Funeral

The funeral for Layne was held at dawn, beneath the watchful gaze of the castle's highest tower. The
family and those who had served alongside Layne gathered, dressed in white robes. The air was crisp,
biting into exposed skin. The scent of dew-drenched grass lingered around the courtyard, illuminated
by the flickering torches.
Ash's uncle, Jarvis, stood at the front beside his aunt, who held her head high despite the grief etched
on her face. The sky above was painted with pale pinks and oranges, blending with the lingering
darkness. The chill of the night still clung to the air. The mourners stood in silence, the torches casting
shifting shadows across the courtyard.
At the heart of the gathering lay Layne's body, resting on a carefully built wooden pyre adorned with
flowers, each bloom representing a cherished memory of his life. Sunlight filtered through the branches
of nearby trees, casting dappled patterns across the gathered mourners.
Layne's spear, a symbol of his service, lay broken in half across his chest. The white and blue flag of
the Sakamoto family was draped over him, the fierce lion's head facing skyward. His uncle Jarvis
handed Ash's aunt a torch, its flame flickering in the morning breeze, the scent of oil mixing with the
aroma of candles placed around the body. She stepped forward, her footsteps muffled against the
grass, and lit the pyre. The flames consumed the broken spear, their crackle marking the end of
Layne's duty and the finality of his sacrifice—a warrior's journey completed.
Ash watched as the fire rose, the warmth touching his face. The heat was intense, causing his eyes to
sting, but he couldn't tell if it was from the flames or his tears.
Above them, the family flag fluttered in the wind, the fabric rustling softly, proudly displaying the fierce
image of a Lion’s head, a symbol of strength and nobility.
But today, that honor felt hollow. Ash thought of his brother Layne, who had believed in those
ideals—honor, duty, fairness—but where had it led him? Dead.
He remembered more of that promise.
"Remember the Tanaka family?" Layne had asked, his eyes bright with determination. "We’ll make sure
they never go hungry again. We'll help rebuild that part of the city, the one no one cares about. You and
I, Ash. We’re going to change things for the better, one step at a time."
Ash had nodded then, imagining Layne and himself walking through the streets, seeing the people they
had helped, filled with hope. But that day had never come. Layne had been taken from him before they
could fulfill that promise.
The memory brought tears to Ash's eyes, several drops escaping and rolling down his cheeks. His
chest tightened, the ache spreading through him. The unkept promise cut deeply, twisting painfully
inside him. He fought to keep his composure, but the emotions surged, threatening to break free. The
world felt emptier without his brother.
Ash’s grip tightened. The night air bit into his skin, contrasting with his rising anger. His throat burned
with sorrow and rage. He fought against the trembling of his hands, trying to steady himself, but the
pain gnawed at him, relentless. Layne was gone, and Ash was left with nothing but questions and
anger.
Ash stared into the fire, watching as it consumed what was left of Layne. The crackling filled his ears,
drowning out the murmurs around him. It wasn't enough to simply mourn. The ceremony felt hollow, the
words of comfort mere echoes that faded too quickly. His brother had believed in a better world, a just
world. And yet, that belief had led to his death.
He looked up at the white and blue flag fluttering against the morning sky. To Ash, it symbolized failure.
He had to make it right. For Layne. For Lyra. For himself. The grief, once heavy and paralyzing, began
to shift into determination. Ash heard Layne's voice again, urging him to stand for what was right, no
matter how impossible it seemed. Those memories pushed him forward. Layne's beliefs couldn't die
with him. With a final glance at the flames, Ash turned away, his footsteps heavy as he left the
courtyard. He needed to hold on to his brother's dreams, but for now it was time to find his own path
forward.
After the funeral, Ash walked through the castle halls, each step echoing in the empty corridor. The
scent of smoke clung to his clothes, a reminder of all he had lost. Layne was truly gone, and there was
no comfort in empty words of honor or duty. Grief weighed heavily on his chest, but it was the
helplessness that gnawed at him more. He needed to act, to keep from drowning in loss. Layne had
been his guiding light, but now Ash had to find his own way.
With those thoughts driving him, Ash made his way to the infirmary, the weight of grief still heavy as he
approached the room.
In the infirmary, lay Lyra. Her wolf, Kai, rested at her bedside, ever vigilant. Her white fur barely stirred
with each breath, rising and falling in sync with her unconscious master. The room smelled of herbs
and bandages, the sharp medicinal scents mixing with the earthy odor of the stone walls. The air hung
thick and oppressive. The silence was broken only by the occasional rustle of fabric or the soft, labored
breaths of Lyra. Ash's eyes drifted to her throat, wrapped in bandages. Her chest rose and fell in
shallow breaths. Her skin was pale, almost ashen, with cracked, dry lips.
Ash thought about how many battles she had survived at Layne's side. How many times had she
corrected his stance, her voice firm yet patient, or given Layne that reassuring nod that only she could
give? She had always been more than just a warrior; she was their mentor and their guide since
childhood. The thought of her brought a pang to Ash's chest, an anger that pulsed like a raw wound,
throbbing with each beat of his heart.
Doctor Hargrave, the family physician, moved quietly in the corner of the room. The old man had been
with the Sakamoto family for decades, his white hair and weathered hands a testament to the many
lives he had mended. The faint clinking of glass vials and the rustle of his robes were the only sounds
that accompanied his presence. Hargrave approached, his expression as grave as the news he was
about to deliver.
"How is she?" Ash asked, his voice strained, barely louder than a whisper.
Hargrave sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. "The cut to her throat has healed, but... the
damage to her vocal cords is permanent. It's unlikely she will speak again." His voice was low, each
word heavy. "Whatever blade did this wasn’t just sharp—it was coated in some sort of poison. A rare
kind, one I’ve never seen before. It appears to block any attempt at magical healing, which is why she
remains unconscious and unresponsive." He paused, letting the weight of his words settle in. "We’re
fortunate she survived at all."
Ash’s heart pounded, his chest tightening painfully. Lyra, one of the strongest warriors he knew,
silenced forever. His hand curled into a fist at his side, nails digging into his palm until the sharp sting
cut through the numbness. "And there’s nothing more you can do?" His voice trembled, the words
almost lost in the oppressive quiet.
"I’ve called for an apothecary. Perhaps they’ll know more about the poison. But until then, all we can do
is wait." Hargrave’s tone was calm, though the uncertainty was palpable, a tension that hung in the air
like an unspoken truth.
The doctor hesitated before stepping closer, a small smile creasing his weathered face. "You’ve grown
into quite the young man, Ash." He gave a polite bow, stepping back. "I’ll take my leave now."
The door clicked softly behind him, the sound echoing in the quiet room, leaving Ash alone with Lyra
and Kai. He knelt beside the bed, the hard floor pressing against his knees, his hand resting on Kai’s
fur. The wolf stirred slightly, her sharp eyes flicking up to him, her ears twitching. She looked exhausted
but ever watchful. Ash stroked her softly, the fur warm beneath his fingers, his voice barely a whisper.
"Why would she do this?" Ash muttered, his words meant more for himself than the wolf. His voice
cracked, the question hanging in the air. "Lyra didn’t deserve this. Layne didn’t deserve to die." His
hand stilled against Kai’s coat, his fingers curling into her fur. "That girl, Aria—a commoner, of all
people."
Kai’s blue eyes met his, her gaze steady and unyielding, and Ash felt a bitter resolve settle in his chest,
a cold weight that pushed aside the grief. "I’ll make sure there’s justice," he promised the wolf, his voice
low and fierce. "I’ll find out why she did this. And I’ll make sure she pays for it."
He stood up slowly, letting the tension drain from his shoulders, though the weight in his chest
remained. Ash cast one last glance at Lyra, who remained silent and still on the bed, her face pale and
serene. His mind was made up—he wouldn’t wait for anyone else. He’d find the answers himself.
The narrow halls seemed to close in on Ash as he moved, his steps echoing faintly. Ash pushed
forward, trying to shake off the weight of the funeral and the grim visit to the infirmary.
Ash found himself in front of a familiar door—his uncle Jarvis's chambers. He was an enigma to Ash.
As the head of the Knights of Aleria, his uncle was a man respected by all, but Ash had always found it
difficult to reconcile that reputation with the man’s carefree, almost careless, attitude.
The room before him was a mess of papers and weapons strewn about, maps half-rolled up, and the
smell of stale wine lingering in the air, mixed with the faint mustiness of old parchment. Slipping inside
quietly, Ash moved to the desk by the window. His fingers rifled through the clutter, careful not to
disturb anything that might catch his uncle’s attention. He had seen Jarvis reading a report earlier—one
that which he hoped would detail where Aria had been sent after her arrest. The girl they believed had
murdered Layne and nearly killed Lyra.
He found a piece of folded parchment beneath a pile of correspondence. Unfolding it, Ash scanned the
contents, the paper rough beneath his fingers. The note mentioned Castle Mach—a run-down,
neglected place with cold, damp cells and barely edible food. The dark, narrow hallways and clinking
chains seemed oppressive.
Ash folded the note and tucked it into his tunic, the paper rustling against the fabric. His heart skipped a
beat as he heard the creak of the door. He froze, panic surging through him. He hadn't even reached
the doorknob when the door swung open, and there stood his uncle, Jarvis, arms crossed and a
knowing smirk on his face. The scent of wine was stronger now, mixing with the earthy smell of the
room.
"Ash," Jarvis said casually, stepping into the room, his boots thudding softly against the wooden floor,
"what exactly are you doing?"
Ash straightened, trying to keep calm. "I... I was just looking for—"
"For what, exactly?" Jarvis closed the door behind him, the latch clicking shut, stepping closer, his
sharp eyes flicking over the room. His tone was light, but there was a question beneath it, a tension that
made Ash's skin prickle. "You’re not thinking of doing anything foolish, are you?"
Ash swallowed, his throat dry, the taste of fear bitter on his tongue. "I need to know why she did it," he
said, his voice tight with frustration. "Why would she kill Layne? Why make Lyra suffer? I just don't
understand."
Jarvis sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, his expression softening. "Your brother... he was a good
man. Everyone knows that. We all loved him, but some things, Ash, are better left as they are." His
voice was gentle, almost regretful. "You have a family name to think about. If you pursue this, you risk
ruining our family's reputation. The Sakamoto name stands for honor, and if you go against the system,
you could lose everything—your position, your future. You’ve come this far... Don’t throw it all away on
this pursuit."
Ash felt a pang of uncertainty, his uncle's words echoing his deepest fears. Was his uncle right? Should
he just let it go? He knew this wasn't what Layne would have wanted. His brother would have told him
to trust the family's honor, to respect their name. But Ash couldn't. He couldn't stand by and do nothing.
Layne had lived for his ideals, but that didn't mean Ash had to follow the same path. He had to act,
even if it meant defying everything.
Ash clenched his fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms. "What do I really have to lose, Uncle?
Layne is gone, and I can't compare to him." His voice shook, laden with anger and grief.
His uncle’s gaze softened, though the smile never left his face. "I get it, Ash. I really do. You're your
own man—you don’t have to live up to anyone else. But you need to let this go. The girl's been sent
away. She’ll serve her time. Don’t ruin yourself over this."
After a long pause, Ash forced himself to nod, the movement stiff. "You’re right, Uncle. I won’t pursue it.
I just need some time, is all."
Jarvis clapped him on the shoulder, the contact heavy and warm, his smile broadening. "Good. How
about we grab a drink for your brother? I've still got some of that wine Layne loved. Let's toast to his
memory."
Ash hesitated, uncomfortable with the idea. It felt wrong to celebrate so soon after Layne's death. He
forced a smile to match his uncle's enthusiasm, but deep down, the disconnect bothered him.
Ash chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You know I’m not allowed, Uncle. Besides, you're on duty."
Jarvis winked, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Ah, what’s a little rule-breaking between family, eh?"
But then his expression sobered, the lightness fading. "Just... don’t do anything reckless, Ash. I don’t
want to lose you, too."
The night had grown cold by the time Ash packed his bag. His hands moved deftly, gathering supplies
without hesitation. His resolve had only hardened with each passing minute. As he packed, he recalled
Layne's words—"We'll make things better, one step at a time." The image of his brother's hopeful smile
flashed in his mind, and Ash knew he couldn't let that hope be extinguished. He couldn’t let the system
decide. He needed to know, and the only way was to confront Aria.
The chill of the night air clung to him as he lowered a rope from his window, the rough fibers biting into
his palms. His heart pounded as he made his descent, his boots scraping softly against the cold
surface. The wind whispered around him, carrying the scent of damp earth and distant smoke.
Once on the ground, Ash moved silently toward the side gate. The night was quiet, the only sounds
were the rustle of leaves and the faint hoot of an owl in the distance. He paused, glancing up at the
looming silhouette of his family’s castle, the place where he had been raised, the place where his
brother had once stood beside him. Now it was just a hollow reminder of what he had lost.
As he neared the edge of the grounds, Ash's breath caught when he heard footsteps nearby. He
quickly ducked behind a stack of crates, the rough wood pressing into his back, his heart pounding in
his ears. The footsteps grew closer, and Ash feared he would be caught. He held his breath, muscles
tensed, ready for the worst. The silhouette approached, and Ash squinted into the darkness, trying to
make out the shape.
The figure moved closer, and Ash could make out the glint of eyes reflecting the moonlight. His heart
pounded, bracing himself for confrontation, but then relief washed over him—it was Kai. The wolf
stepped out of the shadows, her eyes meeting his with recognition. Ash let out a shaky breath of relief
and crouched down, his hand resting on her head, her fur warm and soft beneath his touch.
The memories washed over him, pressing down on his chest. "You remember, don’t you, Kai? Back
then, when you and Lyra saved us? She was the first commoner ever offered a job in our family. She
saved me and Layne, and now I can't do anything for her." He sighed, his voice tight with emotion, and
looked into Kai's eyes, her blue gaze steady and unwavering. "I need you, Kai. We can't let it end like
this. So, you wanna join me?"
Kai nuzzled his hand in response, her loyalty clear in the gentle pressure. Ash smiled, feeling a warmth
that momentarily eased the coldness in his heart. "I know you're only here because of Lyra," he
whispered, his voice soft, almost breaking. "But it means a lot that you're coming." He stroked her fur
gently, drawing some comfort from her presence, her warmth grounding him.
"It's a long journey ahead," Ash whispered, his voice filled with a mix of determination and trepidation,
the night air chilling his breath.
Together, they turned west, toward Castle Mach. Toward Aria and the answers they sought