The silver Tower stood out like a sore thumb on his collar, at least in his mind, and seemed to weigh a ton, even though his clothing hung as it always did on his lanky frame. They had given it to him when they named him Manshima. He was halfway to where he had dreamed of being, halfway to being Warder-trained. It had taken him four years.

Four years of sweat, determination, and blood, four years of learning to leave behind the callow youth he had been when he stepped through his cousin's Gateway. Four years, for a shiny piece of metal he wasn't sure he deserved.

He could use a sword now, and he was better with his bow now than anyone back home. He could ride a horse now, and chop wood like nobody's business. The list of his skills and accomplishments could go on, he was sure, if he cared to take the time. He was more concerned with the other list, the list of things left unfinished.

Kaese stared into the still reflecting pool, a letter crushed in his fist, his thoughts hundreds of miles away. He didn't notice the tittering of the Novices as they passed and began to whisper about his handsome face, and about his relationship with Kassy. Kassy, the best friend he'd made in Tar Valon, and he didn't really know her all that well yet, though he was coming to think of her as the sister he'd never had. Most of the friends he'd made here seemed to be female.

Maegan with her outward appearance of oddity that he was sure was mostly an act. Mayrian, with her self-doubt and abiding affection for a Dedicated. And Madienne, the one friendship that was blighted before it had been able to bloom by Ralyse Sedai. He was acquainted with, and friendly with many of the Siswai and Manshima, but there were none among them he'd call a friend.

Friendly acquaintances, all of them, not someone to confide in. He needed that now, but had focused so hard on his training that he'd let the friendships that would have otherwise formed slip through his fingers. Now, when his fears and worries had been confirmed, he had no one to turn to.

He'd finally written letters home, several over the last four years. No response had ever come, until now. Before, there was hope, even if it was leavened with a healthy helping of dread. All hope was gone now, murdered by six simple words.

I have no son named Kaese.

The words leapt from the page. In the months that he had received it, he had read them over and over, though they were burned into his brain. It had changed him, made him work harder, as if to prove to himself, and maybe, one day to his father, that he had made the right decision.

He had the rest of the afternoon to move his things to his new barracks, the rest of the evening to celebrate his Raising. It was hollow without being able to tell his family, and what would have otherwise been a victory tasted like ashes in his mouth.

Shaking the melancholy thoughts away, he tossed the paper into the still water, and watched as it slowly sank and began to dissolve. He'd come to the Tower alone, and so it would remain. He had no great problem with solitude, it was familiar. In time, he would come to embrace it, for now, though, he would take the first steps on his solitary path with a smile plastered on his face, and if the smile didn't quite reach his eyes, well, no one knew him well enough to be able to tell.