The morning sun spilled golden light over the quiet kingdom, painting the rooftops with warmth. A soft breeze carried the scent of blooming flowers, and the sky was so clear it almost felt like a dream.
In the courtyard, Issac stood in front of his father, wide-eyed and eager. His father held a small dagger in his hand, the blade glinting as sunlight danced on its edge.
"Today," his father said with a proud grin, "you'll learn to fight with this."
Issac's eyes sparkled. "Really? My own weapon?"
His father chuckled, kneeling down to match his son's height. "It's not yours yet. But if you learn well, it will be."
The dagger felt cold and smooth in Issac's small hands. It was light—perfect for him. His father began teaching him simple, easy-to-learn techniques—how to hold it without hurting himself, how to step forward and back, and how to keep his balance.
Issac moved clumsily at first, almost tripping over his own feet.
His father laughed. "Steady, steady… think of it like catching a butterfly. Gentle, but quick."
Issac's lips curved into a determined smile. "I'll catch the biggest butterfly!"
The training continued, the sound of laughter mixing with the swish of practice swings.
By noon, they were both tired. Issac flopped down on the grass, dagger resting beside him. His father sat next to him, ruffling his hair. "Not bad for your first day, little warrior."
Issac puffed his chest. "One day, I'll be even better than you!"
That afternoon, something new stirred in their quiet street. A carriage rolled into the neighborhood, stopping next door. Inside were Vaela and her family. She leaned out, curious eyes scanning the houses.
Her father, a kind-faced man, stepped out first. He spoke with Issac's parents as movers began unloading boxes. "We used to run a clinic," he explained with a slightly tired smile. "Business wasn't good where we were… so we decided to start fresh here."
Issac's mother nodded warmly. "Then welcome. I'm sure things will go better this time."
While the adults talked, Issac peeked around his mother's arm. He spotted Vaela, a girl about his age, stepping out of the carriage. Her hair caught the sunlight, and her bright eyes landed on him.
They stared for a moment—two strangers sizing each other up. Then, like a sudden spark, Vaela grinned. "Hi! I'm Vaela. Who are you?"
Issac blinked, caught off guard by her cheerful tone. "…Issac."
"Do you like running?" she asked, tilting her head.
"Uh… yeah?"
"Race you to that tree!" she shouted before he could answer.
Without warning, she took off running. Issac's eyes widened, then a competitive fire lit up inside him. "Hey, wait!" He dashed after her, laughter echoing in the air.
By the time the sun began to set, they were already talking like old friends—sharing stories, daring each other to climb higher on the fence, and making up silly games.
From the porch, Issac's parents watched with gentle smiles. "Looks like he's found a friend," his mother said softly.
His father nodded. "A new chapter begins."
And so, with a dagger in hand and a new friend by his side, Issac's days were about to grow far more exciting than he could have imagined.
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