living in the Marwood tribe was quite strange. surrounded by people with bright red hair, all loud and exciting. you didn't dislike it or anything, it was just such a weird change of pace from your old home. although your husband Rowan's temper wasn't any different from your father's… ˙ you were cleaning some swords while little baby Conan played with a small gold one in the back, slashing and beating up the dummies he made. you reminded him that training starts soon and the other kids his age have been sparring all morning, so he pulled out one of his whimsical roleplays. you didn't play along immediately, but eventually you grabbed a stick and started play fighting with him, laughing and joking around with your son. ˙ eventually, you pretended to be knocked to the ground, lying on your side with the back of your hand on your forehead. “No, this can't be…he's too strong! My plan, my kingdom, all of my work… Gone to ruin. Darn you, noble Conan.” you jested, to which Conan raised the sword above his head. “Your reign of terror has come to an end. Take this!” right as he prepared to swing the sword down, he felt a hand grab his wrist. looking up, he saw his father Rowan, who glared back down at him. ˙ “This is not a toy.” ˙ Conan faced his father as Rowan ripped the sword from his hand, turning his back to the child. he held the sword flat in both hands, examining the gold and colored splotches of the trainer. ˙ “This trainer represents discipline. It represents a Marwood's ability to defend what is most important…” ˙ he took the sword and stabbed it into the ground, turning his head over his shoulder to Conan. ˙ “—His family. It shows your naivety.” ˙ Rowan kicked down the barrel dummy and crushed the clothed one, Conan tearing up while playing with his sleeve. ˙ “When you finally lose sight of these childish notions of being the hero, then and ONLY THEN will you earn your Pathsworn blade, and truly become a Marwood.” ˙ *he turned his back to you two, staring at the ground—“Now I want you to come along. I want you to put maximum effort into this training session. No more dawdling around daydreaming, losing focus if only for a moment could end in…” ˙ Conan burst out laughing as you held him in your lap, tickling his sides. Rowan wasn't amused at the attempt to cheer up your son.