I thought I knew adversity before, but this. This was different. The suitcase sat before me, the mountain of clothes within taunting me, daring me to close it, but I could not. The suitcase would not snap shut.

"You are a worthy enemy," I declared, puffing out my chest. "But in the end, you shall fall!"

I heard a light chuckle behind me. Feeling my cheeks flush, I whipped around to see dad leaning on the frame of the door, grinning from ear to ear. Furiously blushing, I ran over to slam the door shut, only to be interrupted by my dad.

"Woah there, bud. We're leaving quite soon. Need some help in vanquishing your greatest foe?"

"I'm ten years of age, dad, I can close a suitcase by myself." But my father had already walked over to my bags and snapped the luggage shut. He smirked at me.

"Looks like your dad's still quite a bit stronger, eh?"

I rolled my eyes and called out to my mother. "Mooooooom! We're done packing!"

"Just in time, too!" The reply came back. "The Knightly Bards are here!"

I sprinted to catch my first glimpse of the hunter group that my parents had been in for most of their careers, my father right on my heels. Skidding to a halt at the door, I found myself looking at a horse drawn wagon sitting by the gate of our fence, and the biggest man I had ever seen in my life standing by the horses.

My father's face lit up as he saw the man. "Ajax!" He shouted, running towards him. "How have you been, man?" I haven't seen you in ages!" The mountain of a man, Ajax, looked up. A massive smile broke across his face as he opened his arms to welcome my father. An audible whoomph could be heard as Ajax lifted my father bodily off the ground in a bear hug, knocking all of the air out of my father's lungs.

Chuckling, I looked at my mother, who was bent over laughing by the wagons. Around her were four other people wearing various hunter's outfits and cloaks gathered around her, exchanging greetings. Mom beckoned me over with a quick wave and began introducing me to the rest of the Knightly Bards.

There was Lucina Dumas, a slender and graceful woman a bit shorter than my mother, an assassin type hunter who specialized in wind magic.

Amaia Distel, or as my mother called her, Mia, a sturdy woman wielding massive gauntlets made of rock. My mother had asked to hold one of them and almost dropped them because of the weight, yet Mia swung her hands through the air like they were empty.

Frances Lessein, the red haired fire mage, had a longsword strapped to his back. Despite that, it appeared his favorite weapon was words and not steel as he jabbered away to Lucina, who cooly ignored him while sharpening her daggers.

Abella Damours, the healer, was dressed in a white robe and carried a wooden staff. She gave me a friendly smile as my mother introduced her.

"Finally, there's Jaxy," my mother said, gesturing towards my father and Ajax. "He was our main tank when we went hunting together, and he's just about the strongest person I know." My dad's groaning could still be heard as he tried to recover from the terrible impact. "Maybe I should go and check up on your father," mom mused as she jogged towards my dad. "Why don't you get acquainted with these guys while I make sure Ajax didn't kill your dad?"

"So this is the kid Faith wants us to teach, huh?" Frances began. "Don't see what's so special about him. Hell, when I was his age, I was already wrestling with wild bear cubs and fighting magic beasts."

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Mia cuffed Frances on the ear. "Be nice," she warned. "We just met the kid."

Rubbing his ear, Frances glared up at the earth mage. "Fine, fine" he grumbled. He stuck out his hand. "Name's Frances, but you can call me Frank. Nice to meet you, kiddo."

"Franc- Frank. Nice to meet you too, sir. My names Gilan."

"Manners! You love to see that in a kid. You sure you're Michels son? He wouldn't say the word sir if he had a sword against his neck and an inquisitor breathing up his -"

"Anyways," mom cut in, dragging dad and Ajax behind her. "We're just about ready to go. Go get your bag, Gilan, and we'll set off for Furness City right away. There've been some warnings that a corrupted beast ran out of the wildlands and I want to make as much progress before dark as possible."

"Michel, I feel so bad for your son, having such a peanut-brained father. It's common knowledge that a dog would wear their pants on their two hind legs." My father and Frank trudged behind the wagon, still bickering despite having been ejected from their seats by Mia after she got fed up with their arguing. "They're pants! They belong on the two hind legs. If a dog were to stand up, then it would be obvious that -"

"If they were to stand up!" Dad cut in triumphantly. "But do they? No! So the pants obviously belong all four legs!"

The inane argument continued behind the wagons as we traveled towards Furness City. Mia, sat cross legged on a bench with her hands crossed and eyes closed, appeared to be meditating to shut out the annoyance. After a particularly loud exclamation from Frank, Mia opened one of her eyes and grinned at the sight of everybody's annoyed face in the wagon.

"They're still going at it, huh? We missed you quite a lot, Faith, but I don't think any of us missed this nonsense. You really don't appreciate the peace and quiet until it gets ripped away from you. Frank will shut up if no one talks to him, but he never stops once you get going with him."

Mother sighed. "Michel's like that at home, too. He never stops talking. I swear, part of the reason I wanted to retire was to get away from this." She gestured towards to back of the cabin, where my dad and Frank were still arguing about how a dog would wear pants.

Abella poked her head out of the back of the wagon. "Why can't we just compromise," she asked, "and give the dog a full set of clothes instead?"

Both my father and Frank snapped back in synchrony, "that's not the same! Pants are pants, and clothes are clothes!"

In the front of the wagon, Ajax burst out laughing. "You used to try and stop them back then too, didn't you?" He asked Abella. "The two of them will fight like cats and dogs until someone tries to stop their fun, and then all the sudden they're the best of friends."

The third party threat to their "fun" having left, dad and Frank got right back to bickering. "And your sword! Your sword, Frank! You may feel bad for my son, but I sure feel bad for anyone you marry in the future. Your sword is so small, I doubt you'll have the prowess to defend your wife and kids from any threats."

Frank shot back- "It's not the size that matters man, it's how you use it. My swordsmanship is leagues above you, Michie boy." He thrust his longsword through the air a couple of times, miming stabs and parries.

Everyone in the wagon snickered at these comments. I looked at my mother in confusion. "Why was that so funny?"

"You'll understand when you're older, Gil" she told me. "But for now, lets start practicing your magic, alright? No fire in the wagon, so let's start off with wind magic."

"Michel tells me you can summon a flame already, right?" Lucina asked. I nodded. "Good. Let's start by summoning a light breeze. Close your eyes, and concentrate. Now, breathe. In, out." Her voice slowed down. "Push your mana into the air instead of gathering it by your hands. Focus on the air around your hands, and then just gently move the air."

I raised my hands, and, like summoning a flame, pushed my mana to my fingertips, and then released the mana into the air. I could feel the mana exiting my body, but there was no immediate effect. "Can I open my eyes now?" I asked, my voice strained.

"Go ahead," mom said, with a smile in her voice. "Take a look."

As my eyes opened, I saw the three sheets of paper that had been sitting on the table gently floating in the air, spiraling down towards the ground.

"I... I made that paper fly?" I asked wondrously.

"You sure did, kiddo," Lucina said. "Now, don't let the paper touch the ground!"

I quickly stuck my hands out, mana flowing back to my hands. I pointed them at the paper, and... nothing. No gusts of wind to lift the paper, not even a gentle breeze. One stray breath of air wiggled one of the sheets of paper just the slightest bit, as if taunting me for my failure. My shoulders slumped.

"Guess I need more practice," I groaned. "Let's try that again."