"A year ago, the people of Ilan chose Lynn to become the mayor of this city."
The somewhat thin Lant stood in the drizzling rain behind a solid wood podium, looking ahead.
Before him lay a coffin that eight pallbearers had just placed on a mechanical platform, draped in the White Jasmine Flower Flag.
Peach and plum blossoms drifted down with the rain, brushing over the damp flag.
"His life had taken him through many professions. He had been a columnist, a doctor, a City Council member, a cabinet minister, and even the Speaker of the City Council."
Looking at the dense sea of people before him, Lant's calm voice echoed through the microphones and hidden speakers into everyone's ears. "But in the end, when he realized none of that could fulfill his ideals, he chose to challenge the office of mayor.
"He ran for mayor four times. He failed the first three times, and the Ilan Morning News once mockingly called him a 'mayoral runner-up.'
"But we all knew that his failures were not due to flaws in his ability or character. It was because he had chosen a path where success was almost impossible.
"His enemies were not merely his election opponents, but the two major consortiums that had controlled this city for over a century. Their reach extended into every industry, and their servants stretched from White Jasmine Palace to the Southern District.
"But we all knew that even against such powerful enemies, he ultimately succeeded.
"The people of Ilan relied on their own efforts to put a mayor who belonged to Ilan in that position."
That calm voice, carrying the weight of history, echoed beneath the silent rain curtain. Shadows within the crowd lifted their heads, watching the speaker and the silent coffin before him.
Raindrops