A Real Sir
Outside the great hall, his family was waiting.
His mama hugged him.
His papa shook his hand, very seriously, the way you shake a knight's hand.
His grandmother said, "I told you. The best knight in the kingdom."
Mara, looking surprised at herself, said, "You didn't fall over."
"No," said Tomas. "I did not."
He felt — different. Not bigger, exactly. Just more himself, somehow. Like he had been almost-Tomas yesterday, and now he was the full version.
"Are you a real knight now?" asked Mara.
"Yes," said Tomas.
"Can you fight a dragon?"
"No. I am a junior knight. I can do small things. I can carry messages. I can help old people across the road. I can read the proclamations."
"That's not very dragony."
"It's still being a knight," said Tomas, who had thought about this a lot. "The big knights had to start as junior knights too. Sir Anya was once six."
Mara considered this.
"When can I get knighted?"
"Next year. If you stop telling me I'll fall over."
Mara grinned.
Tomas walked home holding his ceremonial scroll, with the Queen's seal on it, very carefully. He was not a big knight. But he was a real knight, today, with a real coat and a real bow that had not fallen over.
That was enough. That was actually quite a lot.