#11: Baron Hawke

Better late than never! I’m about a day behind, but hopefully I’ll be getting up to speed this weekend. This entry comes from the same world as Sir Gustavus and Reebooshalictivus. Enjoy!

All of the Hawkes were noble, but Baron Hawke was the noblest. All of them flew in formation behind him, ducking when he ducked and weaving when he weaved. North, south, east, or west, Baron Hawke was the epitome of their species and looked upon as the overseer of the entire land.

Baron Hawke flew over the carnage swiftly. He was always present for the misdoings of the land creatures but was never dull enough to sink to their level of childish meanderings, striking at one another through the cover of darkness. The Hawkes were watchers; Baron had trained his people to become the Lords of the Sky, watching over the lands below with objectivity and sincerity. From their point of view, distinction between Feral, Feline and Kane was irrelevant; all creatures were but a small blotch on their keen radar as they pierced the atmosphere.

Baron Hawke was  the eldest of his kind. Of any kind, really. He had seen war, plenty of it. More than he’d care to reflect upon. But flying over the wreckage of the destroyed Kingdom was nearly enough to bring tears to his eye. As a symbol of the ancients, the old world, Baron found it difficult to drudge up much emotion about anything in this day and age. He had seen the world rise, fall, lay stagnant, and rebuild… twice. There was a cycle to their seemingly random existence and the world was immeasurably old. As far as Baron knew, he was the oldest living creature on the Earth.

And that’s why his sudden emotion surprised him to the fullest.

At first, he flew slowly over the Kingdom, observing the destruction. Kane bodies were spread about, maimed and broken. The villages had burned, houses razed and the castle overrun with Ferals. The Kingdom had become a wasteland. Unity of the underprivileged, spurred on by a thirst for revolution, had finally won out.

Baron Hawke and his kin certainly had the means for intervention, but they were merely observers. Some of the younger members pleaded with Baron for a retooling of their longstanding rules, but he held true to his forefathers. He had held the tradition for innumerable generations and there was no reason he was about to stop now.

In secret, he wondered if his younger kin was right. Perhaps he was out of touch? Maybe it was his unwillingness to evolve their role in the ecosystem of their society that had caused the ground to act with such despair and violence. The thought weighed heavily on his proud mind, causing heaving flap of his wings to feel ten times heavier. Every breathe was deeper, every call tired.

Before this moment, Baron Hawke had never felt old.

Category: Drama, Fantasy