Rangers Apprentice: Forgotten Ruins

We Show The Baron The U.S.A.

*Avis' POV*

Everything seemed to be happening in a blur, yet incredibly slowly. Though I know we were in more trouble then I ever have been in my life, I thought it was hilarious. I mean, come on, what fifteen year old doesn't find it hilarious when someone is dying due to Hot Cheetos? Almost everyone at school is immune to those bad boys, and they don't even effect me anymore. When Gilan keeled over, choking, gasping for breath, not being able to speak, I found it highly amusing. When Halt threatened Jacklyn's backpack, which I knew contained her flute, I thought it was funny how easily she gave up. Halt gave her back her backpack and I glance around the room, noticing all of the craftmasters staring at us. Some in horror, others in amusement. Those like Lady Pauline and Master Ulf, held small smiles they were trying to hide, where as the Baron and Gilan were staring holes through our heads.

"I have had just about enough of you." Baron said darkly. Wow, we really pushed him to the limit. "If I can't keep you under control in the ward, how are you supposed to learn discipline for when you move onto a craft?"

"We are just not used to your customs here. Where we are from, we have more freedom. We find it quite restrictive." I explained. Jacklyn stands next to me, hugging her backpack to her chest.

"The place you both are from sounds fictional to me. Made up. Doesn't it?" He asked his craft masters. They nodded in agreement.

"This Neevadar, and Texusy sound made up." Master Nigel said stiffly. I glared at him.

"Nevada. Get it right!" I said harshly. I wasn't kidding, we Nevadans are extremely prideful when it comes to pronunciation of our state.

"Texusy?!? It's Texas! This place is so uncultured!" Jacklyn exclaimed. I rose an eyebrow.

"Jacklyn, you do realize realize what you just said, right?" I whispered. Baron Arald looked furious. He stood, looming over us, again, I'm a really short person.

"Uncultured? Uncultured?!?" Baron clearly wasn't asking what it meant, simply what the heck she was thinking. I believe Jacklyn misinterpreted it.

"Yes, Uncultured. Meaning not cultured, stupid. Would you like the textbook definition? Uncultured: Not characterized by good taste, manners, or education." She folded her arms and looked smug, however everyone in the room was gaping at her outburst. I bit my lip to keep myself from snickering. Normally I'm not disrespectful to adults, and I hate others being disrespectful to adults, but it was funny, you have to admit. She just yelled at a bunch of scholars and educated men and women about not understanding a word.

"I think they get it, Jacklyn." I whispered to her. Jacklyn's face suddenly fell, as if she just realized what she had said. She seemed to shrink and she stood.

"You have a lot of nerve speaking to me like that." Baron Arald said angrily. "You two have caused me so much stress the past two days, and I have been in wars that have caused me less stress!" I noticed Halt, Sir Rodney, and the two younger rangers nodding in agreement.

"They need to learn their lesson, Baron. I suggest the farms." Nigel sneered. I felt my stomach drop. I live on a small ranch at home, and it was a lot of work. But a medieval farm sounds like torture. No water hydrants and hoses to transfer water? No bailed hay, no perfect flakes? It sounded much harder then home. Of course, I couldn't tell the Baron that.

"Pardon me, Sir, but I grew up on a farm. It wouldn't exactly be 'disciplinary material'." I said, trying to get us out of the hard labor, that we probably deserve.

"No, Nigel, not the farms. They'd find a way to goof off there as well." Baron said irrationality.

"Separate them!" Someone, I'm not sure who, exclaimed. Several others muttered in agreement.