I Will Be the Greatest Knight

Chapter 501: The Preparations

For once, Irene couldn’t bring herself to be a knight because that was her father they were hoisting into a carriage and taking him to a church where her mother would be burdened with cleaning his body while they prepared it for burial.

All she could do was sit there with her brother and mother, watching miserably as it all panned out for them uncontrollably. They had spent hours just sitting there and crying. She was lucky that Henry was there because he was the only one who had it in him to call for action. The rest of the room seemed paralyzed or unwilling to make the call themselves.

Now what was left was quietness—the occasional grunt from Henry and Callum as they got Arthur’s body into the carriage on a bed of hay and ensured that the sheet they had placed over him remained snug.

However, there was something so caring in the men’s actions. They moved slowly and acted as if Arthur would wake up at any moment despite his extremities having already grown cold by then.

How lucky Irene was to have men like that in her life. She knew it, but she couldn’t see very far outside of the situation at that moment.

After ensuring Arthur was tucked in, Henry returned to his new family, and he grasped Rochelle’s hand as he crouched in front of her.

"It’s time for us to take you to the church," Henry explained, trying to keep his voice from wavering. "There you will clean Arthur’s body. My mother is prepared to go with you if you would like."

"Yes, Henry," Rochelle uttered, her voice hollow.

She allowed her new son-in-law to guide her to the carriage that had been prepared. Since there was a lack of the usual guards or knights in the area, Commander Lothian was the one tasked with taking her there. What better person for the job? After all, Henry was the one who was going to take Arthur’s body to the church.

Rochelle’s trusted knights. She was always surrounded by them.

Henry then went to Arne, who seemed to be collapsing in on himself. He hadn’t said much of anything all day, nor would he meet anyone’s eyes until Henry addressed him directly.

"Arne, as the future lord of this region, I need you to write a letter to the Knights of Tenetium and inform them of what has happened. Warn them that I will be staying here for longer than expected," he explained. "Siverly, will you deliver it for him?"

"Yes," Arne responded. "I will."

On the other hand, the mage nodded dutifully from where he had been standing towards the door. He was insistent on still helping despite his duties as Arthur’s healer being over.

However, it was Irene who had a job for herself.

She could tell that Henry was trying his best not to burden her with anything, but there was something else that needed to be done.

Even though she felt unstable, she voiced her intentions as she said, "I need to find rosemary and evergreen for a proper Sünstoian burial. It will be in the hills surrounding my grandmother’s home."

There was a reason for her house being there, after all.

Henry met her halfway to where she was headed—the stables where she intended to get Sammy ready for a ride. He gently grasped her shoulders.

"Are you sure you can go by yourself?" Henry asked. "I can come back for you."

Irene quickly stopped him. "I have to do this," she responded.

Henry stared down at his wife for a moment, observing her red eyes and the tear tracks that hadn’t left for that entire day. Even though she was completely broken, she was still so determined. For that, he loved her so dearly.

"I understand," he responded, not willing to stop her if she felt it was necessary. "Please, ask for help if you need it."

All he could do was gently kiss the top of her head as she pulled away to continue with what she wanted.

Irene disappeared into the stables shortly after to prepare Sammy and tie him to a post once he was ready. She didn’t want to go far without her sheath and belt, so she returned to the guest house where she got all the things she needed, including a large pouch, a knife, and her sword.

Finally ready to depart, she saw that Commander Lothian and Henry were already on their way to the village and ultimately the church. Just as when Arthur and Rochelle were married, the funeral would be a half Sünstoian and half Perodan event. It was almost poetic in a way, but it made Irene feel worse to think about how much life her mother still had left to live.

All Irene could do at this thought was press the heel of her hand into her eyes, willing her tears not to fall.

She passed the other two knights and gave them a single nod before she picked up speed and headed through the village, through the heart, and then up the hill and around the trees that finally brought her to her grandmother’s dwelling.

Things passed by in a blur. She wasn’t sure where her mind was for all the time it took her to get there. Perhaps it had left with her father. She hoped that grief wouldn’t always be like this—that her mind would return to her and she would feel a sense of normalcy again.

It was a bit cruel that so many things in her life were changing all in one week. She uttered a Sünstoian prayer to carry her forward.

Irene’s ultimate target was in the hills around the house, but she couldn’t help going into the small house first and seeing everything left where it was supposed to be. Looking around and seeing two generations’ worth of people who had passed on brought Irene to her knees for a moment.

There were the beds her father and uncle slept on growing up—the bed that her grandmother died in. There was evidence of life all around, yet there was no life in that place.

"It’s a good thing," Irene reminded herself, desperate for relief from these thoughts. "The afterlife is the Sünstoian’s ultimate goal, isn’t it?"

Since being inside wasn’t productive, Irene gave the place one last glance before she shut the door tightly, being sure that the winter wouldn’t get inside once it settled in the valley in a few months.

She then went to the fields and found rosemary, although the flowers were limited and mostly white rather than the purple or blue they might be for the earlier blooms of the season. It was a shame that her father wouldn’t get the most beautiful blooms, but at least the white and end-of-season blooms meant that the rosemary was smelling its best.

Again, she uttered a Sünstoian prayer, but this time it was a Volna blessing, calling for her father’s safe passage. She instilled within the flowers the belief that this was a conquering of death and that remembrance was a tool to remind themselves of the eternal world they would meet together again one day.

The knight laid out the large pouch she had brought with herself and began culling the area of the rosemary. Luckily, out here, it was in abundance. She found piles and piles before it was time to find evergreen to make wreaths out of.

Irene’s eyes went further north. There were plenty of evergreen trees a bit further up.

As she went through the motions of picking off branches or cutting when she needed them, Irene went blank to her actions. Her head was full of the familiarity of this situation. For the rest of her life, evergreen and rosemary would remind her of death because those were scents that had stuck out to her at her grandmother’s passing and now... her father’s.

Irene’s eyes were blurry with tears and not for the first time that day.

"Irene."

Why did it feel like she would never stop crying?

"Irene!"

The knight gasped as she came back to her surroundings.

She looked down at the horrifying sight of blood on her hands. She had cut herself without even realizing it.

Henry had come for her. How long had she been out here?