Atuatuca Tungorum, in all honesty, was a nice looking place. Very Roman-like. It contained paved roads, city houses, and most things were made of wood. The city was being inhabited by a tribe called the Tungri, and they were veru useful people to have around, if you were on their good side.
The bottom line is, the place wasnt too shabby. Definitly not a place that someone would think was haunted, because it wasnt. Only one certain spot of it was, and, naturally, that was where Charles toilet seat resided.
"Well this place doesnt look haunted!" Charlie said, a hint of disappointment in his voice.
"Oh, im sorry this place is yet to meet your expectations of haunted, son. Just wait till we get to the ghosts!" Charles said with plenty of sarcasm.
Just as abruptly as their conversation had begun, it ended. For there was a small, yet scary, group of people blocking the path for their carrige to continue down the road.
King charles stepped out of the carrige and began conversing with the group of people in an odd language. They seemed to come to an agreement, and the people started, slowly, moving out of the pathway. Charles hopped back onto the carrige and told the driver to continue.
"What were you and those people talking about, dad?"
"They are just people, and that was only a conersation. There is nothing else to know. We have a long drive ahead of us and you should rest for the journey that lay ahead." And, with that, Charles turned away from his son facing the wall of the carrige. But, not before Charlie saw the grave expression, that his dad had been trying to hide.