Arcaea/Dining Hall Late 08-09/Aerywyn's Funeral
Jenred stood in formal court mourning, hair unadorned (for once) and dressed in a subdued black. His hawk pendant and ring were turned around to symbolize the sorrow, and he bore no crown or coronet.
He had planned to give a speech. It had been swirling in the back of his mind for a week, but today...He had nothing. His gift for wordsmithing had completely deserted him, and all he could see was the hole at his side where Aerywyn ought to be. It wasn't...overwhelming grief. He had, and still did grieve, of course. Aerywyn had been his closest friend, save Edara. But...
He was drained. It had been one crisis after another for months now, from the revolt of Topenah to the declaration of war by Soliferum. He was so tired that he could barely think. And he knew that he might well have to restrain Cypreana...The soldiers were wary of laying hands on a noble, especially her, and...Aenil Above...
So for once...He was silent. This was too much. Having to put on a public face...Not now. Maybe...Maybe after the others...After Dren spoke...Maybe he could speak then.
Sir Jenred Bedwyr King of Arcaea
Madelena had not slept well, and dark rings could be seen under her eyes. This did not matter however, for she had selected to wear the old fashioned veiled mourning wear for the funeral. That way she could shed her own tears and only her beloved Tenal would know for the slight shaking of her shoulders and the occasional dabbing of a handkerchief in the corner of her eye. If questioned, she could put it down to the smoke she supposed.
After dressing she went to look for Cypreana. This was the difficult part. Her sister had not been behaving normally for a while now, to the extent that she had arranged for her to be looked after in discrete rooms in an out of the way area of Topenah. She didn't want her normally quite logical sister to do something that would cause shame to the Rossini family name. She also didn't want her to do something to cause her or anyone else any harm.
Upon arrival at the house Madelena was alarmed to find the door ajar and the place silent. She crept up the stairs to the room in which Cypreana had been staying. Just outside, sitting on a chair, was the girl's old nanny, fast asleep and snoring. Beside her was a pitcher of porter and a mug. It was clear she was drunk. Madelena went into the room careful. It was empty.
With an alarm on her face she ran back down the stairs, almost leapt on her horse, and went off in search of Tenal. He would know what to do.
Lady Madelena Rossini Imperial Magistrate of Arcaea, Countess of Orbeh
Cypreana had woken up with the birds, and started singing herself. She felt full of the joys of spring.
"Nanny!" She rushed out of her room. "Today is my wedding day!"
Nanny had tried to tell her that it was no such thing but Cypreana was oblivious to her reasoning. It was as if she was in some kind of trance. Her vision was even cloudy as if a film lay over her eyes. Nanny went down to the kitchen and made a drink mixed with a sedative for her captive. She was a little worried that Cypreana would insist on going through with the wedding, and this being the day of Aerywyn's funeral it was imperative that this did not happen.
"Drink up Cypreana" said Nanny, sitting on the edge of her bed.
"What is it Nanny?" Asked Cyp, smiling.
"Oh it is an old recipe for brides on the day of their wedding," she replied. "It is said to make them radiate with the light of the Aenil."
"Sounds wonderful!" Cypreana was incredulous. "Might I have a little light breakfast Nanny? My stomach is growling and I wouldn't want it to when Arry and I are standing there in front of everyone!" she giggled.
Nanny left her charge with the drink and went downstairs. When she got back the cup was empty and Cypreana lay snugly, eyes closed, in her bed. Nanny went to her porter, having no idea that this was where she had deposited her drink. Before long it was Nanny who was "glowing with the light of the Aenil" and not Cypreana.
Laughing to herself, and continuing to sing, Cypreana got up and got dressed. "What a laugh when Arry sees me in this!" For she had decided to stick with an old Orbeh tradition of wearing flame red silk, short with orange darts, as her wedding dress. This, complete with feathers in her hair, made up her appearance. She truly looked like a force with which to be reckoned.
Donning a black cloak, in order to remain as inconspicuous as possible, Cypreana made her way through the streets of the town to the place where she thought her wedding was to take place.
Lady Cypreana Rossini (Dame of Sasat)
Madelena found Tenal in the noble common room, fussing over a piece of paper. When he spotted her, he said "Ah, maybe you can help me, Madelena. I'm trying to write some words down, so I don't pause awkwardly when it's my turn to speak. But I can't get the pacing right. I just jump to 'He was a legend.' There's no build-up. Any thoughts?"
Madelena kneeled down and whispered the situation to Tenal, her fingers digging into his shirt. Tenal got caught up in her sense of urgency, grabbing her hands in his and rising. He whispered back, "All right, let's leave here first." The pair walked into the hallway and Tenal led her to a guardpost.
"Alright, first we alert the guards to keep an eye out for Cypreana, discreetly. If they find her, they should confront her quietly and ask her where she's going. If she says anything but 'the funeral', they are to make up an excuse and 'escort' her to a waiting room, or whatever works at the moment. We also will inform the senior staff of the palace. After, we must inform a few key people. The King will be busy, but we should be able to speak with Duchess Edara. We'll also have to inform Duke Goffrey. Telling Priest Dren may work as well. Cypreana's faith in the Aenil could be a good method to calm her down or distract her."
A few minutes later the guards had spread the word and the senior staff had been informed. Now they just had to find Edara, Goffrey, or Dren.
Sir Tenal Quasath Duke of Nocaneb
Edara stood in their rooms alone considering her clothing. Claudine had dressed her in the mourning black and then Edara had dismissed her and stood before the glass looking at herself. The black suited her...her red hair gleamed in its twist of braids and her eyes glowed hugely in her pale face. She looked like a stranger, and she hated it. Arry would have hated it…hated the black and the darkness and the cold, cold winter…
Making up her mind, she began pulling the clothing off—with some difficulty, for the high-necked gown buttoned up the back—but, Edara didn’t want to call back her maid who would argue and fuss about what she was doing.
When she was finished redressing, she stood in front of the mirror once more. She was now wearing a skirt of pale green, just the colour of new shoots, with a darker green weskit over a simple yellow linen blouse. She had unbound her hair and it hung simply to her hips with no adornment. Edara’s face was still pale under the sprinkle of freckles, but she looked more like herself…and like the spring that Arry had loved.
Lady Edara Kindon Duchess of Talex, Marshal of the Tribute Collecting Army
Dren stood before the assembled crowd. He once fleshy frame was more gaunt than ever, and his skin seemed to sag from his skeleton. A single ragged brown garment covered him; he did not appear to have changed his clothing in a long time. The priest's expression was hard, more stern than mournful, but while his right had clutched a staff, his left was trembling limply at his waist. He had positioned himself next to the funeral pyre, upon which Aerywyn's body had been placed. It was traditional for each noble to add a piece of wood to the pyre as they said their last goodbye; however, before that would come the speeches.
Clearing his throat, Dren spoke in a rough voice, "Friends. We have gathered here today, in sight of Aenil and men, to pay our respects to Aerywyn Haerthorne, a truly great nobleman. He was a valiant warrior, a brilliant general and an honourable duke, but he had a poet's soul.
"I am proud to have shared a Arcaea as a homeland with this man, but I grew up far from here, in the north of Atamara. There we had a word for those with forceful thoughts and compelling imaginations; had Aerywyn been born there, I am sure he would have been recognised as a Skald of the highest ability. He was immensely invigorated with the spirit of the Aenil; their nobleness and passion flowed from him. I am sure others here will agree with me when I say that it was an honour to have known such a great scion of the Aenil.
"No show of respect would have so greatly pleased him as the presence of those here today. I invite you all to say a few words, privately or publicly, in farewell, and to add a piece of wood to the pile."
Sir Dren Kandurell (Priest of Magna Aenilia Ecclesia)
She stole towards the back of the gathered congregation...she wasn't deserving of any seat of privilege, nor was she interested. So many others seemed so much more devastated by the death of Aonui's former liege...though, she would be lying to admit she hadn't shed her own tears over the tragedy. Duke Aerywyn was, after all, the first noble of Arcaea to actually sit and discuss (quite passionately, for that matter) the tale of Lasanar and Arcachon and Sartania and other surrounding realms and their histories...and where Arcaea's place was in the mess of it all. From that point on, she felt as if she were fighting for something tangible...something she actually wanted for herself, instead of merely repaying an old family debt without knowing where to go, in the end...
A memory returns as the words of the priest and others speaking...even King Jenred...meander in one ear and out the other, untouched; at the coronation of the first Arcaean duke of Topenah, a vision of Aerywyn in an inner sanctum of the Topenah palace...a garden. Aonui had been searching for the former Ethialan duke's chamber (which was eventually found). She viewed, from afar, her duke speaking softly to a woman.. smiling.. laughing. Nothing of what was said reached her ears, but from that moment on, he seemed all the more ... human.
...Aonui's attention returned to the present place and time, and, for the sake of the passionate, inspirational...human Aerywyn...two tears began their slow crawl down Aonui's dark cheeks.
Lady Aonui Larkspur (Dame of Topenah)
Jenred strode forward, dropping a piece of would onto the pyre. He was still tired, but Aerywyn deserved...
"I knew Aerywyn for years...We fought together on the fields of half the North, from Sartania to Ethiala and down to Aenilia. He was my right hand. When there was a need...He met it, and often exceeded it. The fires that burned so brightly inside...Eventually consumed him."
Jenred paused, reestablishing control over his voice after it had nearly slipped into a traitorus crack at the end.
"There is little I would not give to have him back at my side again. But for now, all we can do is prove ourselves worthy of the Arcaea he served. And in honour of that...The Sparrow's Heart will be given to those nobles of Arcaea who are deemed worthy of Aerywyn's legacy. History shall remember him as the guiding light which we all strive for."
"Aenil guide you, my friend..."
Sir Jenred Bedwyr King of Arcaea
It was his turn to speak, but Tenal still hadn't figured out what to say. Some words were written on a piece of paper, but they seemed too personal to share with anyone other than Aerywyn. Thinking that Aerywyn ought to receive them anyway, Tenal wrapped the paper around a cylinder of wood. He tied it with a long piece of thread from his own jacket, unravelling it there in front of the public eye. The knot finished, he gently placed the chunk of wood on the fire, his eyes moist from the smoke and his own tears.
Tenal spoke, "Aerywyn was a complicated man. A man of conflicting emotions. No one could fault him his loyalties, though. He...he was a brilliant man, and like most brilliant men he had his weaknesses. We came close to blows, him and I, a few times. Two passionate men, often...fighting over the same thing. Ah, I ramble..."
Clearing his throat, he finished abruptly, "Aerywyn is a legend of Arcaea. His memory will never die. Let us remember his greatness, and his foibles, and learn from his triumphs...and mistakes. I will remember him as my friend. May his soul rest in peace with the Aenil."
Stepping back from the pyre, Tenal rejoined the others.
Sir Tenal Quasath Duke of Nocaneb
He stood a bit far from the pyre, completely dressed in black. He didn't know whether he was supposed to be completely in black or just partially black, he had just went out and bought a complete black set of clothes after he was told that black is the usual colors worn during a funeral.
He didn't know Lord Aerywyn when he was alive, all he did know about that man was that he was a well known and respected figure in Arcaea and for that he deserved to be given a Hero's farewell. Arthur stood there and watched as the Lords of Arcaea talked about Lord Aerywyn and praised him.
He waited until pyre was lit, and then bowed low giving his respects to the man who was loved greatly by many and left the scene before anyone could see him. He would later check with Lady Edara about learning more about the ways of Knight.
Arthur Immortals (Knight of Talex)
Madelena leaned on her husband's arm throughout the whole ceremony. They had not been able to find Cypreana so her head was constantly turning round to see if she could spot her in the crowd. She had a veil over her face so no one could see the tears which ran down her cheeks.
When it came her time to place a piece of wood on the pyre, she walked forward and lifted her veil. Her right knee was shaking and almost gave way. She had never in her life experienced that before. She whispered to her friend.
"Thank you for looking after me when I was sick Arry. I believe that it is because of you that I got better. You are with Fangs now. Give him a good run for me and don't let him catch any sparrows. I'll see you soon."
Shakily she returned to her husband and sobbed on to his shoulder.
Lady Madelena Rossini Imperial Magistrate of Arcaea, Countess of Orbeh
After several of the more important nobles had shown their respect for the dead, a small and petite figure began to try a graceful rise from her chair. Besides her was a handsome man with blonde hair and icey blue eyes, made tall and strong by the aura of youth and nobility about him. Yet his head was bowed to be on a level with the black clad figure who reached to hold his arm, a woman so weak that it seemed she might faint in exhaustion from the weight of her veiled black gown. The many eyes watching the pair’s gradual steps towards the pyre may have vaguely recognised the young man, for his eyes held the same glimmer that his father once did, and from that it would be assumed that the elderly woman was his grandmother.
The lifeless corpse of Aerywyn, lying atop the red cloth of the altar at the centre of the bleak and wintry Aenilic temple plaza, had been preserved at great expense to ensure decay did not set in too quickly. Yet the scene was just… not right. He should not be dead. Thinking of the book he had seen him so busy working on, he realised just how much he had left unfinished, how much would be forgott. An entire people had been shocked into silence and denial upon his death and Caim had not been the worst affected by the sheer suddenness. He wondered, above all else, how it had come to this end.
Gasping silently for air, the older woman leant on Caim for support as they reached the dias, weakened by both the emotional blow of losing a son and her own physical pain. For a moment he took his eyes off the pale body lying motionless in front of them to help her stand. From behind her veil he could see her smile a little at her grandson’s concern, though she waited a second until she could muster the strength to release her hold and step closer to the dias. Drawing back the mourning veil from her face, the silky black mesh revealed a woman of haunting beauty with jade green eyes set in an ethereal visage. At once she shone with the light and vibrance of youth and the sadness and wisdom of the three and fifty years that she had seen.
Gwydda’s gentle hand stroked his cheek as she whispered to him, “Aerywyn… your trail of tears ends here.”
Her voice was so quiet that Caim swore it had sounded like a ghost on the wind which buffeting his cloak, and from here he could see her hand begin to quiver ever so gently. A warm wet drop fell upon frozen, unresponding lips as Gwydda watched her son, the one who had once been a babe sleeping in her arms. With a final kiss on his forehead she bid him goodnight.
For a while she stood there, lost in some deep part of her mind with her eyes dulled by the sadness they felt together. He was unsure of what to do, whether to break her reverie and take her back to sit down before she became too tired, yet first he would have had to break his own. Caim realised he had no words to say that would be appropriate here. Eventually he realised how hot his cheeks had grown and how dry his throat had become. He was crying, he concluded. Gwydda began to rouse from wherever she had been, but as she pulled the veil back over her haunted eyes and climbed precariously down the steps, she turned back to speak one last time.
“Sweet dreams, dear child…”, said a mother to her son.
Caim's tears fell to the cold stones beneath his feet, echoing a thousand times in his mind. Head bowed and eyes squinting to hide the reumy character to his eyes, the tall youth took her arm in his.
Caim Haerthorne (Knight of Sasat)
Edara watched as the line of nobles passed the funeral pyres and dropped their offerings of wood for Aerywyn and Emma. Some said a few words, others merely gave a respectful bow or bend of the head. It was all so sombre. She wondered if the spirits of their fallen comrades were here, watching, and if they were…did they appreciate that all the realm mourned their passing into the next life?
She took her turn, adding a piece of wood to one pile and then to the other…including a lock of her hair for each…it was a very small token, but some piece of her should burn here today. When she had made her offerings she moved between the pyres to say her piece.
“I wish that I had had a chance to know Emma better. I can tell from her actions that she was a good and noble knight…and the first to buy back her honour by challenging the traitor who was once her lord. For this, I will never forget her…”
Edara’s voice had been clear and steady thus far, but now she hesitated, and when she began again her voice had thickened with emotion.
“There isn’t much that I can add to what’s already been said about Aerywyn. He was my friend. When he was happy, he made me laugh…and, when he was sad, he worried me. Sometimes he made me so angry when we’d argue over tactics,” she paused to swallow down a sob, but held her head up and made no effort to hide the tears that streamed down, “He always…he made me think…I learned so much from him. And, as with Emma, I owe him…a great debt…for making a sacrifice that I wasn’t here to make…a debt that…I can’t… I can never repay…all I can do is try and keep…his name alive.”
Edara had choked her way through the last and stopped…what else could she say, anyway? She turned to seek the comfort of her husband’s arms…and deliver him her own.
Lady Edara Kindon Duchess of Talex, Marshal of the Tribute Collecting Army
((OOC: This comes after whoever hasn't yet written their rps and wants to))
Cypreana had been slowly wading through the crowd with growing confusion. This was supposed to be her wedding day and yet everyone was wearing such dull clothing and looked miserable. Surely they could be happy for her for once.
Then she saw the body of Aerywyn, wrapped up in swaddling clothes. She didn't realize who it was at first, but as she got nearer and within earshot of everyone she started to ear them say her lover's name. By the time she got to the front everyone had finished speaking and the flames had engulfed the body. Like a tidal wave it hit her. They were burning Aerywyn!
She threw off her cloak and ran forward towards the pyre, obviously intent on throwing herself on the body to be burned with it...
((OOC: The rest is up to all of you))
Lady Cypreana Rossini (Dame of Sasat)
(OOC: to follow on from Cyp's RP...)
Darius, watching quietly from the sidelines of the funeral. He had no words to match those already spoken of Aerywyn, the brave man who had led Arcaea to so many victories. The King and Queen had given their speeches, and the new Duke, Goffrey, looked like he was about to say something also. Casting his eyes around, he saw a desolate looking woman, dressed in red silk, looking confusedly around. She caught sight of the already well burning funeral pyre, and threw off her cloak. In an instant, Darius knew she was planning to burn herself too. Surging forwards, pushing past several other nobles with downcast heads, he dashed to the woman and roughly tackled her, throwing her to the ground and collapsing on top of her, even as she screamed for Aerywyn. As commotion grew, he became acutely aware of how embarrassing the situation was. Picking her up without ceremony and forcibly dragging her away, he wished for a moment that he knew where Euran was... he would know what to do. As the crowds parted, he caught a glimpse of the Imperial Magistrate with her husband, looking similarly upset, and realised where he recognised this mad woman from.
Striding forwards, he approached the couple, who were not entirely oblivious to the events. Tenal stood as if to say something, but Darius cut him off to address Madelena directly.
"My lady, I believe this is your sister? She does not appear to be in her right mind. Please, look after her. I am afraid for what she may do unsupervised."
Without waiting for a response, Darius strode off once more into the parting crowd. He doubted now was the time for him to deliver a panegyric of Aerywyn's life... hastening along, he summoned his captain and made plans to leave for Remton.
(OOC: I apologise for any liberties taken with other people's characters - feel free to rewrite those bits as you see fit.)
Sir Darius Exiled Baron of Arempos
The air was too somber, almost like the time he attended his uncle Nathan's funeral. The same heavy atmosphere thickened the air and Mahalo found himself breathing oddly shallowly.
He bowed his head out of respect for what he heard of the reputation of the deceased, rather than out of personal memory. He had not the slightest idea who the man for whose honor was given this funeral. But he remembered the lessons in proper funeral and wake etiquette, and he stood in the back, listening.
The rest of the troop was due to arrive in another three days. Mahalo paid a local stablemaster for a horse to take him ahead to pay respects at the funeral which he now attended. And he took another deep breath, to remind himself that the air did not turn into water.
He saw some movement in front. Someone previously in a black cloak had cast it off, and in red silks, and with feathers streaming in her hair, was running towards the fire. He began to sprint towards her, but saw that someone had already tackled her to the ground, and by the time he stopped his sprint, the man had already helped the woman to a few other people, possibly her caretakers.
Some people turned to look at what he was doing, and Mahalo cast down his head, and quickly retreated into the back.
Mahalo Artemesia (Knight of Obtal)
Leon turned up to the funeral, his black cape drapped over his shoulders. He had not been sure what to say before today. Arry had taught him so much and yet today felt like everything he had learnt just went. With the loss of two fine nobles and unable to get in contact with Desi, Leon had felt extremely low the last couple of weeks.
Leon turned to exit, what right did he have to be here? He was no personal friend of the past duke, nor family or companion.
He tried to walk away when a middle aged man stood in his path and stopped Leon. Pulling down his hood the man began to speak...
Leon Tranquilli (Knight of Arempos)
Lynx pulled down his hood and spoke to Leon.
"Leon Tranquilli, walk with me"
Lynx put his hand on Leon's shoulder and both walked to where Arry was laid, Placing a wodden log each. Lynx began to speak.
"My friend, may your travels be fine and wonderous and let your future outshine your past, I will drink to your memory."
Lynx turned to those who had turned up
"And you are all welcome to join me"
Bowing before Arry, Lynx and Leon then joined the rest of the mourners.
Lynx Tranquilli (Knight of Topenah)
As he neared the place where Aerywyn was buried, he saw people leaving. He had purposely come so late, so that it wouldn't be so crowded. With the lines almost gone, he took his log and set it on the pyre.
"I didn't know you all that well, but no one deserves this fate. I regret not having shared in your knowledge. Although I will always think back on the strategics and tactics that enabled us to become one of the strongest realm of the continent. This truly is a loss for Arcaea. May he rest with the Aenil."
As he turned away he thought about the letter exchanges they'd had. He was too young to die.
Galdor Stormwind Baron of Sasat
