Sarmadonn

Dear Basketball,

From the moment I saw Sigmar Baruch Memorial Stadium, I knew one thing was true. I fell in love with you. A love so deep, I gave you my all. From my mind and body, to my spirit and soul. As a 6 year old Ayrian boy, deeply in love with you, I never saw the end of the gatehouse. I only saw myself running out of one - And so I ran. I ran up and down every court after every loose ball for you. You asked for my effort, I gave you my heart. This game was so much more. I played through the sweat and the blood, not because pride called me, but because YOU called me. I did everything for YOU. Because that’s what you do when someone makes you feel as alive as you’ve made me feel. You gave an Ayrian peasant his Valwyck Bears dream, and I’ll always love you for it.

But I can’t love you obsessively for much longer. This season is the last we all have left to play. My heart can take the pounding, my mind can handle the grind, but the Staff order it’s time to say goodbye. It’s not okay, I wasn’t ready to let you go. I want you to know now, so we both can savor every moment we have left together. The good, and the bad. We have given each other all that we have. We both know, no matter what happens next, I’ll always be that Ayrian boy with the green and orange tartan, cauldron in the corner, five seconds on the glass. Five, four, three, two, one. . 

Love you always,

‘Danger’ Dougal Macduff

#50

A BEAR’S SLUMBER

AIN NESTI’S SLUMBNA

c. 397

The final moments of His Grace, Ruslan Baruch.

The once quiet courtyard in the castle of Lichestadt now echoed with violent coughs, a noise that was familiar to residents of the castle by now.

Unable to dismount his steed, even after every stubborn attempt, the now weakened Duke was helped off with the aid of his usual nurse. Not even the decline of his health would stop Ruslan from visiting a certain tree house just outside of Karosgrad. Doing his best to walk on his own, it was time again for Ruslan to be put to bed, his body could not handle the physical strain of what he once used to enjoy doing for his free time. A man of few words already, it did not seem possible he could grow even quieter, but he did. The risk of using his tumor-ridden lungs was not one he was willing to take. 

As he was being assisted through the empty courtyard, he shot a glance at the Church of Heinzreich. His lip remained stiff as the northern winds took upon the sound of bustling merriment, the memory of one of his wedding receptions flooding the mind of the ailing Duke. The vows of his marriage being recited echoed throughout the church, while Ruslan stood in front of his nerve-ridden betrothed, stoic as ever. A Duke has a duty to his house, A duty to produce heirs to carry on the family name. That was all he saw the Ruthern girl as - A means to produce children. He remembered how afraid Marjorie looked, after all, she was being sent away to live with unfamiliar faces. Over the course of their marriage, he could have rid her of the fear she carried with her, make her feel a part of the family even. But he did not do that, he made her fears come true. His eye twitched and his mouth drew into a frown, before he continued through the courtyard.

A series of wheezing coughs erupted from the Duke but a few steps from the church, bringing the once proud man to his knees. With a palm planted atop the ground, his eyes trailed off toward Valwyck’s Haeseni chess board as he shakily dabbed the blood from his mouth with a handkerchief. As he sat, gasping for air, he could almost hear the bickering of the Baruch children. “Ye chea’ed! Ah ken!” whined a young Georgina, stamping her foot in protest as Juliya rocked in the corner, simply sobbing to herself. Viktor stood proud, his arms folded across his chest and a smirk plastered on his face as he retorted, “Shu’ up! Ah won, ye los’. Tha’s ‘ow the world works. Ge’ used tae i’, woman.” While the children argued, Ruslan sat near the board, working on his yearly Duma transcript. He had already rejected the children’s offer to play with them, and their constant bickering was getting too much to handle. “Enough! Ah’m workin’, take yer noise somewhere else.” The children fell silent, their countenances marred with frowns and looks of sadness, before leaving the Duke to his work. His breathing steadied as he felt the touch of the nurse against his arm, and with trembling legs he rose upright once more. He shot one final glance at the chess board, he knew there was nothing he wouldn’t do to go back to that day, just for one more game of chess with his family.

Ruslan lowered the blood-splattered handkerchief from his lips, taking in a raggedy breath as he made his way through the hallway door that his nurse opened for him. His eyes glanced around the mostly empty feast hall, empty with the exception of his nephew, Odrin. As he moved past the young man, he placed a hand on his head, perhaps for the final time. The Duke’s eyes then looked to the left, where he was met with his portrait that hung above the piano. It was not that long ago where he looked every ounce of a formidable Duke. His face plastered with a look of regret when he turned away from the portrait, as if he could have somehow changed something to not be in his current situation. A man once known as a dangerous opponent, an avid duelist, brought to his knees by a disease. He heard the door to the kitchens behind him close; a servant girl emerging from behind it. Her familiar, dark blue eyes met the Duke’s, and the two stared for a few moments. A smile formed on Ruslan’s visage, offering a slight wave at the girl, who in a certain light, may have resembled him slightly. He turned away then at his nurse’s tug, heading towards his bedroom.

As he was led toward the library he took a moment’s rest, laboured breaths escaping his lips. A flash of gold caught his eye, his daughter draped in the fabrics of her wedding dress. The young woman, joyous as usual, made her way over towards Juliya and Georgina, who both had been feasting on bits of chocolate. “What do vy think, papej?” With his approval of his daughter’s wedding dress, the two young Baruchs stood up, admiring the dress and conversing with their cousin about her upcoming marriage. Right before his eyes, the little girl he once knew was now a woman, and the same fate would soon befall the rest of his children. Extra time with his family before they grew old was now impossible, things he could have done or said differently was another regret he’d have for the rest of his life, though today was different then the previous days. Ruslan felt odd, he knew he wouldn’t have to live with this regret for long. A light tug at his arm forced the Duke’s head to turn, it was his nurse ushering him up the steps. 

After the first flight of steps, he began to suffer yet another coughing fit. After a few moments of rest, he glanced behind him at the staircase leading back down to the hallway. His brows rose momentarily, deep down he knew he would not see his feast hall again, and he was afraid. He thought of many things, yet one stuck out to him more than the others. Is he prepared to leave them behind? He scolded Ser Viktor often as a boy, but he cared for him as he would any of his children. And while Kaustantin was insufferable at times, how could he not be proud of the man he became? His worries and fears were put at rest, he realized that it was now the duty of his family to look after each other. His nephew was Lord Palatine, his niece was a Countess, and his cousin was a knight, who had married a woman that taught Ruslan that there’s at least some decent foreigners. He was proud of them, and he was prepared to speak to them one final time.

After several breaks, Ruslan finally made it to his bedroom hallway. Through labored breaths, the Baruch managed a subtle smile, amused at how difficult it was to climb steps that he had done before a thousand times, without struggle. His nurse opened the door to his bedroom, stepping back and allowing His Grace to enter first. As he entered, the angered yell of his wife caught his attention, forcing his head to turn towards the woman with tears in her eyes. “Nie - Just hang it up!” The young Duke, visibly angered, set a portrait down on the table. He remembered this portrait, it was a portrait of himself. There was another with him, but it was not his wife. For years, he allowed his marriage to be loveless, for what he thought was a good reason. Too long did he allow the ghost of a girl to rule over his marriage, and while he missed her dearly, the living needed his attention more than her. He felt a small moment of pride, because while it may have been too late, he realized there could never live a better wife than the one he had, and he made sure to let her know before his final days. The shutting of a door caught his attention, it was his nurse closing the door behind them. She moved past the sickly Duke, placing a small cup of tea at his bedside before making her way back over to him. The nurse attempted to grab his arm to aid him to his bed, but she was waved off promptly. If this was Ruslan’s final time walking, he would do it on his own two feet.

Settling into his bed, he ordered his nurse to send for his family, all those that were home in the keep that day. With a quick bow, the nurse hurried out of the room, leaving him only in the company of his thoughts. Ruslan looked around his bedroom slowly, taking in a labored breath as he reached for his tea. He brought the cup to his lips, closing his eyes as he took a long sip. When his eyes opened, he was met with a frowning girl, a face all too familiar to him. “Are vy even listening?!” The young boy nodded quickly, setting the tea down on the wooden floor of the tree house. The blonde girl had been explaining what happened to her that day, and every word was clear to him. This conversation was one of many he had with Analiesa de Astrea, and he remembered each one as if it had happened just hours before. During a time where his beloved mother had passed away and his hard working father was slowly losing his sanity, his best friend may have been the only source of happiness he could have. It was hard for him to regret much. He had spent as much time with Analiesa as he could, but he always wished he could have saved her from her fate; or at least that is what he thought.

The children conversed for what felt like hours, as they usually did. They laughed, shared their usual strawberries grown from the bush outside, and discussed what life would be like when they are both older. The young boy turned to the tea he had set down earlier, before it all started to come to him again. He stared at the cup of tea, as tears slowly started welling up in his eyes. Will his final thoughts be of ghosts, or the living? He glanced back to his friend, before taking a deep breath. “Ah need t’ get goin’ now, Analiesa.” The girl frowned at Ruslan’s sudden need to depart, so like usual, she protested against it. “But why?! Vy just got here, and we’ve so much more to talk about!” A singular tear began to slowly fall down his cheek, looking back to the tea as he prepared to answer Analiesa, but not without hesitation first. “Because yer dead, an’ Ah need t’ let ye go. My family needs me now.” The words stung the young boy to say, but he knew they needed to be said. He couldn’t allow his last memories to be of those who are gone, but instead those that are still with him. As he looked to gauge Analiesa’s reaction, it was not one of confusion, nor malice. The girl didn’t speak, but instead displayed a smile the Duke had so desperately missed. Despite being taken from him too soon, the memories of his loved ones lived on through him. Only the forgotten are truly dead, and so he would never forget his father’s hard work or his mother’s love, and he would certainly never forget Analiesa de Astrea. He lifted his cup of tea off the wooden floor, and with one final look at his best friend, his eyes closed as he took a sip.

With his eyes now opened, he was back in his quiet bedroom. He lifted his hand to wipe the tear away from his cheek, before hearing frantic footsteps downstairs. He placed his cup of tea down carefully, before settling back in his bed. He knew it was the end, but he was content that it’d be surrounded by the family he loved dearly. One last time to not only see his loving wife, but the girl he had known for as long as he could remember. One final moment to look proudly on the man his son grew to become, and the man he knew would lead his House to an even better future. He blames himself for driving Margot away, but he was happy he’d be able to spend his final moments with her, time spent away from her made him come to see how much he cared for her. One final embrace from his youngest child Annabel, a girl he rarely punished or scolded, and one he struggled to watch grow up. And while he knew it may not be possible, he wanted to see his oldest child, Eleanora for a final time. From holding her at birth, to watching her hold children of her own, he saw it as a privilege to have been able to raise such a caring woman. He took a final deep breath, as his vision began to blur. The footsteps were now on the same floor as him, and before he knew it, the door to his bedroom swung open quickly.

But he did not see who came in, nor did he feel the bed he was lying on. Ruslan Baruch was dead.

His Grace, Ruslan Eirik Baruch

1798 | 1844

351 ES | 397 ES