A/N: OLAF! It's me, IFYOUCOULDFLY! So thank you thank you thank you for being….totally amazing! This will be the last update for a while :P but I'm hoping to squeeze something in by Tuesday! Anyways, read on!

-Chapter Four: The Harvest Festival-

Horace was feeling down.

Ever since arriving at Battleschool, the three goons Alda, Bryn, and Jerome had given him a hard time. He'd been bullied to the point that it was affecting his own training. For the first time in years, he was starting to doubt that Battleschool was the right choice for him.

Now, as he walked up to his former ward mates at the Harvest Festival, his already foul mood was darkening. They were all laughing, talking, and eating without him. There was an empty gap where he should have been, but it didn't seem to matter to them. Worst of all, that little sneak Will was right in the middle of it all.

Suddenly, one of his ward mates glanced up and smiled broadly. "Oh! Horace! You're here at last!" Jenny called sweetly. The others, even Will, looked up and waved, smiles on their faces. Though Horace could be a bully sometimes, they knew the Harvest Festival was no time for hostilities. Horace thought otherwise.

"At last? You didn't seem to care a moment ago." He growled, and the smiles dropped off of everybody else's faces. Sensing his dramatics were working, he continued. "Should I just leave then? Am I interrupting something important?"

"Oh, Horace, it's not like that at all." Alyss responded in a calm, collected tone. "To leave these pies waiting would be impractical, so we simply tucked in-." "Without me." Horace cut in bluntly. "Exactly."

The apprentice strode over to them, with an expression similar to someone's who just drank spoiled milk. "Well then? What was so funny?" Horace growled. George stood up to reply, and Will groaned inwardly. This day wasn't going very well so far. "Well you see, we were simply reminiscing on times past in the ward, where we were all completely different than today, as both social and physical figures in-."

"So you were talking about me then?" Horace cut in, stepping towards George menacingly. The two boys were uncomfortably close now, and George found himself looking up into Horace's eyes which, at the time, seemed very unnerving. "O-Oh, I, er, I s-sup-pose so." The new scribe muttered feebly, staring at the ground.

Horace laughed loudly. "I see. So your old stutter's back. Not much good scribe school did you, huh?" Will had had enough at this point. "Oh, leave him alone, Horace!" He called, and practically shuddered as Horace's unnerving gaze found a new target.

"The little spy's talking, then!" He crowed, laughing. "I'm surprised you still can. I'd have thought by now, you'd just be following us around like the little creep you are." All of the ward mates were frowning now.

"Look, Horace, I don't see what the problem is. If we could all just agree to stop now, we-." Jenny started. Naturally, Horace didn't let her finish. "Ha! It's your fault anyways!" Horace cried. "You're the one that got everyone laughing and eating your stupid pies!"

Now, it was one thing to insult Jenny, Will, and George. It was another thing to insult Jenny's pies. "What," Jenny said darkly, "did you just say?" Horace sensed he had hit a nerve. "I said your pies are stupid. Why, what's wrong with that?" The look on the Battleschool apprentice's face just dared someone to speak. Will was the first to give in.

"That's insulting her craft, and completely falsely at that. Jenny's a great cook already! How would you feel if I told you that you fight like a bloated cow?" Will paused. Against his better judgment, continued. "Never mind. That wouldn't be false at all."

Horace growled. "What did you just say? I oughta-." Suddenly, something caught his eye. "What the hell is that?" He asked incredulously, pointing at Tug, who was approaching them steadily, obviously not liking Horace's threatening position.

Will glared at the apprentice warrior. "That's my horse." He said, and his eyes narrowed as Horace laughed. "That's not a horse! That's an overgrown sheepdog!" He cried. "I could ride that little thing with both hands behind my back!"

Will saw his opportunity. "Then why don't you?" He retorted, challenge clear in his voice. Horace scoffed, and made his way over to the shaggy pony. "I'll show you, Will!" The large boy called, mounting Tug with ease.

Instantly, a look flashed in the pony's eye. Will had learned the hard way what that meant. Tug leaped high into the air and twisted around violently. Horace flew from Tug's back clumsily, somewhat like an airborne elephant, and landed with a sickening thud on the ground.

Alyss, George, and Jenny looked on, terror in their eyes, and some number of people stopped to stare. Horace climbed to his feet quickly, face red. "YOU LITTLE RAT!" He roared, stepping towards the triumphantly smiling Will.

"Oh, calm down, Horace!" Will said, rolling his eyes. "We came here for fun, remember? Besides, you're making a scene." Horace's eyes practically bulged out of their sockets. "I'm making a scene? You're the one that put me on that ratty sheepdog!"

Will was already walking away, shaking his head. He truly didn't want any more trouble. Unfortunately for the both of them, Horace wasn't quite done yet. "That's right! Walk away like the coward you are! Nobody wants you around anyways, Will the Wanderer!"

Horace began to laugh, but Will was already upon him. With the head start he had gained, he easily knocked Horace (and himself in the process) to the ground. "TAKE…IT…BACK!" He yelled as he frantically tried to hurt Horace, make him pay for all those times he'd been tormented.

The two boys rolled around, trying to gain an advantage. Will managed to get a blow to Horace's nose, which was bleeding nicely now. In turn, his lip had been busted, and was throbbing wildly. Horace had a major advantage. Though the bruises from his father's beatings had vanished long ago, there were still wild patches of ugly scars from the times beatings had gone too far.

Horace rolled him over, so that his scar-coated back struck a bed of rocks. In response, he kicked his former ward mate's stomach. "You're dead, Will! You hear me? DEAD!" Horace screamed as he landed a punch to Will's eye. Will gasped. This scene was all too familiar.

-Flashback-

A twelve-year-old Will was carrying the week's groceries home. This was one of the weeks when he had earned a little more pay that usual for his jobs, so he could afford an extra slice of meat and loaf of bread from the market.

He hummed softly to himself as he walked through the back alleyways towards the woods where his cabin was. The sky was darkening, and Will was going along at a quickened pace. He didn't want to get home late and anger his father. Suddenly, a voice came from the shadows.

"Hey, look, boys! It's little Will! And look what he's got!" Will cringed and turned to see the leader of the Triad.

The Triad were a group of three boys who terrorized the village of Oaktown. They robbed stores, people, and homes. As well as this, they beat people simply for enjoyment. The Triad had never been caught in action before, only by their victims. They were certainly something to be feared.

"Looks like some food…for us." Another threatened, stepping closer. Will tried to run, but it was too late. The three boys were upon him. Quickly, his sack of provisions was ripped away, and he was beaten again and again, in all the places he was already bruised.

"HELP!" He called desperately, only to be hit again. Fortunately, help came. A guard quickly arrived, nearly catching one of the boys, but he was too late. The Triad was already running. "Get back here!" The guard shouted, chasing after them.

As the Triad and the guard disappeared into the night, he heard the leader call with rage: "You're dead, Will! You hear me? DEAD!" Later that night, he walked home empty-handed, and was beaten again by his father.

-End flashback-

"BOYS! WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!" The familiar sound of Sir Rodney's booming voice ripped him from his flashback. The two ward mates quickly scrambled to their feet to see the Battlemaster approaching them, Halt directly behind.

"What exactly was happening here?" Halt demanded, glaring at Will. "I' forry, Hal'." Will mumbled, trying to speak around his swollen lip. "Id wud jut a fighd." Horace added, blood pouring from his nose.

"I can see that!" Rodney cut in angrily. "But this is the Harvest Festival! Apologize now, both of you, or this will be the end of your apprenticeship!" Halt, still glaring at Will, shook his head. "I thought you were above this petty squabbling." He said coldly, and Will dropped his gaze to the ground, ashamed.

The two boys wanted nothing more than to tear each other to pieces, but they knew what was more important here. Reluctantly, they turned to one another and mumbled a quiet apology, shaking hands. Will glanced up at Horace, and the look in his eye told him that this dispute was definitely not settled yet.

A/N: Thus ending my writing for the next 3 days :P anyways, thanks for all the wonderful things you do! Keep up the reading/reviewing/being awesome!-FLY