"Good night, daddy,"
"Aye, goodnight son." The light flickered out for the night and the tall, well-built man slipped from the room where the young child lay in bed, the covers up to his small chin, leaving the door open just a crack to allow the light from the hallway to flood the child's room. Bryan twisted in his bed slightly, snuggling his face deep into his pillow while his eyes closed, willing sleep to wash over him. But the sound of voices outside his room kept him awake. He recognized his father's voice but the other...it was a stranger to him.
"He is of the age, Dawson," said the stranger in a hushed voice, as though he was unwilling to wake the child. "Torres has made it perfectly clear that all children of the age of six are to be brought to the manor at Havana to train."
"He's not ready," his father said in the same hushed voice and Bryan had the feeling that he'd looked toward his door. "He's still much too young."
"The Grand Master says that the younger the children of Templars start their training, the better their skills will be and the harder it'll be for the Assassins to kill them."
Silence echoed through the halls for a time, a silence that Bryan found unbearable. Why was his father speaking to this stranger? Who was the Grand Master? And who were the Assassins? "You honestly don't have a choice in this matter, Dawson." The stranger said after a while. "Torres demands it. And if you don't comply...he will remove you and your wife."
"I understand, Captain." Bryan was tempted to jump out of bed and demand to know what that stranger was talking about. Grandmaster and Assassins didn't make any sense to the young lad but despite his curiosity, Bryan remained where he was, his eyes staring at the door. Soon enough, sleep dragged the boy down into darkness, where he dreamt of strange men in hoods and even stranger men shrouded in darkness.
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