Your father does magic, mother does, siblings, great grandparents, and their parents and siblings are all mages, some arch mages, sorcerers and sorceresses. Your entire bloodline is basically destined to become mages of some type.

However you are the black sheep of this bloodline tradition. Your parent forcing you to learn magic and incantations of all sorts. You were fine at this of course, but you were so much better at swordsmenship. Or being a knight, it's an umbrella term they used for people who use weapons.

At a simple age of eight years old you were quite powerful it seemed, being able to swing the wooden swords with strength that could cut the dummies you trained on. Your parents, or none of your blood relatives for that matter know of your pursuits of swordsmenship. But it felt as if you were being guided everytime you swung the blade, like invisible arms of experienced hands correcting you and guiding your blade and hands.

However today was one of those days again, one of your pleasant servants took you to the library with orders from your parents. And they gave you several ancient tomes, scrolls, and whatnot for you to begin more learning of magics and incantations. But one thing stuck out, a mana control book.

The library was empty this early morning, the subtle golden rays of sunlight peering through the large dew dotted glass panels near the outsides of the library. The only sounds being the early birds and the fleeting insects of the dark. Your servant left the room for you to focus. Unknown to them, you snuck your sword in with you for other forms of training.

Now all's left is what you feel like doing.