The bells of Avarice rang at dawn.
They did not ring with urgency or warning, but with a slow, measured toll that sank into the bones of everyone who heard it. Each chime carried across the capital, rolling over stone streets, quiet homes, and the distant training grounds where no one trained that morning.
Luke stood at the edge of the ceremonial grounds, dressed in black armor stripped of insignia. The weight of it pressed down on him far more than steel ever had. Before him lay countless caskets, set upon white stone platforms and draped in the banners of the knight order.
The poison alone had taken more lives than the whole fight beforehand.
Luke stood in the front, before a white coffin decorated with roses, alongside his teacher and a family.
Rose Samir.
Hero of the war.
Luke's hands were clenched so tightly at his sides that his nails dug into his palms, yet he felt none of it. His eyes remained fixed on the casket, unmoving, unblinking, as if looking away would make the truth unbearable.
Behind him stood rows of knights and mages, silent and rigid. Some stared forward in respect. Others lowered their heads, unable to meet the sight, carrying the weight of their fallen comrades on their shoulders.
At the front of the crowd stood a family.
Nadia Samir was small, far too small for the black dress she wore. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her, knuckles pale, as she stood beside her father.
She did not cry. She did not move. Her eyes remained fixed on the casket that bore her mother's name, wide and empty, as if she were afraid that blinking might make it disappear.
She hadn't understood the meaning of death but she understood what it meant.
Her father gripped her hand with a little pressure as he stood, broken by his wife's grave, tears slowly pouring from his eyes.
Nadia, although not understanding it, seeing her father distressed greatly troubled her and she squeezed his hand with as much strength as she could muster.
A few steps away stood another child, but she stood with her mother.
Sabrina Page. This was the first time she had seen her mother cry since she was born and it deeply pained her, what was worse, after the war her mother went to, since she came back her mother had felt weaker.
It wasn't something that one would notice, but feel. Her mother was sick but was denying it.
She was older than Nadia with several years, her dark hair tied neatly back, her posture straight in a way that did not belong to someone her age.' She held her father's hand, but her gaze was sharp, intelligent, and fixed entirely on the casket in front of her, the source of her mother's sadness.
Luke noticed her only briefly, a flicker at the edge of his vision, before the ceremony began.
A priest stepped forward, voice calm and practiced as he spoke of sacrifice, duty, and honor. Words Luke had heard countless times before. Words that meant nothing now.
They spoke of Rose's laughter, her cheerful charisma, her bravery, her devotion to protecting others.
They spoke of the soldiers that died, their strengths, their discipline, their unshakable resolve.
They did not speak of fear.
They did not speak of screams, or poison, or falling bodies or flames that burnt and smoked skins.
Luke barely registered when it was his turn to step forward.
His legs moved on instinct alone, carrying him to the front as hundreds of eyes settled on him. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.
For a moment, no words came.
"I…" His voice cracked, and the sound echoed far louder than he expected.
There was a brief silence that ensued, for a long time people had known him as one of the best swordsman and nothing more.
People often think of gifted knights as machines and tools who are incapable of feeling pain but Luke's action debunked what people had thought of him for a long time, as just a talented swordsman.
This time they were seeing the face of a man who was struggling with what he wanted to say, a man who had lost a precious ally, a man who felt like the death of every soldier was on his head.
Luke swallowed hard.
"They saved us," he said finally, his tone low and steady despite the storm raging inside him. "They saved everyone here. And the world will remember them as heroes, the heroes who allowed us to see today, the heroes who stood up when all hope seemed lost."
His gaze drifted, just for a second, to Nadia.
"To the families they left behind," he continued, "there are no words that can fill what has been taken. But I swear this, as a knight and as someone who fought beside them… their sacrifice will never be forgotten."
He stepped back before his voice could betray him further.
Luina cane forward and made her speech, followed by Commander Lance, with the king ending it.
The ceremony ended soon after.
One by one, people approached the caskets to offer flowers, prayers, or silent respect. Luke remained where he was, unmoving, until the crowd began to thin.
Only then did he turn.
Nadia had not moved.
Her father knelt beside her now, whispering something Luke could not hear. Slowly, she nodded and took a single step forward. Then another.
She placed a small bouquet of wildflowers on the casket.
"Goodbye, Mom. I'll make sure I look after dad for you." she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Luke looked away.
A short distance away, Sabrina stood before her mother next to the casket.
She did not speak. Instead, she reached into her pocket and placed something small and metallic on the stone, a simple charm shaped like a crescent.
Her father rested a hand on her shoulder.
Sabrina did not look at him.
Luke would remember that.
Later, as the grounds emptied and the bells fell silent, Luke found himself standing alone once more. The banners fluttered gently in the wind, white against a gray sky.
This war was over.
But the cost would linger far longer than the smoke ever did.
And somewhere beyond the capital, two children would grow up in the shadow of this day, their paths unknowingly bound by the loss they shared, their fates slowly, but surely interwining.