My Funeral

As Noah passed the window of the "Old Oak Tavern," with its warm light spilling out, the sounds of lively chatter and clinking glasses carried unimpeded.

It was so boisterous it made him momentarily dazed.

He hadn't intended to stop, but his attention was caught by a group of adventurers gathered around a table, loudly debating over large mugs of ale.

A burly man with a scarred face and a missing front tooth took a huge gulp of wine, wiped his mouth, and shouted.

"I'm telling you, those gray-skinned mongrels' claws are sharper than steel daggers! One swipe, and old Barton's iron-oak shield was like paper!"

"Tell me about it! And their scales are as hard as dwarf plate armor! An axe hit would spark!"

"Hey, did you hear? That noble who insisted on trying his luck at Reed Riverbank a while back, what was his name... Belmont?"

"Ha! That fool who didn't know his own limits? He's probably food for the swamp lizards by now, or a chew toy for those scaled beasts!"

The gap-toothed strongman roared with laughter.

"He gave up the stable coin from guarding the city gates just to chase the big money from the demi-humans."

"That place isn't for a delicate noble like him, is it? A nobleman? Bah! He won't even have anyone to collect his corpse!"

If it had been in the past, hearing such blasphemous words that insulted his family name and knightly dignity would have ignited a rage in Arno's chest, enough to draw his sword.

But now, a strange calm enveloped him.

He stopped, listening quietly outside the tavern window, his face expressionless, his fists unclenched.

All that remained in his heart was a deep weariness and a complete release from the meaningless pursuit of empty fame.

He shook his head, preparing to return to his inn, when the adventurers' next words pierced his calm like ice picks:

"Poor his young widow, I heard they're holding a funeral for him at the small chapel today! Tsk, with two little burdens, her life will be tough from now on!"

Funeral?! Laura?! The children?!

Arno's heart felt as if it were seized by a cold, giant hand, stopping its beat for a moment before pounding wildly, threatening to burst from his chest!

All his fatigue and aches, his confusion about the future, and his fear of demons vanished in that instant.

He had to see them immediately!

No longer caring if he drew attention, he spun around and ran with all his might towards the small white stone church on the west side of town.

The time was nearing dusk. The lingering rays of the setting sun cast a dim, golden-red hue over the neatly arranged white tombstones in the church cemetery, adding a touch of desolation rather than warmth.

The air was filled with the damp scent of freshly turned earth, the faint fragrance of wilting white flowers, and a heavy, unshakeable sorrow.

The low bell tolled one last time. The old priest, clad in a simple black robe, stood before the newly erected, crude wooden cross, his shadow stretched long by the setting sun.

With his hands clasped, holding a bronze holy emblem symbolizing "Sun and Strength," he spoke in a voice aged and deep, carrying a comforting power.

"In the name of Ignis the Sun, we gather here..."

"We remember Arno Belmont, who walked under the sun, wielding sword and shield, fulfilling his duty."

"May the light of the Holy Flame of Ignis illuminate his path to a peaceful long night, and soothe all unfinished regrets and pains."

"..."

After a long silence, the eulogy ended. The old priest nodded slightly and turned to Laura, his voice gentle and compassionate.

"Lady Laura, please accept my condolences."

"Ignis will burn away his sins of greed, and grant strength to the living to move forward. May you find solace in remembrance, rather than sink into eternal night."

"My condolences..."

These words, like cold iron hammers, struck Laura's already shattered heart once more.

She wore a rough black linen dress, her blonde hair messily pinned up, a few strands clinging to her pale, bloodless cheeks, damp with tears.

Her blue eyes, once filled with tender love, now held only hollow despair and endless tears.

She looked at the freshly dug earth before her, at the grave marked only by a symbolic cross, feeling as if her heart had been buried along with it.

Her Arno...

The once spirited Knight Squire, the clumsy but determined husband who wanted to shield his family... was now just a pile of cold dirt.

She dared not even imagine what he had gone through in his final moments.

"Mommy..."

A small hand gently tugged at her skirt.

Her four-year-old daughter, Emily, looked up with her clear blue eyes, full of innocent confusion.

"Is Daddy... sleeping in the dirt? When will he wake up? Emily wants to show him my new drawing..."

Beside her, seven-year-old Little Arno tightly pursed his lips, trying hard to act like a man, but his slightly trembling shoulders and reddened eyes betrayed his inner sorrow.

Laura's body trembled violently. She crouched down, forcing a smile that was more like a grimace than a smile, with all her might.

"Daddy... Daddy has gone to a very, very far away place... to find... find delicious candy and toys for Emily and Little Arno... It will take a long, long time..."

As Laura spoke, her sorrow deepened, and the immense grief overwhelmed her. She finally couldn't help but kneel on the ground and burst into heartbroken sobs.

"Yano... my dearest Yano... sob..."

Just as she was crying so hard her vision went black and she was about to faint, a joyous shout suddenly pierced the twilight, echoing behind her.

"Laura!!!"

Laura's body instantly froze.

A hallucination? It must be a hallucination brought on by excessive grief... she thought desperately.

But the voice was so real.

With a struggle akin to a dying person's, she turned her head.

Under the setting sun, a tall but incredibly disheveled figure was stumbling over the low stone wall of the cemetery, rushing towards her!

A tattered coat, a face smeared with mud, messy dark chestnut hair, that familiar outline...

It was Yano!

A living, breathing Yano!

Not a hallucination! Not a dream!

Joy, enough to break down any dam, instantly drowned out all sorrow and despair.

Laura let out a short whimper and, weeping, threw herself into the man's arms.

Yano looked at the trembling figure in his arms, felt the force with which she clutched his waist and back, and heard her wails suppressed deep in her throat.

His heart was filled with a mix of emotions, churning like a stormy sea.

It didn't feel right.

A strong sense of guilt surged within him.

He raised his head and saw the light that instantly ignited in his son Little Arno's eyes and the tears he was holding back, saw his daughter Emily's bewildered yet joyous little face, and the grave that had been erected for him.

He felt immense relief.

Kardos be with us...

No, perhaps he should pray to that Mud Demon.

Whatever the case, he was back!

He hadn't let a funeral of despair become an irreversible end!

"Sorry... Laura... I'm sorry..."

He whispered repeatedly in his wife's ear, his voice choked and hoarse.

Then he tightened his arms, pulling her and their children into his embrace even more tightly, as if trying to meld them into his own body, using this tangible touch to dispel the coldness of the tombstone.

The afterglow of the sunset fell, casting the embracing figures of the family of four into a long, long shadow.