Vengin flag is lingering on ground in western fort, black stone has turned red by Salvin's blade. Hungmen soldiers celebrating on dead bodies of defenders. Sounds of music and laughter echoing through every corner of that fallen fort which had protected people of Rosemeri from all these years, now it's covered with blood-soaked baner of Hungmen.
"Have they reached Bntob," Lord Salvin tightening his armour near his Galpadon.
[Galpadons are swift, agile beasts known for their sleek, birdlike build and sharp, intelligent eyes. Covered in vibrant feathers that range from mossy green to fiery red, these creatures are prized for both their speed & grace. Their powerful hind legs make them exceptional jumpers, able to scale rocky cliffs and weave through dense forest with ease. With feathered arms that act like gliding sails, they can coast short distance between treetops. Galpadons are the mount of choice for riders of elite & novel class.]
"In this houre ? Most probably yes, but it's the first time Master Belford was leading an army by himself."
Sarkan picked his sword from that half-coated stone, pressing his left leg on the saddle of his white featherd galpadon and looked at Lord Salvin one more time.
"Ready for next order, sir?" he said.
His voice sharpened, and his grip grew tight on his galpadon's leash.
Sarkan Krowdlin, son of Rabara Krowdlin, a retired man-in-arms of Lord Salvin Hungmen. Even though his age difference is not much with Salvin's own sons, his experience in battlefield justifies his position in Salvin's army.
"Rosemeri is in our hands now. Soon Hungmen flag will be waving on Vengin Castle."
Salvin looked at his hands, not with joy for conquering Livonkis but with regrets of his actions he knew.
"Something a bother sir?"
"No!! I'm fine, let's move, call for all....."
"MY LORD!! IT'S NOT LOOKING GOOD — WE HAVE A PROBLEM!"
A soldier jumped from the rooftop, almost broked his leg but still running,
"My Lord, they are growling in pain after drinking the liquor, they aren't talking anymore. It's clearly Flamingoo!! Ahhkk—"
Blood started to come out from his nose and mouth. He fell into the ground, growling. His arms and neck are no longer recognisable.
"What is this!!"
Salvin got down from his galpadon and rushed toward the soldier. Sarkan also ran behind him.
"We should check others too, sir."
In this breezing cold weather, sweat isn't stopping from his forehead.
Nobody is on their feet, growling against stone ground.
"Where is the ved, FAST."
Salvin knows once Flamingo touches somebody, there is no going back. Blood, it started to come out from his eyes too. Within a moment, it's all gone, no movement, no breath.
Vengin defence on northern front of Bentob are still holding on, but how long. Most of them are affected, but not archers.
They are not allowed to drink or alcoholic intake. Bruno keeps his hands away from it by his choice.
13 soldier archers can hold against over 500 ofencers.
"We need to fall back."
Bruno knew there is nothing but death awaits if they stay till on their position.
"Commander may gave you the permission to hold the line, but not the authority to take decision of the battlefield."
"You don't understand. There is chance we will leave alive if we don't now, we already have lost so many."
"We understand, but we don't agree to leave the fort to save our life. We swore to lord Vardon the day we got the title of 'Terroegle' to give the last drop of our blood for Vengin flag."
"You may save yourself if you wish. You are a noble. It's important."
Bruno moved back without an answer or a question, called his galpadon straight up.
"So you are really gonna leave, you coward ass,"
Before Bran says anything else, Akile stops him.
Akile knows the cost of speaking up to a noble. There is no boundary of sentences his family might fall into.
Flickering snow has covered Bore's lower body.
He's still breathing through this heavy air. His eyes still haven't closed yet.
Belford slammed his left foot on the stone and then threw that letter on the fort wall . His eyes are blood red, trying to squish itself, teeth crushing against each other.
"Damn it!!"
His scream speared through the thick breeze and shook every torch on the battlefield.
Southern fort in Rosemeri—a tragedy has been marked.
Lord Salvin has charged with 729 soldiers. After shedding Vengin flag, 350 soldiers were left.
But before heading for Bentob, soldiers got affected by Flamingoo , sudden happening reason is still unknown
And Lord Salvin wasn't exception,orders from higher authorities to retreat immediately, no matter the condition.
Capital has given its word to investigate,and stop the rampage between two castles,
Farther Counciling will be arranged by capital.
"HAHAHA!!"
Bore's laughter twitched Belford's eyes even more. he walked direct to Bore and started kicking on Bore's head.
"Why... why won't you die
already, die, die, die!!" He got back again and picked his sword
and charged toward Bore's chest, but it didn't touch his body. A spear
between the sword and Bore's chest—
a single, Bore's eyes recognized that spear, his breaths aren't complaining
anymore, but he can see Bruno standing infront of him.
Belford stared at the spear.Then at Bruno.Then at Bore.
Something broke inside him.
"You—" his voice cracked. "You dare point steel at me? You think I won't gut you like a dog? Like them?!"
He stepped back, grabbed his fallen sword with a snarl, and raised it high.
"I'LL KILL YOU!"
Bruno said nothing.
He shifted his stance. Right foot forward. Spear low. Calm.
Belford lunged. No warning, no form—just rage.
Bruno didn't block. He slipped left, letting the blade whistle past. His spear flicked once—just a graze along Belford's ribs.
Belford howled.
"You coward! Stand still!"
He spun, kicked snow into Bruno's eyes, slashed low—dirty. But Bruno backstepped, spun his spear, tapped the sword aside with barely a sound.
Each strike Belford threw was wild, teeth clenched, foam at his lips.
"I'll kill you! I'll kill all of you! They laughed at me in the capital! Called me a fake! A spoiled runt! I showed them!"
Bruno stayed silent.
A thrust from the spear—this one deeper—caught Belford in the thigh. He stumbled, dropped to one knee.
But even now, he clawed for a knife from his boot.
"You think this ends with me crawling?" he hissed, throwing it straight at Bruno's chest.
The knife clattered off the iron guard of Bruno's spear. He advanced, patient. One smooth motion—struck the side of Belford's sword hand. Metal dropped.
Belford grabbed a fistful of snow and threw it in Bruno's face again. Then tried to bite him.
A solid, brutal crack—butt of the spear slammed into Belford's jaw.
He collapsed, bleeding, coughing, moaning in the slush.
Still alive.Still not done.
"I'll kill you," he whimpered now, teeth shattered, blood bubbling from his mouth. "You don't get it… I'll burn your home, your name, your family—"
Another hit—this time across the back of the head.
Belford groaned, half-sunk in red snow, jaw slack, blood thickening in his beard. He coughed once, then chuckled through broken teeth.
"What do you think the Vengin family will do to you," he rasped, "after they know what you did?"
Bruno froze.
Just for a breath. A twitch in his stance. A shift in his eye.
Belford saw it.
"Ah... there it is," he smiled.
Bruno's spear rose again.
"You won't be breathing to say anything."
"Then kill me," Belford spat. "But I'm not the only Hungmen here."
Bruno's brow furrowed.A flutter.
He turned slowly, eyes scanning the tree line beyond the ruined battlements.
There—on a crooked, leafless branch—perched a raven. Its eyes glinted silver in the moonlight. No ordinary bird. A message-binder.
It had heard everything.
Bruno's fingers loosened. The spear dropped. It hit the ground with a soft thunk.
The cold wind howled between them.
"…What do you want," Bruno asked.
Belford groaned, dragging himself upright, inch by inch. His voice was low now. Controlled.
"I want…"
He wiped the blood from his lips and raised his eyes.
"…Silence .. between you and me ..."
Belford wiped his nose again, blood still trickling. He leaned against a fractured wall, half-sitting, half-slumped.
"Look… I know you wanna play the good boy. That's fine," he muttered, voice cracking. "Because me too, see you and i we are same, right"
" You killed one and i killed little more,right?", " okay okay i killed lots " but we still not much different "
He gestured vaguely, his arms trembling.
"My father… Salvin… he died today. You think that's easy? You think this—this fucking day—is something I wanted?"
He laughed, bitter and sharp. Spit hit the snow.
"Those drinks? They were for the fort defenders. Not you. Not your bloody nobles. You can't pin this on me. Not like I asked you to drink and die—"
He kept talking.
Rambling. Defensive. The words started to blend together. Petty. Hollow.
Bruno didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Head low. Eyes hidden.
Still as a statue.Then—
He raised his head.
And his eyes locked onto Belford.
"Fine," Bruno said, voice low and cold.
"I'll keep my silence… as long as you keep my name out of your mouth."
Belford staggered to his feet with a grunt, blood still clinging to his lips, but the madness in his eyes had dulled — not gone, just buried deeper.
He whistled sharply.
From behind the ruins, his Galpadon emerged—limping slightly, feathers matted with ash and blood. Its intelligent eyes glanced at Bruno, then away.
Belford pulled himself onto the saddle, every motion stiff with pain and pride. He didn't look back.
As the Galpadon turned toward the snowy path east, Belford muttered just loud enough for the cold wind to catch—
"Silence it is, then."
And he rode off.
The crunch of talons against frost faded, swallowed by wind.
Bruno didn't move.
He stood there—head bowed, arms slack, spear still lying in the snow at his feet.
Snow kept falling. Thicker now.
It gathered on his shoulders.
His cloak.
His hair.
The curve of his back.
Still, he didn't move.
Not an inch.
For the first time in his life, Bruno felt regret.
Tears, silent and hot, slipped down his cold, dry cheek — carving thin, shining trails through the snow crusting his face.
No one saw him.
No one had to.
Because some battles aren't fought with blades.
Some are fought after.
Alone.