BSK INCIDENT REPORT #8: OPERATION HARPOON

[Office of Truth 471]

 BSK INCIDENT REPORT #8

OPERATION HARPOON

 

Spoiler

 

 

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DATE: Summer of 475 E.S.

 

REPORTING OFFICER: Ser VANHART BARCLAY

 

DISCLOSURE: Public Disclosure

 

INCIDENT REPORT: The B.S.K. special operations division rode south along the gushing banks of the PETRA, until four riders - Ser VANHART BARCLAY, ARTHUR GANT, JAKOB KVAZYEV, and DONALF AF DON - reached the banks of MINITZ. As men of the CANONIST LEAGUE intent on protecting their REINMAREN allies from brigands, they set about their patrol. Within an hour, their steeds had cornered LORENA GANT, a condemned traitor and enemy of HAENSE for her role in the raiding and attempted execution of MINITZMEN and absconding from her vow to duel Ser VANHART BARCLAY, made some years ago when Lord-Palatine OTTO GANT ordered her execution.

 

Upon extracting LORENA GANT to KAROSGRAD, she was taken into custody and confined to the prisons where Grand Prince ALEKSANDR OTTO - a former friend to the traitor - questioned her on her defection. After a fruitless exchange of pleas, the Grand Prince condemned her to face judgment for her crimes - namely treachery, banditry, and absconding from a duel of justice. LORENA GANT was taken in chains to the B.S.K. barracks, where a crowd watched as VANHART BARCLAY carried out the execution on behalf of the Grand Prince. 

 

Though the taste of justice is sweet, the loss of a friend is inexplicably bitter. 

[Fionn__TWG 2616]

Wilheim Barclay nodded as he read the document, having personally witnessed the execution. "Never easy to see one leave this plane - friend or foe. May GOTT have mercy on her soul, even if she deserved what she has received."

[Aidoro 464]

"That's my dad!" exclaimed Ruslan Kvazyev

[ContestedSnow 776]

The sound of pottery shattering echoed through the Drusztran Keep, breaking the otherwise still quiet of a late evening. Viktor var Ruthern stood heaving in the hallway of his home's quarters, shoulders raising then dropping, over the remains of some vase or other that he had smashed.

 

He brought the report up to his eyes to read once more, in vain effort. His hand closed, then gripped firm; crushing the paper in hand. Deaf to the concern of servants or anger of his family, he stormed off with his chin raised imperious... and seemingly wet eyes. He needed some cold air.

 

 

"Vy promised and ea believed, so many years ago. Nie tears will come from eam, Lorena..."

 

In spite of his words uttered in anger and frustration... grief found itself creeping into the Ruthern's heart.

Edited May 1, 2023 by ContestedSnow

[ibiou 1555]

Alyona had stood on the edge of the barracks, gripping at Malcolm's arm. There was once a time the Lady Emissary had called Lorena a dear friend of hers; many-a year ago, by Lake Voron, their laughs harmonious when getting up to no good. Though, that time was over long before they had truly started. The entire situation of the Gant's treason had shook her to her core, made her feel something more than just the bitterness of betrayal. Often, she found herself thinking of where she might have gone wrong in their friendship. If I had been more kind, more forward, more gentle...

All of these thoughts concluded the moment she saw steel hit flesh. 

The hours after were ones Alyona Godunov would never truly forget. The comforting of Lorena's brother was one. She had spent the entire eve by his side, and the night was the same; the cries, the murmurs, the apologies. The Godunov would only let herself grieve later after Malcolm was asleep, and there she would pour her heart out for only God to hear. Oh, it was so tiresome being so strong.

[Greehn 1828]

Malcolm Gant sat in the Haeseni clinic for quite some time. Seconds, minutes and hours passed as he sat numb. He reminisced about the awful things he said about his sister that day in the square of Karosgrad. Overwhelming grief and guilt flooded his head, and stomach.

He is not new to death, nor to executions. Both of those were ideas he had accepted as soon as Haense officially went to war. But this was different. He never realized how different it would be when it was his own kin's blood on the executioner's blade. The blood of someone you have spent countless hours messing around and having fun, going to foreign nations to pick the grapes from their vineyards without being spotted or even starting a fight with the Rutherns at the docks.

The Gant knew this had to happen, that it was bound to happen. His sister went off with the enemy and paid the consequences of doing so. He should be angry at her for leaving. He should be proud an enemy was slain by the Kingdom. He knew she was that enemy to the Kingdom, 

but he only felt grief.

[indiana105 2125]

Ser Arthur Gant sat next to the grave of his sister in silence. He had buried her himself. The newly made knight stared blankly over the waters of Lake Voron, watching the waves gently roll into shore.

 

He looked down to his hands. They shook, and her blood still stained his gloves. It was everywhere. His cloak, his boots. "I did not swing the sword," he told himself. "I am no kinslayer." It was not convincing. His throat was choked, and his face was hot.

 

Arthur and his sister were not close, not by any stretch of the word. But they were blood. The stench of that shared blood now filled his nostrils. He pulled a letter from his belt, and it was smeared on that too. "Lorena," was all he had written before he was called upon to ride. He had planned to tell to her of his victory in the day's tourney, of his knighthood - Of home. 

 

She would never hear it now. He set the parchment on the dirt, and turned to the waters once more.