“A dwarven fire is raging heat.

His foe is fallen at his feet.

The painful cries, the spirit stalls.

Of evil, when the hammer falls.”

Byleth and Nilvan sat with me around the fire. They let me finish the last part of the song, but they did not seem to appreciate my beautiful voice with their laughter.

The mood turned somber after a minute. And Nilvan who seemed oh so happy, frowned heavily and started to cry. Putting his face into his palms.

Byleth by his side, put a hand at his back and looked at the flames of the campfire with an iron hardened expression. Byleth and I knew each other. Not as brothers nor friends. But as comrades.

And more importantly, as dwarves.

We came from the earth, and we shall return to it. But until then, we shall drink and fight and sing.

I clenched my hands tight and bit my lips until I felt some hot liquid flow down from my lips. Tears started to flow from my eyes, and the sob I tried to stifle came out of my throat.

I came from the earth, and I shall return to it. But until then, I shall mourn the death of my sister. Of my own flesh and blood. And forever regret being the one who had to cut her down before she became a rotten ghoul.

Byleth and Nilvan disappeared, alongside the fire of the camp. And the only thing I was left with was an emptiness in my heart, and a smoking pipe which burned like a sun in my pocket.

I opened my eyes and saw the darkness of the carriage. The same carriage which held the well sleeping Dante. Who hadn’t truly slept for the last five days. And so, I remained unmoving.

He slept soundly in his mother’s lap, his chest rising and falling with rhythmic breaths. But the red marking around his arms, and the way his body seemed so frail and thin, told a different story all together.

Someone tapped my shoulder and I turned to see James. He nodded towards the exit of the carriage and made his way out. I quietly followed him out.

It was late at night, but even in the deep darkness, some people were still awake around the campfires. James and I walked together to a nearby one and made ourselves comfortable alongside the other people who sat.

“It's not enough that Dante has nightmares, you have them too now?” James asked, trying to sound teasing. But the dark rings around his eyes, and his sunken shoulders didn’t help.

I scoffed. “Did I say somethin’?”

“No, you just twitched here and there, and seemed… Sad.” James confessed switching his stare from me to the campfire.

I stared into the flames silently, trying to think about something to say. I started to realize something and frowned. “Ya were lookin’ at me while I was sleepin’? And there I thought that ya liked women.”

James chuckled and turned silent. I waited, having half a brain not too sleepy to understand that he brought me out to talk about something.

“I didn’t thank you for helping me reach Charlotte that day.” He said, clenching his hands together. “And I didn’t apologize for punching you for… Throwing my son into the air…” He let his hands relax, and passed one of them through his brown hair. “It’s been on my mind, that's all. So thank you, and… I’m sorry.” He finished, and turned to look at me.

“Nae, ya were right for givin’ me that punch.” I said, recalling the sting on my cheek. “But there’s nothin’ ta thank for.” I ran my hand through my beard, feeling the two conjoined rings on my beard. Remembering their meaning.

sorrow and Grief.

“If only I had kept my guard up… Nae, if I insisted of stayin’ with ‘er from the beginnin’, maybe…” I stopped myself from talking any further and took a deep breath.

“It wasn’t your fault.” James put his hand on my shoulder.

I stared into the flames. “Aye.” I said, remembering the last fight, feeling the flames in my chest rise. I wanted to scream. I wanted to conjure a warhammer and start smashing around.

I could have done better. I could have saved her. I promised to be by her side, and yet there I was near a campfire without her.

The smoking pipe seemed to find the right moment to poke me in the thigh through the fabric. And for a moment I wanted to throw it into the flames.

“It wasn’t your fault.” James repeated that same thing he had been saying to his son for the last couple of days. “There was nothing we could do.”

“Aye.” I replied simply and kept staring into the flames. I could physically feel James’ exhaustion. We all were, except for the elf bastard. Five days of moving, five days of trying to hold each other up, five days of trying to hold ourselves up.

“I need yer dwarven spirits James.”

James looked at me with a worried expression and I grumbled. “Not to drink meself to death, couldn’t do that with a small amount either way. Need it for tha funeral.”

“The funeral?”

“Aye, the dwarven kind. For Amara.”

James stayed silent for a moment. He stood up and walked to the carriage, telling me to wait. And when he returned he had the dwarven spirits in his hand.

“Koll, could I ask for a favor?” He asked as he gave me the bottle. I looked up at him.

“Out with it.”

James smiled a bit. “Could we come too? To the funeral?” His smile lacked the usual brightness it had, instead it seemed to be near collapse.

In truth. I wanted to do it on my own. To say what I wanted to say. Maybe to even shed a tear. James saw my hesitation, and he nodded slowly.

Stop sleeping and wake up Koll.

“Ya can come.” I receded. And in the exact same moment I wanted to punch myself in the face. James on the other hand had his mouth open wordlessly.

“Y-You don’t ha-”

“I said, yes. Don’t make me repeat meself James.”

James’ smile returned and he sat beside me. “Do we need anything more for the funeral?”

“Do ya have any trinkets from Amara? Anythin’ connected to ‘er?”

“...We left most of our things at home.”

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

I grumbled. “I only have tha pipe she gave me.” I clenched my fists.

We don’t even have enough to make a funeral.

“Its alright, ya can still come… And Charlotte and… Tha brat too, if ‘e wants.”

“I think it would really help him. Thank you, Koll.”

I grunted again. Not really knowing what to say. I hadn't even thought about telling Dante about it, but thinking back on it, he had as much right as I had to be there with me.

As did James and Charlotte.

“What about Aubre-”

“Nae.”

“Bu-”

“Nae.”

“...Okay, so what about Freda, and Eleanor? They were as close to her as you…” I felt my teeth grind against each other and James stopped for a second. “...As Charlotte was to her?”

I breathed out. “Fine. Fine. Bring that…” I looked back towards the carriages. “That pansy elf with ya, like I care.” I whispered.

James nodded and relaxed. I did the same, feeling as if all the hours that I had already used to sleep tonight were used up. “Ya bastard.”

James chuckled, making me smile a bit.

We later returned to our carriages and slept. The next day James told everyone about the funeral, and we, meaning I, decided to hold the funeral at dusk, when the carriages stopped.

All of us gathered together outside of the carriages and outside of the camps that were being built for the night.

Making a big hole, or a tombstone on a grassy field in the middle of nowhere wouldn’t be necessary. So, reluctantly, I made a small hole in the ground, poured a bit of the meager dwarven spirits. And took the smoking pipe out of my pocket. Looking at it, it was so small and fragile. I felt as if I was holding a babe in my hand.

Someone took a long deep sigh and I felt a vein in my forehead thump.

“Do ya have somethin’ ta say?” I asked, trying to keep my tone even.

“The dwarven royals had never needed tokens in their funerals. They have too many of them for them to ever be truly valued as a funeral token.” Aubree said. “Instead, they tell something about the one who passed away as a token. Whether something sad or happy. If you don’t wish to let it go, you don’t need to.”

I did not know that. But I did not want him to know that I did not know that.

“Do I look to ya like a noble?” I turned around fully to stare at him, and saw that everyone, even his wife Freda were scornfully looking at him. Whilst he stared directly at me, not showing a care for anyone else.

“Don’t need to be one.” Aubree stopped looking at me and stepped forward, towards the small hole. “Though we did not speak much, you were a very close friend and mentor to my daughter. You made her enjoy her studies. You shall be remembered when we drink, laugh, and live.” Aubree gave his little speech in Dwarven catching me off guard. With the sentence as his last words he took a couple of steps back and waited solemnly.

Freda came forward hesitantly and took a moment to look at the small hole. She frowned, seeming conflicted. “You shall be remembered when we drink, laugh and live.” She said shortly, stepping back quickly and looking away from the hole, upwards, towards the setting sun.

Charlotte and James came each in their own turns. Charlotte thanked Amara for everything she had done for them. And apologized with a trembling voice about almost wrecking her shop after her first born baby was stillborn. Making Dante, who had deep dark circles around his eyes look up from the hole for the first time.

James gave a similar speech, putting a hand around Charlotte as she began to quietly sob.

Eleanor was next, giving Freda and Dante small glances. She opened her mouth a couple of times, frowned, clenched her fists, until tears started to run down her cheeks. “...I don’t want you to die…” She sobbed. Her small tears turned into rivers and she started to wipe her tears away with her arms.

I didn’t find it surprising that Charlotte and James brought her into a hug before Aubree. But I was surprised that neither Aubree nor Freda took even a single step to embrace her, even when the others did. Instead they simply chose to observe her, Freda looked at her gently. Aubree was cold and hard.

With Eleanor, it left only me and Dante. From the way his eyes locked onto the small hole in the ground I could tell he had a lot of things to say. But as entire minutes passed, I decided to take the mantle of the next in line.

Looking at the pipe, I remembered the first time I met her.

“...We first met after me last comrades, me only friends, died in the spiral mountain.” I took a moment to taste the words that came out of my mouth. They felt bitter, but sweet at the same time, flushing me with memories of banter around campfires… And death.

“I didn’t know what ta do at tha time. I only knew that others were dyin’ in some dark underground hall while I had me wounds treated by ya… And by the time I was ready ta go and give a good fight… One last fight… Tha civil war started and tha mountain was left…” The words started to come out faster and lighter as I started to remember how we silently shared our first drink on our last day near the mountain. My eyes started to sting and my vision turned slightly blurry.

“When we left to Okand. I was ready ta smash someone’s brain in. I wanted ta smash someone’s brain in. I… I remember after every scuffle with one of tha orc tribes, or after every ambush made by tha dark elves. I would come bruised and tattered. I always went first to tha fry. I always returned. Ta ya.” I remembered how she would always bicker about my dullheadnes.

“I wanted ta die. I wanted it all to stop. Tha rage. Tha sadness. Tha sleepless nights filled with tha screams.” I felt something warm and fluid roll down my cheek. “Ya offered me what ya had to offer, ya told me what harm it could do, I didn’t care but ya - ya did.” I stopped for a second feeling my throat squeeze.

“After our service, we parted and met again. I wish…”

That I didn’t meet you again.

I bit my tongue and kept silent.

No.

My vision blurred as tears started to stream and my throat felt choked as sobs slowly came out. “I should’ve died with ya. I promised That I’ll be with ya.” I sniffed, trying to control my sobs.

But they kept flowing. A decade of trying to hold it in. Of trying my best not to think. Of trying to forcibly move on. Came crashing down. “... I’m sorry…” I gently took the smoking pipe and pressed it into my heart. letting my mind gush with memories of my late sister. Of my comrades that gave up their life for me. Of anger, hate, and malice.

Of broken promises and lost futures.

I didn’t know for how long I was crying, but when I calmed down, I did know that the sun was at it’s dying breath. Taking a small sniff, My face got red hot. And knowing that everyone was watching me from behind didn’t make it easier.

But at the same time, I felt lighter. As if a burden that I never noticed was lifted off of me. Slowly I put the pipe in the hole and covered it.

Aye, I guess it’s time to stop sleeping Amara. Time to wake up.

I turned around and saw everyone standing behind me. Everyone that I never thought would be beside me. My heart warmed up, even to the sight of the pansy elf, who’s bored expression made me want to punch him.

Hard.

Very hard.

I scuffed and raised to my legs. “I wanted ta say this for a long time, and I bet I’m sayin’ this for both me and Amara. Fuck. You.” I looked him in the eyes and pointed at him with my pipe. Smiling a bit.

James and Charlotte smiled, Eleanor, who calmed down, seemed to hold a cold expression, but it was too methodical, her lips were too tightly pressed, holding the tiniest of smiles, unseen by her parents behind her.

Dante however looked like shit. “And you.” I pointed at him. “C’mon say what’s on yer heart brat.” I barked. Trying my best to lift everyone’s spirits.

Amara wouldn’t want us to be sad. I realized.

Dante looked at me and his eyes sunk even more. “... I don’t have any tears left…”

“Then scream! Shout!” I lifted my arms in the air.

All eyes were on him. He decided to look at the ground, and from it to his hands and to his arms. His red arms. He looked away and found himself looking at the small hole.

His expression turned deep melancholy. “I should have died instead of you.” His words brought dead calm and cold shook to every fiber in my body. “...This… This. Isn’t. Right. I shouldn’t be here, I should have died. I-”

James’ and Charlotte’s hands embraced him gently, Holding his hands, that slowly started to scratch his arms. He shook for a moment and stopped. Tears dripped silently from his eyes.

He didn’t sob.

He didn’t trash around.

He cried silently, letting the tears flow in their lonesome.

“Don’t hold it in brat. Let it out.”

He shook his head slowly in silence. “... It doesn't matter how much you tell me it wasn’t my fault… I… I could have done better. Trained harder.” Dante brought his fist to his heart. “...Why does it hurt so much…? Why does it feel so painful?”

While listening to him, I realized. The boy was still a boy. Amara and I thought him to be a monstrous prodigy. But he was still a boy. A boy that for the first time killed and lost some he loved.

Charlotte and James were already hugging him and comforting him. Eleanor stood right beside, like a statue, watchful. But I could see that she wanted to help.

I gently pulled her into a group hug with James, Charlotte, and Dante.

It was awkward.

And it didn’t seem to help the boy a lot. But it did seem to help him a little.

And that is what mattered.