The Second Son [PK]

[hippo 624]

THE SECOND SON

The steadfast castle of Lichtestadt, made barely visible by the harsh northern winter.

Spoiler

 

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Matyas no longer enjoyed life and its heavy burdens. He sat in his lonesome library, the disapproving gaze of his forefathers’ busts cast upon him. He no longer enjoyed their scrutiny, either. He’d have half a mind to remove them and replace them with tiny statues and portraits of himself, as if it were gratification for the flaws he found himself with. Perhaps that would stop himself from glancing over his shoulder because he heard the Scyfling that wasn’t there, or the murderer that only resided in his imagination, or his deceased wife or parents.

 

He remembered vaguely the day he returned from that forsaken Scyfling war camp to the castle of Valstadt, where he found that his mother he so longed for committed suicide, and the father he hardly knew was stabbed dead by his brother. He never found the peace he needed at home and with family, despite living in the wartorn camp. In public, only whispers of his crazed father met his ear. What reinvigorated yet shattered him was his brother’s sudden abdication, and Matyas’ ascension to Duke just four years after his return. 

 

The following years, Matyas became studious, more so than ever, certainly more so than now, he thought. He studied the arts, law, culture, language - anything to give himself a belated education as a Haeseni peer. He met his wife and had a stable marriage for many years, found his profession as a lawyer, and had children he promised to raise properly. Some even described Matyas as warm then, for instance, he housed refugees in Valwyck during the crisis on Arcas before the descendant’s flight. Eventually, he was to become the Justiciar of Haense and an Aulic Councillor. However, the cold memories of the Scyfling War lingered. He was never truly well. 

 

Paranoia and distress crept into Matyas’ mind, each day worse than before, no matter how hard his efforts to stop it. First, he tried telling himself to stop thinking this way. Then, he turned to blame his family and friends for his faults. No longer could he keep his promise to raise his children correctly. Matyas was cynical to his first son, wrathful to his second, and ignorant to his daughter. He only found his fourth and final child bearable, thus his sudden decision to designate him as heir. Next, he became a prodigal. He spent most of his coffers arbitrarily on gems, rings, statues, or art, eventually leading to the construction of the grandiose castle of Lichtestadt with its magnificent towers and white walls, where he sat now. The worst mechanism, though, was his increasingly frequent fits of madness, where his mind saw a world different from reality. A world where he could rewrite his troubling past. He was a general in the Scyfling war, not a child prisoner, and he slew the Scyflings, not lay in their cells.

 

“Ah’m nie’ one to dwell on the past,” he’d lie as he sat up in his library after his contemplations.

 

And so he left his castle,  readied his horse, and rode to Karosgrad. It was his final ride. His mind was in the past the entire trip.

 

Matyas did his usual scowl at the scrying faces of the city folk, making his way through to the palace on his pony. Arriving for a trial, he was meant to prosecute Ser Alric Ruthern on charges of assault. However, he stopped to have a drink before it, and stress crept through his mind as he was ill-prepared for a proper prosecution. Although he successfully charged the defendant ‘guilty’, he immediately left the hall, overbore with stress.

 

He would meet his fate there. The dejected man, longing to see his lover who’d he had missed the past year, met a shadowy man, lurking. He was hurled an insult, ‘manlover’. He always was aghast by that. Without thought, he chased the man through Karosgrad, before the figure turned, pulled out a cheap shank, and stabbed the poor man countless times. He was not a Duke then, he was Matyas, the son of the crazed Petyr, the depressed Sofiya.

 

And so it was, Matyas Baruch lay dead.

 

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REQUIESCAT IN PACE

HERZEN MATYAS BARUCH | DUKE MATTHIAS BARUCH

“the Scyfling”

(1767 - 1814) | (320 E.S. - 367 E.S.)

 

Duke of Valwyck (1783 - 1814) (336 E.S. - 367 E.S.)

Lord Justiciar of Haense (1806 - 1814) (359 E.S. - 367 E.S.)

 

“IN MONTIBUS FLUMEN ET CARBO.”

Edited April 5, 2021 by hippo

[Maevlin 683]

Charlotte Baruch sits at the docks of  Valstadt, fishing for dinner with a pipe in her mouth when a familiar face appears coming down the dock. She turns to him "My love, you made it. Come join me. Gotta light?"

Edited April 5, 2021 by Maevlin

[MissToni 3498]

Katerina Ceciliya had tried to rush to his side, but she could already see the turnout when she spotted how much blood he had lost already. Doing her best to hurry with treatment, but as she was ready to start it was already too late. To little time, too much treatment needed. Time, such a cruel yet beautiful thing. She hoped she would not meet the same fate as he; alone whilst in pain and laying on the cold ground. She then closed his eyes and stated the words

 

"It is too late, he is gone..."

 

[Juli 1341]

Sofiya Baruch welcomes her second eldest son into the seven skies with saddened look upon his visage, "You did well, Matyas." She'd mutter to him as he beckoned him to join his father, sister, and the rest of their family.

 

 

[Fionn__TWG 2623]

Fionn Castaway would think of the few times he and Matyas had messing around in Duma. Though it was only once or twice, he couldn't help but smile at the short memories. He'd place the brand used for Alric's branding back in the barracks as he thought of the state of his body when he passed it, filled with stab wounds, pulling out his carrion flask shortly after and pouring one out.

[Drew2_dude 2131]

Sigmar Baruch would find his grandson in the seven skies. "wha', ye could niet live withou' me eh?" he'd let out a chuckle. "Well, nie' goin' back now lad, ye were nie' me, but reckon ye did a fine job leadin' the family." He would pat Matyas on the back. "Well, pick up a pint 'n grab a seat, we're sharin' stories o' the olden days." he'd smile, turning back to the bonfire, a crowd was gathered around a man, engrossed in his tale of a war from long ago, the merry group laughed and laughed as time ticked by around them.

[MikoMonster 1393]

Kamila Baruch, one of three children that struggled on despite their father’s abuse and mother’s agony. One of two, really. The woman, too, had been crazed for nearly a decade, since the death of their eldest sister. She mourned the loss of the only brother she had recognized since she was a child, soon falling into a fitful sleep under the stars- one full of frightful memories of yelling and crashing.

 

Lina Baruch mourned the loss of her uncle alongside her siblings and cousins. The pack of Baruch children felt the ache of this loss, despite Matyas’s faults. He was the only man they had ever seen lead their family, after all.

[Zanthuz 1838]

His Grace, the rightful former Duke of Valwyck, Eirik Baruch stood by with a cotton tail pinned to his behind as Matyas made his ultimate arrival to the puffy clouds! "Eja laddie, come wit'h me, yer tramp of ah mothe'r has bee'n waitin'g for ya!"

[Mio 3790]

Otto Baruch, Matyas' second son concluded his laps around Valywck with a particular shovel grasped in his hands which he used to walk "Ah! Old hog finally squealed! Was bout time this world got revenge on him. Old man didn' like the lass ah' brough' home, didn' give me his duchy..-" the young man choked, taking a moment to glance to the gray sky above ".. and he didn' even take me whaling once, tha's where it all wen' wrong- tha's when the work started to flood him. Worked his life off for the Kongzem bu' in the end the Kongzem killed him."

[Sarmadonn 652]

He waited until all was quiet and dark in Lichtestadt, avoiding the members of his family the entire day while he took the time to mourn the death of his father. Bagpipes in hand, he solemnly marched towards a nearby hill to say his final words. "Matyas Baruch - Mah papej. Ye' had some problems fer' sure, but Ah' think ye' were jus' doin' yer' best. T' be murdered by a craven in cold blood was nie way t' go."  He sighed, turning to lift up his bagpipes. "Ah'll do my best, papej. Ah'll miss ye', but Ah'm sure ye' an' mamej are happy t' be together once again."  He took in a deep breath, blowing into the mouthpiece of the bagpipes for a few moments. With his final goodbye said, he began returning home to his family.