Dreams had never come easy for Lance. Other kids would share dreams in which they killed dragons and enslaved entire kingdoms.
Lance's dreams weren't much to brag about. At nights he dreamed of a man who looked a lot like him. He was often sitting alone. Mostly at night. Lance was usually watching from a distance. He remained out of sight and was never able to reach out and talk to the man.
He often wondered who the man was and why he was dreaming of him. But he didn't really think about it. In a way, Lance felt like he understood him. Like he had felt the loneliness he was seeing. Which was crazy because he had his family, friends, and slaves to keep him company.
But somehow. The feeling the man in his dreams gave off… was familiar. Tonight Lance was standing across a street in the rain. The man stood on the opposite side of the street, having just exited a building. The man reached for something in his pocket. Pulling out a little rectangle brick. As he looked at it, a light from down the road illuminated him. And just as Lance saw something head right for the man. He snapped awake.
His eyes snapped open. Looking around, he didn't know what to think. Because everything was upside down. The room he was in was wide and had flat wooden floors. He could feel one of his legs was free and dangling. Trying hard to keep it straight, but it kept wanting to fall down. But the other leg was taut. Being held in place. Looking up, he could see a rope tied around his ankle. The rope led all the way to the ceiling. Confused by that, he looked in the other direction. And he saw that the floor was above him.
Normally any other five-year-old would be scared out of their mind. "What happened? Why am I not in my bed?" Upon realizing he was attached to the rope, his body began to sway. His body moved more subconsciously. Forcing him to swing back and forth.
Behind Lance, his father watched him sway back and forth. Astonishing. Even after waking up, he isn't the least bit scared. He then thought of when his own father did the same thing to him at the age of five. He remembered the moment he woke up all those years ago. He began crying and begging to be brought down. His entitlement is at the forefront of his personality.
Still, his son showed much promise. A much stronger foundation to build a mighty knight for God. But if that were to be true. Reaching under his cape, he drew an axe out of a belt loop. My son needs to learn about fear.
Lance was getting tired of being tied up upside down. He tried to reach up at his ankle. Having to lift his body up a bit. Which was challenging for his small body. But as he looked up and could see past his body. That was when he saw his father lunging at him. His body twisted with his axe in hand. Lance had never been in a fight before. But his instincts yelled at him to get out of the way.
Lance flailed but was unable to move anywhere. The rope made sure of that. But thankfully his father wasn't aiming for his body. The axe cut the rope just above where his foot was. Tickling the skin of his foot. The force of the swing also pushed Lance's body away and into the far wall. "Ow. Ow!" His hand rubbed the back of his head. "I hit my head. Why did you do that?"
Tyrus landed on his feet. Perfect form. His cape fell shortly after he landed. Lance immediately noticed his father was wearing the clothes that he kept put aside for special occasions. He had his hands slapped with a ruler for trying to touch them. He wore a charcoal shirt, dress pants, a crimson tie, and a white undershirt. Over that was a black cape that went down just above his ankles. And the collar frilled up to below his ears.
Lance always thought the outfit looked cool. But he sees his father in it now. He looked like a monster. Tyrus took slow steps towards Lance. But he stopped when he was in full view of his son. The axe was hanging down from his hand. "Did you mean what you said yesterday?" Lance gulped as he tried to remember what he said.
"When you said that you could become one of God's knights, did you mean that? Or were you just talking big?"
Lance sniffled as he felt the pain in his head finally start to subside. "I can be a knight. You didn't have to hit me!"
Tyrus smirked as he moved his hand up the shaft of his weapon. "Good. Then this next part comes easy." Stepping forward, he offered his son a hand to help him stand up. "I was your age when my father trained me, which allowed me to become the warrior you see today." He lifted the axe again to make a point of it. "This is Tyre. An axe was forged by our great-great forefather, Cain Duval, at the founding of the world government. Forged with metals forgotten. And a branch of Adam Wood. And one day…if you train hard. Become strong. And prove our family name proud. This axe can be yours." Shifting the weight downward. He let the blade sink into the floor.
All of that was a lot for a five-year-old to digest. But something did register in his mind. As he looked at that axe, it sank to the floor. Lance could feel a desire for this weapon he hadn't felt before. The axe had to be his, and he'd do whatever he had to to make it his.
Looking up at his father. Lance gave a few nods of confirmation.
"Excellent." Tyrus picked up the axe and spun it in hand before putting it back on his belt loop. "Then head back home. Abigail has the outfit I've picked out for your training. Get fed. And come back so we can go over the basics."