It wasn’t raining, like you often see in vids when the tragic backstory of the hero comes to life. If this was a vid, like the kind I used to watch when I was younger, still in awe by the large wallscreen I’d been allowed to use, then the rain would come down in huge droplets, each attendee sporting identical black umbrellas, all garbed in serious black clothing. The women would wear tiny hats, with various plumage attached - all black, of course - and the men wore suits, put together just enough to convince everyone else they were fine. Then there’d be the hero, the protagonist, witnessing this whole ceremony with grace and composure. There might even be a woman comforting him, helping him shoulder his burdens.

but this wasn’t a vid. Unfortunately, this was real. So, very real. Everyone was dressed in white, as pure white as it gets, as standard for a social elite funeral. Those not included in the nobility class had to wear black, like in most vids. And it wasn’t raining, it was a bright, beautiful sunny day, the crisp air of fall starting to set in. It was like the weather didn’t get the memo that this was a sad occasion, and instead, was happy and warm where it had no right to be. The sun blinded me, reflecting off of all these white clothes, the white burial shroud, the large group that followed the ceremonial farewell.

I peeked up to see who was there, who would be pretending they knew my father the best. It happened with every funeral of a [Lord] - those that didn’t know him would take the opportunity to pretend they had, to make connections to jump and climb the social ladder, while those who actually knew him would jump even further. And now, I was a target of this brown-nosing, as his son and the new Lord Montgomery. I sighed, finding a seat in the front row, ready to listen to the orator and get this over with.

It was always a grand affair, the funeral of a prestigious Lord, and this wouldn’t be over for a few hours yet. Not to mention, the family was generally expected to host and receive the guests afterwards. It was a well intentioned tradition, to allow the family to bring their closest friends home to lean on after a stressful and emotional day, but again, with my father’s status came more sleazy leeches, just trying to get ahead. There wasn’t much to look forward to. I wished Mea was here. She would at least make me smile, remember that the sun had some reason to shine.

Robert Chetland was there, the Prime Minister, along with his Vice Prime. He looked somber and serious, but he was also speaking to another member of the cabinet. I sincerely doubt it was about my father; it was probably another deal in the making, another promise of votes, direction, whatever else politicians talked about. I realized that would be my job for the rest of my life; grubbing for votes, underhanded deals and promises. That's what I had to look forward to. Fuck.

I spied Joh and Lip, and as usual, Malley not far behind. I hoped they wouldn’t see me just yet, though I knew it would be inevitable before they came to speak to me. I hadn’t spoken to them in ages now, and I hadn’t missed them much. We never really were close, but we had grown up together in a sense. We were never friends, just agemates. I wished they weren’t such assholes. I wish Sheen was here, too. He was probably my only true friend, one of the few people who never cared about status. He hadn’t come today, though, as he had promised to work on decrypting my father’s WaComm for me. I didn’t feel insulted in the slightest; I preferred that he work on it as much as possible, but I definitely felt his absence. A kind soul would’ve been nice to have around.

Cerise flit around the guests, greeting and accepting condolences, closely followed by my father’s secretary - well, probably former now - Ms. Wela. As my eyes followed her, I came across Zack BAteman and Jakob Mentel, the leaders of AUT. Alyss wasn’t far behind, keeping her distance from them while still nearby. Cerise approached them, gripped their hands in greeting, and passed on. I narrowed my eyes. Was that a simple greeting, or was there more to it? I needed that proof, and I needed it now. I had to know if Cerise was behind this, just like I suspected. Suddenly, I was even more glad that Sheen hadn’t come, that he was home working on our little project. I knew he would come through sooner or later.

Eventually, everyone settled into their seats to listen to the orator give the eulogy. It was a load of bullshit, though some of it had some merit. Most of it was an acknowledgement of his status, prolific political career, and respect from the community. He briefly spoke of his family, mentioning me and Cerise, though respectfully didn’t mention my mother. I wonder if Cerise told him not to. I barely listened to the rest, unable to process much more beyond staying awake.

Finally, it was over.

The next thing I knew, we were already back at the house. It was as if I’d skipped time, had dissociated so hard that I didn’t even notice the ride back to the mansion. It all felt eerily similar to my graduation party, except nobody was smiling. The array of food and drinks were in the same order, musicians situated in the same way, but the energy was nothing except sadness. Of course, that was appropriate for a funeral reception, but I wondered if it was mostly just a filter of my own brain. Was it really so depressing looking at all of these people without my father, or was I just feeling that way? I suppose it certainly could be a combination of the two. I sighed, picking up a glass of wine from the bar next to me.

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I sipped it; it was sour, dry, and white. Ugh, I needed something stronger. I remembered the [Nari’e alcohol] that I had gotten so wasted on all those months ago. Would that I could have some of that right now to erase these brain cells. I didn't need them, didn’t want them anymore. I wondered what Mea was doing right now?

Off now in search of some stronger liquor, I nearly bumped into someone’s back.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Excuse me,” I said without really looking up.

Then I noticed who it was.

“Ah, Torven. How are you doing, young man?” said Zack Bateman, Alyss’ father and president of Aruga United Tech.

I gulped. “Um. I’ve been better.” What kind of thing should I say to him? What does one say to the man whose daughter you refused, and who’s deal of a lifetime you had refused? Again, I wondered if it had been a mistake. My father had wanted this for me, used favors to get this deal, and I’d throw it away for Mea. I didn’t even know if it was worth it.

“Such a pity, to hear of your father’s death,” he said. “He will be missed. Did he pass any wisdom on to you before the end?”

Did he pass wisdom on to me? No, he just gave me the gift he’d been working towards his entire life, and I threw it into the trash. I didn’t get a chance to compose myself before I could answer.

“I understand he spent most of the last few years attempting to set up your political career. I heard he wanted you to be Prime Minister more than anything in the world. Which is why we were so eager to help you, of course. Are you sure you haven’t changed your mind about our dela?”

“Changed… my mind?”

Was he insinuating that it was still potentially on the table? Was this an opportunity to not disappoint my father from beyond the grave? I felt wary, though. I was sure Alyss was still a part of this, and I still wanted Mea. But… maybe she would understand. If I do this, she and her whole people would benefit. Wasn’t it worth it to save her people and maybe even her islands? What was one individual’s sacrifice for the greater good?

“Of course, Torven. We’re not unreasonable. The incentives weren’t high enough, we understand. What would you say if not only did we fund your campaign… we would fund your endeavors after being elected?”

That was unprecedented. Usually, once a PM was elected, he had to rely on obtaining votes to fund his plans, which was sometimes hit or miss as to whether it would be accepted by a company, or even sufficient enough to get things done. What Bateman was suggesting would be an almost guaranteed success with whatever I wanted to get done once I was in power. I would be a fool to not accept this. Right?

“But what’s the catch?” I said. There had to be one. You don’t raise just my benefits and not theirs. What more did they want from me?

“Well, you see, we have to know that you won’t back out this time. We need a promise that’s a bit more permanent.”

“...that’s reasonable, I suppose. What do you suggest?’

“Marriage.”

I blinked. Well, that was straightforward.

“As soon as you marry Alyss, we can begin your campaign in earnest. The election is next year, after all. The clock is ticking.” He looked up, something catching his attention. “Ah, there’s Jakob now. I need to speak to him. Think about it, Torven.”

He passed me by, as if this had been a casual meet and greet instead of him laying on me the most heavy decision of my life. I knew what I had to do now, though. If I was going to do this, I had to talk to Mea. She was the reason I didn’t accept in the first place, and I had to get her input. If I did this for her, then it would matter what she thought. oF course, I knew deep down that I was going to accept. It was my inevitable destiny, my birthright, to become PRime Minister. When offered an opportunity, a Montgomery seizes it by the teeth, makes it his own. But I needed her to know I was doing this for her, for her people, for her islands. That way, maybe I could still keep her.

The rest of the hosting passed by in a blur of guests speaking to me, saying ‘I’m sorry’ more times than I’ve ever heard in my entire life, and endless glasses of the weakest champagne I’ve ever had. It was as if my brain had gone asleep, all higher function barely alive, my body knowing just enough how to breathe, walk, and listen enough to satisfy the strangers in my home without being present. It was a welcome reprieve, at least, to not be in the present. I was in a daze, and it was bliss.

All too soon, it was just me and Cerise, alone at the house. I suppose it really was just us now, as my father was the only one who would be here in the mansion with us. If he was alive. The mansion felt cold, large, adn empty now, without him. It was an odd feeling.

“You holding up okay, Torven?” she said, surprising me from behind with a cup of steaming hot coffee. “It's...been a long day.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. Her hair was perfect, her makeup impeccable, her clothes a tasteful yet youthful ensemble. How could she be so… put together? It only added to my growing concern about her guilt. She had to be involved in this somehow. After all, who else would know about AUT? I didn’t dare say a word, unless I gave away my theories inadvertently. I didn’t want to play my cards too soon, and I didn’t have any proof just yet. I was still waiting for Sheen to come through.

“Um, right. I’ll leave you be,” she said, leaving the cup on the sofa table behind me. “Just… if you need to talk? I’m here.” She walked away, traipsing up the stairs to her reprieve.

Was she avoiding me? I had barely spoken to her since she had called me. I needed that evidence, and I needed it now.