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The Journals of Raymond Brooks 31
“Alright, what about Calin from across the street, what was
his crime?” Ivar asked, leaning forward on the table.

“Calin started it, he’s two years older dan I am. I was fightin
for my life, honest!” I replied, trying to sound more like a victim.
Damn it, I knew he was right, but for the life of me I didn’t want
to admit it.
“Adam, every child in Drentwych is scared of coming near
you,” he said in fatherly tones.
“Good!” I replied, proud of my accomplishments.
“Even children bigger and older than you would rather not
cross your path,” he continued.

“Didn’t know I left such a good impression!” I boasted,
growing happier still, though I knew it wasn’t appropriate.
“And now you boast of your bullying instead of asking for
forgiveness. That’s hardly honorable of you,” Ivar said.
“Master, these people are all tieves, liars, and bullies, and I
take pride, not shame, in actin’ out against them,” I replied.
“In that case, it’s good that you set them straight, right?” He

asked.
“Of course!” I replied.
“So you’re the champion of the people, are you?” He inquired.
“I should hope to be so lucky,” I replied happily.
“Adam, you speak well,” Ivar said, and changed his tone.
“You’re probably the toughest boy in Drentwych.” He said and I
smiled proudly. “But this is a small town and you’re no warrior.
You lack a warrior’s restraint,” he continued, and my smile
vanished. “A warrior without restraint is nothing more than a

bully at your age, and a shameless villain when he’s older,” Ivar
said.
“Wait, I…!” I began.
“Shut up, I’m not done. Respect your elders!” Ivar commanded,