Back from the Training Pitches.

"Why... did I ever... volunteer... for this?"

Drenched in sweat and feeling utterly miserable, Falladae followed the rest of his class as they trudged off the training pitches, a deep mess of mud and damp grass after the rain, and back to school. Why the heck had he ever volunteered to join the sword-fighting team? Why on earth hadn't he chosen something less... painful. Like unicorn riding, or chess club.

Even something as dreary as Rune Reading would be better than this.

True he was good with a sword, best in the team in fact, but why had he ever agreed to it? Enduring his Swordmaster's yells, the constant pressups and forever being put through the gruelling assault courses was definately not Falladae's idea of a good time.

Nor, it seemed, was it the idea of the other five members of the team. He could hear them muttering mutinously under their breaths as the muddy, tired and very bruised squad plodded back towards the changing rooms. Even the ice-cold showers provided by the utterly defunct heating system would be a relief now.

The dragon that powered the heaters must be having a strop again.

Several minutes, and a vicious scrubbing with a bar of soap, later. Falladae was making his way back through the halls in an attempt to get to his second class on time.

Math. Oh joy.

The End

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