William heard an impatient knock at the door. Of course, he already knew it was Gerad. He opened the door to find Gerad bouncing on his heels, excitement radiating from him.
"Ramsey, you finally opened the doo—" Gerad froze mid-sentence when he realized it was William and not his brother standing there. His excitement faltered. "Did you guys fight? Who won?"
"We did nothing of the sort," William replied dryly, folding his arms. A smirk crept onto his face. "But if we did, Ramsey wouldn't be able to stand right now."
"What did you say?!" Ramsey snapped from inside the room, his face darkening as he pointed a mock gun at William. "If I wanted to, I'd snipe your head clean off." He mimed firing the imaginary weapon with a "pow!"
Gerad, undeterred, tilted his head curiously. "Well, if you didn't fight, what were you guys talking about?"
William hesitated, his usual composure faltering. He couldn't tell Gerad the truth—the boy was too young to understand the weight of the battlefield. Instead, William considered lying. "I'm… uh, heading to a council meeting," he started, but before he could settle into the falsehood, Ramsey interjected.
"We're going to take the head of the other king!" Ramsey declared, grinning mischievously.
Inwardly, William cursed. You idiot, Ramsey!
Gerad's face lit up, his expression morphing into a devilish grin. "I want to go too!" he exclaimed. "I want to go to war!"
William immediately knelt down, gripping Gerad by the shoulders. His tone turned stern, his eyes sharp. "War is not something to celebrate or dream about," he said, his voice cutting through Gerad's enthusiasm. "It's not the kind of heroic battle you've seen in plays or heard about in stories. Ramsey and I might not even make it home." He softened, seeing tears welling in Gerads's eyes. "Never say that again. Do you understand?"
Tears spilled down Gerad's cheeks as he stammered, "S-shorry, W-William, I didhn't know." His words were barely coherent, but William understood the sentiment.
Letting out a slow breath, William calmed himself. He ruffled Gerad's hair and offered a small smile. "I'm sorry too. I'm just on edge right now."
Gerads tummy started to grumble, William noticed and bent down to Gerads height
"Alright, I have an Idea to cheer you up", William said with a cheeky grinn
Just then, the heavy, deliberate thud of boots echoed down the hallway. Ramsey, who had wandered toward the corridor, froze as the towering figure of Sir Darius, the Grand General of the army, appeared. Broad-shouldered and imposing, Darius's braided beard and battle-worn scar across his left eye gave him the air of a warrior who had survived countless battles. His right eye, sharp as a hawk's, bore down on Ramsey with intimidating precision.
"Prince," Darius growled, his voice low and gravelly. "Show me to William."
Ramsey bristled, his pride wounded by the lack of decorum. "He is your Grace to you," he snapped.
With a grunt of irritation, Darius grabbed Ramsey by the back of his collar and hoisted him off the ground like a disobedient kitten. "I need to speak to him now, you brat," Darius barked.
"You dull-witted baboon!" Ramsey shouted, flailing his arms and fists against the general's iron grip. "Put me down this instant, or I'll have your head on a pike!"
Darius raised a brow, clearly unimpressed. "Dull-wi… what? Speak sense, boy. I'm not a scholar."
"Could you please use your inside voice?" Ramsey yelled, somehow managing to match the general's booming volume.
Darius dropped Ramsey unceremoniously onto the ground, earning a huff of indignation from the prince. "Back when I was young," Darius said, his voice softening just slightly, "my entire family was infected by a plague. It spread through the ears, and to save the newborns, they had to cut off the infected areas. So this…" he gestured vaguely to himself, "is my inside voice."
Ramsey stared at him, utterly unmoved by the story. Without hesitation, he attempted to slap Darius, but the general caught his wrist effortlessly.
"Now, for the last time," Darius said, his patience wearing thin. "Tell me where William is."
"Fine, fine!" Ramsey yelped, shaking free of the general's grip. "He's in my room with Gerad. Near the weapons vault."
Satisfied, Darius released him and walked away, muttering under his breath. "Brats these days. No respect."
As the sun set over the palace's sprawling meadows, Darius strode purposefully to the weapons vault. Spotting William and Gerad crouched behind a bench, surrounded by crumbs and scattered muffins, he stopped in his tracks.
William hastily jumped to his feet, brushing crumbs from his tunic and gulping down the last bite of muffin. He straightened his back, attempting to appear composed, though his cheeks were still stuffed. "Yesh, General Darius," he said, swallowing hard. "What is it you need?"
Darius looked at the scene before him and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I have something to tell you, and it's important," he muttered.