Cuthbert Cutknife was a peculiar young lad. When he was nine, his mother toughened him up for Grammar school. Veronica, his mum, was as hard as nails and came from a dubious parentage. Her peers said she was the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter. It was rumoured that her ancestry was vintage thuggery. Some even said her great paternal grandfather was a pirate. This would account for the affluent lifestyle her family enjoyed. Whispers were in circulation that she was a military trained former assassin; assigned to protect her Majesty the Queen.
Either way, she was one tough mother. Cuthbert was a nancy to the naked eye. Demure in appearance and manner, he looked as soft as melted marshmallows in an autoclave. A skeleton had more flesh on it's bones than he did. His voice was girlish and his gait effeminate. This made him a target through the years and was the cause of many a bully's demise. Cuthbert was deceptive in his masculinity but he was a hard ******* and a vicious, malevolent streak ran through his veins. He had just turned sixteen and was enrolled in Grimshaws Grammar school for young gentlemen. This was a boarding school notorious for bully boy pupils and bully man teachers. Education was secondary to survival and the worst of young men excelled in the art of debauchery and villainy; which were on the curriculum.
Cuthbert was 'welcomed' on the first day by the headmaster, a nasty piece of work, Master Whipfrenzy. A young **** was at his side, Tom Thompson, and given instruction to settle young Cutknife into his form quarters.
Thompson didn't beat around the bush. As soon as they were out of sight of Whipfrenzy, he pulled Cuthbert into a side room where seven young lads were waiting to give him a hiding.
Thompson started the ball rolling and lashed out an unmerciful kick at Cuthbert intended to destroy his manhood. No sooner did he do so than it was countermoved by Cuthbert by a concealed flickknife. Thompson's leg was sliced open like a side of bacon on an eager chef's skewer. Shrieks of terror followed at the rapid response of Cuthbert and all seven lads ran for their lives.
In shock Thompson wailed as his lifeblood was pouring out in torrents. Skilled in the art of battlefield wound surgery, Cuthbert applied a tourniquet and waited for the scattered lads to return with the authorities. Between the tears and fears for his life, Thompson was subjected to a few well placed boots to the kidneys by Cuthbert.
'Spread the word around Thompson'
'Anyone taking me on better be carrying iron or steel'
'Next time one of us dies and I don't fancy your chances of survival'
Thompson bawled his eyes out and the blood poured and poured and poured.
Footsteps came scurrying down the hall in panic and no one could believe what happened.
'He looks like a girl?'
'Are you sure it was him?'
Cuthbert had arrived and Grimshaws Grammar school for young gentlemen was in for a rude awakening.