14^th of Winter, Philipp was 4 years old

   It was a quiet and awkward dinner. A long wooden table stretched so far across the room. King Bylur sat at the head of the table, while Philipp and Queen Penelope sat quietly on the other end. Facing far apart from each other, silently eating their meal.

   Only the sounds of cutlery bumping against the porcelain plates broke the deafening silence.

   Today was different—the air weighed heavier than usual. It wasn’t the gloomy weather, or the gray clouds looming outside the windows. No, there was an unspoken tension in the room. Something brewing. Something important.

   But to young Philipp who happily ate his meal with his bare hands—his mother seated beside him, occasionally wiping his lips with a handkerchief—the brimming suspense that’s been permeating in the room went completely unnoticed.

   Clank

   King Bylur put down his spoon and fork, his eyes fixed on his son and finally, he began to speak.

   “Son, I’d like for you to look at that tapestry hanging on the wall just right behind you.” He said. His tone was serious, never breaking his eye contact. Philipp looked towards his father, still chewing his food. “Mmh… Okey.” He absentmindedly wiped the crumbs and sauce on his lips, smearing them around his cheeks.

   King Bylur’s eyes narrowed slightly at such an unprincely display.

   Philipp then turned around to look at the tapestry. It was massive. It hung from the ceiling with the top end attached to a long rod. An illustration was artistically stitched in the fabric. Although, two things caught his attention the most.

    On top of the cliff is a mansion, sitting closely by its edge. And at the center of the tapestry—which he assumes is the main focus of the illustration—stood a figure; he wore a crown and a halo glowed around his head. He held a sword, a shield in the other and he was posed in the tapestry in such a heroic way.

   Surrounding the figure are stitched illustrations of men battling against mythical beasts. Some held swords with blood staining its tips while the others were mauled, pounced or bitten by them.

   It looks rather gruesome, especially the longer you stare.

   He had always seen this tapestry. But it appeared a bit too cryptic for him to understand. He looked back to his father, not understanding the purpose of his command.

   “That tapestry shows an important Galacian tradition.” King Bylur said. He leaned closer, clasping his hands at the table. “It is a tradition that brought peace to our once chaos-infested land. And to maintain that peace, we must keep this tradition alive.” He added.

   “Your Majesty, I think he’s too young to kno—"

    He raised a hand dismissively.

   “No. He’s old enough to know.”

   “B-but…he’s just four. Bylur, please…maybe this can wait a little bit longer.” She fidgeted under the tablecloth. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, and her son—still oblivious to the severity of the conversation—saw his mother’s unease.

   “Mama? What’s wrong?” He asked innocently.

   “Nothing! Nothing…” She answered hastily, then immediately fixed her posture. “As I was saying, he may be too young to understand.” Her voice was shaky but firm; her palms damp on her lap as she tried to get a hold of her emotions to respond.

   “His only concerns are new toys to play with and how to spend his time within the castle. He cannot possibly grasp the duty and responsibility. I know that you are wise, my dear husband...But please just conside-”

   “I  have already considered it.” His voice louder than before.

   “The boy must learn as early as now. We have already discussed this, and I was expecting you already understood it by now.”  He reached for the wine-filled goblet. “Penelope. As my queen, this utterly displeases me.” She turned away from him, brows furrowed.

   “Forgive me, your Majesty…” she responded.

   “Now, where was I? Ah, yes. The tradition. There’s something you must know, Philipp. About our family.” King Bylur rose up from his seat. Facing away from them, staring out the windows.

   “Our family is a lineage of heroes; people who willingly died for our honor, our name, our kingdom…” he slowly turned around to face Philipp “And hopefully, to become the next Galacian God.”

   He continued “And once you’re of age, you will be one of them, Philipp.”

   Philipp stammered “M-me…? But papa…I don’t understand, why do I have to do it?”

   “The tradition is a spinning wheel. A cycle. For it to keep moving, it must keep turning.”

   King Bylur approached the boy, ignoring his wife that’s been sitting next to him. She could only turn the other cheek and let it all happen.

   “Son, when I was your age, I was not bestowed with the honor of joining the Godquest. I was raised to be a ruler instead. But you have that gift! And with you, my son, I see great potential.”

   King Bylur kneeled next to Philipp, now looking at him directly. He clasped the boy’s hand and then, he said

   “You can become a Hero.”

   “I can be… a Hero.”

   “Yes, my child. And something even greater too. A God.”

   Queen Penelope, unable to contain herself, stood from her seat and excused herself. The door banged loudly, but King Bylur remained indifferent to her. He shifted his focus back to his son.

   “Is mama okay? Is she angr—” His father touched his chin, turning his head back to face him “First lesson, Son. Do not let emotions cloud your judgement.”

    He stood up, still looking directly at him. “Things will change from now on; you will prepare and train. You will need to build courage. And toughen your spirit. Haxel will be in charge in teaching you how to wield a weapon.” He’s now walking away from him, going towards the door.

   “For your first task, Tomorrow you must wake up early. Don’t be late. I have high expectations for you.” He said before leaving the room. The door closed shut. It echoed in a now empty and silent room, leaving no one but Philipp by himself.

    He looked at the tapestry again, still processing the events that just transpired. “To Become… a hero.” His eyes fixated on the ghastly beasts illustrated in the tapestry. They had fangs and claws. One of them has bat wings, the other , a set of multiple eyes placed on its face. He feels more and more horrified the more he stared. “I… I don’t think I can….I don’t…” turning his head away before sprinting towards the door. “I don’t want to!!” He cried, it echoed in the corridors.