Sunday's weather was unusually cooperative, with a timely drizzle beginning at dawn.
Avalon's climate was warm and humid. Although it was winter, it rarely snowed.
The rain was not heavy; one could even stand in it for half an hour without getting their clothes completely wet. Even so, many black umbrellas were raised at the funeral.
With Sherlock's current achievements, he was not yet qualified to be placed in St. Genevieve Chapel. Thus, this was the Hermes Family's private cemetery, located in the Metropolitan District near the Red White Queen District.
Even Iver had rarely worn a black suit. A thick black cloth with a fine white knitted pattern covered his legs, and he held a bouquet in both hands. He sat upright and quietly with his head lowered, the upper half of his face concealed by the shadow of the black umbrella and the curtain of rain.
Lily, who had come with Iver and was holding his umbrella, wore a simple black dress with little decoration. She had gathered her thick, dense, flaxen curls and hidden them beneath a large black hat.
The priest on the platform was not Bishop Mathers, but an old bishop Iver did not know.
Both his hair and beard were fluffy and gray, and he still had an astonishing amount of hair.
The old bishop wore heavy glasses as he stood on the platform, laboriously reading the words on the lectern before him. He slowly recited Sherlock's accomplishments and the scriptures prepared beforehand.
For a priest of the Dedication Path to look so old meant that his age was already terrifying. It also meant that he was highly senior and held a lofty position. He was not someone ordinary people could invite.
However, the Hermes Family should have invited Bishop Mathers in theory. As