Wow! Sure has been a while since I updated, huh? Pardon the long absence, but I have returned! ... somewhat... But in any case, I will make the effort to update my other neglected stories as well. Thanks to everyone who waited so patiently for me to come back, I truly appreciate it! Well, without further ado, here is chapter 4!

Chapter: 1763 Royal Proclamation of 1763

(6 years later)

"Arthur! Big brother, wake up! Wake up!"

The ten year old child yawned deeply and opened his eyelids for his emerald eyes to meet enlightened sapphire blue ones. He sat up slowly, groaning in sleepiness and trying to rub the sand from his eyes. "What is it, Alfred?"

"Let's play outside! Let's play! I want to play tag!" the chipper boy beamed, hopping up and down happily. "The sun came to say hi! Let's go say hi too!"

"Alfred," Arthur yawned again, shaking his head. "The sun never says hello. Now please, let me go back to sleep."

Alfred frowned. "Why? The sun is very bright; he's obviously saying hi to us! I want to play today!" He pouted and leaped on Arthur's legs, sitting on them and bouncing. "Let's play Catch the Weasel! Let's play Catch the Weasel!"

Arthur cringed at the pain that shot up his limbs from each of Alfred's bounces and frowned even deeper. "Alright, alright, fine. I'll play with you, on one condition."

Alfred slumped. Uh oh, a condition… He hated those. They were always something that shortened their playing time even more. "… Okay. What is it?"

"Let me get dressed. I'm still in my pajamas."

Needless to say, Alfred was quite stunned to see how simple the 'condition' was. His bright smile reappeared on his cheeky face and he leapt off of his brother. "Ok! I'll wait for you outside!" He sped out of the room in a split second, excited on what the children were going to do that evening.

Arthur released a sigh as the door slammed shut. His dear brother, Alfred, was turning six this year. He should be learning how to keep himself entertained. Why did Arthur still have to keep him busy? He wasn't that little anymore, was he?

"Will you be Alfred's big brother, Arthur?"

That's right. Arthur had made a promise to Mrs. Jones that he'd take good care of Alfred, even if he was all grown up.

… Mrs. Jones…

The memory of her made the back of his eyes build in pressure, almost forcing tears down his face. She was strong, until her guilt, weakness, and despair ate what was left of her shattered heart. She couldn't go on. Often Arthur found his mother taking the withering flower of Mrs. Jones into her own room whenever Alfred entered to see her. She became such a wreck that Arthur's mother dare not let Alfred look at her.

It's a shame what happened to her… Alfred saw a wonderful loving and pure soul of a mother even within the dying flesh of misery. Her pain was inflicted on her from the constant pestering of him asking for his dear father to come home.

But Arthur saw more than just a mother…

He saw an entreating wife, unable to move on after the loss of her husband and eventually withered away like a neglected rose.

Too bad she was gone… She left without telling her baby Alfred goodbye. Did she regret that? Was she weeping now? Does she wish Alfred would understand and not want him to miss her?

He was too heartbroken to think. He threw off his pajamas and slipped on a fresh but deeply stained pair of a dress shirt and shorts. He slipped on his wool sweater and leaped out of bed. He yanked his white socks and his brown boots on and fixed his hair with his fingers. No matter how much he would brush his hair, it would remain a messy and uneven mop of golden blond strands.

Arthur wasted no time racing out the door of his house to meet the familiar pouty face of an impatient Alfred. "Big brother, you kept me waiting! Why'd you take so long?"

Arthur chuckled and played with a stubborn strand of Alfred's hair that always seemed to be out of place. "Forgive my correcting you, but it's 'Why did,' not 'Why'd.' To answer your question…" He puckered his lips and smiled a bit mischievously with a small lie, "I was hungry and I went to eat a snack."

Alfred did not look amused. "You think your tummy is more important than playing with me? That's mean." He folded his arms over his chest and glared at Arthur. "You're mean, big brother."

Arthur laughed. "But I'm here now! Let's play while the sun's still out!"

In an instant, Alfred's smile reappeared and he found himself bouncing up and down in joy. "Yes! The sun says hi! Let's play in the sun! Let's play Catch the Weasel!"

Arthur smiled and pinched Alfred's nose. "Are you the Weasel again, little brother?"

Alfred giggled and nodded, his ocean blue eyes glistening. "Yes! I wanna be the weasel!"

"It's 'want to,' Alfred."

"I don't wanna say 'want to.' It's too boring."

Arthur stood taller with a sly expression plastered on his face. "Alright then, stubborn baby brother… I shall give you a five second head start. One… two… three…"

As soon as the boy began to count, Alfred zipped away very fast, giggling gleefully and skipping over rocks to avoid tripping. "You can't catch me Monkey Artie!"

Arthur pressed his lips together before shouting, "Four and five! I'm coming for you, Weasel!" He chased after the little child similar to a monkey's waddle to make Alfred laugh.

Sure enough, the kid burst out into giggles. "You run like a monkey, Arthur! You look dumb!"

Arthur frowned before smirking again. "At least I can walk on my legs! Weasels aren't supposed to!"

Alfred paused for a second before using all fours with a cheeky smile. "Oops. I forgot," he said happily, then zipped off again. "Come and get me, Monkey!"

"I'm coming for you, Weasel!" Arthur declared again with a wide grin. He suddenly stopped when he noticed a sign perched in a field of dying strands of grass, stating in bold black ink:

DO NOT CROSS. PROCLAMATION LINE OF 1763 IN EFFECT AS OF 10/07/1763

"Alfred!" Arthur called, standing straighter and screaming on the top of his lungs, "Come back! You can't be there!"

Alfred was too far away to hear him now. He raced and raced as far as his tiny legs would take him.

"ALFRED!" Arthur shouted again, his throat strained from the force of exerting his voice. "We can't be here! Come back! Please!"

No response. The child was dashing farther and farther into the grassy plains.

Arthur coughed from how dry his throat became, and sprinted as fast as he could to catch up with the boy. "Alfred!" He stifled another cough. "Alfred…! Hold on, please! Don't run away anymore!"

To the British child's surprise, he found his American baby brother standing still no more than a yard away. He smiled in relief and almost pounced on the boy.

"Alfred! I was worried sick!" Arthur announced weakly, his voice dying out and interrupted by coughs and pants. "We're not supposed to be here. We need to leave before we get caught."

Alfred was speechless. It was then did Arthur realize his brother's face was pale.

"Alfred?" Arthur looked in the direction Alfred had his eyes glued to, and gasped when his eyes met cold and dark brown ones. He observed the man closely, and felt sweat trickle down his neck at the sight.

This man was much darker in skin shade than he or Alfred was, and his hair wasn't light brown or blond. He had dark hair as shady as his eyes, and almost no clothing at all. He wasn't dressed as modestly as most of the official men in this village were dressed, and he surely did not wear socks or shoes. He barely had cloth wrapped around his waist and slung over his shoulder for a weak attempt at concealment, but other than that, Arthur assumed he was a savage in clothing and appearance.

Then it hit him like a ton of bricks.

This man he was face to face with was one of those bastard Indians the British and the Americans loathed so much.

"U-um, hello there, Good Sir," Arthur greeted fearfully, pulling Alfred closer to him. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

The Native said nothing. He only stared at the trembling pair of white boys.

Arthur continued anyway. "Sorry, this is your land, huh? We didn't mean to cross. But can we play here for a little while? We'll go home after the sun goes down, I promise."

The man once again refused to speak.

Arthur paused for a few moments. "… Is that alright with you, Sir?" he asked again, very much requiring an answer.

"Go home," the man replied in a gruff and strange dialect. "You are not to be here, British child."

An Iroquois Native man, Arthur thought to himself. He shook his head. "I understand, Good Sir, but I was only playing here with my little American brother." He showed him Alfred. "We'll go home soon."

Alfred blinked. American…? What's an American? And why is Arthur called British and not American like Alfred? It was quite confusing…

"Go home," the Indian repeated, before turning his back to the pair of children and sauntering away.

Arthur was lost in confusion. Why did this man demand them to leave? It wasn't like they were truthfully trespassing, right?

"Arthur?"

The boy looked to his brother with a frown. "Yes?"

"I'm hungry," the child stated matter-of-fact with a blank look on his face. "The sun is saying good night, and it's cold here."

Arthur smiled softly and took the American kid's hand in his own. "Okay little brother. Let's go home."

They walked the same path they took to return to home safely without any further interruptions from Natives.

Alfred eyed Arthur curiously. "What's for dinner, big brother?"

Arthur grinned and pinched his nose. "It's a secret," he giggled.

"… Aw, I don't like secrets."