Samuel Armstrong-Mason woke up from his dream. Samuel had known his family's story since he was 6
"It is important", said Old Mary, "That a young master knows his family history, that he know both their glories and their faliures".
Old Mary knew all the Armstrong family history, as well as a surprising amount of Mason history (although it had a suspiciously higher amount of failures). She told other stories too, like of Harry Potter, the one year old who had looked Samuel's parents and siblings killer in the face and reflected a curse that was unlockable. Samuel owed that boy a great debt for his actions, whether he was conscious of them, or as Old Mary sometimes implied, not quite so.
Old Mary – the old castle nurse and Sir Wilhelmsson – the rusty and stern master of arms had been the only other occupants of the draughty, empty castle Samuel lived in. This was the Armstrong castle, Sir Wilhelmsson and Old Mary were Armstrong-sworn, and Samuel was half Armstrong. This all meant that he required tutoring and swordsmanship lessons to become a proper noble Lord and Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Armstrong. Old Mary had died when Samuel was just 7 years old, leaving Samuel, Sir Wilhelmsson and a single surviving house elf.
The 11th of March was like any other, he'd wake up at 7am, perform his ablutions, march down to breakfast, then Sir Wilhelmsson would train him in the Armstrong Form: Armstrongs were deadly swordspersons and wizards. The two of them stood with swords in their right hands, and wands in their left. Samuel only had a shortsword and a stick but Sir Wilhelmsson wielded a darksteel sword he had forged himself in his youth and a real wizard's wand in his off hand. Darksteel was a semi-living alloy that could channel the user's magic, as well as being both strong and light. Alchemist-Smiths had therefore guarded its recipe for millennia, only teaching it to one apprentice in their career.
Exhausted after 2 or 3 hours of exertion, Samuel retired to the library. When Old Mary had been alive she would be tutoring him until lunch and several hours afterwards. Now he just had a list of topics to study which Sir Wilhelmsson would quiz him on occasionally. In the afternoon, Samuel wandered the castle grounds, as he was liable to do, shortsword at his left hip, 'wand' next to it. Ever since he could walk, he would wander, both castle and grounds were vast, and several staircases and corridors did not always lead to the same place every time. Finding a door he had not opened before, he boldly strode in, sword and stick at the ready. Stood before him, was an empty room, with a closet at the back, covered in a sheet. He put his wand away and walked up to the closet, wishing all the while he could use magic. He pulled the sheet off and opened the closet door.
Sir Wilhelmson fell out of it, Dead.
There was a crippling silence, the Knight's corpse, the only Person Samuel had just lay there limp.
Samuel collapsed, the emptiness of the castle seeped into him, crushing him. He curled up into the foetal position, sobbing, and blacked out.
"RIDDICULUS"
-CHAPTER BREAK-
He was tucked into his bed. He opened his eyes, looking at him kindly, for the first time ever, was Sir Wilhelmsson.
"Have I been killed Sir?" asked Samuel
"No Samuel, you are not dead" replied the man before being cut off
"B-But, your body Sir!"
"is perfectly well, unlike yours Samuel"
Samuel then felt a throbbing from his head.
"You fell when confronted with your worst fear, many stronger and braver men have acted the same way when confronted with a boggart"
"A boggart Sir?" inquired Samuel
"A creature which inhabits dark, enclosed spaces, it takes the form of whatever the viewer fears the most, you fear loneliness, child"
"Loneliness." Samuel stated, unimpressed.
"An extremely mature fear Samuel. Come, drink this broth, then sleep. We have much to do tomorrow."
"We do?"
"It is your 10th birthday after all, and I fear I may not be long for this world, but preparations have been in place for a while, there is just one or two more things to sort out"
Samuel looked up at the knight, though his eyes were the kindest he had ever seen them, he also looked very tired. He looked into his eyes, worried.
"You shan't be lonely child, now sleep"
A few minutes later, just before he drifted off, Samuel thought he could hear the clank of hammer on anvil.
-CHAPTER BREAK-
Samuel woke from his dream, he had been saving a pretty red haired maiden from a dragon, having incapacitated the beast with sword and wand. He had quite enjoyed the dream. He trudged sleepily down to breakfast, and sitting at the table was Sir Wilhelmsson.
"Good morning Sir Wilhelmsson"
"Good morning Samuel, happy birthday"
"Thank you sir" he replied, not expecting much. Samuel did not really get birthday presents, not that he minded, he only lived with 2 people, and both essentially lived to care for him. It was surprising then, that Sir Wilhelmson belayed sword practice, and took him into the armoury.
"Since I am not always going to be here, and your swordsmanship is up to par, I have brought ahead certain plans."
"What plans Sir"
"Your Armstrong Entitlements" he answered cryptically. He then took out a dark blade from behind him. A Darksteel shortsword.
"This is yours Samuel."
Wide-eyed, Samuel took the blade, the moment he touched it, he felt it pulse, then grow comfortingly warm.
"The blade is bonded" Sir Wilhelmsson stated, as the blade flashed a deep red once. "Mr Ollivander."
An old wizard walked into the Armoury.
"Sir Wilhelmsson, it has been a long time" said the wizard.
"That is has Garrick. Wilhelm, if you please."
"Certainly Wilhelm, what can I do for you?"
"The Lord Armstrong-Mason requires his birthright."
"He does does he?" Ollivander peered down at Samuel "Does my Lord require a wand of me?"
"I do Mr Ollivander" Replied Samuel.
"Excellent" He stated, tuning to Sir Wilhelmsson. "I assume you will want the traditional Armstrong Core." A thin, dark metal rod was handed to him. "I will need your assistance then, and the wood?"
"My Lord has an affinity for Apple trees. I find him climbing in the orchard more than anywhere else, he consumes the fruit like a hippogriff in a stoat nest and describes an unexplained warmness from the wood." Stated Sir Wilhelmsson. Samuel remembered the warmth, similar, but calmer than that he had just experienced from his sword.
"Excellent, I'm sure it will be most compatible, I have certainly missed contracted wand construction" Ollivander mused, "Curious, the owner of an applewood wand is said to be well loved and long lived"
Samuel beamed, a long life filled with company was his dream, he wanted nothing more. The two old men left the armoury to find a suitable tree, and by the evening Samuel owned a darksteel shortsword, and his very own wand: applewood, darksteel core, 12 inches, stiff. Both were strapped to his waist, and he did not take them off again.
The day after Samuel's birthday, Sir Wilhelmsson passed away. Samuel constructed a pyre out of firewood and pointed his wand at it, tears silently rolling down his cheek.
"Incendio" he muttered, and the pyre went up immediately. He raised his sword above his head as he watched the smoke rise into the night sky.
Alone.
