Young Ty's Childhood

Lord Tybalt the Elder was not happy with the childish ways of his son, who he also named Tybalt to be his successor. The boy was much too enveloped into his play with toys and merrymaking in the ponds of his estate. The Elder Lord put so much work into the boy since his infancy, and now here he was, a boy of many seasons. He couldn't stay here playing all day to be a waste, for he was a noble, and he must ascend to his duties to become a true knight.

One day, the Lord put a hand on his young son's shoulder, no older than five years of age and no taller than the Lord's own thigh and said, "You are to go to school and to apprenticeship to become a page and learn court, combat and knightly duties." Tybalt the younger looked up at his dad with a little disdain, but he knew better than to oppose his father. The Manor was a place of luxury, wealth and comfort. But Young Ty knew that there was much to be done outside of the walls of his father's manor. So he nodded simply and abandoned his small toys of spinning tops and drumming sticks. Instead, he traded these in for a sturdy practice sword and a long polearm to spar and learn the ways of battle. His father bought him a stone tablet and blank scrolls and ink to learn to write and to balance math like a merchant. Then he bought his son a clean new uniform of silk with the black and white livery of Tristam, his hold. Plus a rough sack-fabric tunic for the practice arena. The young pup held all these things in his arms trembling. He didn't know any other place besides his fathers manor where he grew up. His mother was gone now, having fled quickly after giving birth. But his father didn't mind, for he only wanted to keep the child as his heir.

"Are you afraid?" He said. The father's voice was rough, deep and commanding with authority. He lowered the volume of it a bit to sound kinder. "Don't be, my son. I have an idea. I will read you a story about knights and princesses and show you the glory it is to be knighted with honor." He led the boy into his study and read to him from volumes of fantasy and poetry and old pulled out his old books of war strategy and history tomes of great battles until the pup was too excited to hold still. The pair went to their bedchamber and Lord Tybalt the Elder tucked him into his cot for the last time. "Alright, not to worry... sleep now. Your adventure begins on the morn." But the boy didn't sleep so soundly, now that his head was filled with the blaze of life.

At breakfast, father and son ate honeyed meat and the boy was allowed a glass of his first ale before his dad pressed the new belongings into his paws again. It was time to leave.

"Alright, off you go" the Elder said gruffly to his son, and he shoved him into a carriage to be taken away to page training. His father was rough leaving him, pushing him out of the nest like a ruthless bird parent, but it was to be done this way, for the bird doesn't learn to fly if he's always held by the wing. That's what Lord Tybalt the Elder told himself... but the truth is, he was too embarrassed to cry with pride in front of his promising young son. So he made the departure quick, like ripping off a bandaid.

In the carriage, the young boy looked back through the curtain flaps of the window and saw his fathers manor getting smaller and smaller, until only the fields were visible on all sides, rolling past him like an ocean of green. He turned to face front again, and fingered the hilt of the wooden practice sword as he stared at the empty carriage's walls. Tybalt the younger was scared... but somewhat curious of what his new life would be.