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GALADRIA
(BOOK 1 of 5)
Peter Huddleston & The Rites of Passage

Sample excerpt from
Chapter 6: Study, Study, Study


Peter spent the rest of the night curiously flipping through the endless pages of his books. His political sciencebook, The Noble Families of Galadria, was extensive and very interesting. Searching for the Willowbrook family, he flipped through page after page
of long histories, intricate ancestries and pleasant family portraits, until he read the heading, ‘Chapter 65: The Noble House of Shadowray.’ None of the members of Shadowray were smiling in the slightest. Not even an
ironic grin was to be found. They all wore black shrouds, from the scowling grandparents to the screaming infants. The least severe of them had white lining breaking up
their dark attire, but that was all. (Continued Below)







Some of their faces were not even visible, being completely shadowed by their hoods. Despite this, he noticed their family was very accomplished, having major leaders in science and business. They were also one of the wealthiest clans and had a very old bloodline. Peter scoured the pictures for Knor, but only found a single, cold portrait of him, stiffly seated on a large, elaborate, twisted, steel chair. The caption under his photograph was impressive.
          
  Knor Shadowray, seated on the ancestral Shadowray chair, once owned by his great grandfather, the Honorable Councilman, Putrus Shadowray. Knor, third in line to the Galadrian throne, has an Elwin Mastery in Political Science and Economics, is a founding member of the Knights of Metallin, and is a four time recipient of the Order of the Condra, for outstanding achievement in dimensional commerce.
           
Photo courtesy of The Noble House of Shadowray Archives, Galadria.

“Third in line to the throne?” Peter said to himself, “Who's...oh, mom. She was first in line, and Knor's third...but...that means...I'm in this book!”
About an hour later, he found what he was looking for. ‘Chapter 104: The Noble House of Willowbrook.’ Like the rest of the royal families, except for the Shadowrays, the Willowbrook families all looked positively cheerful. Almost everyone had different variations of thick, brown hair. The Willowbrooks were also among the wealthiest clans, and had leaders in politics, business and the arts. Searching carefully, he tediously scanned every picture he saw. Moments later, he found it. It was a lovely portrait of his mother sitting on a chair in a garden, wearing an elegant blue gown. Peter just stared at her kind face. She looked so content. Slowly, he read the caption below it.

Princess Patricia Willowbrook, next in line to the Galadrian throne, sitting in one of the many beautiful gardens at the Willowbrook Earth Estate, Hillside Manor.
Princess Patricia has recently just had her first baby boy, Peter. The famously private princess lives most of her life on Earth, and has declined, as of yet, to provide a photo of the new baby prince. She does, however, show the deepest gratitude for the support and joy shown by the Galadrian people at the birth of her new son.
PrincessPatricia is a Princess of the Mists of the Three Lakes and has been a recipient of the Order of Vinelle, for outstanding achievement in bettering the lives of the less fortunate.

Photo courtesy of the Noble House of Willowbrook Archives, Galadria.

Peter was shocked to see his own name, and filled with the deepest sense of pride for his mother. He had no idea what the 'Three Lakes' thing was, but he never knew she was honored for anything. But more questions plagued him. Why wasn't his father mentioned? Why did his mother decide to live privately away from all this? The only reason Peter could think of was that she wanted to protect him from ambitious personalities like Knor and his family. Yet here he was, being challenged by Knor...at any rate, this book was obviously not recent, and he had a lot more pressing matters to focus on. Glancing down the page, another photograph grabbed his attention. It was a small one, of two young girls wearing little ribboned dresses, one blue, and the other, light gold. Both girls had hair the color of caramel, and were laughing happily. The girl in the blue dress was holding a yawning white tiger cub. Neither girl could have been older than ten. The caption under the picture read:
           
Princess Patricia lovingly holds her new Galadrian white tiger cub, Rune, in one of the many gardens of the sprawling Willowbrook Earth Estate, Hillside Manor.
            
Photo courtesy of the Noble House of Willowbrook Archives, Galadria.
           
Peter had never seen any childhood photographs of his mother. He was exceedingly happy to be looking at one. Marking the page, he continued to search for more. The Willowbrook Chapter, however, revealed itself to be abundantly thick. Hours later, he drowsily leaned his head on his book, promising himself he would only rest his eyes for a few minutes.
“Sir...Sir...” said Monty. “Oh no, I hope you haven’t slept like that all night.”
Peter reluctantly opened his eyes, revealing the enlarged, blurred letters of the book in front of him. It was morning, he had fallen asleep on his desk, his forehead and nose squashed uncomfortably against the sheer bulk of his political science book. Pushing himself up with both hands, a page of the book seemed to have permanently attached itself to his forehead. Pulling it off, he painfully raised his head, assisting himself with both hands.
“Owwwwwww,” he said, massaging his stiff neck.
 “Rough night, sir?” asked Monty, who walked cheerfully toward him with his breakfast tray. “Not to worry, I have just the thing for that...bacon and waffles!”
Monty pushed Peter’s books to one side and placed his breakfast tray on the enormous oak desk in front of him. The tray was littered with plates full of long strips of crispy bacon, a cheese omelet, high stacks of golden brown waffles, and next to it, eight little bottles of different colored syrups.
“After breakfast,” Monty continued, checking his watch, “We should head straight away to your political science lesson. Mr. Frank is eager to get you started as soon as possible.”
“Where is Mr. Frank from?” he asked, pouring what he hoped was maple syrup onto his waffles.
“All your tutors reside here in the manor, sir,” said Monty, stacking Peter’s books and notebooks on top of each other. “Mr. Frank, your political science tutor, oversees the manor Library. Ms. Homebody, your Galadrian culture tutor, helps Madam Cornhen run the manor's history museum, and Mr. Harden, your Protava trainer, is in charge of our animal preserve. They are all very well studied in their respective fields.”
After finishing breakfast, Peter and Monty set out for his new study room, each carrying a thick, cumbersome book. Monty informed him that both his academic lessons would take place in the same room, while Mr. Harden would hold his lessons in the gardens. After a quiet walk down the halls, they entered a barren, high ceilinged room, with high arched windows and a door leading outside. In the middle of the empty room, directly facing each other, were two sets of wooden desks and chairs. A very elderly man with gray hair, wearing a tweed suit and thick glasses, was standing behind the larger desk. The same massive political science book Peter had was lumbering in front of him. After putting down their books, Monty made the introduction.
“Sir,” Monty said formally, “May I present Mr. Barry Frank. Mr. Frank will be acting as your political science tutor this summer.”
 “Hello Mr. Frank,” said Peter, offering to shake his hand.
“HELLO MASTER HUDDLESTON,” said Mr. Frank, in a loud, stern voice, shaking Peter’s hand stiffly.
“Well,” said Monty cheerfully, “If anyone needs me, I shall be standing by the door.”
“YOU’LL BE FIGHTING A BOAR?” asked Mr. Frank, yelling.
“What? No, sir,” continued Monty, in a considerably louder voice, “I’ll be standing next to the DOOR.”
“Alright then!” Mr. Frank replied.
Mr. Frank, the librarian, was turning out to be rather deaf. As they both took their respective seats in front of their desks, Peter got out his Galadrian golden pen from his leather book bag.
“Now, look here Master Huddleston,” said Mr. Frank strictly. “I run a tight ship and have made a very simple study plan for our lessons. Here it is. Are you ready? Because I’m gonna say it. Here we go. Everyday, you’re going to read as much as you can of that entire book, and take detailed notes. If you have any questions, ask me, and at the end of each chapter, you’ll take a test to make sure you understood it all. This is a very important subject and we’re going to read every inch of that book, cover to cover.”
“The entire book?” Peter asked, glancing at the enormous volume in front of him.”
“Twice,” said Mr. Frank, grinning.
“Twice!”
“Twice. Now, let’s begin. We’ve already wasted three minutes. Notebook and pen out, page one, start reading.”
Peter opened the intimidating book to its first page and began to read the tiny writing.
“OUT LOUD, Master Huddleston,” shouted Mr. Frank, startling Peter. “I'll be following you from my own book, I want to make sure you’re getting every word of this.”
“The ruling families of…”
“WHAT? WHAT DID YOU SAY?”
“THE RULING FAMILIES OF…”
Peter spent the next few hours reading to Mr. Frank and taking notes in this same manner. By the time his lesson was over, his throat was extremely sore.
“TIME’S UP, Master Huddleston,” said Mr. Frank, standing, barely managing to pick up his own book. “I’ll expect you to have gone over your notes before tomorrow.”
As Mr. Frank slowly shuffled out of the room, Peter stood up and stretched his tired back. He had barely taken a breath, when...
“Gooood moooorning!” sang an extremely cheerful voice.
Peter turned to see a plump, exceptionally jolly looking woman standing next to Monty at the doorway. She was wearing a light pink dress with a large, matching, round rimmed hat that was placed neatly on top of her white-blond hair. She was carrying the same thick cultural studies book that was on his desk.
“Oh, I didn’t see you there, Montgomery, don’t you look dapper today,” she said jollily, making Monty’s face go red.
“Ms. Homebody, may I introduce …”
“Montgomery, please,” she continued, cheerily waving her hand. “You know I won’t say a word to you unless you call me Jessica.”
“But Ms. Home…”
“Jessica.”
“But it’s not prop…”
“JE-SSI-CA,”
“But…”
“Say it with me, JE-SSI-CA,”
“Oh, alright! Jessica,” said Monty exasperatedly, “May I introduce you to Master Huddleston. Sir, this is Ms. Homebody.”
Peter had barely taken a step forward to shake her hand, when she rushed towards him, threw her book on her desk, and gave him a very strong hug.
“Master Huddleston!” she swooned with delight. “I’m so glad we’re going to be working together! When I told my mother, I said, ‘Mother, guess who I’ll be teaching? Guess! You’ll never guess! Master Peter Huddleston! Ahhhhhhh!’ She almost fainted right then and there, I swear she almost did!”
Ms. Homebody swiftly sat behind her desk and gave Peter a huge smile. Winded by her hug, he slowly took his seat as well.
“Now, I’ve been thinking about this lesson and here’s what I thought. Are you ready?”
Peter thought Ms. Homebody was about to burst from sheer excitement. She was an absolute ball of energy.
“I’ve decided,” she continued, “To have you read every page of this book out loud and make notes of it in your notebook! And every now and then, we’ll have...oh, I wouldn’t call them tests, we’ll have little written exercises to make sure you’ve understood everything! What do you think? Don’t you just love it? I love it!”
“Um...sure,” he replied, trying not to sound too deflated. “Sounds good.”
“Doesn’t it!” she happily screamed. “I knew you’d love it! Alright now, let’s begin, page one.”
Peter flipped open his Galadrian culture book and started reading aloud, every now and then writing notes in his notebook. Every time he glanced over at Ms. Homebody, she was beaming at him with a blinding smile on her face. Hours later, as he was reading about how chocolate was the most popular Galadrian food, Ms. Homebody suddenly shut her book and jumped out of her chair.
“Alright, that’s it!” she said cheerfully, holding her book in her arms. “You did wonderfully, Master Huddleston! Wonderfully! Your voice, it’s so soothing. Just review your notes and I’ll see you tomorrow! Taaa!”
Ms. Homebody zoomed towards the door, next to Monty.
“See you tomorrow, Montgomery,” she said breathlessly, leaving Monty blushing by the door.
“She’s really chipper, isn’t she?” Peter asked, rubbing his tired eyes.
“Who? Oh, Ms. Homebody?” Monty asked, as if he didn’t know who Peter was talking about. “She does have a rather happy disposition, doesn’t she? Yes...lovely woman.”
“Uh huh,” said Peter, smiling.
“What, sir?”
“Oh...nothing,” Peter continued. “She seems to like you.”
“What-no-who? Ms. Homebody?”
“Yeah, you know, JE-SSI-CA,”
“Well...huh...I...um...look, it’s time for lunch,” he said, suddenly looking at his watch. “Here sir, let me help you with those books.”
They dropped off the heavy volumes in Peter’s room and headed hungrily for the dining hall. After a lunch of lamb pie, and a creamy chocolate pudding for dessert, they were back in the barren study room waiting for Peter's next tutor, Mr. Harden.
“Now where could he be?” asked Monty concernedly.
Just then, the door to the gardens burst open to reveal a tall, burly figure standing at the doorway.
“Good afternoon, Master Huddleston,” said the man in a rough, yet friendly voice. “Hey there Monty, good to see you.”
“Hi,” said Peter, distracted by the man’s attire. He was wearing what looked like a flexible type of dark brown leather armor, thick gloves with the fingers cut out, and sturdy leather boots. He had short blond hair and his face was very sun burnt.
“Name’s Ben Harden, Master Huddleston,” he said, walking up to Peter and shaking his hand heftily. “But you can just call me Ben.”
“Nice to meet you Ben, you can call me Peter, if you want,”
“I’ll do that then. Well, I hear you’ve got quite a unique Protava there, Peter.”
“Oh, yeah,” he said, pulling his boomerang out of his pocket and handing it to Ben.
“I’ll be…” said Ben curiously, taking Peter’s boomerang and looking at it closely. “How long have you had it?”
“A couple of years,”
“Use it a lot?” asked Ben, weighing the boomerang in his hands.
“Pretty much all the time,” Peter replied, wondering what Ben was doing. He was tapping the boomerang forcefully against the hard floor.
“I’m certain your boomerang’s Galadrian made,” said Ben confidently.
“Really? Oh yeah, I guess it would be.
“Have you noticed anything unusual about it?”
“Not really,” he said, trying to remember anything out of the ordinary. “It flies pretty well...it’s fast. But nothing really unusual.”
“Well, I’ve noticed something,” said Ben, holding the boomerang so closely to his eyes that it was touching his nose. “There isn't a scratch on it, not even the tiniest mark. And for someone who’s had it for years and uses it all the time, that’s quite a feat. We’re in luck, Peter. Your Protava probably has special abilities. C’mon, show me what it can do.”
Ben led Peter out of the barren study room onto the flat, grassy lawns and high walled bushes of the garden outside. Monty followed quickly behind them. The warm sun and cool breeze felt fantastic after being indoors reading and taking notes all day.
They walked to the middle of the lawn when Ben handed Peter back his boomerang and gestured for him to use it. Peter pulled back his arm and threw his boomerang high up into the air. It turned quickly and zoomed back to them, landing lightly in his hand.
“Blimey,” said Ben excitedly. “You’re good with that thing, aren’t you? And fast! Wasn’t it, Monty?”
“Yes, sir,” said Monty, standing happily in the shade of the manor. “Very impressive.”
“We’ll probably be moving even faster than I’d hoped,” Ben continued enthusiastically.
“Great,” said Peter, “But Ben, what exactly is a Protava? I mean, what’s it really for?”
“Well, a Protava is the sacred weapon of any ruler or successor to the throne of Galadria. Many ruling nobles have them as well. They usually carry it with them most of their lives. Not only is it used during the Rites of Passage, but it’s also a visual symbol of strength. Protavas are extremely rare because of the combination of materials needed to endow them with special powers.”
“But does that mean they don’t have any special abilities when you’re in Galadria?”
“No, they do,” Ben replied. “That’s why Protavas are so rare. They contain specific properties and elements from both Galadria and Earth, so they work just as well in both places. It takes a long time to build a proper Protava.”
“What does mine do?” asked Peter excitedly.
        “Well...to tell you the truth, I’m not sure. I’ve never heard of a boomerang being a Protava. I've heard of Protava swords, wompos, shields, glees, whips... ”
“Uh-huh,” said Peter, not sure whether or not he should be concerned about this. “What's a wompo?”
“A wompo is basically one, or a pair of gloves. When used correctly, they greatly enhance the strength of the wearer. Being near indestructible, they're excellent for climbing.”
“And glees?”
“I've never actually seen a glee, but I read that a princess of ancient Galadria used one. It was a lady's evening fan. Once, a rival political family tried to have her kidnapped and she was able to knock out all six of her adversaries. She opened her fan and rhythmically wielded it, creating a high pitched whistle. When she whipped the fan in their direction, the sound was so intense and deafening it assaulted and overloaded their senses. Glees use sound as a weapon.”
“Wow, that's pretty cool. I wonder if my boomerang has hidden powers?”
        “By the looks of it,” continued Ben, “I’d say your boomerang can't break, or even be damaged. It’s also unusually fast and seems to be able to travel exceptionally far distances before returning. What I’d like to concentrate on, at least for today, is for you to show me the limits of your control over it. Throw it as far as you can, as hard as you can, and as lightly as you can. I’d also like to see how precisely you can control its direction, and your aim with it. After we’ve seen all that, we’ll take it from there.”