In the name of our home

The word spread immediately to the population. The angels have attacked the land of the Ombrae. The gods were no longer staying in their city in the sky. At first, there was a wave of panic. It was the first time that an assault would cause so much damage. 

In the past, there were only scouts, and at worst there has been only one casualty. A farmer has been crushed under the landing of an angel once, it was more an accident than a real homicide but it has been a tragedy nonetheless. 

As soon as he regained his composure, Jäwell sent his orders to the leaders to meet at the bar in the Capital. Once he arrived inside, people were screaming, arguing, and complaining all around. This was a tough situation for everyone and nobody could speak calmly anymore. 

When the civilians realized their prince just entered the tavern they were all frozen in shock. It was expected that Jäwell would gather his forces at the castle or even just kill the menace himself like Zarkhaïm would have done. Instead, Jäwell sat at a table.

"Robin, rhum, now," were his only words. 

The barman didn't know if he was supposed to cry or laugh at the situation. The prince had his way to rule that was never seen before. Robin served Jäwell in absolute silence when the other leaders joined the inn, they were furious. 

"In the tavern?!" screamed angrily at the demoness, before adding, "You dare to summon us in the tavern?!"

Jäwell pushed a chair in front of him with his foot, making her a sign to take a seat. He poured a glass for her in silence and left the bottle in the middle of the table. 

The demoness was suffering the loss of what she considered her children, she was deeply insulted by his attitude and his lack of concern. She took the glass and threw it at his face, yelling, "You dare take the time to drink! As a ruler, you should have defended us!"

The elf leader seemed to have the same point of view, Jäwell saw in the faces around him that they all expected him to resolve all the issues with the Gods, alone. They didn't intend to do anything by themselves, and he started to feel upset. Jäwell emptied the bottle in silence. Letting them vent their poison at him.

The dwarf had a vicious smile, expecting some revelation from one moment to another, "And now what? What will you do?", he asked, almost amused. 

"You are pathetic, all of you," Jäwell answered while emptying the bottle before he exploded it on the table. 

His voice suddenly resonated in the room and everyone became silent, listening to him. He continued, "You are living like parasites, and don't even think of defending yourselves, not even once. Where is your pride? What are you? Praying for Zarkhaïm to come back, waiting while being attacked, you are all worthless." 

Jäwell was now absolutely furious, his hand searching for his bottle but finding none since he already finished it.

"I defend you to speak to me this way, miserable creatures! Do you understand me?! While you were hiding I went to confront the squadron of angels by myself. What did you do during this time?!"

The dwarf lowered his eyes, and they all did. Jäwell continued, since they had made him upset he had to vent his anger somehow, "Exactly! You were lowering your head!" 

His eyes were glowing crimson red, his silver claws pierced the table, and his breath was short. They had never seen such a powerful creature be so angry before. People present were trying not to catch his attention in fear of the repercussions, they barely dared to breathe. Never, oh never, they have seen Zarkhaïm being angry. The king has always been a model of patience and understanding while the prince was a stubborn and hot-tempered man. 

Jäwell stood up and climbed the chair he was sitting on previously. He took his bloody sword and unsheathed it, everyone could see the golden blood soaking his clothes. The prince was powerful, but he was not a god. He was close to his people, he knew fear, anger, doubts, and pain, but he overcame everything and killed an angel. 

"This is our world! Our home! Not yours, not mine, but ours!" 

There was an incredible silence in the room that made everyone uncomfortable. Jäwell was speaking the truth, and people realized slowly they must fight for what was precious to them. Zarkhaïm could not fight for them and deliver them everything all the time, it was time to grow and show their land the love it deserved. In their heart, slowly, the feeling of being a nation was making sense.

A ghost looking like a fourteen-year-old boy stepped on. He gathered his courage and bravery before he spoke with a low and shy voice. 

"For our home. All hail the Prince," he said timidly while brandishing a kitchen knife in the direction of the sky, imitating Jäwell and his impressive shadow sword. 

Then the boy raised his head and watched Jäwell with eyes full of admiration. The prince gave him a look of approbation and pride that meant everything, the boy's heart was beating in admiration as he repeated, louder this time, "All hail the Prince!"

In the blink of an eye, the people present started to shout "All hail the Prince!". 

Jäwell was not smiling, he was not happy, he was watching the beginning of his army's creation with the rage of the berserk. His furor was so strong that it could have shaken the world. 

"Let's kick their birdy ass!"