Haven

One

Church bells chimed in the distance.

The sound seemed to float through the air, traveling along the winds that blew through the great city. Everywhere it went, people paused to listen.

Whether they were housewives in the middle of cooking a meal for the dinner hour that was soon approaching, or diplomatic leaders seated around the great white table in a heated political debate, the sound of the bells made them stop what they were doing and turn their ears to the wind.

Someone great had passed. Someone respected, someone... perfect. Even the birds that flew through the grey skies seemed to be mourning her passing.

In the middle of this all, a young boy was standing. A solemn look was etched upon his face. He couldn't have been more than ten years old, yet the expression in his eyes held the all-knowing look of an old man.

He lifted his grey gaze upwards, towards the tower above him that was the origin of the chiming of the bells.

Two more tolls sounded, and then silence took the city.

It lingered for a long moment that seemed to stretch on for an eternity. Just as it began to grow uncomfortable, it was broken by the dull voice of the white clad Patriarch of Constantinople who stood at the front of the great cathedral.

"Today we mourn the passing of the much beloved Mrs. Motya Reshetnikova. Leader, sister, friend, mother." The Patriarch paused there to switch pages and begin the next part of his speech.

The young boy ended his listening there. He had been to funerals before; and had very quickly come to realize that the speeches given were long and boring.

His brow furrowed at the words the man had spoken. They sounded foreign to him. Yes, the woman he happened to call mother had filled each of those roles, but at the same time, she hadn't. Not really, not in the way society outlined them.

Each of those roles had been nothing but a convenient mask for her. In reality, she had been nothing but a stone cold female who happened to know how to sweet talk people into following her.

Yet... that wasn't quite the truth. She had also been a mentor. Not in the traditional way that a mother was, but because of how much the boy had learned simply by observing her. He had picked up many things just from watching her interact with the many people who often visited their grounds for some tea or other.

It was thanks to her that the boy knew what he did about making people tick.

A harsh jab from the young girl beside him jerked the boy back to reality.

"Sanctus!" She hissed. "Why aren't you singing?"

The boy, Sanctus, looked confused for a split second. A quick glance about showed him that the other occupants of the cathedral were beginning to sing the hymns that had been chosen for the service.

A flush of embarrassment colored his cheeks as he parted his lips and began to follow along with the words of the choirs at the front.

He had sung the hymns so many times during his short life that they were practically memorized. The well practiced words slipped from his mouth with little to no requirement for him to think them over first. Because of this, he was able to return his mind to his thoughts whilst he sang.

What else had Motya been to him?

This required some thinking. Another of the short hymns passed before the answer presented itself to him in a nicely organized thought.

She had been a teacher to him in other ways, as well. She had shown him that despite the riches their family held, the world was not an easy place. She had made it evident to him that all people needed to be regarded carefully.