Flowers bloomed upon the square in springtime. Reds, yellows, and purples evoked festive joy and happiness for the Foxwickians. Horses’ hooves clip-clopped over the cobblestone streets. Farmer Donal hawked his wares. “Apples, two for a copper!”
The hammer struck the fiery sword at Karden’s Blacksmith Shop. He molded horseshoes, weapons, and armor. Although Foxwick wanted peace, the other kingdoms desired war.
The heady scent of bread and reek of manure filled the pathways. But the gleam of metal from Foxwick’s soldiers was never brighter in the noontime sun.
They won the battle, but not yet the war.
“Hail, Fair Foxwick.”