The wind raced through the maze of bare, dying trees, whose leaves had already departed for the long winter ahead. The dark blue sky intermixed with shining stars dotted the sky like a beautiful oil painting. There, in the center of this picturesque vision of the sky, was a moon, the enormity of it would cloud one's entire vision, and the bronze glow made it appear to be like a giant's buckler shield. Sitting right at the apex of the sky, it appeared to look down across the entire realm.
"Ahh…" A boy sighed as he lifted the old wooden bucket above his head allowing the contents to spill out over his dark brown hair. The boy took his scrawny hands and began to scrub the dirt and grime that had accumulated during the day out of his hair. Letting the water run down his nape the boy shivered, enjoying the slight coldness of the water that brought a touch of comfort after a long day's work in the summer heat.
The boy glanced around before running to a nearby tree, there on the lowest branch that still seemed to tower over the boy, hung a tunic, dirt and mud had long since soiled the snow-white color that used to adorn it. Running up to the trunk of the tree the boy planted his front foot on it before pushing with all his might, leaping from the bottom of the trunk up to the branch, nimbly, the boy grabbed ahold of the tunic right as he reached the apex of his jump. With a slight bend of his knees the boy dispersed the impact of his landing as he quickly pulled the shirt over his head.
Preparing to depart, the boy gave the area around him one last glance; the grass went up to a full-grown man's knees, trees with their bright green leaves were strewn about the land as far as the eye could reach. The sky was pale blue, almost as if hanging above everyone's head was a massive lake without a single ripple or disturbance within it. Whatever the worries of the day were, one could look at the sky, or the beautiful landscape and catch a breath. The serenity of the land was something you could almost touch, as it wrapped its warm arms around you, releasing you of any anxieties that might harbor deep in your heart.
Squinting, the boy looked up at the sun that had now already passed through its station at the top of the sky, furrowing his brow the boy began to walk faster, then jog, it wasn't long before the boy broke into a sprint. Hurtling over fallen trees that stood in the way of his path the boy's speed only seemed to increase, prickly bushes that would cause an adult to diverge their path were ignored by the boy, reminiscent of calvary charging undaunted into a line of spearmen, the boy dropped his right shoulder and charged straight through them. Appearing out the other side of the bush shortly after, the boy had seemingly not escaped unscathed, his shirt bore the brunt of his braveness, several long tears now ran horizontally across the tunic, allowing someone to glimpse at the boy's olive skin.
The boy, now huffing and puffing, finally came across a gravel path. Once the boy saw the path, it was as if a boulder twice the size of the boy was thrown off his shoulders as he once more picked up the pace. Finally, coming upon a small gathering of houses fashioned entirely from wood, the only pieces of stone that seemed to be in the entire small village were the ones that made up a small well in the center of the houses. The houses were arranged in a circle around the well, the boy, knowing his path, darted past the well before he came to a house on the opposite side of the well, the back of the house now facing a departing sun.
The boy finally slowed his approach, so much so that if one didn't know the boy they might have believed him to be a thief attempting to break into the small home. The boy came to the front door, reaching out his hand to push it open however, before he could even touch the rough wood, the door opened so fast that the air almost seemed to hiss in response.
There, standing with arms crossed, was a woman with hazel eyes, her hair was curly and red cascading down past her shoulders. Her beauty wasn't of a noble woman's, smudges of dirt and ash lingered on her face, however the blemishes merely accentuated her simple beauty.
"Oscar, it's already sundown! You should have finished tillin' the fields a fortnight ago." The woman scolded.
Oscar, who was now locked in a staring contest with the dirt outside the door, merely nodded. Seeing Oscar had accepted his defeat the woman put her hand to her head before sighing, "Come in. Dinner' been ready for a while. Your Pa gettin' firewood from Old Terry, freshen up' less you want a beatin'."
"Yes, Ma!" Oscar put two fingers in front of his heart, palm facing inward, mimicking the salute the soldiers at the big cities did. Taking the short chuckle as permission Oscar marched inside with a smirk.
The inside of the small house was simple, there was a stove in the far right corner facing the door, to the left on the other side were two beds made of stacked hay and covered with intricately woven quilts of numerous colors, all but purple it seemed, after all purple was the color of nobility, getting your hands on it costed more than just a few bronze coins.
In the middle of the house a small round table with three chairs was set up, lacquered and smoothly sanded one wouldn't be able to tell that it had been handmade and not from a carpenter in the capital. Set on the table was a small clay bowl filled to the brim with a deep brown colored broth, small pieces of meat floated about intermixed with orange carrots and white potatoes.
Oscar's nose twitched, the scent of the savory broth whispering to him like a lover after a long day. Hurriedly, Oscar ran over to the table and sat down. Picking up the wooden spoon that lay to the right of the bowl, Oscar began wolfing down the enticing mixture.
Clack
Oscar glanced up from his meal as the door opened, stepping inside was a man almost two heads taller than the other town's people. His broad shoulders took up almost the entire doorway, so much so that he had to turn slightly sideways and duck his head to enter the house. A beard spotted with silver gray adorned his face, making him look more like a noble man then a humble villager, a scar ran down the right side of the face and short brown hair grew from his head.
Thud
The man dropped a large sack he had been carrying on his back before turning to Oscar's mother.
"Amanda!" The burly man ran towards her and embraced her in a tight hug. Oscar who was watching this scene couldn't help but smile and shake his head. It looked more like a bear trying to strangle a woman instead of a greeting between husband and wife.
"Kel' enough of that! Sit down and eat I'll make you'a bowl." Amanda said begrudgingly, her façade quickly cracked however, revealing a bright smile that would light any room.
"Hahaha! Stew tonight, my favorite!" Kellian laughed as he went and sat on the chair to the left of Oscar, his giant frame dwarfing the chair making for a comical scene. The family began to wolf down their individual meals, like a pack of hungry animals, they barely talked during their meal, stuffing their cheeks like a pack of ravenous chipmunks, eagerly devouring the stew that lay before them. After the meal had finished Amanda, Kellian, and Oscar all wiped their mouths of the grease that lingered on the corner of their mouths.
"Hah!" With a slight scoff Kellian stood up from his miniature chair, glancing towards Oscar before raising his right hand and pointing his index finger at him, "Time to chop firewood, boy!"
Oscar's mischievous grin faded from his face as quickly as a man would fall from a tree. Merely nodding, Oscar relented and stood up from his chair, following his father who had already made his way out of the doorway that seemed like a dollhouse door compared to his stature.
As the two were exiting the house, they happened to catch a few villagers walking at a quickened pace, as if there were slightly hot charcoals placed beneath their feet. Kellian naturally stopped one of the passing villagers and asked,
"Why is everyone' acting like a Barbarian chasin' em?" Kellian asked, his right brow raised slightly above his left, a questioning tone that held no room for questions resonating from his voice.
"Ain't' ya hear, Kel? The imperials trudgin' about, lookin' for 'a' rogue wizard!" The man said. Kellian nodded, but he still didn't understand why everyone was in such a hurry, after all, the Imperials came around once a full year to collect taxes. The man seemingly catching on to Kellian's ignorance came in close to his ear, cupping his hand around it as if he didn't even want the wind to hear the words from his mouth.
'I hear it ain't just Imperials but…' The man swallowed, almost as if he had almost choked on the words he was about to say.
'The Scourge of The Throne.'
Kellian's face grew into a frown; the name whispered in his ears brought a slight chill down his spine as if someone had just doused him in cold water. His eyes gained a certain amount of focus to them, no longer as carefree as they were a few moments ago.
"Oscar." Kellian said, turning his head toward his one and only son.
"Yea, Pa?" Oscar, unaware of the urgency of the matter taking place within the village, answered with a lighthearted smile, his dimples showing, releasing some of the tension of Kellian's frown.
"Return inside." Kellian replied.
Oscar merely nodded and did an imperial salute, two fingers in front of his chest, before turning on his heels and doing his own version of a soldiers march back to the ajar door of the house; an act that would normally cause his Father to let out a smirk or a small chuckle, this time, didn't seem to reach him. His face was as solid and unmoving as granite, glancing around warily Kellian turned around and walked inside the house.