The rumours of a dead Bloodwall Knight rapidly ran rampant through the region. There were whispered all over about the position of the Bloodwalls after one of their Knights had been killed outside of their city, in the civilised lands. It had been at least a decade since the last Knight had been killed in such a manner, and the local Lords had begun to send their sight towards the Bloodwall, though others remained at bay due to a certain issue they were facing.

Some believed the Knight had been killed by the Noble Killers, those who had been targeting the minor nobles of the region. Others thought that the Knight had fallen to a powerful, one which he was unable to beat. Some knew that the Knight was a drunkard, and so probably just drank himself to death.

None would say such things in front of the Bloodwalls, though.

It was almost night by the time the trio returned. Sir Ozcar carried the coffin over his shoulder the entire way back, showing the city his shame. When he returned to Bloodwall, the soldiers and guards around saluted them, and word quickly rushed to the Chief, who came out to meet them.

Sir Ozcar knelt down, placing the coffin before the Chief. Chief Bloodwall pulled open the lid and peered down into it. Confirming the Knight, he nodded and then stepped back. The other Knights appeared, all those who were available within Bloodwall, and then they began the preparations.

People shouted orders to prepare the funeral pyre for their fallen Knight, but Chief Bloodwall remained with the coffin. He placed a hand over it, feeling how cool the wood was. He wondered how cold the body was, but didn’t dare to check.

The funeral pyre was quickly erected, and the Chief carried the coffin towards it. The Eldermen had all come to watch, seeing their Chief already mourning the loss of his youngest Knight. The Eldermen understood they could do nothing to displease the Chief here, otherwise they’d lose their heads, so they remained silent and watched the procession.

Jax Bloodwall pulled the body out of the coffin and then laid it to rest atop the pyre and the coffin disappeared a moment later. He remained there for a moment, seeing the sad smile on the Knight’s face. He dropped down, heavy with grief, but his face was distorted, in utter rage.

As the pyre had been built, the soldiers, guards, Knights and Eldermen had arrived and had taken their places. The Eldermen stood atop the wall, their Knights stood outside to watch their backs. Their duties were to protect the Bloodwall and their Eldermen while the funeral began, a great honour.

The Chief stood atop the wall as well, though immediately in front of the pyre. His Knights each stood nearby, each strapped for a battle to the death. The soldiers and guards stood within the courtyard, then spilled out. Some had to remain outside the inner courtyard, taking watch for anything untoward.

The townsfolk had heard what was happening, and had awoken those who had gone to sleep. They remained awake in order to watch and listen from afar, to send their Knight with the respect he deserved.

Milly remained in the kitchen, not wishing to see him go just yet. She could see out the window, and though she had the opportunity to watch from close, she had refused the Knight who had come to collect her.

The silence deafened Bloodwall as they waited for the Chief to speak the last rites. Yet, he remained silent. His eyes were closed, and he gripped his blade tightly with one hand. Everyone here knew that though Sir Anthony had been a drunkard, and though he wasn’t the best Knight, nor the most honourable, nor the most respectable, nor the most intelligent, he was still a Knight of Bloodwall, and had trained hard to swear the Oaths to the Chief. He had the chance to give up several times, and he had risked his life often when he was barely man grown, and they all knew just how much the boy had meant to the Chief.

The Knights waited, though eventually turned their gazes to Sir Ozcar. Even the Eldermen were shooting him glances, though the Knight did not move. He was perhaps the only would who could bring the Chief back from his thoughts without fear of death.

The Chief let out a long sigh, which broke the silence, and all who had heard straightened up. The Chief unsheathed his sword, the stars and moon tinkling off the blade.

“A son of Bloodwall has returned!” he declared, his voice echoing through the castle and the walls.

The soldiers, guards, Knights, and Eldermen raised their weapons, the sound of their weapons being drawn echoed through the town. Even the adults shivered when they heard the sound. “We greet our son of Bloodwall!” The chant awoke the few adults who had still been asleep, and the entirety of Bloodwall listened.

“He did not die beyond the wall, but we have returned him to our Bloodwall.”

“We greet our son of Bloodwall!” The chant came again. It was to awaken the dead spirit which lay within the body, to bring him back to life if he was merely in the process of dying.

“His journey was treacherous, and he had lost his life, but he did not lose his way.” The Chief’s voice was even and clear, leading them to their chant.

“We greet our son of Bloodwall!”

“There was no dishonour from our son.” Chief Bloodwall gripped his blade tighter. “He did not run when we needed him most,” he said, referring to the times that the Knight had gone beyond the wall to slay the beasts, “and he did not show us shame in his defeat.”

“We greet our son of Bloodwall!”

“Would any deny his rites?” Jax Bloodwall looked out to the awaiting warriors, his eyes deep and cold. If anyone wanted to, they could, even if the Chief would want to slay them down, this was part of the rite too, and the Chief would be unable to stop them.

He waited a moment, his eyes falling to the Eldermen. The Eldermen remained silent. They could have used this chance to undermine the Chief, but they knew better than to start a fight here, even if this was the best chance they had.

“Sir Anthony, Knight of Bloodwall.” The Chief said his name, and the others repeated it for all to hear the dead they were sending off. “We grieve our son of Bloodwall.”

“We grieve our son of Bloodwall.” The chant was quieter now, spoken in a hushed grief. With the loss of a Knight, the Bloodwall was in ever greater danger, and that was a detriment to all the residents here, even the Eldermen who wished for greater power.

The Chief swung his sword so that it was now above the pyre and the dead body, giving the signal for the various people to begin burning the body. The fire rushed to life, and the heat soon began to sweep through the courtyard. The crackling fire cut through the silence, and all those who could see the light, watched the flames. Even from the area below, they could see the light flickering against the wall.

“A Knight died, mother?” Minnie asked her mother from one of the many homes within the town.

“That’s right,” her mother said, brushing her child’s hair.

“A Knight of Bloodwall?” she asked, looking up to her mother’s face.

“That’s right.” Her mother frowned, brushing the girl’s face.

“How?”

The mother remained silent, looking down. She could not find the words. “Let’s go to sleep, my dear.” She kissed her daughter’s forehead.

The children here had never seen or heard of this funeral rite, as they hadn’t been born to see the last. They had grown up believing that the Knights of Bloodwall were immortal, that they could slay the countless beasts beyond the wall, and none within the civilised lands could match them.

It was on this day that a crack had appeared on the Bloodwall, and everyone waited to see how it would be dealt with. Would the Chief leave the crack as is? Or would he heal the crack with the Oath of another Knight.

“Will Sir Oliver return?” Minnie asked. She was only a toddler when the Chief’s first son had left, but she had heard that he was a powerful Knight, and that he’d be the greatest once he returned.

“We can only pray.”

The fire continued to rage and soon the flames licked across the body. Chief Bloodwall stared into the fire, gritting his teeth. He dared not to show anyone a moment of weakness, remaining tall and proud so they could rely on him. If he were to crumble, then what would happen to Bloodwall?

He raised a hand and clenched his fist, dismissing the soldiers and guards. They filed out orderly, none daring to utter even a word. Once they had left, the Chief motioned with his head, dismissing the Eldermen and their Knights.

“Bring me a bottle,” Jax said to Ozcar.

The Knight bowed his head and turned on his heel, returning with a bottle of whiskey. The Chief took it and then uncorked it, spilling the alcohol all over the fire, letting it rage a little harder. Once the fire died, and the Knight had turned into ash, leaving behind only bits of pieces of his armour and his weapon, the Chief scooped the ashes into the bottle. He corked it and then dug a small area near the wall placing the bottle into the hole, and then he covered it.

“Sleep,” the Chief said to his Knights. “We hunt at noon.”

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