Chapter 18: Unsung Requiem

[Marvos’s POV]

It began with the uncalled departure of lord Mikhail, from the tent where we anguishly waited for the result of the last battle. In a sudden motion, he stood up his face retorted with deep sadness. Then he turned to me with a solemn tone: “Things have moved accordingly, there would be only grieving left.”

For those words, he left me to my confusion. For a few nights, all I could be thinking was the casualties of such battles. It’s rare indeed to see an all mighty to save their emotions for the below.

Then this morning, Violet comes into my room, her dressing is much simpler than her usual self, still taking the dress from her war uniform but in a more “casual” expression manner.

Holding a singular purple hyacinth means someone dear to be passing away. In a light tone and despairing she said to me, I wish my ears would deceive me.

“Darwen has passed away. I was the only one who witnessed his final moment.” A sigh escapes her mouth. There isn’t a tear in her eyes, the dullness signaling the tire of such life being taken. However…

“I have no doubt, and condolence to yourself widow, Violet. I shall only ask one thing, why did your expression remain the very one of bystander.” I ridicule her, the woman that my best friend has traded his life over to protect.

All for begging of her denial or her anger, that was the least I wanted to see; the grief and wrath of the witch of Umbridge, rumored to be the most fearsome person in the kingdom.

And yet…

“Your majesty.” She addresses coldly with all of the mustering strength of a soldier who has overcome a long and gruesome war.

“I shall be the one who carries his legacy from far and wide, being breaking like some pathetic woman like you wish won’t help anything.” With a slight bow, she answers with drowsy behavior.

“Violet!” I shout in anger, thus making my rationality draft away in such motion. She can’t have such coldness even for Darwen, were the arguments between them all true.

“I am speaking here not as your king, but as Darwen’s companion. For the loss of his life has been taking a toll on you, I wish to understand and ease even for a bit of your pain.” I reach for her shoulder but quickly discard her hand’s flick.

“Then I would request for his funeral to be held at my own will, there shouldn’t be a ceremonial festival like the usual.” Violet looks at me, her eyes still cold and unmoving. What has happened with our friendship…ever since that battle, all things have changed drastically more than I can comprehend.

But as his wife, I wonder if Violet ever thought of loving…it would be too cruel to think of such coldness and apathy. I should have more trust and compassion toward her in the name of our friendship. Because of…

[“The three of us is team”;

“A mercenary, a witch, a prince”;

“There won’t be anyone to tear us apart”]

I sigh heavily, reminiscence of simpler days. “I approve of such wishes, there would be one thing I need from you,” I say with a tired tone, It would be pointless to prolong this grieving conversation.

“When the funeral takes place, I wish to participate for myself,” I say with a command-like tone, I hope this won’t push her too much.

“As you wish, your majesty.” Violet makes a bow from her and composes herself. Before leaving she whispers something, an apology perhaps. I can’t tell from her muttering.

As for now, I have to fulfill my royal duties in the war aftermath. The reports turning in from the adventures went to Violet’s meeting. They have suffered quite a large number of casualties as well. But a remark has been quite curious.

‘The shadow caused most of the deaths since it was skillful enough to take most of our silver-rank adventures. However, thank for the bloodstained sword of the kingdom, it has been defeated.’

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The regard to Darwen’s last moment, still he was being praised as the sword of the kingdom. I hope he should know full well how much he matters to us than he was ever credited himself to be. I regret how I couldn’t tell him myself.

A knock on the door, who would be…Somehow, I forgot how much I have worked already. It has already been evening. I should come to rest.

“I know I should rest already, but a few more moments are needed for such duties,” I say and open the door, surprisingly it is someone else entirely.

“May I enter, your majesty?” The knight captain, Pierre Rigolitaire; is someone serving a great importance of the kingdom, yet worked quite humbling in one simple request…being Darwen’s direct pupil.

I have overlooked his grief as well, well what serves his purpose today. If he would be like Violet to cheer me up with those lukewarm words then…I would have to listen as his lord.

“Come inside, knight captain.” Letting him inside, I make some tea in order to serve some secrecy without ordering the maids as it would leak some information for rumors.

Chamomile tea at night, would be a hope for good sleep for some. It would be our need, for now, he takes it so eagerly. I also enjoy it as well, besides some quick meals to glance over to satisfy my hunger for the sake of work. A gentle note of apple, and a few cubes of sugar.

“Tell me your report, knight captain. While I am opening for a discussion, talking about something blank or bleak would be wasting our time resting.” I say with a direct clause, despite sounding official, he should verbally converse with the sovereign whenever.

Saying for the sake of certainty, I dislike Pierre for his thoughtlessness. He resemble Darwen’s younger way in an uncanny amount, which was why I haven’t conversed with him for much.

On the court or elsewhere, things worth conversing with were always his favorite things. The lack of awareness was the light of the humorist, thus I strayed away in order for him not to receive such… criticisms.

“I have been conversing…his holiness. After the assignment, I doubt can agree with his holiness’s idealism…” Pierre starting things quite straightforward, so what was he conversing about them…maybe the weight should be Darwen’s death.

“Was you talking about Darwen’s death with his holiness?” I ask with a sigh.

“Strange, how would you know, your majesty?” In shock, he makes such a ridiculous face again. How predictable things have gone…it is a welcoming change over my staggering understanding of today’s event.

“His holiness has ways with his words. The divine speaks with less emotions than you supposed as a human.” I explain how lord Mikhail was devoid of understanding about emotions and only spoke about logic and calculation. Remembering about the old librarian, lord Mikhail studied them with books even.

“But his holiness regarded Teacher’s death with such apathy. I remember when Teacher was alive, he regarded his holiness with such empathy I thought.” Pierre says with tumbling confusion again, he seems to be regarding lord Mikhail with the same expression as a normal person should…but.

“Think it likes this. If you were an immortal Pierre, how many mortal men like Darwen would have died until your heart went cold? To his holiness, our lives are a blink of an eye thus mortality doesn’t mean much to him.” I explained lord Mikhail's thoughts, though a little pessimistic and apathetic.

I have always put lord Mikhail as something divine only to worship thus my behavior to him was in revere…I wonder when I died, would he remember me or like a small grimmance like Darwen himself?

[“Things have moved accordingly, there would be only grieving left.”]

“I understand now, then I shouldn’t misjudge his holiness like that.” Pierre scratched his head with unease. This nightly conversation should end, for now, I am getting sleepy.

“I am getting tired, do return to your quarter with haste. The moon is rising.” I say with the shadow of the vexing half-gibbous moon behind me. It has been almost a season since his holiness came to this kingdom. How fast does time fl-

“Oh, Miss Gaucher asked me to deliver this invitation for your majesty. Please excuse me.” Before I can react, a heavy slam signals the disappearance of Pierre. That little rascal, I can’t ever understand his impulsive behaviors.

The letter was about Darwen’s funeral, it shall happen five days from now…at Umbridge’s harbor. Well if she desires a send-off as such I can only comply, there would be fewer preparations.

[Five days later]

Arriving at Umbridge, I find the place staggering empty. Perhaps the citizens haven’t returned after the attack. Violet wanted a simple funeral thus I shall let her do her own devices.

Going to the harbor per the instruction, there seem to be a lot of people gathering, all seem to know and love him. This was what Violet meant, wasn’t she?

“You have arrived, Marvos. The send-off shall begin in a short time, you should go the front seat like us closed one.” Violet drags my hand through crowds to the ceremonial site. The closed ones consisted of a few people: Pierre, the mercenaries band, and…lord Mikhail. We didn’t exchange words but those eyes should be enough of pities.

There is a priest with a boat full of flowers, it looks like the send-off should be as easy as such. No burial, no trumpet just a simple boat drifting into the dusk sea. The priest said the parting rite before setting the boat aflame into the drowning sun.

“He has always wished for such a rite, I am only doing what I can,” Violet says with tears brimming through her eyes. She has been holding through these few days before breaking into his funeral. Guilt…I can’t feel anything but that…

“I am sorry...Violet.” In a gentle hug, I say my apology for misunderstanding her grief for apathy and sorrow for the lost friend. The moon knows my truth and the sun knows my facades, this only moment of dusk shall be my release.

The end