As Eric neared his third birthday, his innate curiosity and talkativeness grew more pronounced daily. His vocabulary was expanding exponentially, though most of his newfound words came in an endless stream of innocent yet eager questions about anything and everything that caught his attention.
On one particularly sunny afternoon, Eric toddled along as quickly as his short, unsteady legs could carry him as he trailed after his father Alaric's long strides through the sprawling manor. The Lord of the Emberhart family was on his way to observe the combat training yards just beyond the outer stone walls surrounding the estate. But little Eric was oblivious to his father's destination, instead peppering the tall, broad-shouldered man with a rapid-fire barrage of queries in his high-pitched, lispy voice.
"Papa, where you goin' right now? What dat big room with the giant furry bear rug and big fiwepwace and comfy chairs for? Why you get to wear that shiny silver armor with the blue family crest?" Eric asked curiously, his wide hazel eyes staring up in awe at his father's imposing warrior frame.
Alaric chuckled deeply, his ice-blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he gazed down with fatherly affection at his young son toddling determinedly alongside him. "You certainly ask a great many questions, my curious boy! I suppose I cannot fault you for wanting to understand the world around you," he remarked warmly.
He then continued in his deep, calm voice, "I am heading out right now to observe the training yards just past the manor walls, where our family's knights and soldiers and warriors hone their combat skills and train with all manner of weaponry to protect our lands."
Upon hearing there were real armored knights near enough to see, Eric's expression lit up with excitement, his imagination swirled with mental images of heroic warriors clashing swords, charging on horseback with fluttering banners, and battling mythical beasts.
"Oh Papa, can I come with you? I want to see the brave knights! Please please please?" Eric begged eagerly, clasping his tiny hands together beseechingly as he gazed up at his father's imposing frame hopefully.
Alaric rested a gauntleted hand gently on his son's narrow shoulder, affectionately ruffling Eric's perpetually messy mop of dark unruly hair. "Not just yet, my eager boy," he said patiently. "Someday when you are old enough and ready, I promise I will take you to observe the training yards yourself and watch our family's knights honing their skills."
Eric's face momentarily fell into a pout, his lower lip poking out in his disappointment. But the inquisitive boy quickly rallied, turning his attention to peppering his father with another dozen rapid-fire questions. "Well then, what are the cooks making for dinner tonight in the big kitchens? Where did Mama go? Why do I gotta take a nap every single day even when I'm not tired? Do you know everything in the whole world, Papa?"
Patiently indulging his son's innate curiosity, Alaric did his best to answer Eric's endless questions as thoroughly as he could, despite the limited comprehension of the toddler. Though Eric understood little of the actual explanations at his young age, he was simply overjoyed to be included in his father's world and have his nonstop barrage of queries validated rather than dismissed entirely.