Third Arc (Fallen Heart) – 274. The End of Funeral I
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Third Arc (Fallen Heart) - 274. The End of Funeral I
Ophelia's fingers traced the contours of the broken Loyalty, each groove and imperfection a testament to battles fought and scars earned. As she caressed the fragmented hilt, a silent communion with the essence of Angel's past, her thoughts wove a narrative of questions and reflections. What had transpired in Angel's mind when he placed this memento by his father's tomb?
The weight of Loyalty in her hands invited her to delve into the recesses of history, to a time when Angel, not yet a king, bore the mantle of a prince in Asteria. For a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to be enveloped by the ghostly whispers of the past.
Yet, conscious of the urgency of the present, Ophelia made a deliberate choice to cast aside the tendrils of nostalgia. Turning on her heel, she resolved to carry the broken sword with her. It wasn't an offering to be returned to Angel, nor a relic to be presented to King Gervis. Instead, Ophelia harbored an unspoken conviction that Loyalty and Pride, the two royal swords that once safeguarded Asteria, should remain united. In her grasp, the fragmented hilt became a symbol of continuity, a bridge connecting the chapters of Asteria's legacy.
Ophelia stood amidst the quiet assembly of soldiers. Time, unyielding and indifferent, ticked away as the group waited for something, their collective demeanor betraying no hint of impatience or restlessness. The soldiers, like silent sentinels, gazed out into the tranquil surroundings, their vigilant eyes scanning the landscape without the audacity to wander aimlessly. The serene atmosphere, laden with a weight of unspoken understanding, kept them rooted in a state of respectful stillness.
In the distance, the figure of King Gervis could be discerned—a solitary silhouette against the backdrop of the sacred burial ground. The soldiers maintained a discreet distance, close enough to discern the movements of their king but far enough to respect the privacy of his solemn communion with his dead son. The murmur of King Gervis's words reached them as mere whispers, carried away by the gentle breeze, leaving the soldiers in a state of poignant suspense.
Fifteen minutes passed, each second resonating with the quietude of contemplation. King Gervis, having completed his solitary reflections, approached the waiting cohort. The soldiers, adept at reading the unspoken cues of their leader, remained stoically observant, their faces revealing no flicker of inquiry. Without uttering a word, King Gervis gravitated toward his awaiting carriage—a silent directive for his retinue to follow suit.
Ophelia, attuned to the unsaid commands, gracefully mounted her horse. The others, in synchronized unison, fell into formation and left.
The solemnity of the graveyard transitioned seamlessly to the entrance, where the grieving procession emerged. Angel awaited their return. As Ophelia and King Gervis approached, their countenances betrayed the lingering echoes of sorrow—eyes tinged with red and faces shadowed by the weight of loss. Yet, the armor of royal stoicism enveloped them once more, veiling their emotions beneath the facade of regal composure.
The trio reconvened, marking the conclusion of the poignant funeral procession. They turned their collective gaze toward the city, the castle looming in the distance as the procession made its way back. The horses' hooves echoed the somber rhythm of their passage, a muted cadence through the melancholic air.
The funeral ended without the anticipated upheaval that many had braced for. No dramatic confrontations, no unforeseen outbursts. The veil of grief enveloped Ophelia and King Gervis, and yet, in the eyes of the world, they projected an image of resilience.
Returning to the city and the castle, the atmosphere remained fraught with unspoken emotions. Angel acknowledged the weight they carried. As they neared the conclusion of this solemn chapter, Ophelia and King Gervis adopted the familiar masks of regal detachment, a defense against the vulnerabilities that lurked beneath.
The aftermath of the funeral held its own challenges. King Gervis, grappling with the rawness of his emotions, chose not to engage with the guests or even Angel. It was a deliberate choice, a shield against the torrent of emotions that threatened to spill forth. Ophelia, however, assumed the mantle of gratitude, expressing appreciation to those in attendance.
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