ACT VI
THE AGE OF UNDEAD
“Your father is sorry to leave you like this son, But I still hope you find happiness in this life.”
The words, unheard by any echoed in his head, like he recalled a distant memory. “What is this?” He muttered. Somehow those words stopped Hans’s erratic breathing, his vigour coming back to the eyes. However, an unknown sadness shrouded his whole body. He stopped, almost as if someone had held him from behind, stopping him from leaving. And the words rang again, this time the solemnity in them increasing several folds.
“I’ll take your every burden so live free my son. That’s all I want from you.”
Hans tenderly detached his hand from his grandmother's grasp and softly asked, “Can I stay for a while?" Sierra recognised that Hans required a solitary moment with his father and nodded understandingly. She and others left him, informing him that they would be waiting at the entrance. Hans nodded, acknowledging and stepped forward to his father’s resting place.
As Hans gazed down at the grave, his emotions welled up within him. He clenched his fists, struggling to hold back tears that threatened to spill. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, and then began to speak, his voice trembling with a mixture of sadness and longing.
"Father," he stammered, “I.. wish, I could have known you… truly known you. They say you were a great king, a respectable person, but I never got the chance to see that for myself.”
Hans paused, his eyes fixed on the cold, unfeeling stone in front of him. He continued, "I know that you had to make difficult choices for Parv, and perhaps you believed it was best for me to be away from this mess. But for the first time, I don’t know why, I feel your absence…”
A soft breeze rustled the leaves of nearby trees as if nature itself was listening to Hans's heartfelt words. He continued, clenching his chest, "I've heard stories about you, Father. Stories of your intellect and your excellent decision making... I can't help, but wonder, what it would have been like to have you as my guide, yet it feels like you are always with me. You see...” A sad smile etched on his face as his moistened eyes, let slip out a water pearl as he continued, “I found the book that you left for me. I'm getting there... Soon I’ll get another one, Father.”
Hans's voice quivered as he confessed, "I've had my share of struggles, Father. You made it not easy for me to survive in this world. Everyone wants something from me… just because I’m your son. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t regret being born, but sometimes, I've felt lost and alone. Yet I've also learned so much, and I've grown stronger because of it.”
Tears began to roll down Hans's cheeks, but he didn't wipe them away. He let them fall freely as he continued, "I may never fully understand the reasons behind your decisions, but I want you to know that I'm doing my best to live the happy life you wanted me to. I may not wear the crown, but I carry your blood, and I hope that counts for something.”
Hans fell silent, the weight of his unspoken emotions hanging heavy in the air. He knew that his father couldn't respond, but somehow, in that quiet moment at the graveside, he felt a connection, a sense of closure he had never experienced before.
With a final, heartfelt whisper, Hans said, "Goodbye, Father. Wherever you are, I hope you're at peace now.” Hans said and stood up. He began to march down the hill without looking back and a gentle breeze, the power of wind that his father held, brushed his cheeks like he was saying his farewell too.
Hans picked up the pace, he wanted to get out of this place, not wanting to feel these grave emotions. He ran, wiping his tears until the iron-wrought gates, the entrance greeted his eyes. Yet it looked like he couldn’t just avoid trouble. A few people, some he knew, some he didn't, were locked into some heated argument.
“Haa… This is also your doing Father.” He thought and appeared beside his family. His mood was already sunken in sadness and his tone made it apparent as he said, pointing at Samwell, the mediator of Clandorians and his family. “I’m not in a great mood, so just let us go, Uncle.”
“Yes, there is no need to escalate this.” Samwell agreed, but an elf was staring down at Vanessa, scanning her from head to toe. But before Hans could say something the elf, who looked like an escort to the king and queen present there, spoke up, “I heard you recovered! Do you remember me rescuing you?” A grin stretched on his face as Vanessa shivered down and he continued, “You remember don’t you? How HARD it was. You were unconscious all the time, we TOOK TURNS LOOKING AFTER YOU. Aren’t you thankful? I still feel bad we couldn’t save your boyfriend what was his name, Dave—”
“Ah, for fuck sake!” Hans interrupted his rant, “Don't you remember saying me, I'M. IN. BAD. MOODO? It means, get the fuck out of my face. Or I’ll promise you even the whole fucking Clandor can’t stop me from butchering you, right now.”
“Do you even have any clue who I am you low bor—”
"No, and you seem to have no clue either. Ask them” Hans pointed back at the clandor Royal couple who were just letting it escalate. So he stared right at their eyes and declared, “I’m not weak like father.” His words shook the one who knew Samson, he was many things, but not weak as claimed by his own son. And seeing their baffled face, Hans corrected, “I don’t share any compassion when I deal with enemies. I just won’t leave you alive like him—”
“Hans” Vanessa stopped him, patting his shoulder. But for the first time, Hans yelled at her “What is wrong with you? Getting intimidated by a trash like him. You call me your brother, don’t you? Then do you expect me to just sit back and let some shit walk over you?”
Hans turned to the clandor king. “A servant spouting nonsense before his master is a prime example of how competent the master is.” Hans's words were laced with sarcasm but Eleanor the king responded in calm, “Didn’t someone tell you? Your mouth will get you killed, boy.”
“Yeah, many did, but they don’t know how many I will kill along the way. So if you can’t gaze the consequences get your shit out of my way. I’m barely holding myself from going ballistic here.”
The escort mage, burst out, “I’m a sixth circle mage—”
“26 people,” Hans interjected, his sombre tone giving the chill to the listener, as he continued, “26 people were butchered like cattle after they stood in my way. They were all on the same level as you. Didn’t they? You should be scared, you inferior low life. I even feel bad for myself to breathe the same air as you.”
Hans’s comment sent everyone taken aback. That comment was what high elves, the old ones used to direct at humans, the race they deemed inferior, but now a human was throwing those words at them. It felt an irony was slapping their cheeks. His eyes led him to another human accompanying the elves and he let out his frustration. “Mr. Bernard, I told you, that I can’t feel the loss of something that I never had, didn’t I? But now I feel it to my very core. So please heed my request. Never appear before me.”
Bernard couldn’t help but remain silent. “Let’s leave,” Hans declared, clenching his aching forehead with one hand while another led Vanessa out of there. Sierra followed them and Rudolf left a snarking remark as he went, “You’ve been served.”
“Ah, that feels refreshing. You know squeaky you have an odd air about you. When you start speaking others naturally feel oppressed, your pressure is no joke.” Rudolf tried cheering his mood, but even his rare complimenting didn’t lift up Hans's mood. He just remained silent, staring at the moving scenery out from the window in silence. They soon reached their stay, but Hans's sunken mood dragged him to his room, locked, as he had a lot to talk to himself. The whole day passed, but none came to disturb him as instructed by Rudolf. He never realised when he closed his eyes.
“Stop sulking little Sam.” Dijkstra woke him up, continuing, “Didn’t you lecture me, saying, You can’t relive the past but you can always write the new end. Let's hurry, you need to write an end today, don’t you?”
Hans looked out of the window, it was bright, and the sun was hanging high. “Yes, we should leave.” With a practised grace, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. He reached his robe hung by the bedpost, and swiftly in a fluid motion he slipped it on. The deep hood concealed most of his face. “Let's go.” he said as both disappeared, leaving the room empty in silence.
ACT VI
THE AGE OF UNDEAD
“Your father is sorry to leave you like this son, But I still hope you find happiness in this life.”
The words, unheard by any echoed in his head, like he recalled a distant memory. “What is this?” He muttered. Somehow those words stopped Hans’s erratic breathing, his vigour coming back to the eyes. However, an unknown sadness shrouded his whole body. He stopped, almost as if someone had held him from behind, stopping him from leaving. And the words rang again, this time the solemnity in them increasing several folds.
“I’ll take your every burden so live free my son. That’s all I want from you.”
Hans tenderly detached his hand from his grandmother's grasp and softly asked, “Can I stay for a while?" Sierra recognised that Hans required a solitary moment with his father and nodded understandingly. She and others left him, informing him that they would be waiting at the entrance. Hans nodded, acknowledging and stepped forward to his father’s resting place.
As Hans gazed down at the grave, his emotions welled up within him. He clenched his fists, struggling to hold back tears that threatened to spill. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, and then began to speak, his voice trembling with a mixture of sadness and longing.
"Father," he stammered, “I.. wish, I could have known you… truly known you. They say you were a great king, a respectable person, but I never got the chance to see that for myself.”
Hans paused, his eyes fixed on the cold, unfeeling stone in front of him. He continued, "I know that you had to make difficult choices for Parv, and perhaps you believed it was best for me to be away from this mess. But for the first time, I don’t know why, I feel your absence…”
A soft breeze rustled the leaves of nearby trees as if nature itself was listening to Hans's heartfelt words. He continued, clenching his chest, "I've heard stories about you, Father. Stories of your intellect and your excellent decision making... I can't help, but wonder, what it would have been like to have you as my guide, yet it feels like you are always with me. You see...” A sad smile etched on his face as his moistened eyes, let slip out a water pearl as he continued, “I found the book that you left for me. I'm getting there... Soon I’ll get another one, Father.”
Hans's voice quivered as he confessed, "I've had my share of struggles, Father. You made it not easy for me to survive in this world. Everyone wants something from me… just because I’m your son. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t regret being born, but sometimes, I've felt lost and alone. Yet I've also learned so much, and I've grown stronger because of it.”
Tears began to roll down Hans's cheeks, but he didn't wipe them away. He let them fall freely as he continued, "I may never fully understand the reasons behind your decisions, but I want you to know that I'm doing my best to live the happy life you wanted me to. I may not wear the crown, but I carry your blood, and I hope that counts for something.”
Hans fell silent, the weight of his unspoken emotions hanging heavy in the air. He knew that his father couldn't respond, but somehow, in that quiet moment at the graveside, he felt a connection, a sense of closure he had never experienced before.
With a final, heartfelt whisper, Hans said, "Goodbye, Father. Wherever you are, I hope you're at peace now.” Hans said and stood up. He began to march down the hill without looking back and a gentle breeze, the power of wind that his father held, brushed his cheeks like he was saying his farewell too.
Hans picked up the pace, he wanted to get out of this place, not wanting to feel these grave emotions. He ran, wiping his tears until the iron-wrought gates, the entrance greeted his eyes. Yet it looked like he couldn’t just avoid trouble. A few people, some he knew, some he didn't, were locked into some heated argument.
“Haa… This is also your doing Father.” He thought and appeared beside his family. His mood was already sunken in sadness and his tone made it apparent as he said, pointing at Samwell, the mediator of Clandorians and his family. “I’m not in a great mood, so just let us go, Uncle.”
“Yes, there is no need to escalate this.” Samwell agreed, but an elf was staring down at Vanessa, scanning her from head to toe. But before Hans could say something the elf, who looked like an escort to the king and queen present there, spoke up, “I heard you recovered! Do you remember me rescuing you?” A grin stretched on his face as Vanessa shivered down and he continued, “You remember don’t you? How HARD it was. You were unconscious all the time, we TOOK TURNS LOOKING AFTER YOU. Aren’t you thankful? I still feel bad we couldn’t save your boyfriend what was his name, Dave—”
“Ah, for fuck sake!” Hans interrupted his rant, “Don't you remember saying me, I'M. IN. BAD. MOODO? It means, get the fuck out of my face. Or I’ll promise you even the whole fucking Clandor can’t stop me from butchering you, right now.”
“Do you even have any clue who I am you low bor—”
"No, and you seem to have no clue either. Ask them” Hans pointed back at the clandor Royal couple who were just letting it escalate. So he stared right at their eyes and declared, “I’m not weak like father.” His words shook the one who knew Samson, he was many things, but not weak as claimed by his own son. And seeing their baffled face, Hans corrected, “I don’t share any compassion when I deal with enemies. I just won’t leave you alive like him—”
“Hans” Vanessa stopped him, patting his shoulder. But for the first time, Hans yelled at her “What is wrong with you? Getting intimidated by a trash like him. You call me your brother, don’t you? Then do you expect me to just sit back and let some shit walk over you?”
Hans turned to the clandor king. “A servant spouting nonsense before his master is a prime example of how competent the master is.” Hans's words were laced with sarcasm but Eleanor the king responded in calm, “Didn’t someone tell you? Your mouth will get you killed, boy.”
“Yeah, many did, but they don’t know how many I will kill along the way. So if you can’t gaze the consequences get your shit out of my way. I’m barely holding myself from going ballistic here.”
The escort mage, burst out, “I’m a sixth circle mage—”
“26 people,” Hans interjected, his sombre tone giving the chill to the listener, as he continued, “26 people were butchered like cattle after they stood in my way. They were all on the same level as you. Didn’t they? You should be scared, you inferior low life. I even feel bad for myself to breathe the same air as you.”
Hans’s comment sent everyone taken aback. That comment was what high elves, the old ones used to direct at humans, the race they deemed inferior, but now a human was throwing those words at them. It felt an irony was slapping their cheeks. His eyes led him to another human accompanying the elves and he let out his frustration. “Mr. Bernard, I told you, that I can’t feel the loss of something that I never had, didn’t I? But now I feel it to my very core. So please heed my request. Never appear before me.”
Bernard couldn’t help but remain silent. “Let’s leave,” Hans declared, clenching his aching forehead with one hand while another led Vanessa out of there. Sierra followed them and Rudolf left a snarking remark as he went, “You’ve been served.”
“Ah, that feels refreshing. You know squeaky you have an odd air about you. When you start speaking others naturally feel oppressed, your pressure is no joke.” Rudolf tried cheering his mood, but even his rare complimenting didn’t lift up Hans's mood. He just remained silent, staring at the moving scenery out from the window in silence. They soon reached their stay, but Hans's sunken mood dragged him to his room, locked, as he had a lot to talk to himself. The whole day passed, but none came to disturb him as instructed by Rudolf. He never realised when he closed his eyes.
“Stop sulking little Sam.” Dijkstra woke him up, continuing, “Didn’t you lecture me, saying, You can’t relive the past but you can always write the new end. Let's hurry, you need to write an end today, don’t you?”
Hans looked out of the window, it was bright, and the sun was hanging high. “Yes, we should leave.” With a practised grace, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. He reached his robe hung by the bedpost, and swiftly in a fluid motion he slipped it on. The deep hood concealed most of his face. “Let's go.” he said as both disappeared, leaving the room empty in silence.
