The morning breeze drifted lazily alongside the light rain that had been falling steadily since the previous night. The atmosphere in the capital today was heavier than ever before, for it was the day of the funeral ceremony for two departed souls. One was a man of high status, the Treasury Department Head of the Kingdom, a figure of considerable financial power and honor.
The other was the son of the noble Cavendish family, a pride of his lineage. Though both had departed this world under shocking and mysterious circumstances that remained the subject of heated debate, the funeral had to be conducted with appropriate dignity under the watchful eyes of all concerned parties.
Yet in the shadow of these sorrowful departures, there were two lesser deaths that seemed overshadowed by the grand funerals taking place. These were the two royal prison guards who had died mysteriously on the night of the prisoner's escape. Their names carried no great honor or noble rank, but the authorities still recognized them as having sacrificed their lives in the line of duty. Thus, a ceremony was arranged for them in the same cemetery, albeit in a quieter corner where few people paid attention.
The bells of the great temple rang solemnly, announcing the departure of the deceased, alternating with the chants of religious clerics. The soft rhythmic sounds mingled with the morning rain.
The capital's cemetery was crowded with mourners today. Nobles and important figures from all corners arrived in succession since the first light of dawn.
Two coffins lay side by side, each covered with dark cloth embroidered with silver wheel patterns, adorned with religious symbols and insignia denoting their honor. Treasury Department Head Christopher Darcy received royal honors, enhancing his status one final time. Joseph Cavendish, though not of departmental rank, was a son of the Cavendish family, long renowned for their military service, and thus was honored in accordance with his noble heritage.
The attendees wore mourning clothes of deep black, expressing sorrow and loss. They stood around the two coffins, enveloped in a somber atmosphere, their bodies cold as lifeless trees. Some nobles were so silent they appeared exhausted, concealing their shock at such sudden deaths. Several royal court members and royal family members also attended, emphasizing the importance of the two departed souls.
An elderly cleric in black and white robes, holding a staff carved with religious symbols, led the procession to the center of the yard where the coffins were placed. He stopped before them, flanked by two assistant clerics. His eyes, beneath thick, gray eyebrows, surveyed the citizens and relatives standing solemnly around. Then he began to speak in a soft, firm, and clear voice.
"Today is the day we must send the souls of the departed back into the embrace of the Divine Ordainer. Though this is a loss difficult to accept, all humans must face their final fate. Living in this world is like weaving a piece of cloth with our daily actions... until the final chapter, when the fabric of fate is closed and awaits the Divine to unfold and read it in the next life..."
As he spoke, he placed his staff upon the stone floor. The assistant clerics moved to the side, raising the religious banners and waving them slowly, signaling the beginning of the funeral hymn, harmonizing with the officiant's words.
"Let us send them with respectful hearts, acknowledging the goodness they have contributed to this kingdom. Both Christopher Darcy, Treasury Department Head, who safeguarded our resources and stood by us for many years, and Joseph Cavendish, son of a noble family, who served in the military with courage and was beloved by all. May the earth embrace their bodies, and may the Divine Ordainer welcome their souls to the eternal realm."
As his voice faded, the funeral hymn transformed into a soft, hypnotic melody. People bowed their heads, their spirits gloomy and still.
Richard, the father, with a haggard and pale face, tried to conceal his grief, but his eyes revealed the depths of his loss. His sunken eyes suggested he hadn't slept for days.
Alice, the loving mother, wore black without a face veil. Her tears flowed constantly down her cheeks, reflecting the loss of her beloved son, the light of her heart.
Miranda, Joseph's sister, wore a stern expression. Her eyes held both anger and disappointment. Moreover, she knew some of what lay behind her brother's death—that it was connected to some dirty scheme. Today, however, she had to fulfill her duty as a sister first.
Edward, the uncle, stood silently beside Miranda, trying to suppress his emotions. His eyes were deep and inscrutable, making it difficult to guess what plans might be forming in his mind.
Isabel, Joseph's cousin, stood beside Edward, sobbing quietly while dabbing her tears with a handkerchief.
And Rebecca, Joseph's wife, dressed in full mourning attire. Her face veil was thin and black, not completely concealing her features, but still revealing swollen, red eyes from crying, reflecting how deeply she suffered from this loss.
Viola, Sebastian, Abigail, Amelia, and Andrew stood at a distance. They attended to pay their respects as friends and colleagues. Beside Sebastian, Emma looked at the coffin of the man who had helped her with sorrowful eyes.
Relatives and friends of the deceased came forward one by one to "place pins" on the shroud, an important tradition believed to "bind the final fate" and send off the departed.
Miranda was the first to approach. Her hand trembled slightly as she placed the pin on the fabric. Though her eyes shed no abundant tears, they were filled with intense, contained emotion. Everyone around knew she kept her grief and anger within.
Next, Alice, the mother, stepped forward to place her pin, barely able to maintain her composure. She sobbed, calling Joseph's name in a trembling voice, until those around had to support her to prevent her from fainting.
Isabel followed as the third, placing her pin while reminiscing about memories of playing with Joseph. Her small frame sobbed quietly as she placed the pin. Everyone who saw her felt pity, knowing her heart was as wounded as any adult's.
Rebecca moved to the front of the coffin with soft steps. She let her tears flow continuously, mindful that this man was the husband she loved most. She placed her pin, her breath catching intermittently like someone about to lose consciousness, then raised her face and stepped back.
Finally, Richard, the strong father, gathered all his courage to walk forward and slowly place his pin. That moment was so silent it seemed as if time had stopped. Richard shed not a single tear, but the trembling in his eyes was clearly visible. He withdrew the pin and, with one hand, cut the tip as tradition dictated, until the pin fell to the ground below. A nearby officiant bent down to collect it according to protocol.
"The shroud with all pins in place signifies the fate of the deceased, woven to its end," the officiant spoke in a soft voice, his eyes full of compassion.
"Now the fabric of his fate is bound to its conclusion, to be buried with the body beneath the earth, waiting for the Divine Ordainer to pick it up and read it so the departed may enter His embrace in the eternal realm filled with happiness," he said, raising the religious staff.
The funeral hymn continued once more. Around them, the sight of people shedding tears and sobbing filled the air with immeasurable sorrow.
"May this land bear witness that they fulfilled their duties completely. They have left behind their legacy and beautiful memories for this world. May their souls rest in peace..." the cleric announced in closing.
Meanwhile, in another corner, the burial of Christopher Darcy proceeded simultaneously. A representative from the royal court delivered a eulogy praising his honor, invoking blessings according to the tradition for a Treasury Department Head. Moderate sobbing could be heard from close relatives or those who had worked closely with him. Many were still confused as to why he had met such a tragic end.
Not far from the main ceremony area, just a few dozen meters away, under a row of large trees, the authorities had set up a small corner to bury the bodies of the two prison guards who had died in the line of duty. Though mystery still surrounded what truly happened in the prison, high-ranking officials confirmed they had fought against dangerous criminals before being brutally murdered.
Not many attended this ceremony, only the guards' close relatives and two or three colleagues who knew them well. The atmosphere was filled with both doubt and sorrow.
"These two were sacrifices to duty. The royal court extends its condolences," an official read a statement in a monotone voice. "Compensation will be arranged for their families."
The relatives of the prison guards stood weeping. Little did anyone know that they had actually tried to kill Joseph first, only to be killed by Charles instead.
However, no one spoke of this openly. Other guards who knew certain details remained silent, just exchanging worried glances, for within the royal prison lay many secrets that could not yet be spoken.
They could only hold a quiet ceremony, burying the two guards without any grand honors, using graves in the back row of the cemetery, where important people were rarely buried. Some viewed this as already favorable, that the authorities still gave them some degree of honor.
On the Cavendish family's side, when Joseph's burial ceremony was complete, many stood staring at the covered grave, as if watching his life being sealed away forever. The women's tears continued to flow unabated, a deeply moving sight.
As Rebecca moved away from the grave, she overheard people whispering in one corner of the cemetery, discussing who might have killed them.
"I heard it was the work of a man named Charles, isn't that right? Frightening... I can't believe it."
"Yes, he was an investigator whose background no one knew... killed two good men at once."
"Why do you think he did it? Could he be a foreign spy?"
These words pierced Rebecca's heart like sharp spears. Her sorrow transformed into anger and hatred. With trembling lips, the young woman clenched her fists.
Meanwhile, Miranda knew the situation was more complex than people realized. But the fact that Charles had been identified as the murderer had now become a legal fact. As a sister seeking truth, she had to contain her anger and use it as motivation to find evidence of who was truly behind it all.
Edward stood silently looking at the grave, wiping his face as if trying to suppress his feelings. What lay in his heart might have been the pain of losing a beloved nephew, and perhaps concern about the complex power games at play. He avoided making eye contact with anyone, gradually retreating from the cemetery to allow the family to mourn in peace.
After the burial ceremony, the eyes of many remained fixed on the Cavendish family, most of whom were too exhausted to make any statements. Outside the cemetery, soldiers and royal court officials stood at their posts. An announcement was read confirming that Charles Ravencroft was the murder suspect, and praising the deceased for their contributions to the kingdom.
Whispers spread throughout.
"How could he do it... that famous investigator?"
"Or is he just a scapegoat? But from what many nobles are saying, he seems extremely suspicious."
Not far away, Humphrey Grey stood listening to the conversations drifting past.
Everyone in the Cavendish family gradually returned to the mansion. Before they could even change out of their mourning clothes, two or three nobles followed to express their condolences and offer various consolations. But no one in the family wanted to meet or talk to anyone at this time.
Inside the grand mansion, a mournful atmosphere prevailed. The large hall seemed empty. Richard and Alice retreated to their private room, closing the door in silence, while Rebecca went straight to her room, locking the door from inside.
She refused to change out of her mourning clothes, remaining in the same state. Her tears might have dried, leaving only stains around her swollen eyes.
"Joseph..." she whispered her husband's name in a trembling voice. "What really happened?"
Images of days gone by flashed through her mind.
"But because of whom? Who ruined everything?" she spoke to herself, gathering information from those at the funeral who accused Charles of being the murderer.
"If so... Charles... you will pay for killing him," her voice trembled with resentment, the force of her hatred stronger than her grief.
No one in the mansion knew of this intention. In her heart was only the image of him as the murderer who caused Joseph's death, and thus she must hunt him down to claim his life in return.