@crueltythroned
The unthinkable occurred. Rigel’s mighty fortress had fallen. Ah, well, that part wasn’t what flabbergasted the prince. Stone and mortar, while a demonstration of the might of man, was destined to crumble after it had been molded into a building. All things built, must eventually fall. In warfare, property damage was all too common, thereby solidifying how surprisingly brittle even a fortress was.
That was what Father had always taught him.
And Father was dead -- slain by the invading forces of the Deliverance.
Now, that part was unthinkable. Inconceivable. It was as though an imbecilic lie that teetered on unraveling. His father had always returned from the battle the victor, garbed in an armor of splendor and heaped with praise for his prowess. This same man falling prey to a lethal blow -- as a common man would -- was a sight that shook Prince Alm to his core.
It was only his father’s dying words that had snapped him out of his stupor. The king’s final streams of commands were for Alm to flee the field, to find his cousin, and save themselves. Feeling numb, Alm did as he was bidden. He took his father’s horse and fled, then stormed Rigel Castle in frantic search for Berkut.
And, now, he faced his cousin. And, now, he was to tell him the tidings of tragedy.
“ Berkut. ”
His voice shook from grief, but he fought to keep his words audible. This was vital. A fulfillment of the last imperative command from his father. His late father.
“Berkut . . . we have to run. Father is -- he’s dead. Rigel will fall. We have to leave, now!”
