"Your Lord, if your wish is to amuse me, then retrieve your acts." She interrupted me, and I knew I had done her erroneous. 
"My apologies. I did not know when to ask, speak, talk, or request for your name. My utterances before were out of nervousness, my princess. I don’t know the effects it has had, but I am glad. Glad of your presence, and my presence as stated, as long as our speeches rhyme, am happy. "
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He knew his stand, he knew his label, he knew.., he sure knew. A bastard’ To some it was just a name, an English decent name, but to many, especially those in the highest ranks of the social class, knew, they knew what kind of hefty drift being associated with such a labeled man meant to his whole, they knew. And he,… he.., was born as one, a bastard. A bastard, a bastard was what he came to know his name as,…
Lord Willock,.. a duke’s son but a King’s decent to be precise, lived a life of now, as tomorrow was nothing but a luck. The boy, knew all, he knew love, ooh how would he forget the face of the dazzling girl who made her forget all his worries, right on the ballroom dance floor. How would he forget, how would he forget, he was a bastard, if every conversation seemed to have nothing but the name on it.., However, maybe destiny was meant to be lenient or tough on him, its all his fate to face.
Dearest reader, let’s embark on the journey of Lord Willock, and see what lemons life throws at him, and his coping mechanisms, in times of tragedy, and maybe he was more fated for good fortune than just a label..? A labeled man was meant for ‘death!!!’ A word and statement well known..,

Lord have mercy.

Profound Bound

"What does Armstrong have to do with this?" I asked the dark man, becoming more curious after the statement that the two were the ones who had sent him on some mission for a nation, a mission that concerned me. 


"You followed me? Oh my God, do you know all the lands we walked, from Wales to the valleys of that nation? How did we not notice?" I questioned, not really onto him but much onto myself, trying to remember everything that happened at that moment and during the journey. The crazy fact about that journey was that we got tired and ended up apart. 


"Ezron told me," he wrote, which made me more confused and chuckle a bit. 


"No, stop, man. Are you serious? Ezron? How do you even know Ezron to start with?" 


"He was paid to protect you," he wrote. At that moment, I wondered if this man was not getting tired of plucking leaves and writing on them, or maybe he could not speak, I thought. 


WILLOCK 49