The next step

William was in his room after the ceremony, sitting on the edge of his bed and looking down at his hands. Today was the day his life was supposed to change entirely. In a way, he supposed it did. But he didn't feel that much different. He was very suddenly being thrust into a very adult world, and he still felt like little more than a child. A skilled child, to be sure, but still a child. And he knew that it wouldn't be long before he had to prove himself. On a physical level, he knew that he could prove himself. But he didn't know if he had the knowledge to make that proof worthwhile.

He slowly laid back on his bed and looked up at the plain stone ceiling that he had stared at for nearly ten years now. The simplicity yet solidity of it always reminded him of what kind of person he was supposed to be. Steadfast, but not full of himself. At least, that's what the stories he had always heard said. But as he had grown up around the people that so many of his childhood friends had wanted to be, he had found that to only be half true. They were steadfast, assuredly. Incredibly powerful and wise. But they were also very full of themselves. Everyone around him today felt that they were the greatest, the most unstoppable. William didn't know how to feel about that.

He didn't feel that way at all. He felt like he could be struck down in an instant. He was strong and quick, and he had learned to defeat each of his colleagues in a fight, but he didn't know how well that would translate into the real world, into a real fight. He had been smart enough to learn patterns, change his own way of fighting depending on the opponent, adapt. But did he have the skill to do that on the fly? He had learned how to do that over many years of training and observing. He didn't know if his mind was quick enough to do it at a moment's notice.

He sighed and sat up, beginning to discard his armor. The ceremony had required him to wear it, and he hadn't bothered taking it off when first arriving to his room. It was a difficult task to do on his own, but he preferred to know that he was taking care of each piece individually and correctly. He carefully set them aside so that they would not be damaged, and made a mental note to himself to clean them all rigorously later. He was a knight now. He needed to be presentable and prepared at all times. He couldn't risk letting his gear be damaged or tarnished.

As the last pieces came off, he laid down again and stared once more at his ceiling. He was a knight now, but in many ways he still felt like a squire. He would have to rise bright and early for practice, to take care of his horses, and get all of his work done. His head hurt just thinking about doing that all after all the food and wine he had just consumed. He should have held back more, but his fellow knights were quite insistent that he enjoy this day.

Being a knight would be hard work.