[Timothy's Truth]

A shiver ran down Federick's spine. His body hair stood on end, threatening to look like a porcupine on guard.

Judging from the shadow-covered ground, the figure was extremely large. If it was a person, his stature was commendable; in Federick's opinion, he would be capable of obtaining a role as a protagonist in a mythical tale of a semi-divine character.

But the frightening thing about the matter is that despite these points, it was that he did not detect him until he revealed himself. His step was silent and his breathing was sealed; he ignored even the scattered leaves as if he did not exist in reality.

"This schizophrenia is intensifying every day; I even hear voices! I'd better call 'Shadow' or I might fall off my horse." Federick was saying as he moved away from his original position, in the direction of his horse.

His words were convincing, his acting natural; Even a schizophrenic comrade would believe in him.

They would ally, share, live, and enjoy a friendship based on sincerity; They would rise, form a bloc and carry out the ultimate resistance; They would triumph, crowning themselves as the supreme mandatory.

But this utopian reality occurring in Federick's mind was interrupted by an external action. As he mounted his horse while organizing his imaginary speech, hands intercepted him.

A firm grip crumpled his clothes. With a gentle tug, Federick was on the ground; he fell face-first to the floor.

His face smeared with dirt, he looked up to observe the perpetrator. Easily over six feet tall, his face was sharp and his hair silver.

A man bulging with muscle, who wore only light armor. The pressure around him was tangible.

Federick recognized him instantly: It was his so-called Great-Uncle who had previously participated as a player in his game about the fog.

But not because of this did he relax, not at all; Christopher's attitude was publicly recognized as uncompromising, voracious, and irascible.

"You're pretty smart, kid. But, for instance, uttering a poem wouldn't save you from having a bone or two broken." Christopher said.

"On the other hand, virtues like obedience and filial spirit, yes; So shut up!" Christopher vociferated, as he wrapped his large hand around Federick's head.

And a ridiculous scene occurred. A giant grown man, pacing a young man who remained completely motionless in his grip.

"Why are you standing motionless?" Christopher asked intrigued.

"Aren't we about to bowl? But let's be clear, although my form resembles a bowling pin, I am the ball." Federick replied nonchalantly, making his guidelines clear.

"I told you to shut up."

"..."

An odd interaction.

In parallel with this conversation, Christopher was steadily moving away from his former position. He quickly became only a memory, abandoning the horse to its fate.

'Timothy 2... We will always remember your sacrifice.'

...

When Perla returned to the agreed location, only Federick's horse lay solitarily. At this hint, tension blanketed her mind.

"Federick, where are you?"

"Federick."

"FEDERICK!"

He quickly called around, to no avail. Faced with this, she decided to report him to the royal security forces.

He boarded his horse, riding for miles like the wind. The sound of his horse's hooves reverberated across the open field. His hair fluttered, covering his sight but not his intent, which did not waver.

But a deep voice echoed in her mind, which snapped her out of her stupor, eliminating her concentration.

"Stop." It was a single word, but one that carried absolute authority.

But against expectations, Perla disregarded the warning. Her galloping gait did not falter, hinting her steed to continue.

"Stop, stop, stop!" The voice repeated.

In a moment, in a distant section, a giant figure appeared, imposing with only his presence; But he did not hesitate even for a single moment, dodging the unyielding gallop of the uncontrolled steed.

"Damn! This brat doesn't know how to respect her elders!" He vociferated angrily.

Perla did not regret her action; she would repeat it if the occasion arose again. At this moment, only the figure of her son kept replaying in her mind.

But at that moment, a voice whispered next to her ear.

"Brat, stop," Christopher repeated for the last time, devoid of emotion.

At this sudden occurrence, Perla almost lost control as a rider, but quickly came to her senses with her experienced skills.

When she managed to stop, she left her mount swiftly like a wild animal. She cautiously observed her surroundings, but there was no one around.

Finally, from a distance, an indistinct figure approached. It was the Athenian Grand General of this generation and his symbolic uncle, Christopher.

But before he finished his dramatic walk, Perla approached him with giant strides, slapping him in the face.

Christopher did not groan, but it resulted in the appearance of popping veins around his neck. He gritted his teeth, willing himself to speak...

But...

"You ignorant bastard! Don't you know as a matter of common sense that when someone is in a hurry, it's probably an emergency!" shouted Perla.

Christopher, quick and decisive, analyzed the most effective routes to defuse the situation. Thus, he struck with precision a point on Perla's body, who fainted for a brief moment at the impact.

When she regained consciousness she was confused and lost, but quickly came to her senses, remembering Federick's absence. But before despair could take over her mind, it was cut off by Christopher's words.

"Child, calm yourself; I have been the one to take your son. He's home now, so there's no need for concern." Said Christopher tired, unconcerned and angry, being a real broth of emotions.

Perla with these words came back to reality. The old words that did not weigh her mind now made sense.

When she looked back, no one was to be found. Once again, she lay in solitude.

A few moments before...

Christopher and Federick were walking an endless path, the space around them blurring.

One remained silent and the other did not know the destination.

Finally, Christopher let go of Federick, who fell flat on his face again.

Next to it, a worn book.

He rose immediately with the book in his hands, not acting fearful or worried.

"Times have degraded, the old discipline has been lost; I have decided to spend quality time together with you. Tomorrow report to the establishment's martial fields. It will be a day of hunting, so be prepared with the necessary knowledge beforehand." Christopher said.

"Despite my terrifying figure, I am benevolent; I have lent you a manual of great value, listing the knowledge of an expert hunter. Learn from it and do not disappoint me."

"You will do that if you want to know why I killed your steed." Finished Christopher as he disappeared without a trace.