The Storm King

Royal funerals in the Bull Kingdom were tightly regulated affairs. There would be no speeches, wakes, or parties after. The ancestors of House Taurus wanted their funerals to be solemn events, meant to honor and remember them, not to be highjacked for political gain or to be disrespected by having parties soon after their passing.

So, when it came time for Trajan’s proper funeral rites to begin, the eight blood priests standing watch around his casket began to ring their bells, calling for all conversation in the throne room to cease. Given how much Trajan was respected, everyone complied regardless of their personal feelings toward him.

Once silence fell upon the throne room, the blood priests began to chant and sing, starting first with an almost bombastic song about the glories of House Taurus, then moving on to a song composed following the Talfar Kingdom’s first defeat during the reign of King Julius Septimius, and then finishing with a new song composed only a few months before to commemorate the recent victory over Talfar.

Once these three songs were over, each priest took a handle of the casket, lifted it into the air, and began to move toward the exit. No one followed, though. The priests would march throughout the main thoroughfares of the city, accompanied by no one, guarded only by Legion soldiers who had already been stationed along the way. All the city would be able to see and pay their respects to the fallen Prince.

The blood priests walked out the door, and slowly, people began to chat again. They wouldn’t follow the casket, they would wait for it to return before escorting it to the Royal Mausoleum elsewhere on the island. And it would be several hours before the priests returned.

After waiting a few minutes for other conversations to fill the air with noise, Leon turned to Elise and asked, “That man leading the blood priests… who was that?”

Elise smiled at him, understanding from his tone that he had already figured that out. The man’s tall and built frame alongside his powerful earthy aura was hard to mistake, after all.

“That was Prince Herculanus,” she whispered, confirming his suspicions. “Although, I suppose he isn’t a Prince anymore, not since he renounced his name and titles. He can’t be both priest and Prince, after all.”

“Any idea what his reasoning for doing such a thing was?” Leon asked. To him, who only ever had his father around him during the majority of his life, family was more important than anything, even loyalty to the King—not that he really had that much of the latter. It was truly baffling to him why someone would willingly choose to seemingly abandon their family, especially when that person was in such a favored position as Herculanus had seemed to be.

“No public statements were made by him, but His Majesty did proclaim that it had been Herculanus’ own choice to do so,” Elise answered. “I suppose he simply didn’t have the temperament to be a Prince, or he maybe he just didn’t want the crown. Maybe he genuinely wanted to spend his life honoring the Ancestors, who can say? He’s no longer a public figure, so it’s not like he’s easy to question about these things.”

Leon couldn’t suppress a frown. Even Prince Antonius hadn’t abandoned his family when he became a scholar, even if he did give up his claim to the throne.

“You disapprove?” Elise asked, seeing his expression.

“I do,” Leon said, quietly nodding his head. “I’ve never really had a family before, and abandoning those I consider family is not something I’d ever do…”

Elise smiled, then teasingly asked, “Does that include me?”

“Of course it does,” Leon said, suppressing his own urge to smile. His twitching mouth quickly reminded Elise of where they were, and she stowed the teasing attitude. There was a time and a place for that sort of thing, and in the middle of Prince Trajan’s funeral was not it.

As they stood waiting for the casket to return, Sir Publius Umber, the Spymaster, walked over to their group.

“Greetings, Dame Minerva,” he said, greeting the leader of their party first. He then politely nodded at Leon and Elise before briefly acknowledging the rest of the knights.

“Hello, Sir Publius,” Minerva responded. She was a direct woman, and she wasn’t in the mood for politics and the games that were played in the capital, especially not now. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your greeting?”

The Spymaster blinked at her not too subtle hostility, and he hesitantly said, “I wished to express my condolences to you and to the rest of Trajan’s retinue. It’s never easy to lose a commander, let alone such a great man and, from what I’ve heard, a great friend.”

“Thank you, the sentiment is appreciated,” Minerva said, nodding her head slightly. Despite her inviting expression and body language, though, her tone was icy cold and dispassionate, almost driving the Spymaster away right then.

Fortunately, after a brief glance at Leon and the rest of the knights around her, the Spymaster decided to stick around for a few more minutes.

“Listen, my Lady, there have been some developments that I felt it prudent to warn you about…” he said with some hesitation.

“Oh?” Minerva responded, her curiosity thawing her freezing tone just a bit.

“It’s no great secret that my office has had some setbacks lately,” the Spymaster began with a self-deprecating smile. “I was ordered to cease all investigations in the Duke of Aurelianorum, and my investigation into the murder of his son in this very city didn’t go very far. On top of that, we’ve had those recent incidents with vampires, and… Needless to say, confidence in my office isn’t what it was just a few years ago…”

“What point are you trying to make?” Minerva asked, not having the patience to endure the Spymaster throwing a pity party for himself.

The Spymaster glanced over his shoulder at the Arbiters standing in a corner by themselves. They were remarkably serious and dour individuals, even by the standards of a funeral. They were all clad in featureless black robes to reflect the severity of their duty, and none were more severe in temperament than the woman who led them.

The High Arbiter, the woman who served at the behest of the King as the highest judge in the land, wasn’t tall, overly muscular, and even her fifth-tier aura wasn’t as intense as those of some of her comrades since a few others around her were possessed of sixth-tier strength. And yet, no one ignored her. She was clearly the most important person in her group, radiating a sense of command and confidence that was obvious even from the other side of the throne room.

No one had a keener mind for criminal law than she, and hers was often the last opinion the King heard when enacting a new law, even though she didn’t sit on the advisory council. Whereas the Spymaster conducted investigations of all sorts into matters for the King and his representatives, the main criminal investigation departments of the Royal demesne fell under the jurisdiction of the High Arbiter.

To put it plainly, she wasn’t one of the King’s official advisors, but she was still easily one of the most influential people in the entire Kingdom.

“I see…” Minerva said, sparing the High Arbiter but a single glance. The High Arbiter was certainly a remarkable woman, but Minerva wanted an explanation as to why her taking over of the investigation was a problem large enough that the Spymaster saw fit to warn her about it. Her dark eyes fixated on the Spymaster, wordlessly demanding that he continue with the same intensity that Trajan’s would’ve shown.

“Look, I had no doubts that none of you or anyone else in your retinue was to blame for His Highness’ death, so I refrained from calling any of you in for questioning,” the Spymaster said, instantly telling Minerva everything she needed to know about why the previously mentioned investigations had failed.

The Spymaster was, at his core, a bureaucrat, and not an actual spy or even an investigator.

Continuing, the Spymaster said, “The High Arbiter is not of that same opinion. She’s most likely going to be leading a staggering investigation into this matter, and I would expect to be called in for questioning if I were you or any of your other knights…”

“… They’re not my knights…” Minerva muttered as her eyes drifted back in the direction of the High Arbiter just in time to lock gazes with the venerable judge. Minerva was stronger, but in that moment she felt an iron grip take hold of her eyes and keep them trained on the High Arbiter. There was no warmth there, only frigid determination.

Minerva could only look away once the High Arbiter had, and once her eyes peeled off the judge she was suddenly very aware of her heartbeat as if it had stopped when they were looking at each other.

“… She’s a remarkable woman,” the Spymaster murmured as he witnessed Minerva’s reaction. “Good luck, not that I think you’ll need it. The High Arbiter will ferret out the truth, I’m sure of it.”

With that, the Spymaster turned on his heel and returned to his own group.

“Heard that, everyone?” Minerva quietly asked the rest of the group, and everyone wordlessly nodded in response. “Good,” she said. “Make sure everyone else expects this, as well.”

No one else in their group spoke a word for hours. It was the funeral of their Prince, of their commander, and that didn’t put them in the most talkative of moods. The same couldn’t be said for everyone else in the throne room, as it grew steadily louder as people spoke amongst each other, and then began speaking louder to be heard over the rising din. Soon enough, the room was filled with the sound of conversation amongst several hundred people.

During this time, Leon and Elise stayed right next to each other, the quiet that pervaded Trajan’s former retinue sinking into them, as well. Leon, for his part, clung to Elise’s hand like a drowning man to a thrown rope. It wasn’t enough to hurt her, but it was enough to tell her that beneath his stoic and indifferent expression, he wasn’t nearly as all right as he wanted everyone to think.

During this time, Leon felt eyes fall upon him. Someone was looking at him, almost to the point of staring, and it was intense enough that he could feel it. Dread crept through him, causing his hair to feel like it was standing on end, but the more he analyzed this subtle aura of attention he seemed to have attracted, the more he relaxed—this aura wasn’t too powerful, though it was intense. It came from a fifth-tier mage and one that he was passingly familiar with.

Leon glanced around at the crowds, looking for eyes that were turned in his direction. Pretty soon, he found exactly what he was looking for: August’s dark brown eyes were piercing into him from across the room. The Prince was occupied with several young-seeming Legion knights he was in a conversation with, but his eyes kept flitting in Leon’s direction often enough to rouse the latter’s attention.

Once August realized that Leon had noticed, he simply smiled at the young knight, who slightly lowered his head in response.

‘He wants something from me…’ Leon thought to himself when he saw that smile. It was pleasant enough, but there was something about it that gave Leon the impression of a bull that hadn’t eaten in days—hungry and desperate.

He was not looking forward to finding out what that look meant. He mentally made a note to go through his and Elise’s belongings back at the house and give them a packing order, just in case August did something drastic like revealing Leon’s identity to the Kingdom in the hopes of bringing him over to the Prince’s side. Should that happen, Leon would have to flee, as he still lacked the power to face his enemies with confidence. Xaphan was powerful and apparently could be summoned from his soul realm, but without Naiad and a couple more tiers under his belt, Leon wasn’t going to take any chances.

As he thought this, the quiet rumble of conversation outside of the throne room intensified with exaggerated wails of grief and crying, making it clear to everyone that Trajan’s casket had returned.

Everyone reassembled into their respective groups, with Octavius standing on one side with all of his supporters, counting many great nobles and influential ministers among them. Behind August stood his two Paladins, a few nobles, some lower-ranking knights and ministers, and that was it. Between them on the far side of the platform from the door stood the three high officials—the Spymaster, the Chancellor, and the Chief Steward—Prince Antonius, Princess Stefania, Emilie, and those few who attended them. Minerva and Trajan’s retinue happened to be on the same side as Prince August, but there was enough room between them to make it seem like that was simply coincidental. As it so happened, they were actually closer to the politically neutral Arbiters on the other side of the aisle than they were to August’s group.

If it wasn’t clear before where the lines had been drawn, it was now. It was Trajan’s funeral, but it was also a battlefield. And Octavius was the clear winner. After this show of support, most people in the room knew that the remaining undecided nobles would be quickly joining sides, now. Few thought they’d side with August, since it was not in the nature of those who wait and see to jump onto a sinking ship.

The doors opening only partially loosened the tension in the room. Trajan’s casket was brought back in on the shoulders of the priests, former-Prince Herculanus steering them towards the casket platform. Once the ivory was back in its place, Herculanus addressed the room in a booming voice befitting a man with the blood of the Sacred Bull.

A voice that brought a frown to Leon’s face and a stinging to his eyes with how much it resembled Trajan’s.

“If you have any last words to say to His Highness, then now is the time. We shall commence with the cremation in an hour’s time.”

People began to respectfully line up at the casket to see the Prince in what was a clear unofficial ritual. Leon hesitated, but Elise squeezed his hand, letting him know that she was still there. He took a deep breath, smiled at his lady, and then got in line.

No one lingered at the casket for long. They only had an hour to get hundreds of people past, so the line moved with barely any time for a person to pause and actually say any words to the Prince, lest they run out of time for everyone to walk past. For that, Leon was grateful. It had taken him hours to work up the courage to look upon his father’s corpse, and that was when his life depended on moving fast and getting out of the Forest of Black and White. He didn’t think he could face Trajan’s body without such a heavy social pressure to keep moving.

About half an hour later, Leon found himself at the front of the line, and he gazed upon Trajan’s visage for the first time since he’d seen the Prince battered and broken following his murder. Trajan had been cleaned up, his body reconstructed and well-dressed to hide any remaining injuries. He lay in the casket surrounded by flowers of all kinds, which Leon knew had been thrown in by the grieving public as Trajan had been carried through the streets. There were so many flowers that most of Trajan’s legs and torso had been obscured, but the priests had cleared away the flowers from Trajan’s face and upper chest.

Each step that Leon took as he stared down at the fallen Prince felt like it took an eternity. It was surreal, seeing Trajan dead in the casket when he’d just been alive a mere two weeks before, old but still strong and energetic.

Had there been no one behind Leon, he might’ve frozen there. However, with those knights behind him, Leon kept moving, putting one foot in front of the other with his eyes locked on Trajan. It took him just seconds to walk past the casket, but it felt like a lifetime.

His hand found Elise’s again on the other side of the casket, and he didn’t take another look in its direction, though he hid it well. Not even when the priests picked the casket back up, took it outside into the sun and the warmth and the beauty of the day did Leon look at the casket. Not even when Leon and the rest filed outside and followed the casket to the rarely used north side of the island where the mausoleum had been built did Leon look at the casket. Not even when it was taken to the top of a pyre and the body within ignited did Leon look at the casket.

He’d done all of this once before, he didn’t want to do it again. The only thing he was grateful for right now was that the funeral had gone off without a hitch, that nothing terrible or disrespectful or violent had happened.

Once the funeral was over, Leon didn’t stick around. He ditched the place as fast as he could, with no one but Elise in tow. He didn’t even say goodbye to anyone, he just left without a word.