Chapter 172: Funeral

By the time Roderic arrived at the city square, hundreds of people had already gathered.

The atmosphere was completely different from what he’d experienced throughout the city earlier that day.

There was not a hint of happiness to be seen anywhere.

Only low murmurs and the occasional sniffles of grieving families could be heard.

Roderic closed his eyes for a moment, a quiet sigh escaping his mouth.

’Where’s Arthur?’ he thought, glancing away.

As he glanced around, his gaze paused briefly.

Rows of wooden funeral pyres had been arranged in the center of the square, each holding ten bodies covered in white cloth bearing Whitemane’s crest.

Beside each fallen soldier stood a family member, friend, or loved one, carrying an unlit torch.

Roderic stared at them with a complicated expression.

’Three hundred and forty...’

Seeing the consequences of his commands was something entirely different.

It felt like a heavy weight was beginning to press down on his heart.

’’Young master,’’ a familiar voice interrupted.

Roderic turned around right away.

Standing just a few meters behind was Edmund, a warm, comforting smile on his face.

’’Your father is waiting near the front,’’ he said quietly. ’’Would you like me to guide you?’’

Roderic nodded once but remained silent.

With that, the two began making their way forward.

As they passed by the families of the fallen, Roderic’s gaze wandered from one person to another.

A woman stood beside one of the pyres, tears streaming down her cheeks as she clutched a bloodstained piece of clothing against her chest.

Only a few steps farther, an elderly woman was being supported by two younger men.

Her entire body trembled as she sobbed uncontrollably.

’’My boy...’’ she whispered, her voice breaking. ’’My poor boy...’’

Roderic lowered his gaze, a deep breath leaving his mouth.

’Damn it...’

His fists started to clench subconsciously.

But he continued walking.

Only a few meters later, something else caught his attention.

A young child stood a few feet away from one of the pyres, holding a large unlit torch in his hands.

His arms trembled under its weight as tears streamed down his dirt-covered face.

Unlike the others, there was nobody standing beside him.

For a moment, Roderic’s steps slowed.

His gaze flickered toward the pyre, where he could make out the unmistakable outline of a grown man beneath the cloth.

As the realization dawned on him, his expression darkened.

Even so, he did not stop walking.

He passed dozens more, tears streaming down their faces as they held their unlit torches.

Each had lost someone.

A husband, a father, a son, a brother, a lover, a friend, a comrade...

Their cries and sobs blended together, forming a sound that would forever remain engraved in Roderic’s memory.

By the time he finally reached the front, his expression had grown considerably heavier.

There, standing alongside several officers, was Arthur.

He was dressed in a dark ceremonial uniform, with Whitemane’s crest embroidered across his chest.

Upon noticing Roderic’s arrival, he turned toward him.

’’Roderic,’’ he said, nodding once.

’’Arthur,’’ Roderic greeted him in return, before glancing at the others. ’’Henry, George.’’

Both nodded back, their expressions hardened and solemn.

With that, Roderic, too, turned to the pyres and the crowd ahead.

Arthur stared at him for a moment longer, but chose not to say anything further.

’’It’s time,’’ he said, his voice low. ’’You may begin lighting the torches.’’

Henry and George silently stared at two lit torches ahead of them.

After a moment, they picked them up and headed toward opposite sides of the square.

As they made their way around the pyres, lighting the torches held by the grieving families, Arthur finally stepped forward.

The murmuring throughout the square gradually began to fade.

Arthur stepped onto a raised platform and remained silent for a few seconds.

In the distance, Henry and George continued making their way between the pyres, passing the flames from one torch to another.

It took several minutes before the last torch was finally lit.

Only then did Arthur raise his head.

’’People of Whitemane,’’ he began, his voice carrying throughout the square. ’’Yesterday, our city stood on the brink of destruction.’’

He paused briefly.

’’An army marched upon our walls, determined to take everything we hold dear. Our homes, our livelihoods, and the lives of those we love.’’

His gaze moved toward the rows of funeral pyres.

’’But they failed.’’

’’They failed because brave men stood before them, willing to give their lives so that the rest of us could live.’’

Arthur took a deep breath.

’’And today, three hundred and forty of those brave souls lie before us.’’

A few quiet sobs rang out from the crowd.

Yet, Arthur’s voice remained steady.

’’No words I speak tonight can ease the pain of those who have lost a loved one.’’

He looked across the grieving families.

’’But as Baron of Whitemane, I make you this promise.’’

His expression grew firm.

’’Their names will never be forgotten. Their families will be cared for, and their sacrifices will forever be remembered.’’

Arthur paused, allowing his words to settle.

’’For these men did not merely defend our walls.’’

’’They defended our future.’’

With that, he placed his right hand over his chest and lowered his head.

’’May their souls find peace in the world beyond.’’

Throughout the square, the soldiers and officers followed his example.

Silence filled the air for two minutes.

Then Arthur slowly raised his head.

’’Let us bid them farewell.’’

At his word, the families standing beside the pyres began stepping forward one after another.

Some cried their eyes out, some shouted, and some shrieked in pain.

Yet, one by one, they lowered their burning torches onto the wood.

Within moments, the first flames began to rise.

CRACKLE! CRACKLE!

The noise of the burning wood filled the square, accompanied by the same painful cries.

Some collapsed to their knees, while others simply stood there, watching in silence.

Roderic remained motionless, his gaze moving across the burning pyres.

’I’m sorry,’ he thought, lowering his head. ’Unfortunately... there was no better way.’

’But your sacrifices will not be forgotten.’

For a few moments, he remained with his head lowered.

Then, slowly, he raised it again.

The flames continued to rise, illuminating the faces of those gathered around them.

Roderic watched silently.

He knew that this would not be the last time he witnessed such a scene.

Not with the path he intended to walk.

’Every decision comes with a price,’ he thought. ’And that is a price I will carry with me.’

He paused for a moment, staring at all the burning pyres.

’Just as I have always done.’