. "Guard."
Joren watched the servant boys as they fenced with sticks in the yard and sighed. 'Shamed by my only son...' The words kept running through his head. His father was ashamed of him.
The lesson hadn't gotten any better. He seemed to trip over his own feet whenever he tried to block, and fall flat on his face when he tried a jab.
He stared in hatred at his sword, which was lying on his bed. Crossing the room, he picked it up, weighing it in his hands.
No, it wasn't so heavy.
He swung at an imaginary opponent. His father wouldn't be ashamed of him. He jabbed at the opponent. In fact, he'd do better than that. In two years, when he went to the palace, he would be better than any of the pages.
With one last swing of the sword, he left for the practice court. He wouldn't make his father ashamed. The name of Stone Mountain would lose no honor on his account!
~ Chapter One ~
"Block!"
Joren scrambled to block the jab coming at his chest, but his sword was knocked from his hand by a well-timed swipe from his father's blade. It fell to the ground, raising a cloud of dust as his father's own sword snaked up to lightly touch his throat, tickling his neck, but not- quite- breaking the skin.
"You'd have been dead if I'd had wanted you to be," Joren's father remarked, lowering his weapon. Joren stared at his feet- and the sword so easily knocked from his hand.
"A real enemy will want you to be dead," his father continued. "When you go to the palace, you will learn to be a knight of Tortall. The fief of Stone Moutain has gained honor over the years, and I will not be ashamed of my only son!" His eyes flashed with anger as he glared at his son, that ridiculous long blonde hair shielding Joren's face from being read as he gazed at his feet.
Joren had never taken the name of Stone Mountain seriously. The knights of Tortall had to be kept pure. Old, noble families. Male knights. His blood practically boiled as he thought of that girl from Trebond. She'd gained a shield. A female as a knight!
Sighing, Burchard of Stone Mountain raised his sword again. "Guard."
Joren watched the servant boys as they fenced with sticks in the yard and sighed. 'Shamed by my only son...' The words kept running through his head. His father was ashamed of him.
The lesson hadn't gotten any better. He seemed to trip over his own feet whenever he tried to block, and fall flat on his face when he tried a jab.
He stared in hatred at his sword, which was lying on his bed. Crossing the room, he picked it up, weighing it in his hands.
No, it wasn't so heavy.
He swung at an imaginary opponent. His father wouldn't be ashamed of him. He jabbed at the opponent. In fact, he'd do better than that. In two years, when he went to the palace, he would be better than any of the pages.
With one last swing of the sword, he left for the practice court. He wouldn't make his father ashamed. The name of Stone Mountain would lose no honor on his account!