The next day, after Alfred dealt with the meeting, which had been held in New York. He was sitting in Central Park, strumming his guitar, which he always kept with him, before he finally began to play something.
"How many roads must a man walk down Before you call him a man?" Alfred's voice was deep, and had taken a southern accent, many people paused to listen to his song "How many seas must a white dove sail Before she sleeps in the sand? Yes, and how many times must the cannonballs fly Before they're forever banned? The answer, my friend, is blowin in the wind The answer is blowin in the wind." Alfred payed no attention to those around him, to the point he never noticed the Nations, which had been passing stopped to listen "Yes, and how can a mountain exist Before it is washed to the sea? Yes, and how many years can some people exist Before they're allowed to be free? Yes, and how many times can a man turn his head And pretend that he just doesn't see? The answer, my friend, is blowin in the wind The answer is blowin in the wind. Yes, and how many times must a man look up Before can see the sky? Yes, and how many ears must one man have Before he can hear people cry? Yes, and how many deaths will it take til he knows That too many people have died? The answer, my friend, is blowin in the wind The answer is blowin in the wind." Alfred finished the song and finally looked up to the sound of clapping. His sad blue eyes met with wise green, the crisp summers wind blew short blonde locks in front of the green eyes of his older brother.
"Alfred" Arthur Kirkland, a wise man he still looks up to, started "What the bloody hell are you doing, you idiot?" But it seems that Arthur doesn't see Alfred as someone like that. Alfred smiled a forced smile
"Nothin, just got bored and decided to play a tune." Alfred knew his brother had never seen him the same since the Revolutionary War "I was just going to go get some lunch, care to join?" He knew the answer...
