He was quiet for a moment, taking a sip of his tea- and idly wishing that there was something stronger to mix in with it. No matter how he spun his story, there was no way to really turn it out in his favor.
Not that I'd want to learn to torture and kill people even if I did.
"There was a rebellion. The poorer people of the districts fought back against the rich Capitol- London. They lost. The Capitol forced strict sanctions. Magic was taken away from the districts. Food was kept in short supply. And for generations, we've had the Games."
He was quiet again, his eyes closing for a moment. He could hear the cannons echoing in his ears. He could see Alice-
No.
"Every year, the Capitol forces every district- there are twelve- to put up two Tributes. Two children, a boy and a girl, to the Games. They're taken from their homes, from their families, and forced into an Arena. There, the Games are televised as the Tributes- as they fight. To the death. There's only one Victor. The last of the twenty-four children left alive."