The hawk stretched his wings when he rose beyond the clouds. Each twitch of feather was meant to be; every flap was just right and enough. After a while, he didn't need to flutter anymore. The wind filled his wings; they were united; they were one. He was just in the right time, in the right place. He would always be. It didn't matter where he came from or where he would land. He could, and he would fly again and again and again till he died.

I could and would fight again and again and again till I die.

Castaver wanted to see me after a few hours of her leaving. He reverenced, walked towards the throne, ripped off the king's hand brooch and handled over me. I had ordered the chevaliers to watch out for the throne room further. A chevalier brought the clip to me. I irked the pin in my palm and looked back to Castaver. He was pale, soulless, still.

- I wanted to resign from my duty myself before your grace orders it. I agree that the circumstance makes it inappropriate for me to stay in your hands.

I rested my forehead on my fist.

+ Will you go with her?

He denied. He was deprived of the mischief of illusion. The hawk was still in the air. He drew circles around the clouds, squalling so loudly and repeatedly that I felt he would get shot. I turned to the chevalier on my right side. He noticed immediately and approached right beside me. "Nobody shoots the bird," I whispered. He nodded, faced the window, eyed the hawk, and rushed out of the throne room.

I eyed the man planted in the middle of the room. His pouches were crimson. His eyelids were swollen. I could tell that he had wept but seemed solid and rigid. I believed rage was the keystone of his stance. The rage that I liberated from myself.

+ I demand you to stay in my hand. She doesn't get to change that.

I could see that his honour was broken. I had devested his chance to save his pride. In the days of my chivalry, I would make a different decision. I would let him go, clean his dignity, yet I was no more a knight. I learned that one man's pride is null against the nation's benevolence. Suddenly, I was filled with an irresistible rush to get my brother. It was not because I needed none but him, but because I somehow felt that he needed me. Castaver inclined, he regained the brooch and left the room.

Solely then, I could realize the quietness. The sky was plain; I walked to the balcony. The corpse of the hawk was on the ground; an arrow was dredged his chest up.

The royal council gathered late at night. It was verified that Brancovics pledged an alliance with Temur. Since they were exiled from Tigrisia, the Brancovic Dynasty had taken shelter in Hungaria. By that means, Hungaria's side was flaunted. A grandmaster inspected the declaration.

+ Your liege, the reason why Brancovics openly state their party is in the odds of provoking you. Your Cousin Goran Brancovic signed the declaration; this is a panache of challenge. He is married to the Hungarian Princess. They have a son, the heir to the Hungarian throne.

Castaver laid the Balkans map flat on the table. Put a flag on Tigrisia and Hungaria, our neighbour in the North. He drew a strip on our shore.

- Hungaria has no chance against us on the land. They are perfectly aware of that so that they will attack from the sea. Brancovics are pure Tigrisian as much as Dragarevics; if they enter the Siren Stone, they will be welcomed. If they offer unanimity to Siren Stone, the offer will be accepted. There is nothing left bonding Siren Stone to you, my grace.

The conflict between Dragarevic and Brancovic had been heated for years. The wars were held to claim the right to rule. People were slaughtered to prove who deserved the throne more. After all these years, they still acted thoughtlessly to be our adversary. "We must go to the Siren Stone before Brancovics do. They are likely to engage their son to the daughter of Lord Isle. Dispatch a messenger to King Adonis; tell him to meet us in the Siren Stone."

After the council was dismissed, Mother accompanied me through the hall to the high balcony. The weather was chill; she had a green cardigan on her shoulders. She took my hand into her palms. "My beautiful man," she said. "I cannot imagine any lord so fool to send you back; this alliance will work." She seemed so hopeful looking at the stars and the wondrous colours of the sky. "I wish your brother could be here by your side. All he has ever desired is to stand by you." I caressed her hand and released it. "I called upon him, and he rejected, Mother." Her voice was so naive but strong. "I am sure he deals with a significant occurrence. He will come very soon." Her face was touching in a flash. "A mother knows everything that her son thinks and feels even if the son is not sharing them with her any longer." I gave her a questioning glance. "Although now you feel like your heart is aching in pain and your soul drained, making you resentful forever loving again. You will. You made the straight right decision. You deserve the utmost beauty, all the thrives, all the wealth and love. She didn't deserve you; she was..."

- We will be headed to the road in the morning. Dragon Nest is yours to protect, as is Belgrade and Tigrisia. I give you my mandate.

She was dazzled. Lurched and nodded while stroking my shoulder. She bid me good night and glided into the halls until she was out of sight. She was right at some point. I felt my soul was drained to trust anybody else, yet my heart was not aching. I was not in pain or sorrow. It was like functioning without a heartbeat. I was feeling more like a steel than a man. I wasn't able to read or write any poetry. All the beautiful words that had amazed me once suddenly lost their meaning and became tasteless and like straps in my mouth. Even peace felt like a weight that I had to bear.

When I heard the sound of the waves, I urged Goliath to run faster. He reared on top of the sandhill. The shore was laid down on us. It had taken five days to arrive at the seaside. Now that the Siren Stone was visible on the horizon, huge boats were carried out of couches to be let off to the water. I sent an ambassador to declare that we had arrived. We trotted the whole beach with Goliath, and I decided to camp there until Adonis came. The night near the beach was loud, yet it only took a few hours until I got used to the sound of the waves. They were static and serene. Walking on the sandhill, I realized how fragile the ridge was. Even my lightest steps caused sand to slide down. I imagined an army that stepped on this loose surface could quickly be buried in or glide down to the soaked ground. If the military rushed through there with horses and heavy armour, they would be puzzled and fall into the trap of the enemy that awaited ahead on the low ground. I went to the colonels, "Move the campsite to the low ground." They were bewildered, looking at me as if I didn't know what I was saying. Castaver leaned forward to hear me clear. "To where, my grace?" I pointed out the land contiguous to the sand and water border. The men gazed at each other. "I order it!" Within an hour, the camp was carried downwards. I inspected the woods; Adonis would appear on the right shore. He didn't have to get into the forest from Rumelia to here.

Brancovic would proceed from the North. The forest was close-timbered there; he wouldn't have a clear eye on the beach before eluding out the trees. I looked to the West Coast. Avoiding the incapability to foresee the land, Brancovic might get out of the forest before reaching the seaside. Castaver approached me. "My sire, are we waiting for guests?" I walked to a handful of archers who came with us; they were not prepared for an attack. "Gentlemen, blockade the clarity in the west." The conditions would only temporize the foe in a would-be invasion. I hoped Adonis would arrive there before Goran.

The wind blew from the land. The sound of the crickets was accompanying the waves. The trees weren't seen individually but as a horde of darkness. I saw a spark within the black. Then it was gone. I raised my hand immediately to order all the torches to be extinguished. Castaver brought his sword from the sheath. The thud noises of the hooves were heard. Then the whining. "Be prepared!" I shouted. The horse riders appeared on the sandhill, then the ground slid under the feet, and the horses rolled and fell preliminary to us. The flow continued till the army noticed why their men were falling off. Our warriors speared each of the fallen enemies. Some horses fell onto their riders; some crunched them over in terror. The archers managed to keep the west sides clean. Into the darkness, it was a wholesome chaos. The remaining enemy started to thrust on foot. My eyes were seeking for Goran. There were so many of them, and continuously coming. Without any light source, it was impossible to forecast the end of the crowd. They had deliberately come to strike.

I pulled the saddle of Goliath and jumped on him while leaning forward to handle a silver spear stuck in a man's chest. I mounted upwards to the sandhill. I was striking the men on foot with my sword while spearing the mounted ones, looking for Goran. A warrior rode his horse to clash Goliath; I turned back and stabbed the spear to his throat. The thick blood welled in my eyes. I swung the spear a few times to get the man's release. Tried to wipe the blood with my sleeve, I eyed a dark man with a long cape on horseback beneath all the bloodshed. The man faced me; he had a curly beard hanging down the face of the projection. I felt the spear eased off. I besieged it around my hand and compressed it into my armpit.

Goliath reared. I rode to him. He took his sword out and waited for me motionless. As I approached, he raised his sword above, "Archers!" He shouted. The arrows came from nowhere; I cut them into slices in the air. Without slowing down, I was coming after him, coming for him. He hesitated initially, then turned his horse to the back and attempted to run away. I darted the spear to his shoulder. It stuck in between the ribs. He screamed helplessly. Goliath ran straightforwardly for a while, then turned back and faced Goran, who was trying to get rid of the spear. I whipped up the saddles, and Goliath neighed in rage. The second time I rushed towards him, I grabbed the spear again, and he fell off his horse. The spear was stuck hard, stuck deep. I dragged him for a while; he was yelling and barking as he was scabbing to the ground. All his men were startled; they didn't want to concede the fall of their leader.

An army order gathered their speed from the coastal strip and rushed to the encounter. I couldn't refute it; I was excited to see the Rumelian had come. Brancovics tried to withdraw. Nevertheless, they were already surrounded. Goran was biting his lips hard to endure the pain while I dismounted my horse and dragged him to the battleground where the hostages were kept. He was hissing, swearing and whining. By the time he became abate, his antipathy towards me was reflected by his eyes like glasses. He had no difficulty articulating his hatred and ignominious disappointment. I pulled him up from his collars, still gripping the spear. He was looking rash and abysmal. He tried to escape from my gaze. His wound was deep against his austere. It was subtle to forecast. I leaned on him, whispered restrained and plausible. The sarcasm in his raw face was about to perish. "This spear might not kill you, but I certainly can." He weltered and made an imprudent attempt to get loose. I saw that he lacked the apprehension of death. "Cousin! My life is null compared to my dynasty." He renounced to struggle. I identified an obsolete modesty in his soaked red eyes. He was faithful, might be to God or his family.

"I can end your sorrow with a flick or let Brancovics return to Tigrisia. I can give Brancovic a place in the royal court; you will be known, belong, and be respected like the days before your grandsire revolted only if you pledge alliance to me and fight beside us. If you pedal back again, then all of you will be persecuted. You will scream, begging to be killed: I will oust the Brancovic Dynasty from history." His eyes were enlightened. His consciousness was onset. "We will be respected," he repeated avidly. I nodded. His eyebrows curled in ambivalence. "Why would you do that?" he shouted. I flourish on him. "I am not the king of lands, but people. How do I rule them if I kill them?" His resilience was broken. His face was bittersweet. He sniffed the blood pouring down from his nose. "From now on, I know you as my king and only eminent. I pledge alliance to you, and Brancovics will finally return home." I dispatched the healers to get him. Adonis was gazing at me as if I was something meaningful. I faced back to the castle embedded inside the considerable stone isle in the middle of the sea. The waves were settled down under my sight.