"Oh Everont! The School-master told me to tell you he wants you in his office. Oh-oh, you're in trouble now."
The polar bear called Everont turned back to see who was calling him. It was Al-Tevan, a small-sized bear known schoolwide as "The Tattler". What an irony, thought Everont, that the word "Al-Tevan", in the polar bear tongue, meant "Truth-bearer."
Everont turned his head menacingly at Al-Tevan, who was thinly concealing his gleeful contempt. The school-master was a stern teacher -a lesson learned quite painfully by the Tattler, and it felt sinfully good to know his rival was in the Schoolmaster's displeasure.
Everont bared his teeth before returning to the gray stone building that was his home and school. He walked briskly past Al-Tevan, and head held high, closed the distance between him and the door. He would not show his fear to his enemy, never! He stoically tried to banish the growing fear from his mind, but like rebels in a stronghold, the fear could not be dislodged.
He passed the door, with its faded stone-carved: Fifth Royal Pernian Orphans' School and Board. Its large imposing letters were painted cherry red, but age and time had reduced the once-pretty shade of crimson to a disgusting tone of dull red-brown, like the color of dried blood.
He gave an involuntary shiver at the thought of the doom that was patiently waiting for him. What had he done? He, now a little slower, walked down the cold corridors until he reached the the Schoolmaster's office. Another involuntary shiver. He breathed deeply, then Everont nervously tapped the door with the back of his left paw, as was the custom of the Pernian Polar Bears.
"Come in," was the laconic reply. Everont opened the door a little, and slipped inside. The schoolmaster was sitting behind his desk. He was a tall, old bear, with small slanting eyes and ears that were strikingly long (for a polar bear). "Greetings, Everont son of Ternovont. Sit down."
The room was austere and Spartan in design. The sparsely set furniture were arranged in painfully neat rows on either side of the small room. The only central furniture was the desk, with a chair for the schoolmaster, and a small fireplace behind it. The fireplace was presently not in use, for it was not winter and coal was not cheap. However, upon this fireplace, was a mantepliece on which rested a sheathed sword. This sword was long and thick, and the sheath was enlaid with great large gems. It was the only decoration in the room.
Everont took a seat on one of the chairs, and looked up meekly at the schoolmaster. His right paw scratched his left wrist, as he always did when he got nervous. He licked the fur a little around his lips, then bowed forward respectfully before greeting the elder bear, "May the great Creator -whom we know little of- protect and bless my Elder."
"And the great and wondrous Creator bestow favor and blessing upon my Younger," was the reply. "You look nervous, Everont son of Ternevont. Would you like to tell me what may be troubling you?"
The young bear scratched his left paw even harder. What should he say? Tentatively, he said, "I-I am concerned that my, um, misdeeds might be the cause of you summoning me. Have I done anything wrong, S-Sir?"
"Do you think you have done anything bad?" the Schoolmaster asked.
Everont jogged his memory. He didn't recall anything particularly bad. He had forgotten to finish reading that poetry the other day, but his teacher had already given him a long lecture for that. Otherwise, nothing. "No, Sir," he said, a little less uncomfortable, "I haven't."
"Good! Because I didn't call you here because you did something wrong."
"You didn't?" asked Everont, quite surprised at his own un-badness. He wasn't in trouble! A burst of great relief poured over him.
"No, not at all," he confirmed. "You're actually a very well-behaved young lad. I called you, rather, because I thought you may want to be our orphan school's representative in the National Squire's Contest." The Schoolmaster's voice was almost amiable now, all the severity gone out of his manner and words.
Everont's eyes widened. The National Squire's Contest was a sports competition that brought young bears from across Pernia to compete for a chance to become a squire in the Imperial Palace. The competion was fierce, but the prize was of such high honor and prestige that only the toughest were allowed to compete. There were qualifying matches and races that determined those worthy of the contest. Upon which, the surviving contestants were tested for weeks through dozens of sports and tests. The finalists; the ones with the highest points, were given the privilege to be trained to become a Ursidian Warrior. They would be trained and tutored in the Palace of the Creshqatarrh, and if they graduated, these warriors would fight along the best of the knights and nobles in the Elite Guard. The thought of it filled Everont with surprise and wonder. Did the Schoolmaster really think that he was good enough for the Contest? True, he had been the winner of the school's marathon contest for two years in a row, and he could outswim and outplay most his friends in a game of Aqua-Poled, but was he really Contest material? There were a couple of other bears that were stronger and better than him, so why had he been picked?
The Schoolmaster seemed to read his mind. "You are one of the best sportsbears in the school, and though there are some of your peers that are faster and more athletic than you, your endurance and determination level surpasses all of them. You have potential, and I see it in you. The preparation for this Contest will be hard, and the life of a Ursidian Warrior is not easy. You see, I was one of them, once -before I got my kneecap wound. The training is excruxiatingly painful, and the teachers may seem harsh. There will be times when you will have to make choices, hard choices, so be prepared. You will have to be quick on both your feet and wits in the Palace of the Creshqatarrh." He stopped, and looked into Everont's eyes deeply for a moment. Then he continued, "The decision to join this Contest is completely up to you, Everont, so I give you the rest of the day and tommorow for you to decide. Choose wisely. So Everont at this I dismiss you, so may the Great and Wondrous Creator bestow Blessing and Favor upon my Younger."
Everont nodded. "And may the Great Creator, whom we know little of, protect and bless my Elder," he replied. Then he bowed respectfully, and left, closing the door behind him.
That's where Part One ends.
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