Uncle Ox rummaged through a metal box towards the back of the hall. "Ah, here it is," he said, pulling out a golden case adorned with blue inscriptions.

"Here you go, boy," he said, handing it to Arnos.

Arnos accepted the case with curiosity in his eyes. "What is the point of these robes anyway?"

"Open it and try them on before asking questions," Uncle Ox replied with a smile of eager expectation. "I remember my first time receiving robes," he chuckled, reminiscing. "Though it was more formal than this," he remarked. "Usually, your parents make them for—" he stopped himself abruptly.

"It's fine," Arnos sighed, opening the case. "Finish the sentence."

"Are you sure?" Uncle Ox asked, concern in his eyes.

"Yes," Arnos muttered, focusing on the case.

"Well, anyway, I'd say these robes are better than anything your parents could have made," he laughed. "See for yourself," he added proudly.

Arnos opened the case, his eyes widening at the sight of stunning white and golden robes, both silky and firm, crafted to perfection. Woven into the fabric were countless blue inscriptions and patterns that covered every inch of the robe. It was accompanied by a blue sash featuring white inscriptions woven in, most notably "Omeros Omari Marinos."

Arnos gently touched the fabric, feeling the quality and craftsmanship. "They're incredible," he said softly.

"These robes will accompany you for life if you look after them properly," Uncle Ox explained. "The size of the robes will change as you grow older. I've inscribed them with many different functions, but that is a story for another day," he said, examining the robes. "These robes are the symbol of the Omari, treat them as such," he warned.

"Omeros, Omari, Marinos," Arnos muttered, holding up the robes, his curiosity piqued.

"Ah, our clan philosophy," Uncle Ox explained, overhearing Arnos. "Those words are the mark of our clan written in the old tongue. It translates to 'Life, Omari, Death,' which is where our name Omari comes from—'The Clan of Life and Death.'" He continued. "Well, that is a whole history lesson I don't have the time or energy to get into," he laughed.

Arnos felt a surge of emotion, a mixture of pride and apprehension. "Omeros Omari Marinos," he thought to himself.

"Try them on then," Uncle Ox smiled, patting Arnos on the back. He clicked his fingers and an opaque barrier appeared between them.

"How'd you do that?" Arnos asked from behind the barrier.

"Magic," said Uncle Ox, half-jokingly. "Anyway, get changed—you don't have much time," he ordered.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Arnos quickly got changed into the robes behind the barrier. "I'm done," he said, adjusting the sash around his waist, a sense of pride and belonging washing over him.

Uncle Ox removed the barrier. "Now, that is what I call an Omari," he chuckled, pleasantly surprised at how well the robes matched Arnos.

"Let me lead you out," Uncle Ox said, making his way out of the inscription hall. "The next time we see each other will be—"

"The banquet," Arnos finished, smiling and following Uncle Ox through the inscription hall.

"Ah, that reminds me," exclaimed Uncle Ox, stopping in his tracks. "I never gave you a tour," he sighed. "There are so many weapons and artefacts I wanted to show you, but we don't have the time," he said anxiously.

"I will visit again soon," Arnos laughed. "I promise."

"A man's word is his bond. Make sure you honour that, boy," Uncle Ox said, holding out his hand.

"A man's word is his bond. I will honour it," Arnos replied, smiling and firmly grasping Uncle Ox's hand, which easily overpowered his own.

Uncle Ox released Arnos and led him to the entrance of the inscription hall.

"You have spirit," Uncle Ox laughed. "In the old tongue, when you make a promise, you say 'Averos Marinos Meno,' which translates to 'Oath, Death, Myself,' meaning 'My oath dies with me.'"

"Averos Marinos Meno," Arnos repeated, smiling even more. "I will visit again, Averos Marinos Meno," he said to Uncle Ox with joyful conviction.

"Good!" Uncle Ox exclaimed. "Never lose that thirst for knowledge, boy!"

"I won't," Arnos replied, a sense of warmth filling his heart for Uncle Ox.

"Now hurry to the banquet, you don't have much time. Head to the main clan hall. It's your first time there, so I will have Wendall take you," Uncle Ox said, fretting over Arnos. "One word of advice: stay vigilant at the banquet. Not everyone is good-natured," he warned, patting Arnos on the head.

"WENDALL!" he bellowed into the inscription hall. "GET HERE IMMEDIATELY AND MAKE SURE YOU'RE WEARING YOUR CEREMONIAL ROBES, OR THE NEXT SWORD I FORGE WILL BE MADE FROM YOUR BONES!"

Wendall hurried towards the entrance of the inscription hall, simultaneously putting on robes similar to Arnos's, but with blue inscriptions and a blue sash. "I'm here now," Wendall panted, staring at Uncle Ox.

"Take Arnos to the banquet with you," Uncle Ox ordered. "And make sure no harm comes his way," he said to Wendall, slapping him across the head and holding him by the ear.

"Okay, okay, I get it," Wendall cried out, rubbing his head in pain. "Let go of me, I'll do it," he grumbled.

Arnos couldn't help but laugh at Wendall. "What are you laughing at?" Wendall snarled. Uncle Ox tightened his grip on Wendall's ear, causing him to scream out in pain. "I take it back, I take it back," he pleaded with Uncle Ox.

"Good," Uncle Ox remarked, releasing Wendall. "Stay with Wendall at all times, Arnos," he ordered. "And enjoy yourselves. I will be coming a bit later than you guys," he said, holding both Wendall and Arnos by the shoulders. "Oh, and by the way, can you help find my son a wife?" he whispered to Arnos. "He might need the help," he softly laughed.

"I heard that," Wendall exasperated, holding his ear in pain. "Can you not make me look any worse than you already have, Father?" he pleaded.

Arnos laughed, this time a hearty laugh. The father-and-son duo had unlocked a level of joy within him that he hadn't felt in a long time. "I'll find him a wife, Averos Marinos Meno," he exclaimed, eyes teary with laughter.

Both Wendall and Uncle Ox were stunned for a second, then joined in the hearty laughter.

"Get going, boys. I will see you soon," Uncle Ox laughed, entering the inscription hall. "And stay safe," he said, gesturing his farewell while shutting the door on both Arnos and Wendall.