No Blessed ✓

Funeral

Mikel limped slightly as he made his way to the hall where an Elder priest was blessing Ramah’s body.

After seeing how burnt and disfigured their son’s body was, his parents, an influential couple in the North, had decided to cremate him at the August Church of Erynla and take his ashes back home with them.

For Mikel’s safety, the students had been given strict warnings not to mention his name and the instructors refused several inquiries as to the name of the student who had killed off their son.

Luckily, they could not pinpoint him out of the several apprentices who were bandaged or limping after the free for all in the Dueling and Armed Combat class.

Nevertheless, Mikel took care to cover up his tattoos and had also left his staff behind just in case something about his identity had been slipped.

The whole affair was as sombre as could be and after the body had been blessed, four attendants had carried it to a portion of the school’s large yard where a funeral pyre was waiting.
Mikel looked away when Ramah’s mother burst into tears, his mouth feeling bitter as he swallowed nervously.

After he had come back, Eric had been excited to tell him that he had moved up the rankings after defeating Ramah, and was currently number two out of the top five, where Ramah had previously occupied.

Already, a few students were calling him a legend.

It was stupid.

Ramah was probably what Tyler was to his own parents – the golden boy, the favourite child.

Who said that he could take that away from them?

After the Elder had sprayed holy water over the body, one of the attendants flicked his fingers and the pyre went ablaze, forcing a few people to step backwards.

A sudden bout of sickness came over Mikel and he stepped backwards, walking away from the site.

He had no right to be there, none at all.

As he walked back to his shared room, a shadow fell into step beside him and Mikel gave a tiny smile, already knowing who it was.

It reminded him of the first time they had met, only without the fear of uncertainty and a sword tip at the back of his neck.

“Don’t you have to say a message of condolence or something, Astra?” Mikel asked, taking in Astra’s formal clothing. “You looked dressed for it.”

Astra raised an eyebrow. “Why? This is all very foolish, if you ask me.”

The statement struck a chord in Mikel’s already sour countenance. “Well, nobody did ask you.”

“Your first kill?” Astra asked, noticing the frown on Mikel’s face. “Don’t answer that, I know it is.”

“Don’t you feel grief or sorrow? Someone just died,” Mikel said, looking at him wonderingly. “You’re talking as if I killed an animal.”

Astra laughed, clapping Mikel on his shoulder heavily. “Grief? Sorrow? You’re funny Druid.”

He stopped laughing, coughing discreetly when Mikel sent him a cold look.

“If I mourned each and every colleague or apprentice I lost, I would do it till I died,” Astra kicked at the ground.

“Our world is ruled by a ‘survival of the fittest’ mentality,” Astra explained, making a gesture with his hands. “Kill or be killed. If you are not strong then you are weak and there is no compromise between this divide.”