By Perry McDaid
It was a big test designed by warped minds, Alex reckoned, much as boys have ‘reckoned’ since their loin-skinned ancestors were tasked to come back with the pelt of a long-tooth, or not at all.
Alex blushed at the comparison. His life wasn’t in danger here, nor was he likely to be mauled, except at the psychological level.
There were mutterings: involuntary rush of blood to his face misinterpreted as defeat.
He smiled suddenly at the image of those long dead peers. His sword flashed.
“Cheater,” Phrygians accused, poking Gordian strands.
Alexander tried not to look sheepish. “Where’s this crown, then?”
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