The Knight and the Peasant [FIRST DRAFT]

Chapter 32

The mass funeral took place the next day. Dozens of bodies were wrapped delicately and placed in coffins shaped like rowboats. They were waterproofed with lacquer, for once they reached Navitium, they would be sent into the Gravewater Bay and sent to rest with hundreds of thousands of other coffins at the bottom of the bay.

Everyone stood with their loved ones, sobbing and mourning for the dead. Even the clouds wept that day. But Benedict stood with no one. Everyone gave him a wide berth in their fear, for they did not who―no, what―he was.

Not that he knew any better.

He had never felt so utterly alone.

You're not alone, whispered a voice in his mind. Juliana.

Benedict allowed himself a small, sad smile. Not completely alone.

Not even Angelica deigned to make eye contact with him. She stood over the coffin of her sister, but no tears came out, for they had all dried up. The Duchess of Mercenaries no longer assumed an upright, confident pose. She was hunched over the coffin, her slender hands roaming all over the lacquered wood.

The Royal Family and the Lord Constable had escaped, retreating with their host back to Navitium, the City of Ships. With them, they took any hope Benedict held of a possible transition of power that did not require a civil war.

Oh, how naive he was.

When the funeral was over, he was approached by the Arch-Cardinal. The woman held such a commanding pose that one would not have suspected only the day before, she had fled in terror with her tail between her legs. "Your Majesty―"

He cut her off. "I'm not king yet."

She gave him an annoyed look. "It is that very matter I wish to discuss. We should perform the coronation immediately before we travel to besiege Navitium."

Besiege Navitium. His home.

Benedict shook his head. "I will not wear the Serpent Crown until we claim the city."

The Arch-Cardinal huffed in frustration. "Benedict. I traveled all this way to―"

"If you do not support my decision, then leave!" He had unconsciously raised his voice and the dispersing mourners shrank back in fear. He felt awful.

"Forgive me." He shook his head again. "I must... go and calm myself." He walked away, barely keeping himself from sprinting.

He went to the stables and saddled up a horse before mounting and riding away. He had no map, but he knew the countryside well enough. He had spent many summers at Lux Aestius. He followed the road that led to Navitium before diverging from the path and traversing the lush, soft countryside. Trees dotted and patched the dunes of green that danced and waved in the soft breeze. To his left, a village. The sweet, savory scent of Sersalvonian dishes flew into his nose like a pestering fly. In the distance, the Macaw Monts, mountains vaguely shaped like the colorful macaws native to the Caraíbes, loomed, their green peaks almost scraping the low, weeping clouds. Yet still, he urged his steed on until they reached a ravine that was about three hundred feet deep. Vines crawled up the side, desperately trying to reach the land overhead.

Benedict dismounted from his steed and sat down, dangling his legs over the gaping maw of the ravine.

"What am I?" he whispered.

He saw the faint figure of Juliana coalesce into existence beside him. "You are an Aetherwielder, young prince."

He looked at her. "An Aetherwielder? From before the Banishment?"