Dagan ducked a blow from the wooden sword in time before it set his head to ringing. It swished through his hair like a scythe through fields of wheat. He panted, desperately trying to catch a breath, but his instructor did not let up.

  His next blow came at his ribs, which Dagan managed to deflect, but their swords rang something fierce, and he nearly dropped his blade. It was like his whole arm had been struck numb by lightning. It threw him off balance, and his opponent capitalized on it. He struck his wrist, making Dagan cry out and drop his sword.

  "You're too slow," Salorin said.

  "You are nearly three times my age," Dagan countered.

  "You're fourteen. You're almost a man," his father countered. Dagan's father was a bear of a man. He had dark hair and a broad build that made the town guards seem feverish compared to him. Unfortunately, Dagan hadn't inherited that from him, or at least not yet.

  A part of him never wanted to be anything like him. His father was cold, strict, and hard on him for reasons that were beyond Dagan. On many nights, he would lie awake in bed and make plans to run away from home, but he hadn't found the courage to follow through on those plans.

  "Stop rubbing your wrist. Pick up your sword, and let's go again," Salorin commanded. "Fall into the Skull Crusher stance."

  "Yes, sir," Dagan practically whimpered. He wanted to drop to the ground and feign unconsciousness, but that would only earn a kick to the ribs.

  He held his sword high and brought it down on his father's head. His anger fueled his strength even if his wrist ached. He wanted to do anything but jostle with his old man. Salorin dodged to the side while flowing into the Windbreaker stance, and if he went on the offensive, Dagan would be going to bed with several bruised bones.

  He did not fancy that at all. So, he kept up his assault because anything but would be less than unacceptable. He kept up with his father as he spun around Dagan, but he didn't even manage to scratch his old man.

  Finally, Dagan gave up. He dropped the sword and huffed with his hands on his knees.

  +2 Skull Crusher

  +3 Agility

  +2 Strength

  +5 Stamina

  Like always, his father showered him with praise.

  "You gave up too easily," Salorin scorned.

  “I…did the best…I could," Dagan snapped between breaths.

  "Your best is not good enough." He gripped his shirt's collar. "I won't always be here to protect you. You need to do better."

  Dagan pushed him away. "I'm doing the best I can, okay? I don't see any other father drilling their son like you."

  "Because we are not like them. We were—"

  "Yes, yes, I've heard it all before. We were nobles and lorded over the petty nobles. Well, Father, I do not care about being a noble or finding the treasure that cost us everything."

  Salorin gritted his teeth. "Watch your tone, boy."

  "Whatever." Dagan kicked the practice sword lightly, hopped the fence, and walked off to spend the evening with Toren. I'm sure his father doesn't care about training until his limbs fall off.

  "I'm sure he has a good reason for it," Toren said, lightly slapping Dagan's back.

  "Yes, he does," Dagan said. "He means to kill me. If Mother were here, she wouldn't have let him go through with it. She used to protect me so much from him."

  He dropped his head in his hands. Why did you have to go early, Ma…

  His mother had passed on to the otherworld three years ago, and ever since then, his life had been consumed with training. He actually looked forward to days when he was too sick to train. Those were the only days he got to rest. Even right now, his father was probably fuming because Dagan was wasting time.

  "I don't know what to say," Toren said, feeling awkward. "I wish I could say you can come live with us, but we barely have enough to eat as it is."

  Dagan patted his friend's arm. "Nothing would make me happier, but Father dearest would just drag me back, but enough about him. How about yourself?"

  "My training is going very well." He talked about his training with his father and Uncle. Their conversation veered to their shared dream. Like always, he brightened whenever they spoke of their dream of owning a blacksmithing shop where Toren would be the blacksmith and Dagan the Artificer, enchanting and infusing the swords and armor with a variety of enchantments.

  "Could you imagine spending all day doing what we love?" Toren exclaimed.

  "You have no idea how much I want that," Dagan grinned.

  "Toren!" his mother called, waving a hand from the door. "Come, the food is ready."

  "Oh, I've got to go." He stood dusting off his backside. Dagan's face fell, and his friend noticed right away. "Hey, why don't you come to eat dinner with us?"

  "Are you sure that is okay?" Dagan asked, knowing that food was pretty tight for them.

  "Anything for you, brother." Toren smiled his knowing smile.

  It was like he just knew what Dagan needed, and he always came through for him. Dagan hoped that he could do the same for his friend one day.

  Dagan nursed his bruised fingers and pride. He had miscalculated a blow and caught the blow on his fingers instead of his blade. Thank the gods, it was only a practice blade.

  His father looked at his hand and grunted. "You won't be able to train today. Come. We have errands to run."

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  "Thank the gods," Dagan exclaimed. "I mean, sure. Lead the way, father."

  A few years had passed, and he was almost eighteen. Still, he could hardly best his father, though he had gotten stronger and faster. He was coming closer each day to putting his father in the dirt, not vice versa.

  He followed Salorin, and they walked silently as they usually did. Despite the long years that had passed, their relationship remained much the same. The only time they really talked was when they trained or about what to make for food. However, Salorin's berating his son had lessened of late. Other than that, Dagan might as well have lived with the walls. But still, he cared for his old man. He didn't speak much, but he made sure Dagan was always fed and didn't want for anything.

  There was a pain in his father's eyes that Dagan knew about but could do nothing to alleviate that pain. It was about their lost wealth and stature. Although the whole thing had happened many decades ago, they were still noble, even if only in name. They could earn back their wealth through other means if they tried.

  "Look, there goes the pauper nobles," snickered a couple of boys on the side of the road.

  Dagan's fury rose at once. He turned to them, fists clenched. "What did you say?"

  "Nothing," the boy smirked.

  He was about Dagan's age, even if he was slightly taller. Dagan knew he could take him and his friend if it came to blows.

  "Just that, you look awfully underdressed for a trip to the market, My Lord." They both howled with laughter as if it were a great joke.

  "I'm dressed just right to put the lot of you in your place." Dagan rolled up his sleeves and had taken but two steps when his father clicked his tongue, which meant, 'come back here.'

  "That's right, My Lord. You should listen to your father and not dirty your clothes.

  "They're probably the only clothes he has left," said the other.

  Dagan drew a sharp breath and was about to give them a fitting reply when his father grunted. "Let it go."

  "But father, they insulted us."

  "And?"

  "And if we don't stand up for ourselves, then who will?"

  "Walk with me," Salorin said without waiting to see if Dagan was following.

  Dagan gave a last hateful look to the ruffians and fell in step with his father. "I could've easily taken them."

  "If you start fighting anyone after the slightest insults, soon you will be fighting the whole world," Salorin paused and looked at his son. "You will have to get used to them, Dagan. For people love to mock those who were once above their station."

  "But lately, these insults have been getting out of hand," Dagan countered. "Even the adults have taken to name-calling. They never used to before."

  "That's because they took pity on you since you were only a child. Now, they see you as a man, and if you retaliate with violence, then you will be punished as a man. So, keep a tight grip on that anger of yours and unleash it in your training."

  With that lesson, they headed for the sheriff's station. Salorin was known to take odd jobs for him here and there, so Dagan figured they had gone to collect some outstanding pay. Once they arrived, his father bade him to stay outside while he talked business with the sheriff.

  It didn't take long for his father to return, and without another word, they made off towards home. Once they were back home, Dagan figured it was time to train again, but his father didn't give the call. So, Dagan picked up his book on enchantments and figured he would finish another chapter before lunch.

  As he was reading, his father came to sit beside him but said nothing.

  Dagan looked at him. "Do you need something, father? Is it time to train again?"

  "No, you can continue reading."

  So, carefully, Dagan turned his eyes to the book. He was sure there was a test in this, too, but he couldn't figure out what. He tried reading under his father's gaze, but he couldn't concentrate, as his eyes kept going back to his father, who didn't stir or give any command but simply stared.

  Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. "What is it? I can't read like this."

  Then Salorin did something Dagan didn't know was possible for his father.

  He smiled. "Ever since your mother passed, you're only happy when you were reading your books. I just wanted to take this memory with me."

  Dagan frowned. "Take it with you? Are you going somewhere, father?"

  "I would've left a lot sooner, but with your mother's untimely death, I had to delay it as I couldn't leave you all by yourself."

  He smiled once again, and his smile stirred memories in Dagan that he didn't know he had. He used to smile and laugh when Dagan was a child. He wasn't so obsessed with training and would even play with him.

  "What changed?" Dagan found himself asking. "Why don't you smile anymore, father?"

  His father stared off into the distance. "Your mother was my light. I wanted to give her everything. Everything she would've gotten if we hadn't lost all our wealth and station. So, I planned on leaving to find the treasure of Virenor, but then you were born, and she asked me to stay. So, I did. After all, I couldn't leave her and you alone to fend for yourselves. Time passed, and I put in enough hours at the sheriff's and took enough jobs with the mercenary guild, which meant I could be gone for a few months. But then…"

  Another strange thing happened. Tears lined his eyes.

  "She fell ill," Dagan finished.

  He nodded. "Then, when she passed, she took my smile with her. Food lost all taste, the sun lost its warmth, and all beautiful things lost meaning. But she loved you and asked me to take care of you. It was one of the last things she asked of me. Even as she lay in bed with a devilish sickness, she cared more for you than herself." Now, his tears fell. "I couldn't leave you then. How would I face her in the afterlife? But in my grief, I made many mistakes with you, and for those, I'm sorry. I was even cold to you in the beginning and kept you at arm's length because…I wish I could give an answer that would suffice. But then it became a habit. A habit that I didn't know how to break. I didn't know how to come to you, embrace you, and show you the love you deserved. I don't perceive you can forgive me, nor will I ask for it, but I hope you can think of me fondly, perhaps, one day."

  Dagan had tears in his eyes as well, and he found it hard to reply. He reached out and placed a hand on his father's shoulder, but he didn't know what to say. This was the first time his father had talked to him like this.

  In the end, he, too, must have been emotionally stunted, for he just asked, "where are you going? Please tell me not to find the treasure that cursed our family."

  Sarolin looked away. "Until we don't find the treasure, the people will not stop chirping. They will hound us with their jeering and smirk behind our backs. We won't be able to restore our honor and pride as nobles until one of us finds that treasure."

  "Is that why you've been training me so hard all this time?" Dagan asked. "Because you expect me to go on this treasure hunt with you."

  "No, son, it's so our family's techniques do not get lost to antiquity." His father caressed his cheek. "And I must find this treasure so that you don't have to deal with what I had to growing up or your children after you. I will find this treasure and restore our pride and wealth. We'll once again be a house that the other nobles will look up to."

  "Since you are here, I imagine he was unsuccessful in his attempt," Roverin deduced.

  "He never returned," Dagan replied. "Things got worse when he left. All the jeering and mean comments usually reserved for him were hurled at me. I got in many fights. I was even jailed and fined a few times. Then, I finally took his advice and started taking out my frustrations in training, which I had stopped when he left. It became my release. The more insults on a particular day, the harder I would train."

  "I imagine you got pretty good," Roverin said.

  "It was the only thing that kept me sane. Every day, I would pray for my father's return. Slowly, months turned into years, and I finally realized he never would. Then, one day, I just started weeping. I wasn't sure why, but deep down, I got the feeling that my father had passed on…That I was an orphan."

  "So, now, you are hunting for this treasure for the same reason as your father?"

  Dagan nodded. "I want to find this treasure because not a week has passed since my father's departure that someone hasn't asked me if we've found the treasure of Virenor yet. I ignored it for many years but cannot any longer. I cannot get into any more arguments, nor can I bear to think that this awaits my sons. I will find this treasure and restore my house so all this finally stops and my boys don't have to endure what I had to, or my father or his father before him."

  "That is quite noble of you." Roverin quickly wrote everything down.

  "Yes, unlike him, I didn't just walk off into the wilderness. I've braved your mountain and found you. Tell me, how can I find the treasure?"

  "I suppose it is my turn, but please listen to my whole story before doing anything rash," the ghost said.

  "Why would I do anything rash unless you're an evil spirit."

  "I'll leave that to your judgment."