Razzius Grimm: The True Story You Were Never Told

The Ballad of Wyrn Grimm Part 1

Finally, Reinhardt reached over and took Wyrn's hand. "I love you brother," he said. "Even if you are a piece of horse shite."

Wyrn laughed for what he could only assume was the last time he would. "My brother, always!"

The pair rolled over onto their backs and found themselves staring down a sharp pointed arrow head and shaft. They looked up at their assailants and closed their eyes. Any moment now, Sora would take them. Surely, there was nothing more they could have done.

Surely...

***

The sun rose slowly over the horizons in the distance, kissing the landscapes that spread out around the castle city of Haile. It was as though the world slowly came to life in the city with the new dawn. The Baker put fresh bread and hard rolls out for sale, the blacksmith began a long day's work, firing up the forge and a Knight could be seen extinguishing the torches that lit the streets of Haile at night.

At the southwest corner of Haile, the front door of two houses that sat next to each other opened and a young boy, not much older than sixteen stepped out of each of them. They met at the dirt walking paths and greeted each other with a hand shake.

"I see Mum let you go, Reinhardt," Wyrn said, squeezing his best friend's arm. "Here I thought my competition would be slim."

"Aye," Reinhardt answered. "Though a bit of beggin' was in order. I told her I had to make sure you didn't go and get yourself killed."

"She probably believed it," Wyrn spoke. The two began their trek to the castle. Wyrn' stark black tunic was a hard contrast to his adventurous green eyes and bushy brown hair. He normally looked dirty and rundown but today was different. The same for Reinhardt. Where is short black hair was usually parted in every direction, this morning he had already washed and dried and straightened himself. His red tunic was a gentle, warm flavor of crimson that balanced his steel blue eyes.

"Want to grab a loaf?" Reunhardt asked suddenly as the castle came into sight. "Might help fill us out, make us look more like recruit material."

"I don't think anything will make us look like recruit material," Wyrn countered, playfully slapping his friend on the shoulder. "Besides, they'll never select two boys our age."

Reinhardt stopped at the Baker's and put two cryn on the counter and took a load of bread. "Still it can't hurt," he said quickly, breaking bread and sharing it with Wyrn. The flavor was smooth and the texture was perfect and soft. They both smiled as they ate. "Do you think they'll chase us off with sticks like they did last year?"

"The bunch of horse's arses, of course they will," Wyrn said wildly. "I didn't sit for a week last year."

"To be fair, you were but a small boy of fifteen years last time you showed up," Reinhardt argued. "They usually show anyone who tries to sneak their way in to the backside of a wooden paddle." He sighed and then ate some more. "They almost bought it last year...that you and I were old enough. Pity. I really would have liked to have had a year of training in by now."

"I heard from Lady Phillips that they lost three Squires in spring, to the fever," Wyrn spoke. "You think that's true?"

Reinhardt shrugged and adjusted his tunic. After a moment of stretching he slapped his friend on the back. "Maybe, maybe not. Could have been those bandits, Wyrn. And not the good kind that just rough you up and demand money. No, the kind that cut off your ear and use it for soup. That kind."

Wyrn shuddered. "I don't like those kind. Not at all."

Reinhardt slapped his friend behind the head. "Idiot, you don't like any kind of bandit, not even the good kind." He scoffed. "Sommerholdt will never allow us in if we show weakness."