Don't judge a book by its cover.
"Hey, you're becoming a big guy, aren't you?" said Alfred enthusiastically, squatting down in front of the bar table to see eye to eye with a small boy of about five. He had the palest of blonde hair, cut short, and a nose that must have grown too fast for the rest of his face, though the proportions weren't necessarily unattractive. His entire skin was pale, matching that to the skin of his parents, but the summer sun outside caused his arms to be dotted with an abundance of freckles and a painful red tint. Alfred also decided that the boy definitely got his eyes from Alfred's brother, Matthew.
"Oh, he certainly is," beamed a feminine voice, a woman by the name of Katyusha, as she bent down from the waist beside Alfred to look at her son. "I wish you could have seen him when he was newborn. He was a big guy even when he was little," she stated.
"Don't get me started," offered a voice from the door. A man strode in, very similar features as Alfred except for his longer hair, paler skin, and eyes that looked similar to the little boy in front of him. "He was the fattest baby I've ever had to see."
"Not fat!" Katyusha protested, "just, decently weighted."
Alfred laughed. "I wish I could have, but it's not my fault you two were set on settling over the mountains. It was like you were desperate for perfect farming soil."
"We were," Matthew, the man who had entered, deadpanned. "And still are."
The boy in front of them giggled. He had been looking back and forth between the adults as they all talked, but suddenly, he jumped closed to Alfred and peered up at him with wide, almost violet, eyes. He leaned closer, and closer, almost causing Alfred to fall back on his bottom, and finally poked the tavern keeper's nose with his pointer finger. "I'm Ivan!" he exclaimed, looking in satisfaction as Alfred lost balance and eventually did fall on his bottom. Alfred blinked, before laughing at the child.
"I'm aware! It's nice to finally meet you, Ivan," he said.
It was early afternoon, and the tavern was decently busy mostly serving food before nightfall, when customers would come in looking for drinks rather than a meal. Elizaveta was bustling around as her husband idly sat there, and it was finally time that she approached the small gathered group and grinned happily at the newly visiting family. Matthew glanced up to see the woman and smiled back. "Why, is this really Elizaveta?" he said, albeit a bit quietly in the room that was gradually filling with more noise.
"And is this really Matthew?" Elizaveta replied, and Alfred and Katyusha stepped back to allow the two to embrace each other in a hearty hug.
"You're even more beautiful than when I last saw, I thought that would be the other way around with age!" Matthew exclaimed, and Elizaveta laughed.
"We're still in our early 20's, I don't know what you're talking about," she answered, before Katyusha butt in.
"Yes, early 20's and taken," Katyusha stated, giving her husband a theatrically pointed look, causing Alfred and his wife to grin. Matthew only looked sheepish.
Elizaveta looked down when a small child went to tug on the hem of her dress. "I'm Ivan!" Ivan repeated again, and Elizaveta's grin grew wider.
As Elizaveta knelt and began to play with Ivan, tickling his sides and reducing the child to a squealing mess that ran and hid behind tables and chair legs, occupied and unoccupied, Alfred got up and commandeered the counter. When Matthew moved to follow, Katyusha decided to leave the two brothers to their own conversation and joined a conversation of her own with Elizaveta as they attempted to catch her son.
"I didn't know you'd be visiting so early," Alfred said, picking up an empty plate from the bar counter.
Matthew accepted a stool to sit on, leaning heavily on said counter. "I didn't, either," he replied. "But Katyusha doesn't want the farm unattended for the beginning of spring. She wants to see if we can begin seeding early this year."
Alfred muttered a soft, 'ah,' dunking the plate in a bucket of a water and leaving it there in favour of turning his full attention on his brother. "I almost miss the farm, but I so happened to marry a city girl. It's kind of odd that ma would pick a city girl out of all girls on the fields, but it just happens that Elizaveta's got a weird sort of charm on her. Her father liked the idea of a strong farmer for his daughter, too."
"The stereotypes are painful," Matthew groaned. "The only farmer they seem to fit is you. Big and buff and handsome – either that, or a creepy old man."
"And you're my twin," Alfred answered cheekily, winking at Matthew, who only snorted.
"Speaking of marrying and all that, have you two gotten pregnant yet?" Matthew finally asked, looking at his brother curiously as Alfred sighed.
"No, not yet, we're waiting until spring. I don't think I want one anymore, though. British soldiers are coming in quicker than ever to this place."
Matthew frowned. "Is that so bad?"
"Yes, it's so bad," Alfred shot back, almost defensively. Matthew shifted a little in surprise. "They're bringing with them conflict, same as in Boston. I don't want a small kid around all of that. And now they've brought it into my own tavern."
"They've brought what into the tavern? This place has alcohol, there's bound to be fights that break out," Matthew reasoned.
"No," Alfred bit back. "A soldier. We're being made to quarter a soldier here until he's needed elsewhere."
Matthew's eyes widened in surprise, but his mouth quirked up pleasantly, and Alfred should have remembered that Matthew did not have the same opinions. It was a wonder how they were brothers at all. They agreed on nothing, their views for everything called opposite, and the matter of the British soldiers was absolutely no exception. "Well, this is certainly news! What is he like?"
Alfred took a deep breath. "That, I can't tell you. I don't know anything myself."
Matthew's frown returned. "Are you saying that you haven't spoken to this man at all? Not had him over for dinner, introduced yourself, nothing?"
"He's already been told who we are and what we do for a living, introductions weren't necessary," Alfred replied curtly. "As for dinner, we already give him a place to sleep – the least he can do is feed himself."
"Alfred!" Matthew exclaimed, mouth slightly agape in incredulous semi-horror. "He's a hardworking soldier, you should give him respect!"
"I'm giving no respect to a man who welcomes himself to any hospitality I have, whether I want to give it or not," Alfred snapped back.
Matthew tensed. "I don't understand what is with you being against them so much. We are British citizens too, after all. They're our soldiers, not anybody else's."
Alfred slammed down an empty glass he had just been about to fill with scotch, and the man seated beside Matthew, the one who had ordered it, jumped a little. "You call us British citizens? I'll call myself British when I get treated like the British! How is this fair? Each place in Britain gets their own representatives, chosen by them, to give them a voice as to what they want in Parliament. What do we get? We get nothing! No representative that we choose, so what voice do we have? Not one that we want. All the taxes put upon us, we have no say of!"
"So what are you saying? That we break away?" Matthew spat, and Alfred was mildly surprised to hear that the man had raised his voice and was half standing in his chair, arms flat on the counter, leaning forward. "What we? It seems like you're the only one here who wants that."
"Pa?" came a soft voice, but Matthew did not react. He stared straight at Alfred, and Alfred stared straight back, until a small child began crawling onto Matthew's lap and Alfred saw red disappear from the corner of his vision. "Papa, it's loud."
Matthew's hard gaze flickered to look at his son, and Alfred found his own eyes drawn to stare at the only other pair of eyes looking back at him. Elizaveta bit her lip. Matthew closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before glancing quickly around the room. There were more men than before seated at the bar, and some of them were gesturing wildly for Alfred's attention. He turned fully and adjusted Ivan to sit on his knee. "It is, isn't it?" instead of looking back at Alfred, Matthew directed his eyes to his wife, Katyusha, who was leaning against the counter and fighting not to look at Alfred, either. She shrugged and nodded her head towards the door.
Alfred began furiously grabbing glasses and filling them with whatever drink was called out to him by the waiting men at the bar as Elizaveta hurried up to where everyone else was gathered. She took Ivan from Matthew's lap and waved towards the street. "It would be a good idea to be getting back to the house. I'll show you two the way. I haven't prepared anything for your staying there – it seems to be a pattern with Alfred these days that I not be told when we're having guests—," she began to ramble as the two other adults nodded and agreed. After glancing at Alfred to make sure he knew where they would be, Elizaveta started to head towards the door.
"I'll take them," Alfred suddenly called out, and Elizaveta looked at him in surprise. "I don't want you coming back here alone," he said, and before Elizaveta could offer an alternative, or point out that she went back to the house on her own when it was later than it was then, he abandoned his post and headed towards the door.
"I don't think that's such a good idea," Elizaveta began, but Alfred interrupted her.
"No, you don't know who is out there at this time," his eyes narrowed, "I've heard there's been more brawls breaking out lately."
With that, they left.
The horse ride was incredibly awkward, but thankfully, it was not that long. Toward the end, Katyusha brought up small talk, and they began to idly converse about life in the city and how Ivan was doing. The topic soon switched to farm life, though, when Katyusha realised that most of everything that went on in the city involved the British in some way – at least, when it was Alfred talking.
When they got to the quaint house, with only a large garden in the back for crops that Alfred was raising to keep for just the family, Alfred tethered the horse and began to show them to the living room. He gathered large blankets and rugs and anything that would keep them comfortable on the couch and floor until the next day, when Elizaveta would be able to set something up. Katyusha finally shooed him out the door with the assurance that all those blankets made the floor more comfortable than a bed.
Untying his horse and mounting it again, he urged it on back towards the city. Alfred hadn't lied when he said he didn't want Elizaveta riding by herself in the dark anymore. Maybe, setting the routine when they were younger, he had not realised the extent of the danger there was for a woman riding alone during any time – let alone the wee hours of the morning. It was a shame, really, that he would have to tell the woman that. Both of them knew that Elizaveta was probably more capable of handling herself than Alfred was, but Alfred wasn't willing to take his chances.
By the time he had entered the main stretch of city again, only ten minutes later, dark had fully fallen and the streets were nearly all cleared. He was only a few roads down from the tavern, however, when something met his eye. Alfred dismounted his horse then, and walked to unhook the object from the corner of a fence post in the front of an orphanage, staring at the article of clothing with interest.
A red coat.
"Aye!" went a sudden call from behind Alfred, and, still holding the clothing, he spun around – only to get hit in the chest with a decently sized rock. "Aye, lobsterback! Forgot yer filthy coat on my porch step!"
"I'm not—" Alfred started, but he was quickly pelted in the head by small pebbles and had to duck to avoid another heavy rock from hitting his temple.
"That's where I found the thing – or is it your buddy's? Never mind that, you can tell him I said good evening!" The man was a tall but chubby one, balding on the front of his head, but his legs looked strong and sturdy despite the state of his torso. What hair he had was black, and his skin was a pale tone flushed in red and sweating from the summer night's heat. He was wearing the clothing of a regular craftsman standing on the opposite end of the street. Another rock was thrown, but it was bigger than the other ones and struck Alfred's chin.
"I'm not a soldier!" Alfred called, dropping the coat and shielding his face with his hands as rocks continued to be thrown.
"Sure y'ain't!" the man scoffed, "what would'y be doing otherwise, out on the street this time a'night? Other than half-assed 'patrolling', I mean!"
Alfred was quickly moving towards his horse, unwilling to just abandon it and run, and the man saw and immediately began pelting the horse's face with rocks. Alfred moved to shield his mount's head, but already, it had become startled and was backing up. "No, shh, come here," he attempted to coax, turning his back on the man, but a final hit that struck the horse nearly in the eye made it whine and snort, turning and running to where Alfred wanted it to go in the first place. Alfred knew, however, that the horse would not be stopping at the tavern for a drink. Clenching his fists, he angrily spun around to face the craftsman.
"Oh, useless without yer steed, y'think?" the man said, and Alfred saw a woman peer from behind the gate of a porch a little ways down the street. "What're y'going tae do from ova' there? Arrest me? Without a horse to drag m'back?"
"I'm not a redcoat!" Alfred called again, "you're being mistaken!" Instead of listening to him, though, Alfred was just again hit with rocks, and giving up, the tavern keeper turned to run up the street.
That was, until a rock hit him from that direction, and another shouting man emerged from a closing barber shop and ran to join the first. Figuring that he didn't want to stick around for what might become of that, Alfred turned heel and ran in the opposite direction, away from the tavern and Elizaveta and down an alley that he could only hope he knew the way out of.
A/N:
I wanted to make this chapter longer than the other two, bordering 4,000 words, but I decided that the other two chapters were boring enough and so I tried to end it on a little bit of excitement.
There seems to always be a problem with A/N's in previous chapters. This time, it's the fact that I misspelled the name of the joined account I mentioned last chapter. It's actually called "DafuBrits". Again, if you like MY writing, be sure to check that out!
And on with the history.
Another reason colonists were angry with Great Britain (there are far more reasons than many people actually realise) before the Revolutionary War, was that colonists were supposed to be considered British. After all, they came from Britain, originally, and most of them wanted to stick with that history, and they were under the British government, so clearly they should be British citizens. However, there were some people who didn't think that way, because colonists had been forced to be independent from the government for so long in order to survive in the New World. As tensions rose, the people who considered themselves British citizens were angered to find that the taxes that were being forced on them were taxes that were decided by Parliament members all the way in Great Britain. The Parliament members deciding it all had never even been to America to begin with, and this made colonists angry.
There are multiple sections of Great Britain that gets to elect a representative each to get a seat in Parliament. Getting representatives helps each area get a say in what goes on in Parliament. But the American colonies had no representative in Parliament. This was one of the main reasons they were so angry at being taxed. It was because they had no voice of their own to help decide what should be taxed! They almost thought it as a sort of modern-day dictatorship, where there are these people who were saying what would be the colonist's fate, and the colonists were expected to just go along with it.
Resentment for these actions can be seen in modern day American politics and government system. They wanted representatives, so they made absolute sure that modern day United States could get as much of a voice per area as possible for a still solid government.
Patriots and Loyalists: We all know about the patriots – they were the ones who wanted to get away from Great Britain for a multitude of reasons (and were the ones that caused the Revolutionary War to happen). Loyalists, on the other hand, wanted to stay with Great Britain. Usually, it was because they had some sort of connection to Great Britain – maybe they were a newer generation to live in the colonies – but either way, they were normally more okay with just going along with what Great Britain did. They trusted Great Britain more and believed that everything Great Britain did had its perfectly alright reasons.
Loyalists and patriots hated each other's guts, to put it simply. It wasn't uncommon for, later on and right before the Revolutionary War (and even during, if there were still loyalists sticking around those areas), the patriots to vandalise loyalist property, and in some instances hurt, steal, or even kill loyalists (though killing was normally on an accident of some sort). Vice versa was also true, but it wasn't as common, because loyalists depended on the government, and especially the British soldiers, to protect them from the patriots. Loyalties split up families drastically, as it also wasn't unheard of for one member or one part of a family to support one side, and the other part another. Loyalists usually thought patriots were foolhardy, stupid, and completely insane, because they believed full heartedly that there was absolutely no way the colonies could win against Great Britain.
Matthew: If you read closely above, he falls heavily under the belief that the British soldiers being around is amazing, because they'll protect him from any sort of danger. Since he lives on a farm over the mountains, this is especially true in the case of Indians/Native Americans, as they were a large threat being faced by colonists who wanted to move westward.
Mountains = The mountains mentioned above and in the story (by Alfred) are referring to the Appalachian Mountains, a mountain range separating New England from the rest of the United States (or just America, during this time). Great Britain made a law attempting to prevent colonists from settling on the other side of this mountain range (to avoid conflict with Native Americans), but colonists soon realised that soil over there (particularly in modern-day Ohio) is a LOT better for farming than where they were allowed to settle, so they went over there anyway. You might want to search up a modern-day U.S. map to understand the mountains part if you don't live in the U.S. already. The Appalachian Mts. are on the right side of the map.
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