Aristocratic Interactions

While the nobles in the corridor were chatting happily, Bishop Orion solemnly approached the tomb.

Realizing the ceremony was about to begin, people composed themselves, straightened their mourning clothes, and returned to their places.

Bishop Orion unfurled the parchment, cleared his throat, and began to recite the eulogy:

"Born at dawn, returned at dusk. Under the watchful gaze of my lord Losanda, Harandil Xiaxing completed his mortal expedition..."

"We bid farewell to Baron Harandil Shassing. His life was one of loyalty and protection."

"Baron Harandil displayed the fearless courage of the Xiaxing family from a young age. He once wore the Purple Dragon Armor and fought for the country under the banner of the Dragon Throne. He was not eager for those ostentatious fame and military achievements. Like a rock, he always stood firm on the border of the kingdom. He had no illustrious name, but he was the most solid bulwark for the prosperity of the kingdom."

Ye Wei'an overheard Seizga the Crowned Ninja muttering under his breath again:

"'Not eager for empty fame'? I remember the family archives saying that he spent ten years in the Purple Dragon Knights, and the biggest mission he ever participated in was escorting supplies; he didn't even get a medal..."

"After inheriting the title," the bishop continued, his tone growing increasingly solemn, "Baron Harandil poured his passion into Firefall Valley. He did not rush to expand, but instead chose to 'rest and recuperate.' Under his rule, Firefall maintained peace and order for over twenty years. This wisdom of restraint made the territory a safe haven amidst the chaos."

"'Resting and recuperating'... Ha, I think Firefall Valley is so poor that it can't even afford to repair the road, so it might as well just stay 'quiet' for twenty years." Seizga couldn't help but complain again.

Orifen glanced at him helplessly and replied in a low voice, "Respect for the dead, Sezga. Even if he was mediocre, at least he didn't cause Cormier any trouble. In the East, being able to maintain one's family business for twenty years without decline is considered a competent lord."

Listening to their discussion, Ye Wei'an finally understood what level his adoptive father was at.

All I can say is that Bishop Orion is quite the smooth talker.

However, as a son, he maintained a perfect posture of mourning.

"He was a benevolent lord, a loyal knight," the bishop concluded. "Now, the torch will be passed to the next generation. May Losanda grant wisdom to his successor, and may the Baron's soul find rest in the eternal dawn."

The crowd bowed their heads in silent mourning, and only the faint sound of rain and the bishop's deep voice echoed in the temple.

As the last rays of sunlight disappeared completely on the horizon, the burial ceremony began.

Bishop Orion, holding a torch burning with golden-red flames, approached the coffin and touched the golden rings at the four corners of the coffin in turn.

At the same time, the bugler sounded a low and mournful horn, and the coffin slowly disappeared into the tomb with the soft clatter of pulleys.

Baron Xia Xing was officially buried.

At this moment, Lady Serena finally broke down, collapsing by the grave and weeping uncontrollably; young Lucas cried so hard he collapsed.

Their attitude forced Ye Wei'an to squeeze out a few more tears to avoid appearing too out of place.

Next, the long vigil began.

Los Santo is the sun god who symbolizes dawn and new life.

According to church tradition, the funeral begins at dusk, and all participants must keep vigil at the temple until the sun rises again at dawn the next day, symbolizing the soul's return to the light after passing through darkness.

The knights of Firefall Keep, such as Morse and Hilt, still stood upright around the coffin, their heavy armor gleaming.

Even though the days of hard work had left their eyes bloodshot, and even though their heavy boots were making their ankles ache, they remained motionless like statues. This was their last act of loyalty to their old lord.

Of course, not everyone is like that.

The local merchants and landowners also feigned extreme grief and fear.

In order to demonstrate sufficient "loyalty," they had to keep their not-so-sturdy backs straight at all times, enduring the stiffness in their bodies and the soreness in their thighs.

In contrast, the nobles who had traveled from afar to attend the ceremony appeared far more "unpleasant".

For them, the Los Santo ceremony was nothing more than a formality.

In this era where divine miracles are no longer visible, they are already being generous by maintaining appearances.

For them, keeping vigil was nothing more than a salon in a different venue.

Beneath the colonnade in the side hall of the temple, servants busied themselves like beetles darting about.

They brought out velvet cushions and laid them on the cold stone benches, and set up folding screens to block the cold draft from the hallway.

Baron Raymond Yeland sat in a high-backed armchair in a side room, with a thick velvet carpet under his feet. He sipped wine from a silver cup, while two servants stood beside him, ready to drape a fur coat over him at any moment.

The lord of the Indis family was arguing loudly with another lord about the division of the hunting grounds for this autumn.

There were also noble ladies dressed in their finest attire, whispering among themselves under the canopies held up by servants; their frivolous laughter sounded particularly jarring at the funeral.

Sezigar the Hunter was walking around recklessly, his leather boots making a jarring sound in the silent temple.

"The spices here smell just like moldy old bookcases," Seziga complained, covering his mouth and nose with a silk handkerchief.

His servants were busy setting up an exquisite little charcoal stove to bake honey cakes brought from the capital for him.

Sezgar turned to look at Orifen Silver Hunter, mocking the local plantation owners kneeling on the ground with unbridled sarcasm:

"Look at those country bumpkins, Olivier, kneeling there like a bunch of turkeys waiting to be slaughtered. They think that if they shed a few more tears, that little baron who can't even hold a sword properly will take away a few less gold coins from them. How adorably foolish."

Then he noticed that Orifen was staring intently at Yevian in the shadows.

"Hey, Olivier, are you even listening?" Seizga said, somewhat annoyed. "What's so interesting about that bastard? Does he have a treasure map on his face?"

“I was thinking,” Olivier turned his head, a strange light flashing in his eyes, “that would be very interesting to invite him to come with me on an adventure to Thunder Peak or deep in the Hurek Forest.”

"Invite him?" Sezuga was stunned. "Don't be ridiculous. He's a mage, after all—that's what you told me. How could he possibly go with you into those muddy, trap-filled caves?"

Orifen revealed a sly smile: "Precisely because he is a bastard, he has no right to inherit the land. In Cormier's legal system, he is a 'free man,' which is just right—he is an insider, has superb spellcasting skills, and does not have the heavy shackles of those heirs of great noble families. The best part is that he might need me."

"Need you?" Sezuga raised an eyebrow.

“That’s right,” Olivier nodded confidently. “If he’s dissatisfied with his position, the Silver Hunter family will be his best asset.”

"Yeah, yeah, what can you do when you're distant relatives of the king?" Sezuga scoffed. "So you're planning to invite him?"

Why not?

Sezgar waved his hand dismissively. "You're insane, you hole-crawler. Go by yourself. I'd rather have a drink with that old man Wafer than meet a bastard."