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Amelia, wearing a torn and tattered revolutionary uniform, takes a seat to the left of a young boy. The boy bears a similar appearance to her, except his eyes appear a dark gray; instead of the sky blue that both her and Alfred share. To the boys right Alfred, who is also wearing an extremely damaged revolutionary uniform, takes a seat and puts an arm around the boy. “What’s wrong Johnny?” Alfred asks, with a somber smile. “You’re going to be fine.”
Johnny whined, hiding his face in his legs. “No I’m not, everything's been burned down! The second they realize one of them won’t inherit the land they’ll kill me too!” Amelia and Alfred shared a look, the younger of the trio wasn’t wrong. They knew how power hungry the others had gotten over the years, and so had they; but not to the extent everyone else had. “Johnny, you'll do great! And besides, last I checked there’s no rule saying me and Alf can’t show up now and then to help you!” Amelia reassures, nudging the boy's legs to lay flat.
“Besides- There’s just one thing to remember that will keep you alive through it all.” Alfred said, reaching under the couch to pull out a rifle. A really old rifle.
“How old is that thing?” Johnny said, staring incredulously at the gun in Alfred’s hands. The older male just chuckled, “Oh about 250 years, but it’ll serve you well.”
Amelia jumped in, nodding. “Yeah, just point this at Arty and the old man will probably start crying, giving you a chance to run or shoot!”