Chapter 65.2

Chapter 65.2

His wrist watch was smashed, completely ruined. His abdominal wound was significant, but at least it was bandaged well enough.
Marquis Gliad’s eyes lit up as he heard people approaching and a foreign language being spoken. During his time as a prisoner of war, Gliad had secretly fashioned a skewer—a weapon that he held now behind his back, ready to harm the next person who entered his cell.
Gliad’s own tactical blunder had led to his capture. After victoriously taking over the Western Front, Gliad allowed himself and his men to relax, unwittingly giving General Dibuiser the opportunity for a surprise attack at dawn. It didn’t matter that the Empire’s army outnumbered the enemy, it was brutal.
After news of King Rowan Sergio’s death, they were preparing suicide bombers. Gliad hated being unable to communicate this crucial intelligence to the allies.
Gliad thought that he might have to give his own life to take General Dibuiser’s and was prepared to do so, especially if it meant preventing an even greater number of casualties.
“Who goes there?” asked Gliad as he saw the shadow of a person through the crack of the door.
The door swung open, allowing the dawn’s early light to pour in.
“Are you okay, Marquis?”
Gliad stood up, recognizing the voice as Wade’s.
Marquis Gliad dropped the skewer; it made a loud clang when it hit the floor. He faced Prince Wade who had transformed from a boy to a man over these past three years.
Gliad dropped to one knee, exclaiming, “Your Highness!”
“You’ve gone through a lot,” Wade observed.
Wade personally helped Gliad up. Duke Claude and Prince Ian Sergio could be seen just behind Wade. Claude held a gun to General Dibuiser’s head, Dibuiser’s hands in the air.
Gliad couldn’t stop tears of joy.
“I have caused you too much trouble, Your Highness.”
“We were able to claim the West thanks to you,” countered the Prince.
“Even so,” Gliad faltered for words, “thank you for rescuing me. My loyalty is to you alone!”
“It was Prince Ian Sergio who found you. He heard you were being held prisoner and tracked you down. So, thank him.”
When Ian’s name was mentioned, General Dibuiser’s lips twisted. His eyes were full of venom, believing Ian Sergio to be insane and a traitor to Geore.
General Dibuiser clenched his fist and ranted in a regional dialect the others didn’t understand. Veins popped out of his neck as he spewed venom.
At the same time, a military officer from Geore lifted his gun.
A loud bang shattered the air.
Two gunshots rang as one.
Blood and brain splattered everywhere. The General and the officer, each with a hole in his head, slumped to the floor. Claude nonchalantly cleaned off his gun and put it back in its holster.
Ian, who had shot the officer from behind, scoffed and turned to Gliad.
“Now you owe your life to me twice over, so we have a lot to negotiate.”
There were gunshots that followed, but they were at a distance. It was the sound of the remaining Geore soldiers being executed.
Gliad, in a panic, regarded Ian Sergio and then bowed.
Disregarding Ian, Claude got on his horse, glanced at the western front which will forever be known as the last battlefield, and looked up at the sky.
His eyes narrowed and focused on a hawk circling overhead. The hawk, in recognition of its owner, landed on Claude’s arm.
Claude checked the hawk’s leg first.
“Where did you go?”
As he tapped lightly on the beak. The hawk rolled its clear and shiny eyes, adjusted its feathers, and moved to his shoulder.
“Did you go to her?”
The hawk remained silent and looked ahead confidently. Claude knew that meant yes.
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“You did. On my behalf.”
As Claude laughed, the fatigue of the soldiers in the rescue party disappeared from their faces.
Claude led his horse to Marquis Gliad. The wounded Marquis, who was supported by soldiers, looked up at Claude.
Claude extended his hand without a word. Gliad took it. Their firm handshake communicated respect and gratitude.
“Now, finally, I can have a proper funeral for my father,” said Claude.
“For Sir Maximillian’s dignity.”
“Thank you, Marquis.”
Claude bowed to the Marquis.
There was no emotion in the Duke’s eyes as he observed the desolate front once again.
The Duke was like a deep, calm lake, where the stillness hid the true measure of its depth.
Gliad’s eyes became teary for when he looked at Claude, he saw Duke Maximillian.
The sun was rising.
“Ivan,” said Claude, “I need a haircut. I can’t meet her like this.”
A faint smile came on Claude’s mouth as he brushed back his long hair. Ivan, who was also smiling, wiped his bloody sword, returned it to its scabbard and replied respectfully, “I’ll get everything ready, my Lord.”
***
Is the hawk not coming today?
Lia was glaring out the window, her arms crossed, looking for the hawk.
She was curious as to who in the world sent that ‘My Canillia’ message. She wanted to respond.
It was when she was pacing by the window with a message ready, that she heard a light tapping sound.
There was the hawk with another message on its ankle.
Lia swallowed and opened the window. The blue-eyed hawk looked straight through her. Lia was afraid that her eyes might get pecked so she lowered her gaze and undid the knot.
“You should’ve sent a reply.”
It was another message from the stranger.
Really, who is it from? It was hard to guess by the tone, and she had looked everywhere, but no one in the Capital was raising a hawk.
Duncan, the man that Pepe mentioned, raises doves, but never hawks.
Lia carefully tied her response on the hawk’s leg. Then she gave him a bit of raw meat that she had gotten from Duncan.
Duncan’s messenger doves fly a long way so he fed them meat for stamina.
The hawk briefly inspected the meat Lia had handed it, and then gobbled it up. As she saw it swallowing without chewing, she quickly handed it a few more pieces.
The hawk ate all the raw meat Lia gave it and flew away.
“You must come again,” she yelled after it. “You have to bring me a response! Okay?”
Her entire torso was leaning out the window as the hawk disappeared into the air. She looked down and saw a middle-aged man with round glasses standing outside.
Lia’s entire body turned to ice.
It was Dr. Carl, who had put a gun to her head.
He removed his hat and smiled. His lips moved saying, “It’s time.”