Spring had started to drive the last remainder of winter off the island of Crete. At the castle, flowers had began blossoming at the trees. The pages would run around happily on their off hours, chasing may beetles, tieing them on small laces. Alexander, Hyrkan's son among them. He was the page of one of the oldest knights, Armando di Trevizo, who could not join in the armies that had deported a few weeks ago, for three years now.

Day after day, he would train with the sword, for he was very anxious to become a master of the sword, and of the art of war, to reach the glory of his Greek ancestors, and especially the one he shared his name with, Alexander the Great, of whom he had learnt from the lessons of history his father had put so much effort in making him attend. Only once though did he dare to speak of his ambitions, and received a good beating for being so immodest. That did nothing in quelling the flame that had been lighted though. He was glorybound, and he would achieve it, no matter the cost. So he carried the shortsword his father had to be fashioned for him on his belt at all times, ready to accept any and every challenge along the way. Though no challenge had appeared yet...

With these in mind, he would watch his may beetle fly around, bound on his thread. Soon it would be time to study with the monks. Alexander didn't relish the hours of studying Greek and Latin much, but he knew that such knowledge would allow him to delve into books that spoke of the heroic deeds of his ancestors. But before that, he had to visit his newly-born younger brother, who he found only so amusing to play with.