Noble Society

While the nobles in the corridor chatted merrily, Bishop Orion solemnly approached the grave.

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Realizing the ceremony was about to begin, everyone composed themselves and adjusted their mourning clothes.

Bishop Orion unrolled a scroll of parchment, cleared his throat, and began the eulogy:

"Born at dawn, returning at dusk. Under the watchful gaze of Lathander, Harandir Xiaxing completed his earthly journey..."

"We gather here to bid farewell to Baron Harandir Xiaxing. His was a life of loyalty and protection."

"Even in his youth, Baron Harandir showed the Summerstar Family's fearless courage. He once donned the Purple Dragon's armor and fought for the kingdom beneath the banner of the Dragon Throne. He never chased after hollow fame or military honors. Like a rock, he stood fast along the kingdom's borders. Though he had no great renown, he was the kingdom's strongest bulwark, the very foundation of its prosperity."

Ye Wei'an heard Sezga Huntercrown nearby mutter under his breath again, despite trying to hold back:

"'Never chased after hollow fame'? I remember the family records saying he spent ten years in the Purple Dragon Order. The biggest task he ever took part in was escorting grain supplies, and he never even managed to earn a medal..."

"After inheriting the title," the bishop continued, his tone growing ever more solemn, "Baron Harandir devoted his passion to Firefall Valley. Rather than rush to expand, he chose to 'let the land recover and prosper.' Under his rule, Firefall Territory enjoyed more than twenty years of peace and order. Such restrained wisdom made his domain a sheltered harbor amid the turmoil."

"'Let the land recover and prosper'... Ha. I'd say Firefall Valley was so poor it couldn't even spare the money to repair the roads, so it just stayed 'quiet' for twenty years." Sezga couldn't resist another jab.

Oliphant gave him a helpless look and replied quietly, "The dead deserve respect, Sezga. Even if he was mediocre, at least he didn't cause trouble for Cormyr. In the Eastern Marches, a lord who managed to keep his family's holdings from declining for twenty years was competent enough."

Listening to their discussion, Ye Wei'an finally got a sense of what kind of man his nominal father had been.

All he could say was that Bishop Orion knew how to make things sound good.

Still, as a son, he maintained a perfect expression of mourning.

"He was a kind lord and a loyal knight," the bishop concluded. "Now the torch passes to the next generation. May Lathander grant the successor wisdom, and may the baron's soul find rest in the eternal dawn."

Everyone bowed their heads in silence. Only the faint patter of rain and the bishop's low voice echoed through the chapel.

As the last trace of sunlight vanished beyond the horizon, the burial began.

Holding a torch wreathed in golden-red flames, Bishop Orion approached the coffin and touched the golden rings at each of its four corners in turn.

At the same time, the horn players sounded a low, mournful dirge, and the coffin slowly descended into the grave with the faint clatter of pulleys.

Baron Xiaxing was laid to rest.

At that moment, Lady Selina finally broke down and collapsed beside the grave, weeping uncontrollably. Young Lucas cried so hard that he could barely stand.

Their reaction left Ye Wei'an with no choice but to squeeze out a few more tears himself, lest he seem out of place.

Next came the long vigil.

Lathander was the sun god of dawn and rebirth.

According to the church's tradition, the funeral began at dusk, and everyone attending had to keep vigil in the chapel until the sun rose again at dawn the next day, symbolizing the soul's passage through darkness and return to the light.

The knights of Firefall Fortress, including Morse and Hilt, still stood rigidly around the coffin in their heavy armor.

Though days of exertion had left their eyes bloodshot, and their heavy boots made their ankles ache, they remained as motionless as statues. This was the final act of loyalty they could offer their old lord.

Of course, not everyone was like them.

The local merchants and manor owners also put on an air of profound grief and nervous apprehension.

To show sufficient "loyalty," they had to keep their weak backs straight at all times, enduring the stiffness in their bodies and the ache in their thighs.

By comparison, the visiting nobles seemed far more "undignified."

To them, Lathander's ceremony was little more than a show they had to put on.

In this age, when the gods rarely showed their power, maintaining appearances was the most they were willing to do.

For them, the vigil was nothing more than a salon held in a different location.

Under the colonnade in the chapel's side hall, servants scurried about like beetles.

They laid velvet cushions over the cold stone benches and set up folding screens to block the draft.

Baron Raymond Yelland sat in a high-backed armchair in a side room, with a thick velvet carpet underfoot. He sipped wine from a silver goblet, while two attendants stood beside him, ready to drape a fur cloak over his shoulders at a moment's notice.

The lord of Indis House loudly argued with another lord about how to divide the hunting grounds for the autumn season.

There were also noblewomen dressed to the nines, chatting softly beneath a canopy held up by servants. Their flippant laughter sounded especially grating at a funeral.

Sezga Huntercrown wandered about without a care, his leather boots making an irritating racket in the silent chapel.

"The spices in this place smell like an old, moldy book chest," Sezga complained, covering his nose and mouth with a silk handkerchief.

His servants were busy setting up a delicate little brazier nearby to bake the honey cakes they had brought from the royal capital.

Sezga turned to Oliphant Silverhunt and brazenly mocked the local manor owners kneeling on the ground.

"Look at those country bumpkins, Oliphant. Kneeling there like a flock of turkeys waiting for the butcher. They think shedding a few more tears will make that little baron, who can't even hold a sword steady, charge them a few fewer gold coins. They're adorably stupid."

Then he noticed Oliphant staring motionlessly at Ye Wei'an, who stood in the shadows.

"Hey, Oliphant, are you even listening?" Sezga said, sounding displeased. "What's so interesting about that bastard? Does he have a treasure map on his face?"

"I was thinking," Oliphant said, turning his head, a strange light gleaming in his eyes, "that it would be very interesting to invite him on an adventure with me, either to Thunder Peak or deep into Hurek Forest."

"Invite him?" Sezga was stunned. "Don't joke around. He's a wizard, at least—that's what you told me. How could he possibly go crawling through those muddy, trap-filled holes with you?"

Oliphant gave a sly smile. "Because he's a bastard, he has no right to inherit a domain. Under Cormyr's laws, he's a 'free man.' He's in just the right position: he's one of us, has formidable spellcasting skills, and isn't burdened by the shackles weighing down the heirs of great nobles. Best of all, he might need me."

"Need you?" Sezga raised an eyebrow.

"Exactly." Oliphant nodded confidently. "If he's dissatisfied with his position, the Silverhunt Family would be his best ally."

"Right, right. You are the king's distant relatives, after all." Sezga curled his lip. "So you're planning to invite him?"

"Why not?"

Sezga waved a hand in disgust. "You're mad. You cave-diving lunatic, you really are mad. Go on your own. I'd rather have a drink with that old codger Wafred than meet a bastard."