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makes even the most common of men into heroes.”
    “Do you think I could be a hero, Father?”
    “I don’t see why not. If you have drive, you can do just about anything.”
    “I don’t understand something though,” Odin said, bowing his head for but a brief moment before returning his attention to his father. “If common men can’t become knights, then that means… that means you could’ve just become a solider.”
    “I could’ve, yes.”
    “Why didn’t you?”
    “Military life is hard, son. When your grandfather was still alive, he needed help in the farms to the east.”
    “Near Bohren?”
    Quite the eye that boy has, Ectris thought, but only nodded in response. “Yes,” he said. “Near Bohren.”
    “Did you want to become a solider?”
    What do I say to a boy whose dream is to become a knight?
    He could say nothing, he knew, to deter someone who was just a boy, and for that he merely straightened his posture, reached up to paw the juice from the meat away from his face, then set both hands on the table, offering but a brief sigh in spite of the fact that the question was so simple yet so complicatedly-complex. “I don’t know if I ever wanted to become a solider,” he said, choosing to offer only the best response he could give. “To be quite honest, Odin, the horror stories you hear of men who go into service are absolutely terrible, and given the strain between our country and the one next to us, I wouldn’t be surprised if war broke out between us sometime soon.”
    “You think so?” Odin asked.
    “I do,” Ectris sighed. “I’ll tell you something right now though, son, and I’ll be damned if I ever break this promise—I will do anything within my power to help you become the man you want to be, even if that means putting you into a situation that may be dangerous.”
    “Thank you, sir.”
    “I mean it. I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you get to Ornala and enlisted within the king’s army.”
    Odin slid another piece of cheese in his mouth, as if prompting silence across the table in lieu of the newly-given situation.
    Oh well, Ectris thought, resisting the urge to frown by shoving yet more food into his mouth. This is expected.
    Odin had never been one for physical or conversational interaction with others his age. Why Ectris couldn’t be sure, given his personality and the fact that he seemed perfectly capable of making friends, but more often than not he found his son off to the side, head stuck in a book or sketching something out with charcoal and ink. Even as a baby he’d been like this—this small, quietly-driven creature who seemed to be forcing himself not to interact with anyone and everyone even if they showed some kind of interest in him. Even the other fathers of the village, whom had so desperately tried to introduce activity between their children and Odin, had failed to help his son make any friends. While part of that could be in regards to his eyes—which, to any looking upon him and not knowing the truth, could frighten them away—and though he’d done as Karma had once suggested and kept Odin’s hair long and his ears hidden from view, nothing Ectris did seemed to help his son earn the confidence he needed to socialize with other people.
    Knowing in the end that, someday, this would not matter, Ectris bowed his head to his food and continued eating, all the while silently praying that Odin had not seen his facial expression and as such had learned his weakness.
    This is bullshit, he thought. He’s such a good kid! Why doesn’t anyone want to be friends with him?
    Why, out of all the sheep his son could possibly be, did Odin have to be the black one?
    “Can I go to bed?” a small voice asked.
    Ectris looked up to find his son’s plate completely devoid of food. Even the platter that held the small row of biscuits was devoid of the baked goods.
    “If you want,” Ectris sighed, shoving another piece of food into his mouth.