The first day of boarding school is never fun for anyone, especially after spending a lifetime as a high king. But Peter had made it so far without any difficulty, and was actually looking forward to his next class, gym. As he walked through the gymnasium he spotted a group of students and several faculty members at the far side of the room bunched together and cheering loudly, blocking out whatever had them so excited.
As he got closer, Peter could see two students with fencing foils and masks sparring vigorously. The student on the left was far superior to the one on the right, and time after time, the student on the left parried and lunged, and bent his blade on the chest of his opponent.
Peter saw this, and let out a loud laugh. The fencing stopped, and everyone turned and stared. The student on the right removed his mask, revealing a look of embarrassment and frustration.
"I don't know who you are, but my opponent is the fencing champion for our school. If you think you can do any better, be my guest!" He handed Peter his mask and sword.
Peter's fingers closed on the hilt and instantly remembered everything they had been taught. Holding a sword again was as refreshing as spring water on a hot summer day. For a moment, his mind wandered back to mortal combat with a treasonous wolf, to war with the giants of the north, and to tournaments in the Lone Isles.
He pulled the mask down over his face, hoping it would hide his grin. He slowly raised the blade vertical to his chest to salute his opponent. Then he extended the blade and set his feet.
"En Guarde" He said.