"BARNABETH!" A raging roar sounded as an angered man charged towards his foes.
Sword of steel shattering the armor bearing the sigil of a pale gold Hawk.
Larg the second son of Orlando, fumed in fury as he heard the fate of his younger brother. Despite their position of contenders for the heir ship of Zalbaag, he wished no bad fate befall his younger brother.
He hoped that his brother will lay down his arms, and support him in his endeavor as the Baron of Zalbaag. If not, then his brother will live a life exiled towards the central region of the Order to where House Dupont resides, given enough wealth to live a good life.
He hoped nothing less for his brother, yet despite this, destiny led his brother to an unknown fate.
As the Eldest of the three sons of the Lord of Zalbaag is still not satiated from the fate he brought upon his and Delita's maternal relatives.
Their horrible fate still fresh in his mind. The despair in their eyes as the treacherous men began putting them, their innocent kin at the mercy of their swords.
His relatives, of noble origin, the same as him and Delita, put the sword by the supporters of that bastard.
Blame and regret, raged, as he slays his bitter rival's men. Dodging and slashing, his anger fueled rage seeks more bodies to vent.
Bronze colored film covered his body. As his sword, moves like a flash. His footstep swift, as his body dodges the incoming blows.
Terror filled the eyes of the men under Barnabeth. Yes, they slew much of the veterans under Larg, yet they failed to take into consideration that the second son of their liege lord is the greatest threat.
As the men fought in desperation. Larg, kills in gratification.
He, Larg of House Zalbaag, the second son of Orlando became a Bronze Knight. The rumor of his impotence was a mere guise for his promotion. His rumored change of nature from a dandy to a homebody is an act to lull his brothers into lowering their guards upon him.
His act worked, as the men had a laugh at his rumored impotence, and people pointed at him as he hid into the stone walls of Lotr. He focused on consolidating his realm and figuring out which of his 'friends' is truly loyal to him.
Everything is almost going perfectly, that's if Barnabeth was not so callous. His father is still alive, Alex was still guarding him. Yet, he has the gall to instigate such an act.
His brother missing, members of his maternal side of the family slain.
He swore, Barnabeth, will die. All his supporters will follow. That bastard is no brother of his, no relative of his.
"DIE!" As Larg reach the last of his foes. He raised his blade atop his head, then with both his hand holding the sword. He swung it down, as the body before him was split in half.
A heavy metallic aroma wafted through the air. Bodies littered the ground, as the former noisy battleground now eerily quiet. A lone figure stands among the bloodied ground.
*Tak tak tak*
"My lord, urgent message from Lotra!" A soldier, wearing chain mail, rode towards Larg. A shield attached to his left arm bearing a red colored Hawk, Larg's personal banner.
Bowing to Larg as he delivers the urgent message in rush. "Barnabeth the kinslayer had rallied the support of the settlement. As of the moment, he is seen leading his men towards Numberg."
"What of Lotr?"
"My Lord, Barnabeth has abandoned the castle. I fear he doesn't wish to allow you to gather more momentum."
A wide grin appeared in Larg's bloodied face. The bastard has abandoned the Castle. It's time, an open field battle.
Where he a bronze knight doesn't have to fear being overwhelmed by the defenders. This time it will be Barnabeth who will feel despair. His supporters will regret their butcher of his relatives.
"Rally the men, we march for Numberg!"
Under the setting sun and darkening sky. Larg led his army towards Numberg, where he and Barnabeth will face each other.
__________________________________________
Lotr Castle
"Young Master Delita, have still not been found, my lord." Alex, a bronze knight of Zalbaag now knelt at the side of the bed. His head lowered as he reported the situation to the man laying in the bed.
"Cough, cough… don't stop. Find him, after that take him away." Orlando Zalbaag, the current Lord of the barony of Zalbaag, lay in the bed. His exposed skin pale and sagging, the former young and strong Lord now old and weak.
His breathing so weak and shallow, as if at any moment this bedridden man will return the embrace of his creator.
"Cough… what of Barnabeth and Larg? Cough cough…" Weak voice mixed with hoarseness sounded as he inquired about his sons.
"…" Alex, bowed in silence refusing to answer.
Orlando clouded eyes stared at his knight. The old baron knows of his children's desire for his title. He can see their nature as a father, their abilities as a Lord, and their ambition as a man.
Barnabeth's cunning and cruelty. Larg's forbearance and hatred for those below him. Delita's charisma and greed.
He knew it all, that's why he wished to know. One of his children's status unknown, while the other have their daggers at each other's throat. So, in his weak and hoarse voice, he once more asked his knight. "Tell me…"
Alex head bowed deeper. In a whisper-like manner, his voice sounded throughout the room. "According to the spies in both camps. Lord Barnabeth, and Lord Larg will soon meet at Numberg, where both armies will face off."
"Cough… cough…" Explosive coughing soon followed the end of Alex's speech.
The worried knight rushed to his Lord's side as he picked up a glass of water from the bedside table. Assisting his lord, Alex worry now turns into relief.
"Leave me." Tapping Alex's hand, Orlando commanded him to leave.
Alex, though hesitant obliged, as he left the room. Orlando now left alone, lowered his head, staring at his sagging hand.
Soon a choking sound echoed in the room.
The lord of Zalbaag, The Hawk of Zalbaag, also a father of three, now crying alone. His done his best being the Lord of Zalbaag.
The mine's efficiency increase in his tenure. The scarce food of the territory which led to famine now alleviated by an increased influx of ores sold towards the trading ports in the Order.
Zalbaag has risen from a small mining barony to an emerging power in the North. His people are happy, their wealth surpassed their neighbor Zalsac which relied on their payment for passage and transportation to keep itself afloat.
His done everything he knew, and he could as a Lord… despite this, he failed as a father.
He let the bitter hatred of Barnabeth consume him. His anger towards his mother origin and the harsh word of the people say about his status as a legitimized bastard turned him away from him. He became more silent as his cunning and cruelty intensified in the shadows.
Ambition and pride, that's what he wished his children to have, but also because of this wish he turned a blind eye to Larg's debauchery. His second son, talented in the ways of the blade, his cunning only behind Barnabeth.
His pride grew as his status as a legitimate son with the blood of two noble houses clouded his judgement. His ambition fermented as men who he treated as friends whispered words of temptation.
Favoritism, he showered Delita with it since young. As the youngest of the three, he treated Delita with the best of things he could find. For everything his youngest ask, he gives. His greed grew into an unimaginable level.
His charisma backed up his greed. He only wants the best, his greed led him to believe that. That's why knowing that as the third son, he'll have to find his own path after his brother took power. He refused, he charmed his men to work for him. Prepare to contend for seat that he shouldn't have contested to begin with.
For all his glory and greatness as the Lord of Zalbaag resulted in his permissive and neglectful parenting of his children.
His children are old enough now and he is past his prime.He hoped that they'll still listen to him but they won't anymore. Especially now that the arrow has been fired, blood has been drawn, and lives have been taken.
Now it led to this… brother killing brother. As his dance ends and the old hawk shall soon lay to rest.
It's now his children's time to show their moves, they shall soon dance under a hail of arrows and cry of men. A dance that will take place in the battlefield… The war of the hawks has now reached its climax.
'May my children show mercy to one another. May the victor allow their brothers to live a life of exile. I pray to you Lord of the Three Seas.' Orlando clasp his hands as he prayed to the God of his fate. He begged in his heart that by the end of it all, he can still feel the warmth of his children's hands. Listen to their stories as they share their experiences in the world.
'Please…'
Alternative Title: A father's plea