Capítulo 1: My Uncle's Secret
At the westernmost point of the kingdom of Shira, there was a small village called Isdeth. Cloudy and boring for most of the year, the majority of its residents were old farmers. From the eyes of a stranger, the buildings of the town were painted in unfriendly cold colors. Purple. Black. Blue. Green. Perhaps it is why new visitors were rare. With roofs saturated and unanimous, their skin was no different, made with moist dark oak. Re-painting their sun-drain jade pyramid roof, Samuel stood outside once in a while.
"Watch out! Uncle Gi" he gasped as he fumbled with the brush, dropping it on his uncle's head who was coming up the stairs.
Gidean Fulmund, Samuel's uncle, responded "Here Sammy boy!", and threw the brush back.
His uncle is often characterized by the town's people as never-aging. Even in his mid 50's, Gidean had no visual signs of white hair or wrinkles. And, most of all, he had abnormal power and stamina. Lending a hand to farmers in planting crops to single-handedly handling a loose bull, he earned himself the title of Gullible Gidean. Many exploited Gidean's willingness, making him the go-to person for every undesirable task. Behind his back, people often mocked that he was not the sharpest tool in the shed. As for Sam, or Samuel Gerelt, he is inside of the box type. Observative, aloof, clumsy, and unfortunate, Sam is a 17-year-old teenager. He has never left this town and rarely went outside. From what his uncle says, he has lived in Isdeth since losing his parents in an accident when he was little over 3 months old. Without formal academia available in town, Gidean has taken care of, schooled, and raised Samuel. Anti-social, Sam spends his day reading books he can lay his hand upon and doing the dishes. His uncle, on the other hand, works in the local wood lodging group, does almost all of the house chores, makes food, and aids people in need at no cost.
One rainy day in Isdeth, when Sam was reading books as usual, a sudden knock was heard on his door. Puzzled by who it may be, Sam sneaked to the door and looked through the peephole.
"It is the local warden, open the door Sam.", said a drenched man in a gray coat. Sam hesitantly opened the door to hear shocking news.
"Your uncle, Mr. Fulmund, has unfortunately passed away," the local warden announced, looking at the floor. Fixing his throat afterward, he averted eye contact.
Sam's face scowled, thinking it was a cruel joke. "What happened and how?" he asked with a touch of sarcasm.
"Heart illness," the warden replied. "It happened in the glimpse of an eye, they say. The workers at the log cabin were surprised when Mr. Fulmund collapsed mid-work. I'm sorry this has happened to you, Samuel. If there is anything you need, our office is always welcome to you," The warden answered sorrowfully.
Sam sat on the couch as the warden left. Silence indulged him and the whole house. He realized it wasn't a prank.
With limited time spent with his uncle, Sam, tapping his feet, crystal teardrops fell down his cheeks. "Stupid!" He blurted. "Only if you were not a wuss, you could've avoided this. You always made your uncle do all the work. Job, laundry, cleaning, and even cooking on top of his selflessness to others" Sam exclaimed. Sam suddenly laughed, observing his stupidity.
Banging his head against the wall, he regretted his past actions. Recollecting his thoughts, Sam considered there might have been a will or final word. He paced outside and went to the warden's office. Knocking on the door, a nurse answered. Samuel then entered the chamber where his uncle lay. His face was wrinkled, body shrunken, and pale, it was like night and day from his usual self. Sam puts his hand on top of his uncle's chest. Caressing his cold face with his left hand, he sat under the bed and let out a long sigh until the nurse put her hand on his shoulder.
"What did he say before he passed on?" Sam asked on a low note.
"We don't know. It's unfortunate. The man next to Mr. Fulmund couldn't hear what his final words were", the nurse answered. Burdens were added to Sam's shoulder. He wanted to someday repay his uncle for his kindness in raising him.
A few days later, the funeral started. Most in their 40s and 50s, many of the town's residents attended Gidean Fulmund's burial in the backyard of his house, as insisted by Sam.
"I'm so sorry this has happened to your uncle", said mourners, trying to reach out to Sam. He greeted everyone, but it irritated him. Seeing the faces of people who always took advantage of his uncle's kindness, Sam became furious. That night, his dissent boiled. He punched the door of his room.
Sam shook his head and decided. He set out to uncover more about his uncle.
Sam for the first time in his life, disobeyed his uncle's orders and entered the one room he asked him never to. His bedroom. Explained by wanting privacy, closet monsters, and various other reasons, Gidean always asked him to keep away from his room since Sam was a child. Foremost Sam always found it strange how it was the only room with a lock and a black tinted window. He now had the key. Sam meticulously opens the door with bravery.
The door creaks open. Sam entered the room and looked around. The room consisted of only two pieces of furniture. His bed and the desk. On his desk, piles of paper lay alongside his favorite pair of glasses. Sam began searching the papers from beginning to end.
"Behind that always smiling face of Uncle Gi, there must be a secret", he thought to himself.
However, he found nothing. Sam felt tired. Jumping on top of the bed on his belly, THUMP! He hit his toes on something hard. Sam got off the bed. And, moving the long bedding away, under his bed, he found a black wooden coffin, with an animal skull mark in its center. Puzzled and crept by its eerie spotless texture even under a dirty bed, he found a clue. Gulping down his fears, he pulled the what seemed heavy coffin with ease and opened it. Nothing. There was nothing inside. Sam's fear subsides and he starts examining the coffin. On the casket, a small carving read Ashenbrook's manor. Wesland. Sam scratched his head, he decided to ask the warden for any clue what these words meant.
The next morning, he rushed to the warden's office at exactly right at opening time.
"Woah there, Samuel, I didn't expect to see you this soon. How are you, Samuel!" said the warden.
"Nothing much! It's been alright. I have come to ask you about something. Does Ashenbrook's manor, Wesland, ring a bell, sir?" Sam asked.
The warden crossed his arms and put his boots on the table. "The second part actually does. It's a town southeast of Isdeth. You should be able to get there in three days with a cart. What's up with it?" answered the warden in curiosity. "Thank you, sir," Sam interrupted. "I read it in a book," Sam smiled and shortly left.
Sitting on his living room couch, Sam took a deep breath. He was determined. Pondering how he was going to reach Wesland, he first baked bread that would last him on his journey. Then, he stored water in his bronze brass. Holding his hands on his hips, Sam looked and contemplated. He had nothing to carry his rations. Sam remembered the time he had moved what seemed like a heavy coffin. He decided to test the coffin and loaded it with the prepared rations and some spare clothes. Strangely, he found it light despite the load. Sam then made shoulder straps for the coffin and wore them on his back. Encompassing from his head to the back of his knees, the coffin fitted his height perfectly. Matching his dark clothing, it made him look like a human version of Grim Reaper, but with a coffin on his back, instead of the scythe.