Tim knelt in front of the king, knowing he was speaking, but not really hearing the words. His father was dead. A heroic death, sure, to protect the king from assassins. But Tim didn't want a heroic father. He wanted an alive father. Tim was 16 years old, about to go abroad to the academy for a year. He didn't want to become a nobleman. He certainly wasn't old enough to be the king's steward, as his father was. He felt like a ship without anchor, drifting in the aftermath of a storm. Gradually he became aware that the room had fallen silent, that Tim had probably been asked a question. "Sorry your majesty, could— could you repeat that?" Tim stammered out with a shaky voice. The king sighed, feeling the pain of the boy in front of him mix with his own grief at losing his most trusted steward.
"I said I am thankful, Tim. Your father served me well in life, and gave the ultimate service in death. He was a true friend, something rare to find as a king. I owe him a great deal." The king lifted his gold scepter, and with his other hand beckoned Tim to come closer. "This scepter gives me great power, it is perhaps the most powerful relic in the kingdom. It puts weight on destiny itself. It has been charging for generations, and should be quite strong by now. I want you to use its power. Consider one thing you want in your future, hold it fast in your mind, and touch the scepter here." The king pointed one end of the scepter at Tim and it started to glow with golden light. Tim didn't know what to say. This gift from the king was monumental. What should he ask for? His first thought was to get his father back, but that was probably only possible through some kind of necromancy, and he didn't want a zombie father. His second thought was some kind of power, some strength that meant he could never be hurt again. But Tim's current wounds weren't from physical attacks. His wounds were loss, loneliness, and emptiness. He then thought about riches, but it felt so hollow without someone to share it with. Then he realized what he wanted more than anything.
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"I want friends. True friends. Powerful friends." Tim whispered to himself, the idea becoming clearer and sharper in his mind until he reached out to touch the glowing scepter. A bright light flashed out, passing through the palace walls, and up into the sky. Various threads in the fabric of fate, that had been running in parallel, shifted ever so slightly, heading towards one another. The slight shift in fate caused beings of great power to stir in their strongholds, but none of them woke.