WHERE IT ALL BEGAN
Author's Note: Cato doesn't appear in this chapter yet. This chapter deals with the background a bit. Again, not much to do with the games just now, but it will get more interesting. This is my earliest work in this series, completed some time ago, so all meaningful input will be appreciated.
"Alex," Lord Edmund Caelum of Westminster whispers, shaking his son's puffy arms, "we are moving."
The sun not yet dawned in the East, the moon still shining on the horizon, the Lord had entered his son's bedchambers.
"Where?"
"To the East, in that direction that you will see the sun shortly."
"Why?"
"We've got a new job there. You'll find friends there."
The son smiled. He had just learnt how to speak not long ago. In a few moments, he packs his little clothes into his little luggage case. Following the shadow of his father, he obediently followed into the chauffeured car that carried both to the train station.
At Whitehall, Coriolanus Snow had just ascended the premiership under dubious circumstances. Lord Edmund, while not a contender, fell under suspicion on Snow's radar. Consequently, he sent the lord to District 2 as the governor-general. An unwilling appointee, the lord did not have the resource to resist Snow. One can't call the lord an enemy of Snow, but Snow does want to make sure that he did not become one, while striving to maintain a friendly relationship with the lord.
Onto the train, the pair embarks on a one-day journey on train 11 – limited express to District 2. At Crampton Station in District 2, the two disembark, only to find little to welcome them. Only a young civil servant, Quintus Arcanio, appeared to greet the pair.
"Lord Caelum, Sir Alex," he says, bowing deeply to the elevated arrivals, "welcome to District 2. I, Quintus Arcanio, am your principal private secretary and the first commissioner of the liaison commission between the executive council and the national government in the Capitol. I am also the permanent undersecretary of state for education in this district. During your commission here, I will arrange for your comfort and accommodation."
"Hi," innocently says the five-year-old.
"Good morning, Sir," replies the secretary.
"Thank you," the Lord replies earnestly, "this is definitely a great place. Now, what must we do?"
"Well, my officials are waiting for you just outside, and we have arranged for a vehicle to transport you to your official residence, York Hall, just a quarter of an hour from the station. It being Sunday today, you can rest until tomorrow, when we have arrangements for the lord at his office in the Government Hall. As for my good sir, I have enrolled you in Penticton Elementary School, where you might find it pleasurable to spend your time from eight in the morning to noon, when I have arranged for transport back to York Hall."
"I see," the lord smiles, "you are prepared. Well done, my dear secretary."
"Thank you, milord."
First day in school, Alex stands in front of his class and introduces himself.
"Hi… I am Sir Alex Caelum, GCC. I just moved here yesterday."
"Ha-ha…" a relatively large boy sniggers, "what was the 'sir' bit about?"
"Oh… I am a knight grand cross of the order of Corona… you can just call me 'Alex.'"
"…That's unfair…"
"Well," the teacher intervenes, "as he said, he just moved to district 2. You'll want to make friends with him."
The very opposite occurs during recesses and luncheons. This rather depressing childhood awaited the young knight every day as he returned to school.
Reaching the age of 12, secretary Arcanio moved him to Centenary Middle School, the premier middle school of all district. This year, the knight had the first taste of the Games.
"Master," Alex says, coming to his teacher, "quite frankly, you are letting us leave very early at this school."
"Sir," the teacher responds, "that's a very special design for aspiring youngsters at our school. You might ask about your classmates about what they do during the afternoons."
Alex does so. Against many other 12-year-olds who could pass for 16-year-olds, the brave knight barely had the courage to ask any question. Of course, many of these "aspiring youngsters" had a kind heart, but to be seen having a kind heart meant instant social suicide. Only the knight had the ability to appear kind-hearted some times. Other times, he was absent-minded.
"Hm… excuse me… why do we get off so early? It's boring. What should we do after school with no homework?"
"Who knows? I go to the training center to train. Don't know 'bout you twit, sir."
"Could I go?"
"Oh, you're 12, aren't you? Certainly, just not sure about whether you'll come out in one piece."
"Thanks, Damien."
After school, which ended almost as soon as it began, Alex follows the trail of pupils to the fabled training center. It was a large, imposing building that showed almost no windows. Despite however much effort to blend in with the surroundings, his red robes with the golden chain about his neck could be spotted miles away. The others wore quite uniform grey or black sweatshirts.
At the registration, the knight waited for his turn to register for membership. Just before his turn, he removes the heavy golden chain and conceals it in his pocket. Soon enough, it is his turn.
"Sir," he says to the attendant, "I would like admission."
"Sir," the attendant replies, his eyes glued to the gleaming robes the boy had on, "do you have a membership or just a one-time admission?"
"How much is either?"
"It's $12 for the annual membership and $0.05 for the one-time."
"How much do you make a month here?"
"$27.325."
The boy behind him starts to tap his feet against the granite floor impatiently.
"I'll have the annual membership then."
"May I have your ID please and $12?"
He takes out his passport and a $20 bill. The others gasped at the sheer amount of money the boy had.
"Wait… you are from the Capitol?"
"Yes."
The attendant collected the due and issued the member card. The boy took the change and the member card.
"Please sign in here. If it please you, the membership number here 013."
The new member obeys and obtains admittance. After passing the gate, the knight stares into a maze of all sorts of training programmes and hears a myriad of cries and clashes of metal. Behind the boy, the attendant instructs a trainer to attend to the boy with especial care.
"Well," Damien says, pushing the knight to the floor, intentionally swiping some sweat into the knight's eyes, "aren't you going to do somethin'? After shellin' out $12?"
"I am just trying to decide just now."
"You needn't. You'll fail horribly on any of these. In fact, let's see you at the sword fighting section. I'll wait for you there."
"Hmm… I'll come after cleaning my eyes. They're ok. It happens."
After cleaning the eyes of their disgusting invader, the knight, with a map, approaches the designated section. The trainer stalks him silently and discreetly.
"Well, Damien, I honor my word."
"Just for you, Alex, I'll use a toy sword. You can use a real one."
"No knight would ever accept such an advantage," the knight smiles timidly against his intimidating opponent, "I'll use a toy sword as well."
"Sir," the trainer stationed at the section interjects, "will you consider some other attire? I am afraid you… might trip in your present choice."
"No… I'm fine. It won't last long." The knight says, loosening the top button.
A large crowd gathers to watch this bizarre occasion. A powerful, physically impressive star at training, already worked up and sweaty and ready, against a feeble-looking kid without demonstrable strength, in bright red robes. The knight holds out his chain and puts it in trust with his secret stalker. The star first steps onto the raised platform and assumes an aggressive stance, arms spread slightly and eyes looking into his opponent's evading sight. After taking some time picking a handle-heavy toy sword, the knight scales the steps and stands totally upright with his weapon held loose by his right side. He approaches the opponent and offers a hand. No shake.
"Start!" shouts the master.
Immediately, the aggressor bolted in the direction of the knight. The knight, with a swift spin, allows the 5' 7" 12 year old to send himself smashing into the far wall. The knight turns around and offers a hand to the fallen aggressor. No acceptance.
"Start!" shouts the master.
The same person again on the aggressive, just now tenser and redder, charged again. Again, the knight dodged the cannonball and permitted the boy to smash into the wall again.
"Shall we shake hands? Or must I see you smash into the wall again? The more you get angry the more you will smash, you know."
"Won't… lose… to… you! Dammit, use your sword!"
"Deal."
"Start!" shouts the master.
It seemed as though history would repeat itself, but this time the knight grabbed the "blade" and smacked the star across the face with the handle. His opponent again floored, he, without asking, pulled his opponent up despite Damien's wish to dig a hole and go into the hole.
"I honored my word. Thanks for the experience."
"NO! LET'S DO THIS AGAIN. CAN'T LOSE TO YOU! I'VE GOT SO MUCH WAITING FOR YOU. JUST YOU WAIT!"
"I concede."
"WHAT?!"
"I concede. You win. You're the winner. I toss the sword aside and I surrender."
The knight tosses his weapon at the red, steaming boy's feet and holds up his hands.
"I, Sir Alex, concede and surrender."
"You…"
"What more do you want? You won."
With these words, he earned a standing ovation from a district that normally accepts only strength from a boy and, though Damien had incredible physical strength for a twelve-year-old, the exquisite mental game of his conqueror earned due respect from even the undefeatable Damien. Collecting his golden chain, he walks silently away without so much as one ounce of pride, as though he really lost the match. The red robe subsequently became the highest honor awarded for mental game in the premier academy. Just two weeks later, the knight would attend the first reaping scene for himself.