Chapter Four: The Funeral Ceremony
Knock knock knock.
Someone’s knocking on the door.
“Miss Silvya, are you not ready yet? The ceremony is about to officially begin…”
A young voice is urging from outside.
I quickly turned my head and shouted, “I’m almost ready!”
I tugged on my slightly too-long cloak and turned back to assess the figure reflected in the mirror.
My black hair flowed like silk, eyes bright like stars, face as lovely as ever yet with an added dash of daring charisma.
At this moment, I had shed my flowery dresses of yesteryear and donned an utterly traditional set of Milanese armor.
This was the first time in my life I had put on armor, neither in my past life nor in this current life filled with memories.
The armor was a stunning silver white, with elegant lines and sunflowers intricately embossed in colorful gold on the front chest and back. One glance made it clear that this craftsmanship was of the highest caliber… apart from my own family’s central workshop, no other smithy in this world could match such weaponry excellence.
The sunflower shield emblazoned in the center of the chest proved that point.
This armor was prepared for me by the Church. I had chosen to wear it for the funeral ceremony, wanting to pay my respects to those who perished in this disaster… the warriors of the Sword of Kanli, the civilians, and the children. I wanted to see them off.
As a knight, I had to be fully armored at such a solemn funeral to show respect to the deceased, a tradition in Ethanbel for hundreds of years.
I felt relieved not to have missed this important ceremony. Coincidentally, I woke up just two hours before it began, and the ceremony was being held on the first floor of St. Zayeli’s Cathedral, right down the hall.
After addressing my personal needs and then washing up, I changed into the nun’s outfit prepared for me by the Church. Shortly after, Margaret came to inform me of this and asked if I would attend in the capacity of the Pope Knight. I immediately agreed.
Not long after, Margaret had someone deliver this armor to me, requesting I don it while reminding me of various precautions—a checklist I memorized one by one.
The armor was quite beautiful, and it didn’t feel particularly heavy to me. Once fully equipped, I grabbed a headband from the vanity and popped it in my mouth, using both hands to awkwardly gather my long hair into a messy bun before tying it back with the headband…
“Miss Silvya—”
“I’m coming, I’m coming!”
The urging voice from outside came again. I lifted the helmet and made my way to the door.
Clank… clank…
It felt a bit odd.
While it wasn’t exhausting, that heavy, cumbersome feeling was hard to ignore, making me quite uncomfortable. I hadn’t noticed the fit while standing still, but as soon as I took a step—I realized, the armor was a tad too big.
Yet Margaret insisted on the smallest size… oh well. It didn’t matter too much, I’d just roll with it.
Securing the helmet’s latch, I pushed the door open and stepped out.
Creeeak—
Two young nuns had been waiting at the door for some time.
“Miss, please follow us downstairs.”
“Oh.”
cr*p, I could only see their generous chests.
Since the helmet was a full-face design, once latched shut, my entire face was covered, with only a narrow slit near my neck for visibility. This made it impossible to get a full view of anything nearby… No wonder Carlos never wore this thing.
I couldn’t fathom how those heavily armored knights could fight… you can’t see anything!
Clank… clank…
Following the nuns down the exquisitely decorated hallway, I carefully descended the stairs to the church’s ground floor.
The chanting in the air gradually became clearer.
In the mural-adorned main hall, people either in armor or clad in black suits were seated on benches, heads bowed in prayer, while to the sides were clerics holding aloft candles, all singing a hymn of indiscernible lyrics. At the front of the hall stood an elderly man with a salt-and-pepper beard, looking serious in front of a row of black coffins lined with flickering candles, his eyes closed as he recited something.
The two nuns led me to an empty seat in the first row near the center and then turned to leave.
Margaret sat to my left, praying earnestly, her focus undisturbed by my arrival. To my right, a knight fully armored like me lifted her head, seemingly peering at me.
Noticing her armor was designed for women, I tilted my head and took a sniff… that distinctive scent could only belong to Victoria.
Almost didn’t recognize her in armor… but seeing her now, she seemed fine. Her previously disfigured left arm had returned to normal; she sat there upright, looking rather spirited.
I let out a quiet sigh of relief. I wanted to speak to her, but it didn’t seem like the right moment, so I mimicked everyone else, clasping my hands in front of my chest, closing my eyes, and began to pray.
…What should I say?
It felt oddly familiar.
People killed by monsters, coffins with no bodies inside. Once the dust settles, all that’s left are the living, praying for the dead.
But this time, I didn’t need to sing the praises.
That was all there was to it.
Since then, what have I really accomplished…
Ding ding ding…
The ghostly bell rang in my ears, golden light exploding in the hall.
Moments later, the old man’s voice rose dramatically: “…In the dust of the wind, awaiting your return… sending you off… accepting the embrace of the divine… may the God forever bless you all.”
“May the God forever bless you all.”
As that phrase echoed in unison, people stood up.
It seemed the prayer had concluded. The clerics pulled down the white silk drapes hanging from the wall, covering each of the black coffins. Some were embossed with sword emblems, others bore the Holy Church’s cross. A faint gold light almost enveloped the entire hall; gradually, the candles representing the civilians flickered out… symbolizing Lucas, Abe, Charles, and many of the orphan children, whose souls could finally rest.
But before I could say anything, I didn’t even know what I wanted to say.
Their lives came to an end, and nothing I said would be heard… it would be meaningless.
The voices around me grew louder.
The clerics began to lift the coffins one by one. I knew it was time to see off the warriors.
“Victoria…”
“Yeah?”
“Where do people go after they d*e…?”
I knew this was a stupid question.
As someone who has lived through an age ahead of its time, even though those memories have faded like a dream, I shouldn’t be asking such questions.
I was just holding on to a slim hope. Perhaps in this world that felt mythological, in a world where even deities could exist… maybe there really were souls and an afterlife.
“I don’t know.”
Victoria replied simply.
“Maybe one day, when I d*e, I’ll understand… or maybe I never will.”
She extended her right hand to me.
“Let’s go, everyone is waiting.”
“…Okay.”
I took her hand, helping her step toward the church’s doors. Saint Margaret followed silently on the other side, lost in her own thoughts.
The black coffins covered with white cloth were just behind us.
I noticed the golden cross on the top coffin was particularly striking, and suddenly realized something; I stopped in my tracks.
“Um… who’s that?”
“That’s Sister Teresa,” Margaret replied softly.
