48. Grief

Mercurius went to Wahatan, tears in his eyes, Nichomachus took over in the Portus of Peria, Mercurius saw the bloody figure, the man who started it all.

“Ah…” he said collapsing onto his bottom, “I should have come back to check, there was still so much more to say, so much more to do…”

Salutius was inconsolable, tears flowing out of his eyes. Zelra had tears in her eyes, a beautiful woman, a Hunur woman who had vengeance in her blood.

“Those fiends have my people as their slaves,” she whispered, “I will wage war on them always.”

“Always…” Mercurius repeated, “he was nothing to begin with, he now rules a realm spanning much of the continent. He annihilated several countries and left us in this state.”

Wahatan did not know him well, but they mourned his passing, the old man who had started it all. Throughout the southern deserts, all across Poltu, all across Moru and even in the new cities of Smyra and Hatun, tears were shed that the grandfather, the man who gave the first statue to the God of Trade had passed.

“Oh God of Trade, Mardonius was more than a friend, more than a brother in arms, if I was the first evangel, then he was… before the first.”

“Oh great citizens of Wahatan, you lay witness to a mighty soul and a mighty heart. Never forget his sacrifice, never forget his example!” The God of Trade said aloud, confusing most, but stunning many more.

“How can we?” Zelra said aloud in a reply.

The city was lined with mourners to witness the true majesty of the figure who have defended the city. Mercurius, Salutius and Zelra looked at the corpse of Mardonius with a mixture of regret and sadness. Masses of food and water were given to the spectators as they gawked at the figure being carried by the garrison through the streets. 100 Mendek soldiers had died, and an equal number of the garrison, two evangels one on each side now dead. Clearchus hardly had the emotional impact that Mardonius had. No one mourned for him, Mendek would not have vigils for him, men, women and children would not cry for him, he was dead now and forever and perhaps Mardonius would never truly die. The streets had flowers, some people even adorned their houses with their statue to the God of Trade, a memento to the man who had handed the first statue. The lore was not well known in Wahatan, but they knew enough to at least honour him.

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“The one before the first,” a man said, handing a small necklace to Mercurius.

“Keep it for yourself,” Mercurius said, “that’s what he would have wanted, I do not need it.”

Ethra appeared staring at the body of the man.

“You ok?” She said, consoling her man.

“I suppose he is like a father to me, the Republic should never forget him.”

“It's true, he is quite the figure,” Ethra said, “the man who gave the statue that began it all, that began Yerek, the Republic, and the God of Trade.”

“Without the God of Trade there would be no God of Farming and Water,” Mercurius whispered, “many things would be different without him. I thought he was just a lunatic when I first met him…” Mercurius said, wiping tears off his face.

Mercurius didn’t eat much, instead he sat by a fire near the dead body of a man he could say he loved like a father. Evening hit Wahatan, the morning spent mourning, and the afternoon having been a still affair.

“Should we burn him or bury him?” Mercurius whispered, “I do wonder.”

“A blacksmith should be burned, his ashes spread on a tree in the city. That’s what I think he wanted,” Salutius began, “then he can watch over us always.”

Members of the garrison, particularly some men that Mardonius had personally saved by fighting Clearchus were breaking down crying in front of his corpse. On their knees, crying from their eyes and whispering how they should have tried harder.

“I was right there…” one man whispered breathlessly, crying inconsolably.

“Do we have to burn him?” One of them said, “this man protected us from certain death!”

“He is the legend who saved this city!” A woman said, “he deserves a shrine at least.”

“A shrine, a tomb, a tree,” Mercurius said, “everyone deserves some dignity at death.”

“He was just a man like you and me,” Salutius said, “I know he didn’t want special treatment, but how can I agree to that, he was the one before the first.”

“The one before the first…” Mercurius repeated wistfully.

Men and women had damp eyes, crying for this martyr for their city.

“Mardonius will always be remembered by this city,” an old woman said, “even if we change religions which we won’t, we will remember that an old man stood on top of those walls and fought for us.”

“Thank you,” Mercurius said breathlessly, “that means a lot.”

Zelra could not control the tears but cooled her breathing. The wind bit at them a bit more, a sound to interrupt all the wailing and tears.

“Our child is coming along, they will never know their father, but either way I want them to know he fought like a hero. I will avenge him. No matter what. Mendek will pay for their invasions, for their trespassing.”

“Mendek will pay.”

Mercurius looked to the north, Hitara was ripe for subversion, the Republic could knock away at the foundations of Mendek rule and liberate the east. The only issue was, Clearchus’s army had survived and another army was soon to be raised. Robert lay in wait, stabilising the province and preventing the collapse of the Mendek regime. In the east greater dangers lay, an empire was beginning to crawl out of was once colloquially called the Raja states, a ferocious beast that could contend with the Republic’s teleportation and Mendek’s inhuman speed. While a great hero was cremated in the fire for all to see, an empire and faith of fire was coming back for vengeance.