You're in the Weapons Vault and you're not alone. You never come here alone; your hand is held in the warm, dry hand of your father and your brother on the other side. He stops in front of a casket, strands of blue spearing within. There are odd runes carved on it, ones you don't know, and not the ones that you and your brother use for your secret messages.
"But the day will come," he says in that rich tone of his. A king's tone. You want to be just like him one day. "When one of you will have to defend that peace."
"Do the frost giants still live?" Your brother asks, wide eyed. He would never admit it, but you think he might be scared.
"When I am king, I will hunt the monsters down and slay them all!" You say, smiling, swinging your arms as if you already have the hammer you covet. You want to hunt them down, of course, eager for honor and glory, but beneath that growing pride is the fierce desire to protect your brother, your home, your family.
"Just as you did father," you add, prideful. It will be your name that makes them tremble, like your father's does now. The monsters will fear you one day and your brother will never have to be afraid.
"A wise king never seeks out war. But, he must always be ready for it."
You glance at your brother, knowing the token of wisdom that your father has bestowed upon you both. You grin and he grins with you, then you both go running to catch up to your father, your feet pounding on the polished floor.