Josephine II

The Catacombs of the Hirradeg were cold and dusty, as expected of what ultimately were dirt caves. The canopy that lay above them was made of packed dirt and the thick rooted trees that oversaw the burial ground. The air was thick and warm, packed with dust and the breath of the attendees, and whereas almost all were struggling to breath without silently coughing, the Leafsingers that had carried the body of lord Lumor stood firmly silent around him.

The chestnut casket was adorned with the carvings of the house heraldry such as small fox heads and fig branches, although the finish of the work was questionable. The sharpness of the woodworking was inconsistent, which was surprising even for the relatively modest northern nobles to employ such cheap craftsmanship. Everything from the pale Heatwood flowers haphazardly thrown around Lord Lumor's body, to the speed at which the ceremony had begun as soon as the king arrived made it all look suspiciously rushed, and the presumed responsible of such hastiness was standing right in front of them.

Goniel Einn stood in front of the whole retinue sombrely watching over his father’s dead corpse, his tall frame dwarfing his wife who laid at his side. He certainly was an imposing man, tall and broad shouldered with a balding scalp, all contributing to an air of authority that emanated from him. And with his proclamation looming over the horizon, the soon to be duke would need to quickly consolidate his rule, as the lands north of the Lethanien river had little mercy for weak rulers.

One of the Leafsingers stepped forward, standing in the middle of the semicircle that had formed around the casket and the Einns. The man was thin and scrawny looking, and he wore the same dusty brown robe that the rest of his comrades. He then raised his head and proceeded to exclaim: “The winds of fate have gathered us here to mourn over the passing of the soul of the one known as Lumor Einn. We as children of Mother Nadra must thank her for the gift that was his life, and as such, we must give her what is owed, for what comes of root and soil, to it must return”.

The man then made a gesture with his hand to the other Leafsingers, who proceeded to lift the cover of the casket. Sammuel who was standing parallel to his brother, kissed his father's forehead, and then proceeded to back off while maintaining a longing stare. He certainly seemed more sorrowful than his brother, presumably due to his young age, tough it seemed there was more to it than it appeared.

After the casket was sealed shut, the Leafsingers lifted it and began to put it inside a hole that had been dug at the side of one of the dirt walls, all while the one in the middle singed chants in the ancient northern tongue.

It all unsettled her in a way she had not experienced before. She couldn't decide if it was due to the weird ancient chant or the mere fact that she was being made to witness these pagan practices. And it seemed that some of the other lords shared her sentiment, like the duke of Hedgefort, whose troubled gaze was as glaring as the warts near his neck. Her mind though, wondered about the effect of such visible disgust might have on the poor Einns that, as pagan as their customs may be, still had just lost a loved one.

The Leafsingers had finished filling the burial hole with dirt, after which they placed a wooden plaque that covered its frame. The chanting stopped suddenly, and the man in the middle continued to speak. “What was owed has been returned, dear Mother. We pray to you to guard and guide this soul through the journey that awaits it, as his fate now lays in your hands. We thank you for reminding us who are left behind, that your gift is as sacred as it is brief, for no one knows when our bodies might rejoin you in the gardens of Galios”

After the somber statement, they proceeded to leave the chamber hastily, signalling the end of the ritual. Even when they were gone, the leafsingers still left an unnerving sensation on her. All about them was so dirty and rugged, whereas the followers of the Illuvian faith built beautiful temples out of marble and stone, their places of worship were made out of dirt and leaves. It was all so primal, so unrefined, like nothing she had seen before.

But after everyone gave their final respects, they began the journey back to the keep in silence. This time she had more time to look at her surroundings along the dirt trail.

If Josephine hadn't been told beforehand by her brother that the Hirradeg was the ancient burial ground of High Peak, she could have easily mistaken it for a common patch of wild forest, for it was teeming with trees and overgrown weeds everywhere. The only things that appeared to be manmade where the modest wood huts of the Leafsingers, who were situated near the shore of a small pond from which a thick fog emanated.

As she walked down the winding path, she could also feel little silhouettes staring at her from the shadows casted by the thick leaved ceiling of trees around her. The little white pearls peered from between the branches, scanning the foreign guests that were traversing their land.

The column suddenly stalled for a second, followed by a high-pitched scream coming from the front. Josephine raised her ankles, trying to see between the heads of the lords in front of her. The screaming seemed to come from a woman, although which one was unknown to her. Her brother stepped to the side of the collum into the weeds of the forest in order to get a better look. The prince glanced quickly and smirked, after which he retook his place besides his sister. His peculiar reaction spiked her curiosity even further, so she leaned over in the direction of his ear.

Stolen novel; please report.

“What are you so merry about now?” she whispered. “How could I not be sister? It seems that the lady of Greenriver has made herself a new furry acquaintance” he replied jovially. The crowd had already erupted in a swarm of curious whispers, all eyes glancing forward like a bunch of hungry pigeons looking at crumbs. “What are you on about Degon, just tell me what in the lords name is happening”.

Suddenly, the collum began to slowly split, as if they were making way for something. Degon also stepped to the side and yanked her with him. “Watch the ground and you’ll see”. Just as Josephine’s eyes glanced back to path, a small orange figure rushed past them.

“What was that?” she muttered. “Must have been a red fox, I have been noticing them watching from the sides of the path since we first entered” her brother observed.

But suddenly, the sound of nearing chatter made them all glance again to the front. Then came lady Maise Brunne of Greenriver followed by one of her many servants who was carrying a dagger, her face red with rage. “Somebody, slay that nether spawn for once! It stole my scarf!” she shrieked. The tall lanky woman continued to pace backwards and to yell her demands, but she was suddenly stopped by a deep voice that came from the back. “No blood shall be spilled in these sacred grounds today”.

The column fell back into silence as lady Maise stopped on her track. From the back came Gonniel Einn, who was visibly bothered by the recent commotion, behind him followed the same tall knight who greeted them at the entrance of the keep, this time he was grabbing a fox from the neck. The beast held a tight grip to the dark green silk scarf, its delicate details now covered by dirt. The knight swiftly yanked the scarf from the beast, and proceeded to give it to the servant. “Slay that beast at once Sir, for it soiled my fine eastern fabric!” The woman spat blinded with rage. But the knight’s ears went deaf to her demands and threw the fox back into the bushes, after which the now frightened animal scattered back into the shadows.

The lady stared with disbelief at the scatheless departure of the creature, after which he glanced at the expressionless man.

"Who do you think you are to ignore me you brute? I’ll have you stripped of your knighthood and sent to rot to an outpost in the middle of the sea!”

Despite the fiery threats of the woman, the knight retook his position behind the Einns that now faced the Lady and her following.

“As I said my Lady, I will not allow any type of bloodshed atop these grounds, animals included” Gonniel replied, causing Lady Maise to step back and breathe deeply.

“Then when we return inside, I shall have the head of the other beast that cowers behind you” she intoned with her glaring gaze aimed at the iron clad warrior.

“It seems you are overestimating your welcome, lady Brunne, I suggest that you control your temper, for I would hate to sully the day of my father's passing with a tragedy”.

Things were escalating quickly, as both parties seemed prone to strike at each other's throats at any moment, but then all of a sudden, another man leaped forward from the crowd and positioned himself between them.

“Forgive my lady wife, Lord Gonniel, she isn't thinking with reason” the man swiftly uttered. He wore fine green garments with a silver cloak wrapped around him, covering all but his head, who sported long greyish brown locks with signs of balding at the top. She then realised that he could be non-other than Sean Gael, the Marquis of Greenriver, and one of the most frugal men in the whole kingdom. She had only heard rumours of his reputation as a savvy businessman and skilled diplomat, skills that proved indispensable for those in charge of one of the two border provinces at the east of the kingdom.

"You see, my beloved had a rough ride through the forest road, and this unfortunate incident did nothing but break my dear’s sanity. I implore you that you find in your heart the wisdom to forgive us” the man continued, after which he bowed, the Lady following his step.

“Forgive me, my lord, he is right. I let the whispers of the vicious get the better of my sanity” the woman shamefully uttered, now returning to her senses.

“Your wife is lucky to have such an eloquent confidant at her side, Sean Gael. This shameful mishap shall be forgotten in the past, for we do not want to disturb the spirits on this day of mourning” Gonniel finalized, after which he turned his head to the king

“We are sorry to have bothered your majesty with these petty fights, we implore that you forgive us my liege”.

Her father, who had been witnessing the whole ordeal with a look of both amazement and fatigue, stepped forward and spoke,

"Do not fret my lords, for we as followers of the lord are as prone to failure as any other. What matters is that this altercation did not devolve into savagery. Now let's return inside before the morning air maddens another one of us”.

This marked the end of the stand-off, as the cohesion of the column returned and so they continued towards the gates.

“What a strange lot these two” she whispered to her brother.

“Quite so, the woman looked like she was going to swallow up that knight with just her gaze. It isn't surprising tho, most of the fellows here are not accustomed to breathing air that is not brimming with berassian perfumes, surely one would snap sooner or later”

“Says the dashing rouge prince whose farthest incursion into the wilderness has been to the flower gardens of the royal palace” she remarked cheekily, her brother retuned a sore look to her just as they were reaching the wooden gates to the keep.