The Memorial Funeral

Funeral for the knights the eve before the war.

King Oberon gazed at the people amassed through solemn pools of sapphire from his place at the podium. This eve would be the one before his ride into battle, and thus the people needed him to make this important statement of acknowledgment... just in case it was the last thing he did of a non-combative nature. It would be the last night he would have with his wife... and with his son... until the battle was won one way or another. Such notions Oberon had that personally horrified him, but had refused to let them show. He would truly be a fool for letting anyone see any doubt, or even the smallest trace of fear. The king wouldn’t want anyone to see him in such a state, either.

With a shout of indeterminable wording, he called for silence.

“This day, upon the eve of battle with the forces of Jahan the Fifth, I wish to acknowledge and honor all those slain in the recent massacre. This includes the Dowager Queen Genvieve... and Princess Cara... both whom were reported dead but not yet found with the rest of the deceased,” Oberon began, though his voice nearly refused to work upon reciting the names and titles of his own loved ones. “I shall take only a few moments to list all of the honoured dead we are here to remember. Afterward, I request that all of you join me in prayer, so that the departed souls shall perhaps find peace in these darkening hours...”

Oberon held out a hand for the scroll detailing all who had signed the roster to ride out with his mother and daughter. Obviously, being his own loved ones were of higher rank, they were named first. “... Sir Martin Aschuill... ...” And the list went on...


((Because I’m not sure how many knights rode out to Mystenia, and not sure on the ethnic mix of military as of yet, I’m deliberately keeping this list vague for now. Will likely edit later.))


After a short break from the list of names the king asked all to bow their heads and recite with him a prayer, of which he recited in the Old Tongue and again in the Common one so that all could follow what was being said. Regardless, both versions sounded as if they had the potential to be put to music, seeming to combine traditional elements with a distinctly customized piece for the occasion... a piece which Oberon had composed himself.

Once the prayer was finished and the last vestiges of murmuring dissipated, Oberon once again addressed the masses. “The clergy shall conduct the ceremonies from here, though you may by all means perform your own rites as you see fit. Also, as soon as they are ready, knights whom had known the deceased shall be performing a Three Volley Salute, thus the imminent cannon-fire.

“May you all be Blessed,” the king half murmured with an accompanying gesture symbolizing his words, a signal that he was concluding his piece of the services.

With a nod to the nearest clergyman, Oberon stepped down from the podium. An official blood-pumping, energy-infused war-rallying could wait. Right now the people – a good amount of them being the common people, Oberon mused – needed the closure the memorial brought. They needn’t be reminded of the further countless number of men that could be lost in combat so soon.