"All right you louts! I want everyone to be in top shape!" Horace paced the length of the church back and forth, his hands behind his back as he eyed the rows of fellow Cutthroats that stood side by side along the aisles. "You know how important this is to us. And especially to Narrita. Pierce was one of our own, so it's only fair that we give the best ceremony us Cutthroats can muster! Do I make myself clear?"

All of the men that had gathered bobbed their heads in acknowledgement and all mumbled some variation of 'yes sir.'"

"Good. Now, get out of formation and start tidying this place up. We can't hold a ceremony for one of our own in a place that's in this condition!" Horace spread his arms apart, shaking his head in dismay as he looked at the crumbling building. Half of the seats had been smashed to bits while the remaining benches contained sharp protrusions that made sitting on them hazardous.

The altar at the center of the church's front was still intact, albeit smothered in cobwebs and dust. Only a fraction of the stain glass windows remained. The largest and most elaborate of the glasswork, a mosaic of a sun symbol, remained together. A beam of yellow light pierced through the material and lit up the altar, making its imperfections all the more noticeable.

"I'm not asking you fellas to make it look like what you'd see up over by the Governor's district. Just make it look more presentable." Horace walked towards the front exit of the church, kicking a jagged piece of wood to the side and underneath one of the church seats. "One wrong step and we might be hosting a second ceremony here!"

The other Cutthroats mumbled underneath their breath as they continued with their orders. Horace stood towards the front of the church, his arms crossed in front of his chest as he watched his fellow gang members tackle the wide assortment of tasks. "The faster you fellas work, the sooner we can get outta here and start hunting down those responsible."

"Aye!" the men blurted out. They went back to their cleaning duty as Horace slowly walked around the scene, surveying his mean. He then lifted up a long piece of debris that blocked the staircase to the altar's platform. With the hefty piece of wood in his hands, he made his way towards the church's front doors. As he pushed on it with the side of his shoulder, the door flung open, not from his own effort but Narrita. She stood in front of him, holding the door wide open while dried tears sparkled on the skin beneath her eyes.

"Horace..." the leader said quietly.

"You figured out what you want to do with the body?"

"Yes,” she replied weakly.

"All right. We burnin' or buryin' him?"

"Neither."

"What?" Horace said astounded. "What's your plan then? Eating him?"

The palm of Narrita's hand flew across Horace's face, making a boisterous smack. The man shook his head and blinked a few times before taking one of hands and rubbing the spot where he had been hit.

"I can't believe you would even suggest that!"

"Then what are we going to do with him if we're not gonna burn or bury him? Send him off to see? You know how much he hated water!"

"That's why the thought didn't even cross my mind you sod! No, I had something else planned." Narrita looked down. She kept something hidden behind her back. "But... it's risky."

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Horace remained confused. "I don't have a clue what you got planned, Narrita. Trying to bury him on some private grounds or something?"

"You're going to think I'm crazy for even suggesting it."

"Just tell me."

The Cutthroat leader sighed. "Remember the time we headed over down by the marsh?"

Horace slowly nodded his head. "Oh yeah, I remember that. Nothing there but that one shack hidden by those big, curvy trees. And a whole lot of nasty little bugs."

"And you remember how some of the fellas had gotten real scared about heading in that direction because of all the rumors about who owned it?"

"Yup. Of course I do. Some of the men didn't want to even come near it. Had to stick with just the few that were brave enough to come along. Even then, they had the jitters and wouldn't go inside the place."

"Exactly. And when we got there, no one was inside."

"What a stroke of luck that was I'd say." Horace slowly let down the chunk of wood he was hauling propped it against the door, keeping it wide open. "All of the crazy stuff that they had stashed away in there. Weird bones. All sorts of stuff crammed inside jars. And don’t get me started on the smell. The scent was worse than the marsh!"

"Nothing but junk. We only managed to come out with that small medal stashed away in the drawer over by the bed."

"Of course. What a waste of time that was. But what does any of that have to do with Pierce?"

Narrita paused. She looked to the side, avoiding eye contact with her fellow Cutthroat.

"Don't tell me that you actually believe all those wild stories!" Horace struggled to keep a smile from forming on his face. "You really think all those crazy beggars know what they're talking about? They live out in the streets because they ain't all there in the head!"

"But what if what they say is fact?" Narrita replied. Her eyes were wide open and filled with hope. "It's rumored that there's a witch out there than can bring the dead back to life! If it's true, maybe we can get her to work her magic on Pierce!"

"Nah, Narrita. Can't be. You know there's no bringing back the dead, Narrita. I don't believe that someone can undo death with some magic spell or potions." He waved one hand in front of Narrita's face. "You're starting to sound like one of those crazy people that hang out at the tavern and start mumbling to themselves. Talking about dark magic and all sorts of sick rituals."

"But Horace!" The leader grabbed the man's wrist and pulled it closer to her. "Even if the chances are slim, it's better than nothing! We have to at least try!"

"Let's say this witch is real, all right? How do you know if she'll even help us out in the first place? We broke into her home, remember? Took her stuff and left the place a mess."

"No one was in there at the time. She probably doesn't know that we were the ones that looted her place. Besides, we can formulate a plan on our way there. For now, we've got a lead on something that could undo what happened. Don't you at least want to go ask?" Narrita's lips trembled while the rest of her body shook. She looked into Horace's eyes, carrying an expression of both hope and sorrow. "Pierce would have taken the trip if the same thing had happened to you."

With a groan, Horace tilted his head back, letting his eyes roll all the way around. "Oh no. I don't want to go through that marsh again. You know how many thrickle hornets I got stung by on my way there?"

"I know. I can see some of the scars still on your arm. But if we do something to Pierce's body without even trying, I don't know how I'd be able to live with myself."

"You're really serious about this idea, aren't ya?"

"I am. We... we have to give it a try, Horace. At least find out if it is possible."

The bulky man turned around and watched the other Cutthroats continue tending to their tasks. "When are we leaving?"

"As soon as possible. I was thinking we'd bring just one more along. You know, in case something goes wrong. Besides, I doubt the entire gang will want to head back out to the marsh anyway."

"I guess that could work. While we're heading out, the rest of the gang can make sure the place is in good shape in case this crazy plan of yours fails."

"For once, I hope our gang’s hard work will be in vain. Hopefully this church will be back in its old, abandoned shape by the time we actually have to perform a ceremony."

Horace shook his head. "Don't get your hopes up too much, Narrita. It's a wild shot. I'm not agreeing to do it because I actually think it'll work. I'm going along for you. To put your mind at ease once and for all."

Narrita stepped forward and put her arms around Horace as much as he could. "Thank you. You know... deep down... I'm not expecting any results either. But this nagging feeling in the back of my mind won't let me say goodbye to him just yet."