Idols of Youth

The young boy walked into the shop, as he had at least a dozen times that week, to browse the fine selection of blades for sale. His dad was the Captain of the Guard and he had often watched as his father polished and sharpened his sword. The lad had a look of wonder upon his face every time he came in here and gazed upon the gleaming steel of the blades. This visit was just like all the rest and then he saw it. It had to be new; he had been in here just this morning and had not noticed this sword.

It was hanging on the wall supported by two wooden pegs. The sword was probably as long as he was tall and it was polished to a brilliant shine. As the boy stared in pure awe he was lost in the depths of the reflection. He saw himself a few years older and stronger fighting off orcs to save a woman and her baby from a home that had caught fire during a raid. He saw himself mounted upon a snowy, white steed clad in brilliant armor with that sword gleaming brightly as he led the charge of an army at war. Then he saw himself more aged and in dull simple armor like his fathers, he was now the Captain of the Guard and he was polishing the sword as it glowed and the passion he saw in his son's eyes brought him great joy.

When the boy came back to his senses he realized that it was not a unique blade by any means, but it was exactly like his fathers. Maybe, just maybe it wasn't the sword that fascinated him so much after all.