(I’ve always wondered when the Agora reports a Gravy Commander slain in battle, how would a funeral actually look like. Now since we never saw people get cremated or buried or stuff in AO, this is completely up to my interpretation.)
(There’s also some SW references here lol.)
The winds of Silverhold were blowing once again, a gentle breeze rushing through the stone fortress of the organization that claimed to uphold justice and peace. The breeze was like a pair of smooth hands, gently comforting every person it touched. Yet, no one at Silverhold will ever feel comfort at this moment.
Commodore Kuznetsov remains in his room, reading the newspaper “Agora”. The massive unavoidable headline reads: Navy Commander slain in battle, and below are details Kuznetsov wished weren’t true. It describes the whole incident: Commander Donovan was scouting the forest of Cerrunno when he was ambushed by two unknown people and assassinated. His subordinates could only retrieve his body, with burn and sword wounds, and they reportedly “express deep sorrow at the loss of their leader.”
There was a knock on the door. “Come in,” Kuznetsov ordered, and Captain Milton, head of Silverhold’s security, entered. He had a few encounters with Kuznetsov but they’re not exactly close.
“Everyone has heard the news,” Milton sighed, taking a chair and sitting beside Kuznetsov without permission, “the funeral is tonight. All personnel at Silverhold must attend it, it’s Commodore Kai’s orders.”
“I understand.” Kuznetsov coldly replied. He puts down the newspaper he was reading and announces, “I need to get some fresh air.”
Kuznetsov walks to the railing of Silverhold’s cannons. The nearby marines salute him, and Kuznetsov stares out into the vast Bronze Sea, and then to the sun hanging high in the sky, shining a light upon this land torn by war and slaughter.
Dinner was early that night, as most marines were called to the cafeteria early to eat so everyone could attend the funeral. Kuznetsov, usually accounted for eating in his private quarters, decided to travel down to the cafeteria to eat tonight. He tossed mushrooms and fruit into the cooking pot and cooked a small meal. He looked around. Normally when a higher ranking member rarely comes down to eat the marines will be surprised, but everyone was so plagued by sorrow they weren’t even noticing him.
Kuznetsov found a table at the back of the cafeteria and sat down. Usually ranks sit together in groups, marines with marines; vice captains with vice captains, etc. Kuznetsov was the only Commodore here, and there wasn’t any rank above Major in the cafeteria. He sighed and ate his meal. It felt tasteless, even though he had added plenty of herbs and spices into it.
He quickly finished his meal and headed back up for some rest. He laid on his bed yet he was unable to sleep, his mind plagued with thoughts. Memories of the Commander that was so beloved by the Gravy for not his battle skills – he wasn’t fond of intense violence anyway – but his kindness and upholding of justice. Although he did sentence many criminals to jail, in his firm belief of justice, he tried his best to give them less harsh punishments. Much of his personal wealth, which he amassed throughout the years, he donated it to the poor and needy. Even at times when attack, he sometimes didn’t fight back, preferring to negotiate or only use force when necessary, and it ultimately cost his life.
Kuznetsov could never forget the moment when the mortally wounded Commander was carried back to Silverhold; nor could he forget the sight when the doctors tried their best to save the Commander, giving him the finest herbs and using the most high quality potions to heal him, but when they stood up and shook their heads and the Commander closed his eyes for one last time, Kuznetsov stood silent, unable to think of anything to comfort or sympathize with his crew, who broke down in tears and rushed to their Captain, sobbing and wailing, shaking their Commander as if they still held hope in his survival, but the Commander never woke up again. Their efforts were in vain.
An hour later Kuznetsov stepped out of his room. Since the lower outside area was already crowded by Gravy troops of most ranks, he decided to view from the second floor, by the cannons, outside of Commodore Kai’s office. Although it was still crowded, his prestigious rank allowed him to stand at the front, next to another Commander, Balstre. They were familiar with eachother but not close.
A burning pyre had been prepared, it’s blazing flames illuminating the dark night.
Inside Silverhold the crew was making the final preparations. Among the participants were Commodore Kai, Rear Admiral Adkins (the only participating Rear Admiral), many marines, and a few Commanders and Majors. Oddly enough, there weren’t any ranks above Commodore attending besides one.
“They’re here!” Someone shouted. The wooden doors are flung open and everyone made way for the crew. The Commander’s crew of marines carried a wooden platform with the Commander’s body laid on it, a blanket bearing the Gravy symbol coveted most of his body, but his face was at peace, his eyes closed.
The crew carried the body to the pyre and one of the marines read from a scroll: “according to his will, Commander Donovan is to be cremated. He was destined to serve and die in the Gravy, and now our beloved Commander’s life is at an end. Commander Donovan has upheld justice and peace for all his life, and as his crew we will swear to follow in his footsteps and continue his legacy.”
“A quality valued less and less in these ‘great’ halls,” Kuznetsov murmured.
Slowly the marines placed the body on the pyre, and everyone remained silent as the Commander’s body burned. The flames crackled in the night, under the bright stars that shone high in the sky.
“I wonder if any meaningful change will come to this,” Commander Balstre sighed. “I seriously doubt it,” Kuznetsov retaliated. A tear fell off Balstre’s eye, “He wasn’t just my friend, he was a brother to me. We swore to become Commanders on the same day and we did, and we swore to die on the same day, but he left us first. When he waved goodbye to me as he went to Cerrunno, I’d never imagine it would be his last.”
Kuznetsov, instead of sadness, boiled with anger and frustration,“as if this will change their minds. I’m terribly sorry for your brother’s loss, and so is every one of the people here. These are good people, good soldiers. But if the system was more complete, perhaps…… perhaps he didn’t have to die. The higher ranks are decedant and corrupt. They won’t stand up for justice even if a Commander is slain. The Gravy has gone against everything it has swore to upheld – it’s now a garbage pile filled with corruption and decedance.”
Kuznetsov looked at the burning body, and he was left with shame and with concequence. He patted Balstre on the shoulder in his best effort to comfort him. Then some marines stepped forward to the cannons. “The Gravy will now salute Commander Donovan with a cannon volley,” Captain Milton announced. The port cannons of silverhold were loaded, and marines aimed it as high as possible. “Fire!” Boom! The cannons blew cannonballs off towards the ocean, the deafening notice tearing the curtain of night, their bright light crossing the darkness light a bright star, then they dropped into the ocean with a plop.
The participants saluted, honoring the Commander. As the ceremony ended and the people left, Kuznetsov continued staring at the pyre, it’s flames somewhat offering a pleasant feel to him.
The darkest nights create the brightest stars, and as Kuznetsov lamented his comrade’s death, the stars in the sky shone brighter than ever.
