"Potential"- Ordon, Rian
"Father, look!" Rian's excited little voice pipes up as he waves his hands at what remains of the straw training dummy. It’s been all but disemboweled by his wooden training sword, hay spilling onto the ground like dry, prickly entrails, neck hanging by threads.
The equivalent in a living being would be gruesome. Little Rian is so proud. Ordon should be too, but something about it makes him uneasy.
He has been a soldier all his life, and when he had pictured having a son, he had always imagined a little warrior, a small copy of himself. It seems that is what he got- and at this rate, Rian may turn out to be twice the fighter he ever was. But he has seen enough battle to picture it raging around his son, and it brings a pit of fear deep in his stomach that he has never felt before. The Stonewood melt down their weapons after battle in the hope that they will never need them again. And suddenly he understands that better than he ever has. He finds himself hoping that Rian will never need these skills at all.
But Ordon also understands that this is not the world they live in. They will need the blades again, and someday, Rian will have to fight. He will have to force down any protective instincts and prepare him.
He does not embrace his son, nor give him the effusive praise he wishes he could. He merely hangs another dummy, and taps the target on its chest. “Good. Now do it again.”