Make a Man Out of You [Sealand]

Peter could probably be forgiven for not immediately recognizing what he'd grabbed from his Uncle's collection. Because he didn't. He didn't really recognize or expect the leather-bound object, especially in the context he was given. He'd just been looking at a lightsaber, and the room was full of the latest in military technology. Under that sort of context, Peter had just, in a moment of generational gap, assumed all of the cool stuff in here was probably modern military equipment and ridiculous weapons like the saber.

That wasn't, of course, the only reason he didn't immediately recognize the weapon for what it was. It could be easy to forget, maybe, for older Nations who wouldn't consider it, but Peter was born into World War II. He'd been born into the modern age of military history, so guns and tanks and aircraft carriers and artillery and bombers- they'd just all always been there for Peter, even if he'd seen them evolve, too. There had never been a period that Peter had lived through to understand why Seborga still tried to teach him to swing a sword or why Denmark preferred a battle axe. To Peter, those were all ridiculously archaic, weapons he'd only hear about in stories as actual weapons of war, impractical and almost useless in the modern age.

So, no, he didn't immediately recognize the weapon, not in a room that Peter had already subconsciously labeled as a room full of weapons that could actually be put in use. What he did recognize was the slight reverence in his Uncle Mathias's eyes. Peter didn't necessarily understand why it was there, but that reverence, it bled through to Peter anyway as he looked down at the leather-bound object again. He wondered what it was. It had to be something particularly special, the way Uncle Mathias was looking at it.

He willingly passed it over to his Uncle, who was looking at it and smiling. He pulled it out, and there it was- a wooden-handled dagger with a somewhat long metal blade, clearly hand-forged into place, small dents across parts of it where it was done. The leather, now that Peter could really see it, was an old sheathe for the knife. Some small part of Peter was almost disappointed, actually, though he nearly felt guilty for that. After all, it was a dagger after he'd just been begging to take apart and analyze a lightsaber. It seemed almost like an anticlimax for a moment, there.

Except, well, that's when Uncle Mathias started speaking, and Peter's eyes widened slightly. He'd nearly forgotten just how old he was. Peter knew intellectually that his family was all significantly older than he was. He knew intellectually that they'd been alive for centuries. It wasn't really that strange. If anything, Peter was the odd one out, being as young as he was. It was another thing altogether, to see his Uncle holding a knife up, to hear him say that he'd made it in the year 850, to realize that, somewhere in his Uncle's basement, there was a precious piece of history, wrapped in leather. Somehow, just knowing that his Uncle had made that hundreds upon hundreds of years ago- no. That his Uncle had made that over a millennium ago- it wasn't such an anticlimax, anymore.

Actually, it was kind of beautiful, isn't it? The knife, Peter means, in a weird sort of way. It's simple. It's so much more simple than anything Peter would normally use or build, but it's something his family made, and it's just- it looks so well-kept after, even after all of this time. He wonders how long it would have taken to make, that long ago. It would still take a long time to make now, actually. Peter had never tried anything like that. Yes, he'd used heat to mold metals before, but it was almost into just that, a mold. Plus, when he really wanted to bend metal in particular ways, Peter prefered hydroforming. It was easier for him to safely access, and maintained the strength of the metal. But you couldn't make a knife like that.

And then, with a serious look in his eyes, his uncle gave it to him.

Peter's eyes widened as he carefully wrapped his fingers around the handle. For a moment, he just stared up at his Uncle, not sure what to say. He hadn't expected that. He hadn't expected that at all. This is, of course, about when Peter starts to babble. "You're- you're giving it to me? But- but you made it! It's super old, and, and it's nice, and it's yours," he tried to say, still holding it carefully. "I- I don't even know what I'm doing with it! I mean, what, what if I manage to break it or, or how do I even make sure it stays as nice as this because you've clearly taken such very good care of it and it's so nice why would you just randomly give it to me, I mean, not that I don't like it but it's just so, so... special," he continues, sounding more and more distressed as he continues to talk and his eyes continue to be as wide as saucers.