A dangerous and filthy lie is prevalent throughout the land of Ralium. Nobles and Kings would have their subject believe that the kingdom resting in a time of peace. They say there is no war. No attacks. That there is no death, yet within this suppo...
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Wolfram hopped ahead of William, as he searched for what he considered "clues for his adventure." William smiled as Wolfram swung his wooden sword. Every now and then, the boy would turn around and make sure that William was still watching before he would swing again.
"Will we be training today?" Wolfram asked as he jumped in front of William. He cocked his head slightly while his face was beaming with a smile. William's fingers intertwined with Wolfram's hair as he ruffled it.
"We can at dusk," William said.
Looking down, he noticed that Wolfram's white scarf had come undone. He knelt down to match Wolfram's height. Taking the edges of cloth into his hands, he twisted them until they knotted together. He then tucked the end of the scarf into Wolfram's leather tunic and adjusted his navy blue jacket after. Wolfram pulled away and began to adjust his clothes himself.
"I can do it myself, father," Wolfram said as he picked up his wooden sword. Will laughed and they continued to walk down the path.
Wolfram returned to his play fighting, while Will followed not far behind. Women who passed by giggled at the sight of the young boy and quickly dipped their heads the moment they saw William. He merely waved them off in return.
However, something else caught his attention. Behind him, there was the sound of fast approaching metal boots. Not long after, about ten men jogged past William and Wolfram. Watching them, he saw the type of armor of the soldiers with spears in hand. They weren't high ranks. The pace and amount of men were what caused his brain to rattle.
"Wolf," William called out. Wolfram perked his head up and quickly turned to face William. Wolfram's eyes watched as his father motioned for him, and with haste, he jumped to his side without question. "Stay by my side until I say so."
"Yes, father," Wolfram said with his "serious" voice. Will looked down at him, and with a smile, he ruffled his thick, black hair once again.
"You don't have to be so serious," he laughed. "Did you see the number of guards that passed by? And how they wore low ranking armor. Usually, ten is the ones dealing with the aftermath of something."
Looking up, Wolfram stared at William with wide eyes. It was as if he was staring into the past. Wolfram was a spitting image of Will, the same mist eyes, to the black locks, down to the jaw, and the mouth. But, he had his mother's button nose and small ears. Slowly, Will could feel his heart beginning to ache as he thought of her.
"Father," Wolfram said, calling William back to his senses. "Look!"
Following Wolfram's small finger, William laid eyes on the destruction of the town square. Guards ran amok trying to gather and record the damage done to the roads, homes, and the statue ontop pieces of paper. Some of the women helped treat those wounded, judging by the bruises on their skin he assumed from falling rubble. No one showed any signs of gashes nor bleeding. However, the patterns of ink on the ground were particularly odd to him.
