A/N: If you can, shoot me a review so I can see what people expect of this story, or if I should even move on with it!


Welcome to Chisamora, the often forgotten country in Eastern Europe most well known for its… wood? Okay, so maybe it's not the most luxurious export, but it helps keep our tiny country's economy going. That, and it's funnier to tell people that my country is famous for its wood than to tell them we make the best cheese in the world (this is not an exaggeration). Because really, what's funny about cheese, except the smell sometimes? At least I can make inappropriate innuendos with wood.

Chisamora is one of those countries that seems to be confused as to what kind of government it wants, so we decided to keep our monarchy as well as have a prime minister, a modern monarchy, if you will. Our current king is actually quite young, having only been on the throne a handful of years since the passing of his father five years ago.

Who am I, you ask?

I am a proud Chisamoran citizen who has just been accepted to the most prestigious school in the country, the Chisamora National Institute for the Gifted. No, we do not read minds, manipulate matter or practice magic (but that would be cool, wouldn't it?). CNIG fosters talented minds to "become the leaders of tomorrow", to put it in the school's motto. But let's be real here, when has a painter, or a pianist been a "leader of tomorrow"? It's a figure of speech, and it makes us sound more important, so really, no complaints here. The school admits students who show promise in any area of study: sciences, visual arts, music, prose, linguistics, architecture, athletics, you name it. CNIG only accepts fifty students a year, though you can apply at any age or grade, and this was my second attempt to get in. (What did I get in for? Mathematics, specifically computers, but more on that later.)

To put it simply, CNIG is a school full of teenage nerds. So, how on earth do you establish a social hierarchy within a group of geeks, a quarter of which are socially awkward? You admit the country's Prince to the school.