Destiney of the Sword God

Chapter 1: The Fateful Ceremony

Young Rowan opened his eyes and smiled up at the wooden slats of his bed. Today was his fifth name day, and the day of the job assignment ceremony. He tossed his thin blanket aside and swung his legs over the side of the mattress, toes wiggling eagerly in the chill morning air.

Through the small open window, the rising sun cast a soft orange glow over his humble home. Rowan had always loved this time of day when the world seemed full of promise and potential. Today that feeling was stronger than ever.

After dressing swiftly in trousers and a tucked‐in shirt, he hurried to the small kitchen where his mother was mixing dough for bread over the hearth. "Mum! It's ceremony day!"

She smiled warmly at her excitement. "So it is, my love. Have you thought on what title you might wish for?"

Rowan nodded seriously. "Dragon slayer, like in the old stories." He mimed fighting an imaginary dragon, swinging his arms mightily.

His mother chuckled. "A fine ambition, but such heroes are rare indeed. We shall see what the Council deems your path." She ran a flour‐dusted hand through his tousled hair. "Now eat, so you have strength for whatever adventures may come."

As Rowan happily ate his breakfast, his thoughts wandered to the great church and what destiny awaited revelation within its storied walls. Little did he know how his fate that day would shape the years to come. As Rowan finished eating, there came a familiar knock at the door. He leapt up excitedly and threw it open to find his dearest friend Elia waiting with a smile.

"Elia!" cried Rowan. "Come, help me finish and then we'll go together." She laughed and followed him inside. "Always so eager, Rowan. The Council isn't likely to start without you."

Nevertheless, she willingly pitched in, helping his mother tidy while he wolfed down the last of the bread. Soon they were waving goodbye and skipping down the lane toward the village square.

"What title do you think you'll get?" asked Elia as they walked. Rowan puffed out his little chest. "Dragon slayer, of course! What about you?"

Elia tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Well, since I am the best healer's apprentice around, maybe 'Surgeon' or 'Medic' would suit. But I wouldn't mind 'Dragon Wrangler' either."

They giggled at the thought of working together to wrangle scaly beasts. All too soon the great tree that shaded the church came into view, along with clusters of families gathering in anticipation. Rowan faltered slightly in his steps, suddenly feeling small. But Elia slipped her hand in his and gave it a comforting squeeze. "No matter what happens, we'll face our futures together. Now come on - our lives await!" Taking a deep breath, Rowan nodded determinedly and followed her into the crowd. Rowan and Elia squeezed together on a grain sack pew between various families in the packed church. All around them, village children squirmed in their best clothes, eyed eagerly by parents and siblings.

At the front, Elder Lenore stood tall behind a simple wooden podium. She smiled warmly over her spectacles as each boy and girl approached in turn. After a brief chat and examination of hands or posture, she would declare a fitting role – A Builder, Carpenter, Weaver, or Smith.

The assessments moved steadily along; titles awarded with hearty applause. When Elia's turn came, Lenore pronounced her apprentice Medic with a proud nod. Beaming, Elia rejoined Rowan, who offered hurried congratulations despite his twisting stomach.

Finally, only he remained. Rowan felt a jolt of nerves as Elder Lenore now called his name into the attentive silence. He rose, doing his best to hide a trembling lip as he marched towards her waiting hands. Hands sweaty, Rowan strode forward on trembling legs. "So, young man," said Lenore kindly. "What skills do you bring to the community?" Rowan gulped and mumbled something incomprehensible.