The sun was sinking below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of crimson and gold, as Gai finished his daily practice. His muscles ached from exertion, and beads of sweat glistened on his brow. With the encroaching darkness, he rushed inside to light the candles, their warm glow flickering to life and casting dancing shadows on the walls.

"I heard from Egbert today that Roland and Boris had a visit to the guardhouse this morning. Boris had quite the bump on his head. Do you know anything about that, son?" Gai's father asked, his figure silhouetted in the doorway. He leaned gently against the frame, the light from the candles illuminating his weathered face.

Gai recounted the events of the day, his father's eyes never leaving his as he listened intently. When Gai finished, his father smiled softly, a hint of pride in his eyes. "I'm proud of you, son. You've come such a long way in these short weeks." With a swift movement, Lionel unbuckled a package slung over his shoulder and laid it upon the table in the centre of the room. "Open it," he said clearly, a hint of sadness in his voice.

Gai's fingers trembled with apprehension as he untied the bindings. As the cloth fell away, it revealed a beautiful longsword. The scabbard was adorned with intricate etchings that caught the candlelight, making the patterns dance. It was unlike anything Gai had ever seen.

"This will be your fifteenth summer, son, so I got you a gift," Lionel said, his voice tinged with emotion. "Your mother gave this to me, made from her homeland. Now, it is yours. And tonight is the last night we may ever see each other." The sadness in his voice was unmistakable.

Gai looked up, his heart clenching at the sight of a single tear rolling down his father's cheek. Lionel strode to a cabinet, pulled out two wooden cups and a bottle, and set them on the table. "Let's finish this up tonight. I saved it for this night. A son should always have his first drink with his father."

Moments passed, the fiery liquid burning their throats as they drank. The room filled with laughter as Lionel recounted tales of love and loss, of great victories and greater defeats. The warmth of his father's presence was a bittersweet comfort to Gai.

Later, passers-by would hear only the echoes of their laughter mingling with the night air. Gai's last memory of that night was the taste of the drink and the feel of the cool street as he emptied his stomach, the world spinning around him.