It is said that when facing death, your life will flash before your eyes.
Lucas never realized how true that was until the moment they tied him to a sturdy wooden stake atop a pile of wood. Cultists chanted around them while monsters of all kinds surrounded them, but not even the raucous din could drown out the sobs of the young princess tied behind him. His heart sank as he remembered how deeply he'd failed her, and took her hand in his through the ropes behind him. She clutched it as hard as she could, squeezing all her life and all her hope into his calloused fingers. Lucas squeezed back, fighting a sob of his own.
He had to be strong for her.
Would Master be disappointed in him? His mind drifted back to the moment he first met her, his swordmaster and the woman who became like a mother to him.
-----
He was only five years old at the time, and his mother had brought him to the temple to receive a blessing from the priests. As the firstborn son of a wealthy businessman, he got to live in the highest crust of society alongside children of the rich and famous. Stories of brave knights fighting dragons and saving princesses inspired him, so as soon as he learned how to walk and talk, he was screaming around the garden with a stick in hand about "smiting the foul fiend."
"Please pardon him," his mother said to the chuckling priestess as he tore around the temple grounds. "He dreams of becoming a knight someday, and we haven't yet given him his dose of reality."
"I'm going to guard a princess!" he exclaimed, running back to show his makeshift sword to the pretty lady.
The priestess squatted down to meet his gaze, her eyes sparkling with innocent curiosity. "Are you, now? That is an admirable aspiration indeed."
"An ammerbable asserashun?" he repeated back.
"Yes, an admirable aspiration."
"What's that?"
"An aspiration is a dream, a wish in your heart that you want to fulfill someday. It is an admirable dream, a good dream, that you should work for as hard as you can."
"An ammermable aspershun is a good dream?"
"Exactly."
With that, he screamed with delight and scampered off again swinging his stick-sword at imaginary enemies. The priestess watched him for a minute, chuckling at his boundless energy before turning to his mother.
"May I train the boy?"
His mother's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"
"Quite. While I serve God now within these hallowed halls, I was a warrior once, and still remember the Way of the Sword. His dream has inspired me, and I wish to encourage it."
"I don't know. He has recently begun his education, and I'm not sure my husband would approve the funds."
The priestess waved her off. "Oh no, there is no need to concern yourself with payment. Let me make you a deal: if your son does not surpass the other trainees his age within six months, I will pay for a year of his tuition in the field of your choice."
"Now that is a proposition I can get behind. You have yourself a deal. Son, come here."
Lucas scampered over, "sword" still in hand.
"This lady is going to teach you swordsmanship. Go on and introduce yourself."
He sheathed his stick in a belt loop and puffed out his chest. "My name is Lucas!" he declared.
The priestess leaned over to meet his gaze and extended a hand to shake. "And my name is Rue. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"A presser to make your acquain- acquaintance!"
To this day, he still remembered the warmth of her smile and the firm, grown-up way she shook his hand.
"The pleasure is mine, Sir Lucas."
Lucas never realized how true that was until the moment they tied him to a sturdy wooden stake atop a pile of wood. Cultists chanted around them while monsters of all kinds surrounded them, but not even the raucous din could drown out the sobs of the young princess tied behind him. His heart sank as he remembered how deeply he'd failed her, and took her hand in his through the ropes behind him. She clutched it as hard as she could, squeezing all her life and all her hope into his calloused fingers. Lucas squeezed back, fighting a sob of his own.
He had to be strong for her.
Would Master be disappointed in him? His mind drifted back to the moment he first met her, his swordmaster and the woman who became like a mother to him.
-----
He was only five years old at the time, and his mother had brought him to the temple to receive a blessing from the priests. As the firstborn son of a wealthy businessman, he got to live in the highest crust of society alongside children of the rich and famous. Stories of brave knights fighting dragons and saving princesses inspired him, so as soon as he learned how to walk and talk, he was screaming around the garden with a stick in hand about "smiting the foul fiend."
"Please pardon him," his mother said to the chuckling priestess as he tore around the temple grounds. "He dreams of becoming a knight someday, and we haven't yet given him his dose of reality."
"I'm going to guard a princess!" he exclaimed, running back to show his makeshift sword to the pretty lady.
The priestess squatted down to meet his gaze, her eyes sparkling with innocent curiosity. "Are you, now? That is an admirable aspiration indeed."
"An ammerbable asserashun?" he repeated back.
"Yes, an admirable aspiration."
"What's that?"
"An aspiration is a dream, a wish in your heart that you want to fulfill someday. It is an admirable dream, a good dream, that you should work for as hard as you can."
"An ammermable aspershun is a good dream?"
"Exactly."
With that, he screamed with delight and scampered off again swinging his stick-sword at imaginary enemies. The priestess watched him for a minute, chuckling at his boundless energy before turning to his mother.
"May I train the boy?"
His mother's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"
"Quite. While I serve God now within these hallowed halls, I was a warrior once, and still remember the Way of the Sword. His dream has inspired me, and I wish to encourage it."
"I don't know. He has recently begun his education, and I'm not sure my husband would approve the funds."
The priestess waved her off. "Oh no, there is no need to concern yourself with payment. Let me make you a deal: if your son does not surpass the other trainees his age within six months, I will pay for a year of his tuition in the field of your choice."
"Now that is a proposition I can get behind. You have yourself a deal. Son, come here."
Lucas scampered over, "sword" still in hand.
"This lady is going to teach you swordsmanship. Go on and introduce yourself."
He sheathed his stick in a belt loop and puffed out his chest. "My name is Lucas!" he declared.
The priestess leaned over to meet his gaze and extended a hand to shake. "And my name is Rue. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"A presser to make your acquain- acquaintance!"
To this day, he still remembered the warmth of her smile and the firm, grown-up way she shook his hand.
"The pleasure is mine, Sir Lucas."