A/N: This chapter is from 6th grade, no edits at all.

I was just standing there, making the greaves for a suit of armor, when it happened. The flash of light, the Glowing Man, the stories of fortune he told us. The Plan, the Attempted escape, the outside world. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

My name is Hugh. Just Hugh. I've got no last name, being raised as a slave and all.

Well, now you know my name, but I suppose you came for the story, didn't you? But where should I start? The Plan? The armor I was making for Sir Pussik the Great? No, none of those work well, none are good places to start.

How about the beginning? Yes, the beginning is as good—no—the perfect place to start. So here I go.

I was born in the kingdom of Ispep, June 13th, year 1321. I don't know exactly where, but that's what I've been told. I don't remember my mother; I was snatched, as an infant, and taken to Ekoc.

Taken as a slave.

After I was taken, I lived in the nursery, where old women took care of me.

From the start, I was raised to be a blacksmith. When I was about three, I was given to a higher ranking slave as an apprentice. He cared about me. Even took a whipping for me once. My gratitude for that man is immeasurable.

Everybody called him Trepex, since no one knew his real name. Except Master, he called him something I'm too dignified to repeat.

The others said I was good for nothing but blacksmithing. That I was destined to do only that, as a slave. That I would fail if I did anything else. That's what I grew up believing.

One night, one terrible night, I was making my very first set of horseshoes. Trepex was working on a helmet. After finishing the horseshoes, Trepex looked it over the declared them to be perfect.

I left the half-way underground forgery ecstatically to help the stable boy; John put my horseshoes on the horse, Marriella.

We were nailing on the second horseshoe, when all hell broke loose.

Marriella kicked madly, hitting John, breaking his nose.

"Whoa! Marriella! Stop! STOP! Marriella!" It must've been quite a sight, a crying, screaming man with a bloody face, a crazy horse, and an eleven year old boy trying(and failing) to control her.

As I said, it didn't work. One of Master's hunters had to shoot her. It took five shots. And Marriella, good, gentle, Marriella, lay there, dead. A pool of blood around her, white clouds of foam at her mouth.

Despair swelled up inside me, filling me like cold liquid.

Master didn't make it better. He blamed me full-on.

"You boy! You did it!" Master bellowed, face red.

"ME? I didn't! It wasn't my fault, it wasn't anybody's fault!"

"You shot her."

"I had to! She flipped put, she nearly killed us! She must've had a dis—"

"ARE CONTRADICTING ME BOY?!"

"N-no sir," I stuttered weakly.

"One hundred lashes!" he shouted.

I think I fainted then, because when I opened my eyes, I was in the torture chamber. It was disgusting, musty and hot. You could look anywhere and see stains of blood. On the floor, the walls, the torture machines, even a few on the ceiling.

"Oh, you're awake," Master was holding a bloody whip. "Bend,"

I bent, shut my eyes tight and prepared for immense pain.

"Stop! It wasn't the boys fault." Trepex burst in. "It was …. It was me!"

"Excuse me? You?"

"Yes."

"WHAT?" I screamed, "No, it wasn't. It was me! I shot her, me!"

"I-I poisoned her water," Trepex said, softly.

"It must be true," Master said thoughtfully, "I've never heard this man lie. Ever,"

I couldn't believe it. Trepex? The kindest person I'd ever met? Poison an innocent horse? It couldn't be true.

"I have one last request,"

"Hm?"

"To say goodbye to Hugh, alone,"

"Very well then. Guards!" They left.

"Listen, Hugh. I didn't poison the horse,"

"I knew it!"

"Hugh! I'm taking this for you because you are destined for greatness. Even if I die, you will see me again."

"What the heck does that mean?"

"Trust me. You are now the Master Blacksmith. And please, don't watch."

With that, I ran out. Tears running down my face

I stood there, in my best rags, unable to believe what I saw.

Trepex's body wrapped up, being put into the ground. My world was ending. I couldn't be the new Master Blacksmith. The man, who had been like a father to me, was dead. The Gravediggers were patting down the rough ground, trapping his body forever.

Because he was a higher ranking slave, he was allowed a head stone. It was a rough stone, with harshly carved letters.

Although I couldn't read, I knew what it said. One word: Trepex.

I have to say I was pretty good! Lol! Pleas reveiw and tell me what ou think!