Capital
The cold wind of the capital carried a somber silence.
Herald dismounted his horse in front of the Knight's Cathedral, the ancient marble hall where generations of Empire's greatest warriors had been honored. In his hand, wrapped in a velvet cloth, was Claire's necklace—the one she took off during battle, the one her husband had gifted her on their wedding night.
His armor was stained by dust and ash, his eyes hollow from sleepless nights. He did not walk like a commander anymore, only as a man who had lost someone he couldn't protect.
Inside the hall, nobles, knights, and citizens had gathered. The grand bell tolled five times—each chime echoing through the streets like a mourning cry. The fifth toll was reserved only for captains who fell in service.
Herald walked through the crowd in silence. At the end of the aisle stood a man clutching the hand of a young girl.
Claire's husband.
He was pale, dressed in a simple dark coat. His eyes—red and swollen—met Herald's, and he immediately stepped forward, his lips trembling.
"Commander Herald," he said, his voice barely a whisper.
Herald nodded slowly, then gently unwrapped the necklace and placed it into the man's hands.
"She… she died standing," Herald said, forcing the words out. "She led the charge when others hesitated. She saved dozens... maybe more. She didn't suffer."
A lie. But sometimes, lies are gifts the living need to bear the unbearable.
Claire's husband collapsed into Herald's arms. The young girl—perhaps only four or five—looked up at him silently, clutching the hem of her father's coat. Herald knelt to her level.
"She was a brave knight," he said softly. "And she loved you very much."
The girl didn't speak. She simply took the necklace from her father's hand and held it tightly to her chest.
Ceremony of Honor
The hall was filled with the Empire's highest-ranking knights, their armor polished to perfection, their banners lowered to half-mast. At the center of the chamber, resting atop an altar of obsidian stone, lay Claire's casket—carved from whitewood, adorned with her sigil: a silver hawk over a red flame.
Dozens of flowers surrounded it—each representing a battle she had fought in.
As the trumpet sounded, Isla, the Emperor himself, walked forward, his face emotionless as always. He raised a ceremonial sword and tapped the casket three times.
"Captain Claire of the Third Order," Isla said, voice ringing clear across the hall, "your deeds are etched in the scrolls of honor, and your name shall be whispered in every training ground as an example of valor."
"May her soul reach the Hall of Heroes," the knights replied in unison, their voices deep and resonant.
Then came the burning of the sword—an ancient rite for fallen captains.
Herald stepped forward, carrying Claire's broken sword from the battlefield. It was placed upon a pyre before the altar. The High Priest of the Flame lit it with a drop of holy fire.
The metal hissed, melted, and twisted into embers.
As the flames danced, the choir began the Song of Passing—a solemn melody sung only once a generation, for the rarest of knights. It spoke of battles, of the long night, of eternal rest beneath the sky of stars.
Tears welled in the eyes of many. Even hardened warriors bowed their heads.
Herald stood silently at the back. He did not cry—not here. But in his heart, a quiet voice screamed. He remembered training Claire when she was still a teenager—her stubbornness, her laughter, the way she always polished her sword last, after helping the others. All of it… gone now.
After the Ceremony
As the mourners dispersed, Claire's husband approached Herald once more.
"Thank you… for bringing her back. For not leaving her out there."
Herald placed a hand on his shoulder.
"She was never just a soldier to me," Herald said. "She was... the best of us."
The man nodded. He did not say more. There were no more words left.
As night fell, Herald remained in the cathedral long after everyone else had left, standing alone before the cold ashes of the sword pyre.
Then, for the first time since the eastern war began, he knelt—and prayed.