Time passed swiftly in the hidden woods of Blackwood. Hours turned into days, days into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years. The once fragile newborn, Little Frederick, had grown into a strong young man. His mother called him Sebastian Frederick, but many in their small circle—especially his father—referred to him as Sir Frederick the Second.
Sebastian was bold and fearless, just as his father had raised him to be. Over the years, Sir Frederick had trained his son in survival, combat, and the art of hunting. The young boy had mastered both the gun and the bow, making him an exceptional marksman. He could track animals through the thickest forests, move silently across fallen leaves, and shoot an arrow with deadly precision.
Despite his playful and mischievous nature, Sebastian was also intelligent and deeply curious. He often ventured to the edges of the mountains, staring out at the distant shores of Blackwood Town. He dreamed of visiting the place one day, though his father had always warned him against it.
"That town is ruled by deadly men," his father had told him, his voice grim. "Men who do not forget the past. Men who still seek revenge."
Sebastian had listened, but curiosity still burned within him.
One evening, as the sun cast long golden rays through the towering oak trees, Sir Frederick sat by the fire, staring into the flickering flames. He spoke softly, his voice carrying the weight of memory.
"I was once a great man in England, Sebastian," he said, his tired eyes gazing into the past. "I had power, wealth, and the loyalty of many men. But when you were born, I was left defenseless. My men were captured by an enemy I once called a friend."
Sebastian listened intently. He had heard bits and pieces of this story before, but never in such detail.
His father continued, "His name is Khalifa. We grew up together, trained together. But his heart turned dark when he realized that your mother—Carolina—chose me over him. She was the most beautiful woman in all of England, and Khalifa wanted her for himself."
Sebastian clenched his fists. His family had been betrayed over love?
"But his hatred didn't end there," Sir Frederick said. "When I became England's most skilled gunmaster, he vanished. For years, he hid, waiting—until the day you were born. That was when he finally struck, with the help of a traitor among my men."
Sebastian's eyes darkened. His father had sacrificed everything to keep their family safe. And now, he was old and weary, yet still training his son to one day reclaim what had been taken.
Though age had slowed Sir Frederick's movements, his hands still handled a pistol with expert precision. Every day, he taught Sebastian the secrets of gunfighting, from dueling techniques to the art of shooting in total darkness.
One of the most dangerous traditions his father taught him was the gun duel. In this challenge, two opponents stood blindfolded, only able to rely on their senses. At the sound of a gunshot in the air, they had to fire—but only the sharpest, quickest marksman would land a hit.
Many used this duel to settle disputes. Some saw it as a test of honor. Others saw it as a death sentence.
One afternoon, Sebastian faced his father in a duel. Though Sir Frederick had been the greatest gunman of his time, age had weakened his speed. The young hunter fired first, his bullet grazing his father's left knee.
The onlookers gasped. Then, a slow clap echoed through the small cottage.
"My Lord," said Hope, their most loyal maid. "Your son has grown into a fine warrior. He is your very reflection, but I daresay—he may become even fiercer than you."
Sir Frederick chuckled, patting Sebastian's shoulder. "Don't say that, Hope. Even in my old age, I can still hold my own. My boy has much to learn."
Sebastian smirked, but his respect for his father was absolute. One day, he would make him proud.
A Sister's Warmth and the Hunter's Prize
Not far from the training grounds, Carolina and their daughter, Petrova, sat inside the warm cottage. Petrova, a striking beauty like her mother, had inherited her grace and intelligence. She sat calmly as her mother braided her long, chestnut hair.
"Your brother is growing into a strong man," Carolina said softly.
"He is," Petrova agreed with a smile. "But he still acts like a wild beast in the woods."
Carolina chuckled. "And yet, one day, he may be the one who saves us all."
Meanwhile, Sebastian had ventured deep into the woods. He moved like a shadow, hopping from tree to tree with the agility of a seasoned predator. The forest was alive with the sounds of nature—the rustling of maple leaves, the distant call of an owl, and the gentle creaking of the old pines swaying in the wind.
Then, he spotted his prey.
A porcupine—an uncommon catch for any hunter. Most men avoided them because of their sharp, dangerous spines, which could be fired in defense. But Sebastian was different. He watched the animal carefully, reading its movements. Then, with one swift arrow, he struck it cleanly through the head.
The creature fell instantly, its body lifeless in a pool of blood.
Sebastian returned to the cottage, his prize slung over his shoulder. Petrova, skilled in cooking, eagerly took the porcupine and began preparing a warm stew.
Outside, the wind howled through the trees, shaking loose acorns and pine needles that scattered across the forest floor. But inside the cottage, the fire crackled, and the scent of rich, hearty soup filled the air.
Sir Frederick sat back, watching his children with pride. Though his body was growing weak, his legacy was strong.
Sebastian would become a man of great skill. He would one day reclaim their honor.
And perhaps, he would be the one to finally defeat Khalifa.
But for tonight, the family sat together, sharing laughter and warmth—a moment of peace before the storm.