Just as Pascal had warned, Kaede stood the next day as part of the congregation that waited outside Nordkreuz's cathedral. The group had over three dozen individuals, who stood evenly spaced in two rows at the top of the stone stairs. They included not just King Leopold, Princess Sylviane, and the generals who served directly under the late Marshal, but also his majordomo, his chaplain, and several members of his personal staff who avoided the ambush that took his life.

What quickly became obvious was that the Marshal did not seem to have any personal friends outside of his work, as every attendee was either a member of his household or a state official. Nor was there anyone from the estranged family from Pascal's mother's side.

The group watched as a long column of soldiers marched down Nordkreuz's main street. They were led by Colonel Albrecht von Bittenfeld and his elite Black Lancers Knights Phantom atop their armored gryphon mounts. A wagon carrying the embalmed body of the late Marshal came next, wrapped in the black dragon banner of Weichsel and adorned with white flowers. The wagon was followed by the rest of the Black Lancers as well as several squads of the King's Black Eagles who acted as the honor guard.

The entire city fell under a solemn atmosphere as soldiers from the army stood shoulder to shoulder across both sides of the main street. The sidewalks were packed as it seemed like the entire populace of Nordkreuz had gathered to pay their respects. Entire formations of officers also stood in the plaza in front of the cathedral. Kaede estimated that the number of people in attendance numbered over ten thousand.

The familiar glanced towards her master, who stood between the King and the Princess, roughly a dozen paces away from her. Pascal did his best to maintain a steadfast countenance, but his eyes were glistening with a sentimental longing as they stayed fixated on his late father's casket.

"<Your father really meant a great deal to many people.>" Kaede reflected over their familiar bond as she sought to comfort him.

"<He was a hero of Weichsel, the most accomplished marshal since Hermann von Mittermeyer.>" Pascal's voice responded stiffly.

Not just a hero either, Kaede thought back to the arcane forge and the public bathhouses that the Marshal all had a hand in erecting. It was clear that despite being a newly-minted, first generation aristocrat with no hereditary wealth, the Marshal prioritized the development of his people and fief.

"<I wish I could have met him.>"

"<He would have liked you too.>" Pascal stated with certainty.

Kaede watched as eight members of the Knights Phantom dismounted to pull the marshal's casket from the wagon. They lifted it upon their shoulders before carrying the mahogany funeral box up the short stairs and through the cathedral's double doors. The congregation followed the knights in, while behind them came several hundred military officers and other attendees.

The marshal's casket was placed before the altar while Kaede filed into the space before a second row bench. Her eyes remained glued to Pascal who stood stiffly in the first row besides Princess Sylviane and other dignitaries. They waited for the next twenty minutes as the available space in the modest cathedral -- which had clearly been built when Nordkreuz was smaller and less important -- was filled to capacity.

Then, as the last of the milling footsteps behind them fell silent, the clergy of Nordkreuz stepped forth and began their religious service.

"Faithful men and women of Weichsel, we gather here today to pay homage..."

The Bishop of Nordkreuz blessed the Marshal's soul and spoke of how Karl August von Moltewitz carried out the Holy Father's will in defense of the Trinitian realm. He praised how the late landgrave lived a life of modesty, ever loyal to the King while displaying charity and generosity towards the city's residents...

It was a sermon largely spoken in Imperial, a hybrid language which had once been created by the Inner Sea Imperium to administer their northern provinces and vassal states. Today, even though Weichsel no longer saw the Holy Imperium as its suzerain, it kept Imperial as its official language which made it Pascal's mother tongue -- and Kaede could perfectly understand it thanks to their familiar bond.

Parts of the sermon, however, remained difficult for Kaede to digest, as the bishop quoted directly from the Holy Scriptures. The religious texts of the Trinitian Church were written strictly in ancient Draconic, the same language that Pascal memorized his mnemonic spellwords in. However, while Pascal knew many words in Draconic, he was hardly 'fluent'. The result was a smattering of comprehension in between a string of gibberish that made Kaede only able to guess at the true meaning.

In hindsight, it wasn't really surprising for the Church to use the language of the dragonlords. After all, the services were conducted beneath the Cross of Holy Hyperion -- a sculpture of the dragonlord in the midst of casting 'the spell that saved the world'.

It's like seeing a Catholic Church that worshipped aliens, the familiar couldn't help reflect on how otherworldly the whole experience felt.

For tens of minutes the sermon continued. It also reminded Kaede why she never enjoyed church services: there's just too much moralistic preaching.

She might have always been a spiritualist who took great interest in the moral virtues taught by religion. But that didn't mean that she enjoyed being preached to -- especially when those same sermons often felt detached from reality, from the moral dilemmas that real people in real stories had to face.

So instead of focusing her attention on the bishop's words, Kaede kept the edge of her gaze trained on Pascal's side and back. She could see the tension in his shoulders as he stood stiff as a board. His fingers reached up on several occasions as he pretended to scratch his head before touching the corner of his eye to wipe a tear from it.

Her master was clearly in mourning, just as he had been that night on top of the dormitory keep. However this time he could not display it openly. He had no choice but to suppress and stifle his grief before hundreds of attendees.

It took well over a half hour before the sermon finished. By the time the bishop stepped off the altar, he beckoned Pascal to come forth. The young landgrave strode up to the podium, where he would offer a final eulogy.

For a minute Pascal stood silent behind the altar with parchment in hand. He opened and closed his lips several times but no words came out. Tears brimmed in his glistening eyes as he looked upon the casket with a nostalgic longing that he clearly had trouble turning into words. Then, with a stiff voice that almost cracked under the weight of his emotions, he began to speak out in a magically amplified voice:

"Most of you knew my father as the Marshal of Weichsel. He was courageous in battle, inspiring in command, visionary in strategy, and considerate as a leader. But I knew that many of you also thought my father seemed devoid of a personal life. After all, he had lost his wife before becoming the Landgrave of Nordkreuz yet never remarried. He dined with his staff regularly yet never seemed to meet any friends outside of work. He had a son at home -- a brat spoiled by servants and a lack of parental supervision," Pascal spoke of himself which elicited a wave of chuckling from the crowd. "Yet he spent most of his days in the King's Black Dragon Castle and the capital Königsfeld's army base, rarely returning to his home to celebrate with his small family.

"Well, I am here today to tell you that you could not be more wrong..." Pascal stated before his voice cracked again.

He paused for another moment as his shoulders trembled faintly. He had to take a deep breath to regain his composure before continuing on.

"My father was many things to me -- an inspiring role model, a wise teacher, a set of expectations that I constantly strove for yet never seemed to quite match. But he was first and foremost a loving parent, whose messages for me would arrive like clockwork no matter how busy or how tired or how frustrated he became. There was never a week when he did not stay up to date with my activities, or comment on my studies. He might have been away from me by several hundred kilopaces, but his spirit has always remained with me.

"However, as I stand before you here today, I realize the true significance of my father's life." The young lord voiced. "He was not just a father to me, but a father to an entire generation of soldiers and officers whom he led in the King's name. And they, like me, have learned to appreciate his deeds."

Pascal took another break as he blinked repeatedly to clear his gaze. His turquoise eyes were glistening yet he struggled to pretend that wasn't the case. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before reopening them. His brows furrowed as he continued his prepared speech as though everything was fine with him:

"My father may be gone now, but his legacy from a lifetime of dedicated service remains. Under his tutelage, countless young officers have stepped into the shoes of those who came before them, ready to protect our realm and serve the interests of our King. Under his patronage, many brilliant cadets arose from struggling families, who would have otherwise lacked the circumstances to send their children to proper schooling. Under his guidance, the army has refined its organization and doctrine to score dozens of victories, proving our mettle even as our kingdom is caught between the geopolitical ambitions of giants. Under his vision, Weichsel has almost doubled its size over the past two decades, with new allies to support us so we no longer must bend knees to appease the decadent Imperator on his distant throne."

"Thus I ask you to remember my father, not merely as the workaholic marshal who never seemed to go home, but as a diligent father to his men and a faithful servant of his King. Remember him for his accomplishments, his policies, and his legacy which remains. For..."

Pascal's voice cracked again but he did not relent this time. His fists clenched hard as he steeled his resolve to keep going.

"--For as long as his vision lives on with us, his spirit will endure and always remain with us -- to guide, to inspire, to watch over us and the future of our state."

I didn't think Pascal could write something so touching, Kaede smiled earnestly as she watched him take another deep breath. His shoulders relaxed a little at last as he seemed finished, not just with the speech, but also with a part of his grief.

"<That was well done,>" she said over their private telepathy. "<It was a beautiful speech.>"

"<Thank you.>" He replied simply. "<Though I am not finished yet.>"

It wasn't until later that Kaede found out that Pascal had asked the Princess for help in writing it. Or that he had also run the draft past King Leopold at Sylviane's recommendation, to ensure that the monarch would not see it as trying to impose foreign policy by using his father's legacy.

"As a final tribute," the young lord continued after a prolonged pause. "I would like to thank His Majesty the King for approving and funding the last proposal that my father drafted on behalf of Weichsel. I am glad to announce that the Mittermeyer and Moltewitz Boarding School will begin construction in Königsfeld next spring. Once completed, this institution will admit up to 200 bright and talented adolescents of ages 8 to 12 each year, and offer them up to 6 years of education with free boarding, food, and tuition. Admissions will be based strictly on examination, and graduates will be given a position in Weichsel's government, army, or a scholarship to continue their studies at the Königsfeld Academy of Magic."

Kaede immediately recognized the proposal as one that she and Gerard helped Pascal draft back at the Alisia Academy. They had agreed that while Weichsel could not afford universal public education, they could at least begin establishing free schooling for those with potential. The idea was to begin with one school and scale up as the program accumulated experience and results.

She could also hear the quiet murmuring of the crowd behind her. Many voices were in clear approval, though many others also cast their doubts. It was probably one of the reasons why Pascal decided to announce it under his father's name, rather than take personal credit for the idea. However, the other reason was purely one of sentimentality...

It's quite a fitting tribute, she thought approvingly. To have his father remembered as not just a hero of battlefield valor, but also one for fostering the next generation.

"It is my father's final wish that just like Marshal Mittemeyer and himself, the commoners and yeomen of Weichsel may receive the opportunity to prove and elevate themselves in the service of our country and our king!" Pascal declared, which prompted Kaede to smile again.

With his eulogy finished, the new landgrave's eyes scanned across the audience before falling back upon his father's casket and the black dragon banner that wrapped around it.

"Hail the Black Dragon!" Pascal shouted as he snapped his boots together, stood perfectly straight, and raised his hand to his head in a military salute.

The gesture was followed by dozens, hundreds, everyone gathered not just inside, but also outside the cathedral's gates.

"Hail!"