Romulus stood there, shocked. No one except his dead father had ever helped him, not even his mother. She was always busy with the little ones, which Romulus understood and knew was right. "Help... Help me?" asked Romulus. Evelina nodded. "Yes, little boy, the task ahead of you is not an easy one. You were born a warrior, but raised and treated as a peasant, a boy with nothing to respect." Romulus gritted his teeth. "But I know what you are, boy. You are a boy with true skill, destined to bring down the fearsome... in time, in time. But you will need help on your way, you will need training and knowledge, and much strength. I will help you gain these things.
"And what of my family? What will happen to them?"
"They will have to accept the fact that you are a warrior, or at least will be. Otherwise, they will perish along with the rest of the world."
"Romulus knew he had to accept, but he also knew it wouldn't be easy on him or his family. He looked up defiantly, staring into the face of Evelina, the knowing Evelina. "I accept," He said.