The entire country was in uproar over the murder of Lena of Bartholomew. Suddenly all that opposed her could only sing her praises. Most importantly the nobles were up in arms demanding the culprit be brought to light. But some of the older wiser nobles very openly stated their opinions. The palace dungeon was impossible to escape from and enter without permission. Only a foreign country would have the power to commit such a crime.

Suddenly many of the envoys found themselves closely scrutinized. The Kingdom of Alyssum suddenly was alert as the defenses on the border were increased as patrols. It would be impossible for a suspicious movement to happen without being noticed or reported. Even the Church of Light found itself severely affected as severe restrictions were placed on all religious organizations of any kind.

Whispers and rumors began to fly from every corner of the Kingdom. Many now found her charges suspicious. And was it not strange how she never spoke up for her defense nor was appointed a counsel? It sounded like a trap. And who would stand to gain from her fall?

Many suddenly wondered if it was the first counterattack. Suddenly the masses remembered, who exactly Lena of Bartholomew was. She was the woman who single handedly won a war and defeated an entire country.

And if the Kingdom’s savior was destroyed, then who would be there to stop them? The masses were in turmoil as the noble’s minds began to follow the same route. Many who had been joyful for her charges suddenly found themselves filled at ease. Even if there no such grand conspiracy for her charges, the circumstances of her death could not be so easily denied.

If a culprit could enter impossible fortress, then how difficult would it be to enter their own homes? Every noble was demanding a full investigation as the King could only quell their fears and say that an investigation was already in progress.

A day of mourning was announced on the 14th when the funeral was to be held. Many nobles were scrambling to attend the funeral. It was to be the social event of the start of the new year. Anyone who was anyone would be there.

*

The day is overcast as another snow threatens to fall. The wind is cold and crisp as even the birds and animals have taken refuge from the cold. But still the streets are filled with noble’s carriages as they rush towards the cathedral. The masses gather outside despite the cold and line the center street leading to the cathedral.

Duchess Bartholomew fell ill once the news reached her of her daughter’s death. Unable to attend the funeral only Duke Bartholomew headed the procession accompanied by the household in clothes of mourning.

The nobles gossiped softly as they waited for the ceremony to begin.

“It’s a shame, she was quite a beauty.”

“Indeed, she was a welcome sight to sore eyes.”

“You don’t think the rumors are true, do you?”

“Who knows. But surely there are far easier methods to remove an impudent woman.”

“Such a shame.”

“Quite so.”

The nobles finally stop as the ceremony begins as a choir begins to sing. The music sweet and soft, causing quite a few to weep at the music. But mostly causing the Bartholomew to weep in silence mourning their loss.

Bishop Monroe takes to the stand as the music dies down and he says a few words on the deceased behalf.

“All those that reside here today have been touched by Lena of Bartholomew. No better compliment can be given to say, her light touched many as Grief is the proof that she did.

May we all strive to live as shinning beacons of light. But all lights must return for the light gives what it takes,” Bishop Monroe mournfully said signaling the end of the ceremony.

The bearers all members of the Bartholomew household rise and carry away the largely empty coffin away. And despite the cold the people gather in the streets to solemnly watch the procession. The crowd is silent as the bearers pass by as solders in the crowd raise their hands and salute her.

The crowd swiftly copies the soldiers with clumsily salutes. Tears spill down the Duke’s cheeks in a rare spectacle. Something about his sorrow causes many among the nobles to turn their faces away. Even the King follows behind at distance away unable to stare at the coffin.

Slowly but surely the procession enters the Bartholomew family grounds. The iron gates shut behind the procession as no one beside the immediate family and Bartholomew household were permitted to enter. Not even the King. And despite being barred His Majesty did not protest and if His Majesty would not speak ill of the actions neither could the masses.

Hours earlier many employees labored to dig a pit deep despite the snow and frozen ground. They would not allow the remains of their Lady to not be properly laid to rest. Digging into frozen ground was a small price they were all more than willing to pay.

The bearers’ footsteps are loud as they echo throughout the silent home. The waiting staff members pour out and solemnly march towards the place of burial. Their feet make crunching sounds across the snow as they line up in a solemn file.

The bearers carefully set the coffin down, before gently lowering into the frozen grave. At the front a trio of young women bitterly weep as they hold each other up. With great solemnity, each employee takes a turn and shovels a pile of dirt until the grave is covered.

The servants disperse leaving only the stricken figure of Duke Bartholomew to grieve and the trio of young women. Two of the girls console the especially distraught strawberry haired maid. The petite demi ears flop sadly as she sniffs occasionally though her eyes are red. And the sweet young woman with a heart shaped face weeps silently as she holds the strawberry haired maid in her arms.