The Kingdom of America was a land of prosperity, indulgence and extravagance. Its King and Queen were known throughout the Earth Lands for being kind and fair, and their knights famous for their honour and chivalrous ways. Land was wide and rich, spreading for miles into beautiful fields, mountains as tall as the very skies and lakes as deep as the earth itself. Enough food could be grown for every person be they a noble or one of the townsfolk. Cotton could be grown for all their clothing, as well as space for animals to graze and live in comfort. Sheep for wool and cows for beef and milk roamed happily over the countryside, while chickens lived inside many homes, providing eggs for the families. Life was simple but life was good.

National occasions were celebrated in high spirits throughout the Kingdom, with parties and fireworks lasting long into the night. Shows of daring and skill were often performed for the people during these celebrations; jousting tournaments, sword fights and archery contests were appreciated by everyone. Other performers with more unusual skills could also be seen in bigger festivals, such as fire eaters and snake charmers. Almost every person in the Kingdom would benefit from the biggest of the occasions, for they would bring in visitors from all over the other Kingdoms and Empires. The visitors needed food, shelter and only too often a warm bath; something the inhabitants of the town could give them for a price. But people would not only buy essentials, but trivial trinkets, gifts for their loved ones back home. Any merchant or tradesman with a few pretty baubles could make an enormous profit on a Festival Day.

Alfred F. Jones was one of these skilled men. He was a metalsmith, crafting everything from delicate rings to razor sharp swords that could cut through both flesh and bone. He did a steady business in his home town of Washington, but rarely ventured outside of the area to sell his wares. With his extraordinary skill, he could've made his fortune, but he always held himself back. He didn't want to be a famous metalsmith. He wanted to be a knight, saving fair maidens (or fair gentlemen) and killing demons and dragons. A hero, like in the tales of old and the legends that crept in from the Kingdoms of Gaul and Britain.

But, Alfred was just a metalsmith, sharpening his swords in the hope of one day needing them.

It was an ordinary Tuesday when his life was jolted into insanity. The sun was shining in a cloudless sky, the heat turning the air into a dizzying haze. There wasn't a breath of wind and no sight of any travellers at all. Alfred sat outside the front of his shop under the shade of the awning, whistling to no real tune. He bopped his head up and down, grinding a dripping whetstone down the edge of a rough blade. The blue-silver blade shone with an almost blinding reflection even in the shade, so bright it appeared to be glowing. It was several minutes before Alfred moved any other part of his body than his head and his hand, and that was simply to dip his whetstone into a wooden pail beside him. He swirled it around for a few seconds, then pulled it back out and continued to sharpen the sword. This action was repeated every hour, and so Alfred did his job.

The day was slipping away, and yet the entire town was still. It was nearing evening before the people began to really awaken, when the heat became less oppressive and the sunlight less glaring. Children came running onto the streets, playing games in the dusty roads. Their high pitched voices made Alfred crack the smallest of smiles, eyes softening behind wire glasses. Next came their parents, scolding the children for making such loud noises and to get back inside this very minute, or so help them come dinner time...! Shadows of movement and snatches of laughter could be heard behind closed doors and windows. People came into the main town with their pockets weighted down with coins, looking to buy a treat for a desert, or something pretty to wear for going out in. One of these people approached Alfred.

She was a pretty little thing, just turned 16 and still as fresh as a spring lake. Her hair was tied up out of her face and was shielded by a dainty pink sun-hat. A white dress swung and billowed below her knees as she headed towards the shop with her face set in a nervous-but-determined expression. Alfred looked up at the sound of her footsteps, flashing a Hollywood smile and sliding the blue blade under a sheet beside the chair.

"Hey there, sweetie. What can I do for a pretty gal like yourself?" he asked, calloused hand pressed under his chin. The girl blushed a little, but held her head high.
"I'm here t' buy a brooch," she informed him with a crooked smile, "A nice one, mind. A present for a friend." She stood under the awning, twisting her dress in her hands. Alfred stood, gesturing towards the open door to his shop.
"Come on in, Miss...?"
"Emily. Emily Roads."
"Come on in, Miss Roads. We'll find you summat that's perfect for your friend, I promise!"

A giddy Emily left Alfred's shop with a copper dragonfly brooch wrapped in brown paper and five silver pieces poorer. Alfred watched her go with a nostalgic smile, remembering the time when he bought a bracelet for the boy that sat next to him in class. The boy, Tim, had thought it was lovely. His mother never found out that it wasn't from a girl, but Tim's best friend.

Funny, Alfred thought with a touch of sadness, I never did tell him it was from me. Shaking his head, Alfred made to sit back down his chair, when the sound of footsteps approached the shop again. Assuming that Emily Roads or whatever her name was had come back, he plastered on his Hollywood grin, internally frustrated.

"Hey there, what do- Oh. Hello. How may I help you two fine gentleman?" Alfred had spun around to find himself in front of not a petite American teen, but two men, clearly from out of town. They wore tailored outfits that were shaped to their slim, not-worked-a-day figures (dust-covered though they were) and black high-heeled boots. The leather wasn't scuffed in the slightest and the brass buckles shone in the reddening evening light. Instantly wary, Alfred straightened his posture and lost the charming smile, instead acting as high-class as possible.


AN - Hi! I'm back, and yes, this is short and ends at a bit of a cliff-hanger-ish. I just wanted to get something posted so people didn't lose interest!

Please note, I am British, so will write with British spellings, even when it's set in what is essentially America. Also, I will write dialogue 'correctly', but any words that are actually said differently, like 'gal' or 'summat' will be spelt as such. Accents, meh. I can't write accents well enough to bother, so I won't. Please feel free to imagine the American accents.