Harold never wanted to be a knight, he wanted to be a wizard but his father had other ideas.
“You’re not going to get around with those poncy wizards wearing those ridiculous silly pointy hats and those dresses with stars and moons on them,” his father said.
“Dad they aren’t dresses, they’re capes and they’re cool,” a 12-year-old Harold pleaded.
“Nope. You are becoming a knight and I don’t want to hear another word otherwise you can go and live with your mother in Arcadia,” his father’s gigantic finger waggled in front of Harold’s nose so close that his eyes crossed over briefly.
“See, you’re already acting strange just thinking about becoming a wizarder.
“They’re called wizards dad,” he whined.
“Don’t back chat me. Do I need to bring up Arcadia again?
“No. I understand. ”
Harold shook his head while also trying to nod his compliance at the same time.
“Cut that out,” his father yelled, “you look like an idiot.”
Harold now wished he had stuck to his plan of studying wizardry as the werewolf closed in.