“It’s just a stupid sword,” she said, aloud this time…
… but it wasn’t.
"On the morning of my eighteenth nameday, my father came to me. "You’re almost a man now,” he said, “but you are not worthy of my land and title. Tomorrow you’re going to take the black, forsake all claim to your inheritance, and start north. If you do not,” he said, “then we’ll have a hunt, and somewhere in these woods your horse will stumble, and you’ll be thrown from your saddle to die. Or so I’ll tell your mother. Nothing would please me more.”
The Last Picture Show (1971)