After traveling for several days, the caravan had finally arrived the the long awaited sight of the plain, towering walls that loomed over the distance. Approaching the city there were two separate lines waiting by the gates, one noticeably shorter than the other. Curious, Aadam asked Frank "Why is one of the lines so much shorter than the other"?
"Kid, know that the world ain't fair. The longer line is composed of refugees and other undesirables. The people here are pretty much biased against everything that isn't like them. War has been ravaging the lands for centuries. The issue of the refugees isn't a new one. But it's one that doesn't look like it'll end anytime soon. They pretty much have all been struck by fate."
"But why are they biased, and why aren't they letting the refugees into the city?" asked Aadam.
"Resources are scarce. No one wants to care for the refugees when they can hardly take care of themselves. The ones with power who can make a difference hoard it for themselves. The populace is helpless. Through this, by depriving others of resources, those with power can ensure that they and their families will always remain in power by suppressing others due to the advantage in resources."
As they began to approach the gates for inspection, a group of refugees began to swarm the caravan, the guards holding the weapons nervously.
"Sir, can you please spare us some food?" cried a refugee.
"A little spare change?" asked another.
Suddenly, a loud voice cried out from the group of refugees, "Man, you know they ain't going to give you shit! They got their head each other's asses, remember? Stop being naive and grow up."
"Back up! Everyone back up!" yelled the guards pointing their weapons at them. They anxiously glanced around, clear fear on their faces that they would be swarmed at any minute.
"Man screw them! All they do is yell how we can't do this, 'oh no you can't do that', I say that they don't let us in, we force our way in. It's time to seize our fate for ourselves! Come let us unite!" yelled out the same voice from before.
"Do you know who that is?" whispered Aadam to Frank.
With the loud cacophony outside, Jeremy arose from his slumber "What's going on outside?"
"We're here Jeremy," replied Frank.
"I see."
"Wait, so what's going on?" interjected Aadam.
"Look Aadam, I'm getting tired of explaining everything to you. Jeremy you wanna take this"?
"Fine, you see Aadam, the guards and the unwanted have the this ongoing conflict between them. It always occurs. The refugees look at the guards as people who want to prevent them from having better futures. And the guards are following orders. Fights often breakout, not surprised one's breaking out now."
Outside the carriage, the Captain of the Guard yelled "Man shut up already! Someone get the guy to shut up!"
"Our voices shall be silenced no longer! For too long we have been bound by the chains of oppression! United, brothers we shall seize tomorrow! Join me, and end the tyranny"!
The refugees began swarming around the caravan heading towards the guards, swarming them as if ants to honey.
The guards began swinging their weapons into the crowd, butchering those who fell to their blades. The refugees futilely running to their demise. Every so often a guard or two would get separated from the group and fall prey to the hatred and violence that the unwanted shared. They were dragged off, screaming, as they frantically tried to escape in the brutal frenzy.
Helpless, Aadam could only watch as the outside descended into chaos. Stunned by the sight, he asked, "Hey Jeremy."
"Yea kid"?
"I know you already explained but why is this conflict happening"?
"What do you mean"?
"Well... why"?
Frank interjected, "He means what caused this and all that."
"Yea that."
"Oh, well. I don't really know. Well I guess you can blame the Western conflicts with the Demon-kin. But, I'm not the most well versed."
"Frank, do you know"?
"I'm as informed as he is."
Outside a faint thumping began to ring out, as the screaming began to become more intense. Risking a glance, Aadam quickly looked out side before he was yanked back in.
"What-"
"What are you doing? Don't attract any attention to us or we'll be drawn into the fight," said an exasperated Jeremy.
"They're shooting arrows now."
"Thanks kid but, we didn't need you to tell us," replied Frank.
"How?" asked Aadam.
"Listen carefully."
"Yea"?
"You hear that soft thumping"?
"Yea."
"That's the sound of someone being pierced by an arrow."
"How do you know"?
"The Western Front changes people kid. You learn things."
"I'm sorr-."
"Don't bother kid. S'ok. The conflict sounds like it's bout done anyways. We should get in now. Seems like it's bout to end anytime now."
The bloodshed around the city was beginning to end at this point, with many of the refugees slaughtered and others surrounding the dead bodies gathering the spoils of battle, like vultures after a hunt.
The caravan steadily crept towards the entrance to city, guards surrounding the carriages as they were slowly escorted towards the gates. On either side, there were a row of iron-clad guards flanking them as they finally arrived. The head of the caravan left his carriage and approached the guards.
"There's a tax to enter Greymerrow."
"We know." As this verbal byplay occurred the head covertly slipped several silvers into the open pocket of the guard.
Satisfied the guard turned around and yelled "Open the gates"!
After so long, they had finally reached Greymerrow.