Chapter 1 - The Young Boy
Sitting in the middle of the grassy plains, where the cool, clear breeze blows gently, the early morning sunrise shines down on a particular town and the townsfolk within. The town of Sikklis. A humble area where mostly farmers, bakers, small-time merchants, and the like have already set up their respective work areas. Local farmers plow along the vast fields of crops that are just about near to harvest. The local bakery has just finished a batch of fresh bread rolls as customers slowly swarm the bakery, and just a few steps away someone just bought a new sickle and axe for quite an affordable amount of coin.
Not too far away from the main center of activity of Sikklis, is a boy helping his father tend to their chickens and cattle in the family barn. A young lad named Brenvar, a simple peasant's son, content with the life he had been living. After helping with feeding the chickens and cows, as well as picking out the eggs, from his fence, he saw there and then just how large the Kingdom's walls were, even from a lengthy distance, the stone bricks almost blocking out the sun and leaving a shadow where he stood. Brenvar didn't think much of it at the time, and as he turned to bring the eggs inside the hut, a disturbance was felt. Loud and clear. "For the Kingdom!" He hears, followed by numerous overlapping cries and yells by various men that seem to be around the age of his father, possibly older. He turns his neck, and he sees them all. Tall, heads held high, armor-donning soldiers from within the Kingdom walls. Multiple wearing thick gambesons and hoods over their heads, small metal chains interlocked and worn across and around the collar bone, as well as a select few wearing the shiny, metal caps that seemed like the only actual piece of their armor set that would hold well against any attack. Adorned on their sides were swords and in their hands were spears of various sizes. The one in the very middle had probably the most quality-looking armor out of them all. "It's quite surprising to know they're all just levies." Brenvar thought, as he watched the group of men march onward out into the green fields, merely dots in the distance as they all join their brothers-in-arms in a battle against a warring kingdom.
Brenvar quickly gains his senses and heads back into the hut. Greeting her mother and bringing in the fresh eggs. "You've done a good job, dear." she says as she hugs her beloved son tightly. "You truly have been such a huge help. You and your father. Though, I wish I could say the same for myself." Brenvar glances at her shakingly walk to the table, barely holding onto her wooden cane to take a seat. "Mother, you know you shouldn't be moving around too much, especially at this hour. You should go to bed and rest for the time being." He says. "If I have the strength to stand up, then I have the strength to do something other than limp around our home like a frail old lady... I'll be cooking for the day, alright? Don't worry about me, dear." She replies. Brenvar opens his mouth as if to say something but doesn't. He simply hugs his mother and thanks her for her reassurance and for putting up with these hardships, heading back out to help his father plow the fields next. As he steps foot on the soft yet firm soil, he turns his attention to a certain group of clouds. White puffiness that he just can't seem to ignore as he pictures himself flying through the sky to eventually laying comfortably in one. He looks back to the walls looming over the town he has lived in for his whole life. "Maybe... I could be like that too." he thinks as he returns to that very same moment where he watched courageous Kingdom soldiers walk out through the walls to a glorious battle. "Brenvar! Quit your daydreamin' and get to plowin' with me on the field!" his father yells from afar. Brenvar snaps out of it and quickly runs over to help out as the clouds soaring above them slowly drift into the endless pool of blue sky.
