Part 3:
A Fond Farewell
Graveyard, Saint Reymanaud Cathedral: Year 4 of the Seventh Umbral Era - Morning
"We exist in a space between the dramas of life and death. Witnesses to the miracles that Halone provides, and steadfast in our trust of her righteous cause."Â
The old priest spoke with a calm and practiced demeanor, though the passion and conviction in his words seemed just as real as all the other times Flynt had heard him deliver them. Flynt's gaze drifted from the frail old priest to the man in the casket before them, the bandages that covering the left side of his face obscuring his vision of the man's lower half.Â
"Fouchaux death should not be seen as an end, for it is truly a new beginning for him, a life free to explore his true home." The old priest said lovingly, so much so that for a brief moment Flynt thought the man might actually believe what he is saying. Wouldn't he have to in order to deliver in such a gentle, but profound manner?Â
"Do not let your hearts become heavy over the loss of Fouchaux, for he would not wish for any to carry that burden for him... "Â
Coerthas Highlands, Western Region: Three days earlier - Dusk
"You'll might lose the eye... I can't tell through the blood and snow. Hey, if you do they might let you resign and then you can get a nice little stipend to drink yourself to death with." Aldafont said in a tone so flat he knew it to be the man's peculiar brand of humor while inspecting Flynt's face. Fouchaux inhaled sharply before letting out another pained wail as he writhed in Flynt's arms. The blood that had oozed from the tied off stumps that were once his limbs had mixed with the small stream on Flynt's face and had frozen, the bonding making it hard for Flynt to adjust his grip.
"Keep him quiet Flynt or slit his throat. He'll have a whole pack of wyverns on us before we get back if he doesn't shut his damned mouth." Daliant said in a voice that had begun sounding less and less like the man he knew with each passing day.
"You heard the Captain Fouchaux, if you don't keep a lid on that mouth of yours you won't be getting that stipend either." Aldafont drolled, though Flynt could hear the exhaustion slowly creeping into the man's feigned stoicism. "They might give you a bit discount too on the count you'll be a cheap drunk without all those extra limbs."Â
Graveyard, Saint Reymanaud Cathedral: Year 4 of the Seventh Umbral Era - Morning
Flynt stared at Fouchaux's face as the old priest continued. The Hyur man had always looked young, younger than Flynt even though he was half a decade older than him. The caretakers has made him look so serene within the dark chestnut casket, replacing his right arm with what seemed to be a porcelain one and they likely did the same for his legs. He wore the crest of House Calieur on his brightly polished chainmail top, and if Flynt hadn't watched him die he would have been sure the man was just resting their in front of them all.
Flynt snapped back as the old priest shuffled, one of his servants passing him an old tome with head bowed reverently.Â
"Everyone, please bow your heads for a reading from 'Reflections on the Enchiridion'... “The muffled drum’s sad roll has beat the soldier’s last tattoo; No more on life’s parade shall meet that brave and fallen few. On Halone’s eternal camping ground, their silent tents are spread; But glory guards with solemn dignity the bivouac of the dead.†The old priest bowed his head as if to the text itself. "Brave and strong are our defenders, brave and strong was Fouchaux..."
"We exist in a space between the dramas of life and death. Witnesses to the miracles that Halone provides, and steadfast in our trust of her righteous cause."Â
The old priest spoke with a calm and practiced demeanor, though the passion and conviction in his words seemed just as real as all the other times Flynt had heard him deliver them. Flynt's gaze drifted from the frail old priest to the man in the casket before them, the bandages that covering the left side of his face obscuring his vision of the man's lower half.Â
"Fouchaux death should not be seen as an end, for it is truly a new beginning for him, a life free to explore his true home." The old priest said lovingly, so much so that for a brief moment Flynt thought the man might actually believe what he is saying. Wouldn't he have to in order to deliver in such a gentle, but profound manner?Â
"Do not let your hearts become heavy over the loss of Fouchaux, for he would not wish for any to carry that burden for him... "Â
Coerthas Highlands, Western Region: Three days earlier - Dusk
"You'll might lose the eye... I can't tell through the blood and snow. Hey, if you do they might let you resign and then you can get a nice little stipend to drink yourself to death with." Aldafont said in a tone so flat he knew it to be the man's peculiar brand of humor while inspecting Flynt's face. Fouchaux inhaled sharply before letting out another pained wail as he writhed in Flynt's arms. The blood that had oozed from the tied off stumps that were once his limbs had mixed with the small stream on Flynt's face and had frozen, the bonding making it hard for Flynt to adjust his grip.
"Keep him quiet Flynt or slit his throat. He'll have a whole pack of wyverns on us before we get back if he doesn't shut his damned mouth." Daliant said in a voice that had begun sounding less and less like the man he knew with each passing day.
"You heard the Captain Fouchaux, if you don't keep a lid on that mouth of yours you won't be getting that stipend either." Aldafont drolled, though Flynt could hear the exhaustion slowly creeping into the man's feigned stoicism. "They might give you a bit discount too on the count you'll be a cheap drunk without all those extra limbs."Â
Graveyard, Saint Reymanaud Cathedral: Year 4 of the Seventh Umbral Era - Morning
Flynt stared at Fouchaux's face as the old priest continued. The Hyur man had always looked young, younger than Flynt even though he was half a decade older than him. The caretakers has made him look so serene within the dark chestnut casket, replacing his right arm with what seemed to be a porcelain one and they likely did the same for his legs. He wore the crest of House Calieur on his brightly polished chainmail top, and if Flynt hadn't watched him die he would have been sure the man was just resting their in front of them all.
Flynt snapped back as the old priest shuffled, one of his servants passing him an old tome with head bowed reverently.Â
"Everyone, please bow your heads for a reading from 'Reflections on the Enchiridion'... “The muffled drum’s sad roll has beat the soldier’s last tattoo; No more on life’s parade shall meet that brave and fallen few. On Halone’s eternal camping ground, their silent tents are spread; But glory guards with solemn dignity the bivouac of the dead.†The old priest bowed his head as if to the text itself. "Brave and strong are our defenders, brave and strong was Fouchaux..."
Coerthas Highlands, Western Region: Three days earlier - Dusk
"M-Mom... Please... Please Halone..." Fouchaux begged as he clung to Flynt with his only arm, the tracks of frozen tears reflected the evening light. "I j-just want my m-mom..."Â
His wailing cries had been replaced by soft whimpers now, though Flynt assumed it was not for a lack of trying and more a matter of death fast approaching. None of them had any illusions that Fouchaux would live, to probably include Fouchaux himself. If the blood loss and the cold didn't kill him, there was a good chance infection would. His face was nearly blue now from the combination of the first two, and in his head he gave the man half a bell or so at most before he drew his last rasping breath.Â
That didn't matter though, none of that mattered. A Dragoon doesn't leave their dead behind. They were not like those beasts, leaving their dead to rot and freeze in the snow, they would carry theirs back and send them off to Halone as The Fury intended.
The man cried into Flynt's chest, as the sun set and his breath became more and more forced. "Mom... My... I want my... I want my mom..."Â
"Sleep." Flynt replied. "Just... go to sleep. You'll be home soon."
"I'm..." Fouchaux choked, "I'm going to die." He sobbed. "I'm going to die and I want my mom..."
Flynt looked down at the man, uncertain of what to say for a long moment. "Just sleep Fouchaux."
Graveyard, Saint Reymanaud Cathedral: Year 4 of the Seventh Umbral Era - Morning
Flynt looked up as the old priest moved into his closing prayers, everyone's head bowed except Flynt's, Dalinat's and several other members of the Broken Bloods with faces expressive as stone. Their faces were marked in remembrance of the dead, a thick black line painted menacingly over their eyes. A few others seemed to look at the men with varying degrees of shock, disgust and confusion though none dared to speak as the old priest continued on with his closing prayer.  Â
As the service ended, Fouchaux's family departed, along with the other guests. "Lieutenant. Speak with Erimmont this evening, we're in need of two new Broken Bloods before the next moon." Dalinat said, neither man looking at each other as they stood alone over Fouchaux's grave.
"Ser." Flynt said, though his eyes were still on Fouchaux's peaceful face. "... Why won't you look at him?"Â
"Why would I? We'll all be in that box sooner or later Lieutenant." Dalinat said with what almost sounded like disdain.Â
Flynt looked up, unable to keep the anger from staining his words as he spoke. "What? You're angry at him for dying then?!"
Dalinat finally turned back, meeting Flynt's gaze and for a brief moment he saw a flash of the Dalinat he'd met all those years ago. "You think I'm angry at him Knoltros?" He said before gesturing to the grave. "I'm jealous of him."
Flynt didn't want to look back, but something seemed to turn his head without consent. He looked at that serene face, a face that wasn't Fouchaux's. Fear and confusion began taking turns trying to tear their way out through his stomach. "Why..." He choked out, stumbling backwards and to the ground.Â
Aden's face looked serene from within the grave, his red streaked hair combed back as it was the day Flynt had first met him. "No... This.. No this doesn't make sense..." Flynt said as he tried to crawl away, looking around in frantic desperation.Â
"We /all/ end up in that box sooner or later Knoltros." Dalinat said from some unseen distance. "You'll kill him too."
He was dreaming, this was a dream and he needed to wake up. Aden stood up from within the grave, face no longer serene as blood slid down it. He was whispering something faster and faster, Flynt couldn't understand make it out, even as it got louder and louder, and crawled from the grave closer and closer. He was dreaming. This was a dream and he needed to wake up.Â
Knoltros Estate, Lavender Beds: Present Day - Before Dawn
Flynt awoke to the sound of crying. He was covered in sweat, fists balled so tight his nails had drawn blood from his palms. Ritsu stood at the head of their bed, a combination of fear and concern on her face as she held their son, trying her best to calm the crying baby. "Are... Are you alright now?"Â
Flynt nodded, unclenching his fists. "It..."Â
"Another dream? You haven't had one like this in years. What... What happened?" Ritsu asked between the rhythmic calming noises that she'd been making.Â
"It was a nightmare, I... Aden was in it. He was trying to say something but I couldn't hear him at first." Flynt said weakly, mouth dry and head falling into his aching hands.Â
"What did he say?" Ritsu asked carefully.
Flynt raised his head just enough to look into his now bloodied hands, pausing as if not sure he wished to say it out loud.
"I.. I'm not sure." Flynt said before climbing out of bed to help her with their son. "Lay down, I'll get him back to sleep, I woke him after all."Â
Ritsu nodded slowly, but it was clear she wasn't completely convinced. She was right to not believe him, and as Flynt slowly rocked the newborn child in his arms, all he could see was Aden's bloodstained face as the words rang through his mind.Â
"You'll kill me For the Sky."
 Sylastair Wolfhart Wiki