"How many dead for Lusitania?" Felix asked, pulling out a small piece of parchment. The sun was now quite risen, the red and orange colors of this bright dawn still in full display.
Afon dreaded being asked that question. He didn't care that they were men on the other side, and that they were fighting for a cause he found reprehensible. They were still just men, who found their willing end here on the shores. "Twenty-two," the Cambrian finally answered.
"How many dead on our side?" Felix inquired.
"Three, men and a woman of Nadia's troop," Afon answered. "Perhaps more, but we are still getting signs of life from a few wounded. Ours were well-armored."
"How many alive and surrendered of our foe?" the King asked.
"Six, including that governor," Afon stated. It seemed the general Lusitanian population of the camp was waking up, a few going about their daily routine. That is, until they saw all the blood on the ground. A bit of a clamor arose, and many questions were asked, with the scene having changed so quickly overnight. Wives cried out in anguish upon seeing their husbands torn on the ground, and so too did a child find a father spilled away on the sand, in so cruel a fate for a man to have handed their young.
—
The governor stood on one side of the table, while King Felix stood at the other. The vulpine was defeated, in both in the literal sense and in his expression. He looked embarrassed to even be here, having to sign this awful piece of paper. It detailed the unconditional surrender.
The Kingdom of Mauretania. Finally, the official name to the land that Nadia and her people called their own, given back to it. The neighboring kingdom of Portua would have to surrender their own territory by next year, else face war from Valentia and its allies. This was a threat that nobody in their right mind would dare face, and though it was a risk, it was one well worth taking.
At the same time, there was a small ceremony being set up in the neighboring tent. A few of the Lusitanian residents accompanied the Mauretanians, as they would henceforth then be known if they stayed, to watch the crowning of a kingdom's first queen to be held afterwards. A few stubborn Lusitanian loyalists meanwhile preferred the grave sight of their colony being surrendered, resolving to head back onto the ship afterwards.
Afon watched, with a smile. Felix smiled, too, knowing that this would be a high point in his royal reputation. He helped found a kingdom, and swore to protect it.
Then, with everyone watching, the signing began. "It is with this signature that the Mauretanian Kingdom is established, and all the things written further go into effect," Felix declared, and signed his own name. He waited eagerly for the fox to do the same.
But the fox did not sign. "This is unacceptable for Lusitania," he grumbled.
"Sign or face further war," Felix warned. Afon got up from his seat on the ground, knowing that the latter was possible.
"Can we not further negotiate?" the fox governor asked.
"Your surrender was unconditional," Afon grunted. "Stay true to your word, and don't try to fox your way out of it."
The fox in question suddenly dashed towards Afon at a speed that only a vulpine set of hindpaws could maintain. Before anyone knew what this could have entailed, a deep yet sharp cry of pain pierced the air of the tent. Everyone stood, and turned to the scene.
"Damn you! Damn you and Valentia! DIE! For Lusitania, her glory unending!" the fox gnarled as he shouted vengefully, and brandished a knife he had hidden in his cloak. Afon, unarmed, froze in shock, as this very dagger ripped and ripped again between his ribs, into and through his heart. He fell back, grunted softly, and collapsed, scarlet pouring from both his chest and mouth, the vulpine shucking the knife back out, then back in once the corgi was down, then out once more. Then, he turned around and cornered Felix.
"MURDER! MURDER!" most of the crowd cried out. More guards poured in at the commotion, unable to ascertain in the crucial moment what was happening. The fox looked at his knife, stained scarlet with the Cambrian's life essence, then raised it to take a differently-aimed strike, hoping to see the blood of the Valentian lion.
However, the fox suddenly staggered, rendered inactive before he even got the chance, and fell over.
An arrow was lodged behind his chest, and Cameron lowered his bow after delivering this surely fatal shot. The crowd quieted down a little, and then turned to the direly bleeding corgi. Felix and Cameron rushed over.
Afon's eyes were wide and starry as he laid there. His home, his beautiful Kingdom of Cambria, the rolling hills and beautifully high-cliffed shores of the land gone untouched— they all weighed heavy on his mind in what he knew was his final moment, and he thus spoke in his homeland's way. "God blessed me with life, and now I know it's my time to thank him for it. And I thank you all, too, for being here. Please protect these people. Assure their safety. I gave my last fight for it." He then said something that especially made Cameron's eyes well with tears: "Blessed is he who in the name of God cometh, and he who goes to be with Him in Paradise," he said, then laid his head back, his smile only fading with the strength he lacked.
The corgi closed his eyes, and was as still as stone.
Nadia wondered what all this noise was for, and then saw this scene of lament, gasping, and taking a step back. Felix, Cameron, the Valentian knights, and the crowd bowed their heads, knowing they saw the most noble Cambrian die in front of their eyes. Afon was a man who fought only for peace, who now died for it.
Cameron kept quaking, unable to restrain his emotion for this silent mourning. He left, and wept deeply once he was out of earshot.