A fine liquid. Discovered during the era of the great Persians, it gradually fulfilled many of men's needs. Its importance has extended beyond its medical purposes to posing as a consumable painkiller, though the latter is but a perception of many in sorrow. And alcohol was to be Ethan's drug and companion.
Night after night, bottles were unloaded from the cellar. 'A fine spirit', Ethan would say to himself before drowning himself in the rich taste of the finely fermented product. The alcohol flowed smoothly down his throat and into his stomach. It burned. It hurt him. It reminded him of the predicament that his wife was going through alone in the hospital.
It carried on for 10 years.
By then, the two infants were already young, fine men. They rose from the ashes of their Father's fall from prominence to once again represent the towns best hope and source of joy. They were, however, completely different lads. Remus, was an academic, who did extremely well in school. Never once was he ever caught without a distinction in his studies. He was also a shrewd young thing who loved to broker many a deal on behalf of his friends. It was such fine profits that helped build a solid foundation for the larger boots he was to fill in time.
Romulus, well, was a talent of sorts as well. Never interested in the lessons and talk of a good education, he taught himself music. On many a school day, he would liven up the town hall with melodies that reflected his melancholy. However, his audience was only able to take from his fine playing, the joy and gladness that burst out from his wonderful playing. His eyes never failed to twinkle and his smile seemed to be etched for eternity and beyond.
Then one day a letter arrived.
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