Days wore on to weeks, and eventually those weeks turned into a month. Yes, our young Barron had been at The Guild for just a little over a month now. He practiced his sword fighting with the now familiar stick, read what ever books his short stature could get a hold of, and occasionally shot at bats in the belfry with a slingshot he had dipped from a traveling saleswoman. At a crawling pace the boy was getting closer and closer to his goal of revenge. However, there was one problem. The fact that the boy had emotions was forgotten by everyone who lived at the Guild.
During Barron's first week he did absolutely everything in his power to please The Guildmaster. He'd hit the straw dummy for hours at a time, without complaint. He'd study subject that he had never heard of, nor wanted to learn, without complaint. He'd even endure Whispers snoring, without complaint. However, the praise that the boy so desperately worked for was few and far between and the money that was occasionally distributed held absolutely no interest for the boy. Eventually Barron found that coins and empty praise from a man who only sought to turn him into a warrior was decidedly not enough.
During the second week Barron had tried to be a good little boy. He would help the servants gather ingredients, and always made sure they were fresh. He would keep the beatles at bay. Deliver letters from one Hero to another, never asking about it's contents. Clean the filth from the stables. Barron eve cleaned the halls when the servants proved far too lazy to do it themselves. However, no praise, no hugs, not even appreciative smiles came his way. Only a growing collection of cold, lifeless coins.
By the time the third week came around Barron had started to act like a not so good little boy. When asked to help cook he would intentionally put the wrong ingredients in, secretly hoping someone would get sick. The boy would go into the woods at night and bag beatles into a well used burlap sack so that he could release them into the large garden. He would take horse dung and slingshot it at random passers-by from the rooftops. He'd even break objects on a whim, just to make the servants jobs more difficult. However, Barron had no liberties taken away, no missed dinners, nor a single scolding. Instead everyone remained either absolutely oblivious, or simply chose to ignore the boy.
Yes, everything the boy did to get attention had largely failed. There was not a single person to play with, nor anyone to read him bedtime stories, but more importantly, absolutely no one was willing to love him back. You see, when given so little love a person, especially a child, may begin to perceive things in an incorrect way. Which is what he began to do towards Maze. Barron largely sought out a parental figure and had managed to latch on to the man that saved his life for such a role. In fact it was on this night that he sought the large, glowing man.
He walked through corridor after corridor looking for Maze. Searching in the library and the dining area. Barron even snuck into areas he wasn't yet allowed to go. Eventually Barron found himself climbing a large, swirled staircase that would lead him to one of the many study rooms in The Guild. However, before turning the corner into the room he heard a low, unfamiliar, gravelly voice.
"The journey's length is of no consequence. The Oracle must be protected." Peering over the edge Barron saw that this voice belonged to a bandaged man who wore a fur trimmed robe standing next to Maze.
"How can you be so sure? We might need you here. Who know what battles we might face." Maze questioned the man.
"The signs are too strong to ignore, and the Northern Wastes have been too long isolated from The Guild. There is much I may learn there." The bandaged man reasoned.
Angered but calm Maze said, "Well, I hope nobody thinks you're running away from a fight, trying to cheat death again. You know how people talk…"
Unfazed the skeletal faced man said, "Talk is of no matter to me. May death close his eyes to you, Maze.", and like that the stranger was gone in a flash of blue light.
Maze simply stood there for a moment, looking at the spot that the man had previously been standing before saying, "What are you waiting for? Come in." Surprised Barron stumbled towards Maze's still turned back.
"That was scythe. He was a great hero once," the man said as he turned towards the boy, "back when he had flesh on his bones and flesh in his veins."
More to himself then to Barron the glowing man said, "He's just a shell now. What does he know of the choice we have to make, of what it takes to get things done?"
Maze then walked towards the fireplace and peered at the flame within, "You should probably head off to bed for now boy." Barron did just that.
A/N: What? You thought I was done with childhood? You should have expected another entry into it, Dearies. Also for those who don't know dip/dipped/dipping is slang for steal/stolen/stealing. Just thought you'd like to know.