It was the year 311 E.C.D.
Waves sent outer salt chuck streaming onto a flat shoreline flanked by waters. The sandy water's edge absorbed sea foams on the ocean's repeated course. The air was cold, blowing rounds of strong winds. Skies were darkening on condition that a storm was psyched up to wash the lands with torrent of rain.
Dusty layer of land lied on the inner portion of the sector, capped with changing lengths of grasses and a number of trees, leaving only thin but long spaces of solid ground uncoated by leaves and exposing the presence of rocks. Tall grasses swished. Old and dried leaves squirted away anywhere.
Across the farther regions of the area, a woman alone promenaded the rugged earth of the isle state centered between two grass-sheeted grime realms shone down with a ray of remaining sunlight. She was enchanting, no younger than the exact age of twenty. She had this straight, long hair that was natural black, and the sides of it were browning.
Having this wooden head accessory shaped like a hoop tied with two hanging black-tipped, white pigeon feathers, with a pair of cardinal retrofit pierced to her ears. There was something tied around her frontal body–apparently a plum bag carrying something inside it. She had been holding this, ensuring the safety of it.
Seconds later, the holder rocked by itself; catching Yihn's attention and glanced down at it, that one movement that evoked her. A baby was there. Inside it, though not making any sound for needs. Yihn did the side-by-side swaying again before the possibilities of the baby crying might happen.
Unbeknownst to her, wooden wheels of a maroon carriage with plum and golden pearl trims sounded, drawing closer to her location. Her entire attention was focused on her child.
"Yihn!" the mellow voice of a rushing man called.
The warm exclaim did not gave Yihn a jolt. She simultaneously raised an eyebrow when she laid her eyes at the man without hurrying, seeing him running to her with haste. Why, it was a fellow–though with opposite genders, the styles of their outfits were never different; and the feathered head accessories that the new arrival also donned. So as the vertical linear patterns of their yellow-coded outfits.
Yihn stared eye-to-eye as soon as the newcomer halted in his tracks, standing straight and gazed into the woman's stolid eyes. He ceased his panting and inhaled enough air that will enable him to speak what he had to say. Yihn had not blinked the moment she gave the gentleman an unintentional frigid outstare. He dipped his head respectfully.
"Sachiro," she responded, her voice dull.
"It is about the Baron, Yihn!" Sachiro blurted out. "We were all afraid for his life! Convulsions kept shaking him every hour!" He was watched by Yihn without discernible worries on her face. "He was not doing so well. We fear he might go, anytime! Then, he kept calling various names, we do not know why!"
Solicitude gradually jammed Yihn. After all, this Baron was their leader.
"Please, Yihn, you must go and see him right away!" begged Sachiro. "You, as his chosen successor, may be the one he is looking for!" Sachiro's panic overwhelmed him. His knees quivered all the way. He was also fearful of Yihn's initial lack of emotion to this emergency when she should be worrying about the condition of their Baron.
Yihn grew tired of Sachiro's unending urgent cries. She sighed irritably and rasped, "Alright, already!" she pushed him aside. Walking pass him on her way to the carriage. "You're spoiling yourself by worrying too much about Srey."
Sachiro gawked at Yihn with a crouched back after being shoved by the deputy, who has turned her back on him. "Hey, Yihn, wait up!" he shrieked with trouble of being left behind. He paced after the footsteps of Yihn and resumed delivering words in a humorous, clumsy-mannered tone. "You know the wagon's not leaving without a herald. What am I going to do about it?"
"Then act normal!" Yihn countered. Not looking back.
She entered the carriage, whose open door was waiting for their entrance, followed by Sachiro after being shut by Yihn's vexed tone of voice. The latter finally slammed the door to signal the coachman for departure, and he whipped his lash onto the white horses. They started leaving with a turn to the right, fleeing the pitted near-ends of the isle region.
***
The storm failed to rain incalculable droplets of water an hour later as sunlight emerged higher up from behind the nimbus clouds during that late afternoon. Although the dark clouds before threatened the place with strong winds and silent strikes of thunder for the discontinued downpour.
Somewhere in other parts of the region rich in miscellaneous genera of plants, there was a square of high structures. Presence of a flagged pagoda on the corners of its topmost stair–a legislative citadel with pointy-tipped roofs on each layer of this eight-story building. Built with tall red, satiny pillars by the twenty-treaded stairway to the front door, and the brick wall of the garage standing by the right side of the stringer.
An ailing elder lied heavily on his bed inside the highest floor on the same pagoda. His arms were crossed above his abdomen, toiling to respire deep air with his mouth opened wide. His body was becoming thinner. His hair who had been light gray receded from its proper hairline. The flesh of his cheeks vanished like a deflating balloon in malnutrition. Wrinkles and freckle-like marks grew on his face.
There was a group of few people gathered around, standing by the door. Not wanting to disturb their exhausted senior. All of them watched with sympathy, weeping for his unmoving condition. Unaccustomed to seeing him suffer this unusual disease. The sickly man must be the Baron Sachiro has been blabbering about.
Outside, the carriage arrived back home. The coachmen took it into the garage by the tower's entrant stairs. Yihn and Sachiro departed the ride in a rush by the time it stopped by its respective housing. There was not much time anymore. They have to see the unwell nobleman before anything terrible happens to him.
Yihn always came first before the herald, although she had to be careful in crossing the stairs for she was holding a baby with her wrapped around her holder. They were both perspiring. Doing so much effort to speed up if they were able to catch up to see the Baron still alive, if they will get this final chance.
Series of revolving stairs led them to a longer way. The number of treads every stairway from each floor gave pain to their knees, which they tried to contain.
The Baron's limbs slowly tremored and could not sound a whispering wheeze. His throat was tightening, with the feeling of being choked forcefully, his body going through stages of stiffness. Pain and difficulty in breathing ruled over his body. Five fingers of both hands hardened. Yelps rose from his spectators. There occurred an outbreak of panic among them.
"My Lord?"
"My Lord!" cried a woman.
"Lord Srey!"
Meanwhile, going on from the lower floors, voices of apprehension were overheard from each ceiling, stamping and vibrating above. The fewest of dusts fell from the same surface. Yihn and Sachiro quickened their run, despite their bones starting to hurt too much for their unrested dash.
Yihn looked up at the ceiling. "Now, what is going on up there?" she wondered. Then came the intervention of her baby's cry. She felt the shaking of her baby holder, "Oh, great Aechleranne, help me," she stressfully remarked. Her rush might have caused this, thanks to it. Just not the rightest time to look after her young. She would not be able to focus on cuddling her to sleep right now.
Voices have grown more deafening as they reached the higher floors. And it confirmed their forebodings that something must have happened to the Baron. Without further ado, they gatecrashed onto their leader's bedroom, witnessing only their compatriots grieving for the lifeless body of Srey. He has stopped breathing, his heart stopped pounding and his eyes and mouth were left unclosed. As well as his seizures. Srey's deputy and the messenger's jaws dropped on what they saw.
The Baron was dead. At least, his suffering has finally come to an end. Much to her dismay, Yihn silently handed her infant to a couple by the door, whom warmly accepted her request. Her breath has been taken out by the shock brought by the passing of Srey. Not expecting this was not the last day they will meet, for they have had their final meeting already happened prior to the day of his departure from the living world.
Everyone checked for Yihn's next move while she drew herself closer to her recently-deceased leader. Baron Srey died a grievous affliction. She put a hand above Srey's. "I am too late," there was a pinch of guilt in her voice.
She had remained silent while the mourning eyewitnesses came to pay their respects to Srey. They gathered around his deathbed. They watched the dead Baron's chosen successor kneel down. The weightiness of their hearts and chest reached up to their throats, choked by the heaviness of their emotion.
"Our Baron had done so much for the nourishment of the House," Yihn's voice was thick with grief. "He had implemented so much to our agrarian economy. Greater change occurred when he took control, making Aechlerene livelihood even better. We were never low in food supply under his prudent command. Come what may, at least Srey's tough battle has come to an end."
She lowered herself onto her arms, neatly stretched before her above Srey's bed, her head bowed. They silently grieved for their lost leader. All heads dipped and backs bent echoing Yihn's mournful pose. Sachiro took four steps forward and fell down to his knees behind the Baron's right-hand woman.
***
Three crisp nights followed after the date of Srey's death. Stars seldom twinkled with a large gap between hours and minutes in the dead of night at a moon-gleamed glade, kilometers far from the square of buildings where the Baron died in a pagoda-like structure.
No whispers or mutters of relatives and friends were heard noising out. They were all sniffing in sorrow.
Srey's underfed body was rested inside a half-open, wooden casket; displayed two meters away in front of the crowd of mourners surrounding the tranquil clearing. He looked so peaceful under the radiance of tall torches and the small-heighted lanterns close to his casket. Lamentation poured out from the Aechlerenne townsfolk as they watched the dead Baron's coffin for the last night.
Clay vases of colorful flowers stood to the sides of Srey's coffin. Beside the flower vases on each were smaller woven fabric filled with wheat.
Horns and flutes reverberated, accompanied by banging of drums heard from the far sides of the dell, closer enough to the circular line of abutting larch trees. Everyone paused weeping and checked to see who was coming by.
Led by two guards holding torches. Escorting the orderly line of the House herald Sachiro, two carriages and two additional guards after them. The crowd adjusted by themselves; splitting into two lines and made a wider space for the Aechlerenne governmental staff to cross. The rides stopped by in front of the folks. The attending citizens left gestures of respectful dipping of heads as Yihn dropped herself off the first carriage and passed by alongside her guards.
She moved straight off to the Baron's coffin. She had a scan of Srey's cold body and stroke the rustic quality of the overcoat. Yihn could not help but feel modest vibes of penitence. While the attendants returned to grieving, they looked into Yihn's next possible actions on tenterhooks, even before she looked out on them.
Yihn turned an upset look to the Aechlerenne people at the outset. Next, she had her frowning eyes opened, still in the same mood. She raised her voice in front of the House, "I am asking all members of the House of Aechleranne to lend me your ears!" it lowered with sadness. "I, Yihn-Vihaan, current-acting deputy of Aechleranne, dolefully repeat to you the announcement that our beloved ruler, Baron Srey, has passed away, for this will be the final night of his funeral service before we bury him at dusk."
Mentioning the dead Baron's name depressed the grievers every time. People in front lowered their heads. His loss had caused their despondence.
"I have a lot to say about Lord Srey," Yihn continued. "Frequently, when I was very young, and at the time of his predecessors, Aechleranne is prone to food shortages due to the long-lasting rainy climate in the past; destroying our crops. Our elders present tonight could surely recall those events to yourselves." Some elders nodded in agreement.
She closed her eyes as she remembered: Peals of thunder echoed in her ears and saw visions of light striking from darkness, wormed its way to fade remaining lighter traces of purple clouds away.
Yihn's stormy phantom dissipated when she opened her eyes staring at the large number of Aechlerennes–no hope. "Before Srey, rain is feared by our farmers. Floods drown our unharvested food. Srey changed everything with regards to food when he reigned; he made food scarcity a thing of the past. He is extremely defensive even against the intensities of weathers."
Everyone's sobs grew into wails, feeling the aura of desperation in Yihn's words that clouded over them.
Their heartbroken squalls had no effect on Yihn. She looked up into the sky with less emotion. "Not only did he changed the House–our people! Because of his resourcefulness, he strengthened our warriors, our gardeners and the entire folks of Aechleranne. He taught us survivability." A single star twinkled, ending Yihn's stargaze; she looked down back to see their Baron's departed body, aspiring, "I wish I can be half the leader he was."
Her body stopped bending when she turned her back on the crowd to have one more look at Srey. Many of her comrades wanted to join her, but it will only cause hassle at the night of the interment. She made it temporary; she had her eyes closed. Cold wind blew past her in the sad night's placidity, whirling autumn leaves pass her that its touch on her skin evoked her to open her eyes gazing at the bright half-moon expeditiously. Again, she glanced down at the open casket and had her eventual touch on the valance.
"Dusk approaches fast, brothers and sisters," reminded Yihn, observing the night sky. "Lord Srey's body should not last longer than three nights. It hurts to say, but his coffin has to be carried to the chosen location of his grave. We would not want to see his body rotting, and so at least he will finally be laid to rest, together with his fellow leaders."
Sachiro stepped forward with a coachman he accompanied in front. The coachman, gently and in a formal manner, closed the casket after Yihn's final viewing. Another male volunteer of governmental rank came in front to help Sachiro and the coachman as they started carrying the Baron's wooden casket. Another coachman from the lengthier carriage slowly rolled its wheels, advancing to make it easier for the gentlemen to reach the casket out to the empty back of the ride itself.
The men stayed close to Yihn as required, who will be "former" deputy sooner now that she will eventually rise to the position of Aechleranne's new leader once the burial ends. Yihn and her company followed the carriage, now with Srey's coffin on its back. The coachman led Yihn, Sachiro. The other Aechlerenne government icon went the other way. To put courtesy into his act, he opened the door for Yihn and Sachiro, then he returned to his seat behind the horse, and lashed them to move on to the place of Srey's grave. The commoners split positions again to create the same space for the way of the carriages. Those two rides crossed it without delay.
Came following them were the torch-holding guards lately, and more than half of the Baron's mourners chose to see his burial rather than go home and sleep early. That is how much they loved their leader.
The burial pit was not a faraway place that would cost them long journey. The mourners of Srey merged into twenty long lines and inseparable columns when a small quantity of them turned to the opposite sides and went straight home. They trudged after the sedate carriages on their way out of the clearing. Views of trees bounded together slowly decreased in number in their sights as they departed.
Dusk set foot tonight several minutes later; the Aechlerennes found themselves standing by the reserved graveyard. It was not the only graveyard in that place. It was outside yet closest to the last row of hundreds of larch trees edging the glade. They were in a peaceful resting place for their dearly departed compatriots.
Yihn, Sachiro and the rest of the government officials of the House stood closest to the rectangular, deep hole and three meters away from the rest. Staring down unto the lower soil.
The coachmen lifted the Baron's closed coffin from the back part of the longer wagon and wrapped dozens of rope around it before moving it to its rightful place. They came close to the burial pit. The officials adjusted backwards to make way for them, per Yihn's orders to have their leader's body buried in a trice. They lowered their arms and one-handedly held the bottom of the casket to take hold of the strings of rope.
They have let their hands go off the bottom of the coffin to hold the selected strings of rope with two hands. They began dragging their late Lord Srey's coffin down into the uncovered subsoil. White roses were dropped down onto the Baron's casket.
Yihn had been staring straight into the enclosed body being sunk down to the bottom of the hole. Not a blink, nor a glance to the left and right or back at the folks. She seemed to have been thinking of deeper thoughts throughout the ceremony. She had not even dropped her last flower to give to the dead yet, when her colleagues have been changing their actions from time to time.
The casket stopped from being descended as it touched the soil ground. The coachmen finally let go of the straps of rope, thus falling inside the dug-up grave, and Yihn had decided to drop the flower from her hand. She gazed down at it for a moment longer when the gentlemen around her, except the coachmen, headed back in front of the crowd.
"Yihn has not mentioned anything about her new responsibilities," came a woman's whisper from the left side of the assembled Aechlerennes in front. She was pregnant, taking hold of Yihn's baby up to this time as she had to witness the full burial ceremony of the deceased nobleman.
"Tonight is all about the interment, you know," replied the man next to her, who held a high status within the House.
"Srey is gone," a low voice sounded next to the man. They looked to see who recently spoke. "The House of Aechleranne will never be the same again. Not in my eyes." Interrupting next to them was a woman with medium-length, dark gray wavy haired and a tan-skinned female with several freckles–a grumpy-looking middle-aged woman.
The civil servant and the woman exchanged confused glances, wondering if the older lady was aiming at the Baron's successor. Everyone in the House believed that Srey has made the right choice in appointing his right-hand woman. And Yihn-Vihaan was obviously a respected figure of Aechleranne.
Yihn, with the coachmen, Sachiro and the officials waiting for her to leave, had not changed in her current position. She was still watching two male volunteers already covering her former leader's burial pit with layers of soil coming from a pile of earth that has been dug up. The rest, otherwise. All of them were travelling home.