I sat in the carriage seat opposite of Thirteen and Lady Udreth while Izras rode a white stallion alongside us as our pace began to slow.
Through the veiled hood I wore, the familiar sights of Ironclad's walls looked over the caravans of people awaiting entry and the many knights adorned in full armor carrying out their prerequisite search.
The guards were more than doubled since our visit now that many nobles were gathered for Uncle's funeral along with sucking up to the High King's envoy for a chance at the crown.
My stomach urged at the congregation of sniveling swine ready to lap up slop thrown in the trough all for a chance to claim what was rightfully Freya's.
I puzzled over the question of how many would attempt to kill her to better their chances as we passed a bejeweled carriage drawn by two white majestic mares.
"We're approaching the gates now," Izras muttered through the small window.
I paid her no mind as the question continued its torturous spin around my mind making it difficult to hear Thirteen calling my name in close proximity.
Many nobility, or the ones I've dealt with, are not above using such a tactic nor would they hesitate if the prize was very rewarding but two can play the same game.
The downside would be that the bodies of said nobility would cause a mass panic which would in turn cause a delayed response from the High King's court leaving Ironclad undefended.
The people do not deserve to go through such headaches all because of my poorly thought out temptation but it was a potential option.
I could also try manipulating the decision by threatening the High King's life but that would be suicide.
[(Freya is the rightful heir of her father's crown and I won't allow it any other way.)]
"Twenty-one," a hand shook my shoulder, bringing me from my thoughts.
Concerned faces met my gaze when I turned to find Thirteen standing before me with a hand on my shoulder while Lady Udreth looked back from the adjacent seat overlooking her husband's shoulder. "Sorry," I whispered.
"Are you alright," Thirteen questioned as he took his seat once more
I was about to speak when a knock pounded the carriage door and an immaculate voice loudly spoke, "We have orders to check each carriage before allowed entry. Please open the door slowly so we may keep the line moving."
Thirteen looked to his Queens who eyed one another before shifting their gaze toward me only to be followed by his eyes until all looked upon hidden eyes unshaken by the possibility of being caught.
Each of us were frozen like statues as the banging became louder with each repetition of the given order.
Nodding, I watched Thirteen give a sigh as he reached for the handle and looked back just to make sure that it was ok.
My fingers curled around the smooth leather stamped in the wooden handle while the index finger grazed through the cool metal surrounding the trigger and readied to make the first move.
The soft face of a young knight in his fifteenth or sixteenth winter gazed into the carriage with a hand rested on the pommel of his sword only to be taken aback when he realized who Thirteen was.
The young knight fell to a knee with head bowed, "L-Lord Udreth, forgive my impertinence. I was failed to be informed you would be attending the late king's funeral."
"It's quite alright lad," Thirteen muttered after a relieved sigh.
"Th-thank you milord," the lad returned to his feet and looked past Thirteen, "I just need to see who all is inside and check for any contraband."
Thirteen moved his body in front of me so that most of my shape would be hidden by his broad body hoping to fool the cadet.
I couldn't see what was going on but it seemed the knight had taken a small step into the carriage as the top of his head was just barely visible between Thirteen's left arm and side.
Queen Udreth nodded her head returning the young knight's greeting while her eyes motioned toward me when Thirteen shifted his body a little more allowing our uninvited guest more room to do his task.
I saw mailed fingers give a small wave out the window to Izras as Thirteen announced all who were attending the procession with him as the familiar sounds of a pen scribbling on parchment rang from the doorway.
A scribe of sorts had silently approached the carriage and began jotting down the names given only to find an unknown figure.
He pushed the bridge of his spectacles closer to his eyes, "Who might you be?"
Thirteen turned to the scribe allowing my figure to be fully viewed, "He cannot speak for his tongue was cut out by Vaniel soldiers as punishment for his mouth. His name Lorenza and he's a Breura monk that tagged along to pray for a safe journey across this plain to the next."
[(Breura monk?)]
The scribe continued to jot the name down while his eyes moved over the shrouded fabric covering my form.
I watched through the black cloth as his head perked up noticing that I had no tail nor the ears common for Beastmen and made that knowledge known to the knight.
With fingers wrapped around his sword, the knight reached out with his free hand for the veiled hood saying that he needed to see the faces of all who were wanting entry into Ironclad upon Freya's orders.
I felt the cloth move from my chin and slowly rise revealing the lower part of my jaw before being stopped abruptly when Thirteen grabbed a hold of the knight's wrist applying enough pressure as a warning.
It was very tempting to risk being detected by the barrier surrounding Ironclad after watching the two size one another up when a familiar voice spoke from the doorway gaining everyone's attention.
"What's the hold up," a rough voice questioned.
Standing in the doorway was the bulky figure of Ulf that towered the scribe by several feet dressed in a more robust set of armor than he usually wore which gave him a more frightful appearance in a sense.
Metal plates shaped to resemble ribs narrowed down each side of the blackened silver cuirass while the depiction of a streguar erupted from the center chest giving the image that a monster was bursting from its marrowed cage ready to bring havoc onto the world.
A matching vambrace covered his right forearm fully and engraved with small runes that one could interpret to say 'The fallen rest while those that live carry on'.
A tower shield hung from his back while a new flail with two spiked balls forged to resemble iron bells hung gently from his right hip.
The bluish orange tinted in red of Ironclad's flag poured from underneath his left pauldron like some half cape.
"Commander Ulf," the knight chirped as he hurried out of the carriage to properly salute Ulf.
[(Commander?)]
I saw a faint smile form on Ulf's lips when he saw me in such clothing that soon disappeared when the knight looked upward.
He uttered, "We were just about to identify the one wearing the death shroud. Lord Udreth claims them to be a Breura monk but the scribe and I don't see any features consisting with said claim."
Ulf placed a hand on the knight's shoulder, "Monks come in different shapes and sizes, cadet. Just because you don't see evidence suggesting something doesn't mean it's not there."
Ulf sighed after the knight looked back at us, "Go ahead and inspect the next carriage for entry and I'll take over from here, understand?"
I sensed a small flare of anger surrounding the knight as he stood facing Ulf without saying a word for several moments while his grip tightened around the sword until knuckles were extremely pale.
Ulf stood unfazed at the cadet's blatant refusal to budge from his duty and just calmly gazed into the lad's eyes as if the two were having an unspoken conversation.
For a time it seemed that the cadet would draw his sword but didn't as he willingly nodded to Ulf before leaving heading to the next carriage with the scribe in tow.
I smiled a little watching Ulf release a relieved sigh before making his way to the carriage where he gave a slight bow.
His eyes seemed to be exhausted but brightened when they fell upon my shrouded figure
Grey clouds hung over the city while a chilled wind danced through the silent streets echoing its screeching song draped in chilled rain giving the dreary scene moving around us more life.
The energized voices of stall owners were nothing but a shrill shell of its once attentive umph that brought passerbyers to browse.
Bright lively eyes were glazed with dried out tears watching streams of potential customers stride by without a second glance.
The scene reminded me of when my grandfather had passed away leaving a void in the hearts of not only his family but his people as well.
Ironclad as a whole felt sorrow upon their King's untimely death and I was to blame for such dread.
Buildings soon gave way to pillars of stone linked together by metal fencing as the carriage began to slow to a stuttering stop just before a massive gate where two armed knights stood guard.
Rough voices boomed outside upon seeing Ulf's face when he leaned out the doorway when asked to reveal ourselves.
I didn't pay much mind to the exchanged voices or the confused face of the closest guard as we passed by without further issue.
No, my mind was more entranced by the white shriveled oak mostly swallowed by earth allowing the upper branches to claw their way free.
I planned to descend the spiralling stone steps of the burrow and down the torch lit passage to pay long awaited respects to my parents before leaving Ironclad once more.
Sighing, I made my way into an old run down monastery that used to house childish laughter while Thirteen and the others went on to the chapel where the funeral was taking place so that no one suspected anything.
This place had seen many things while it's been standing from being a house of worship to simply acting as a base of operations for Veronica and I when father visited grandfather.
We used the rafters like tight ropes hoping to better our balance or simply playing hide 'n seek among the ruined pews.
Climbing the steps, I couldn't help but smile watching those memories play out after so many years away from this place that we held dear in our hearts no matter how time passed.
I sat on the balcony looking over the empty congregation as past fragments continued their endless games in the light cold drizzle seeping through overhead holes making them appear more ghostly.
I was awakened by the loud creak of the rusted hinges holding their weight of the massive rotted wooden door and the thumping sounds of heels striking stone.
A lone figure dressed in all black slowly crept their way toward the overturned altar just below me allowing the mesh grieving veil flutter behind.
A matching silk gown moved in the breeze created with each step while inquisitive eyes looked through every shadow.
Long molten red hair was combed and tied in a high ponytail that curled over her left shoulder giving a full view of a pointed ear.
I was taken aback a little while seeing an exact image of my mother gently moving through rotted wood.
I slithered from my hiding place to stand behind the woman when her back was turned. "A curse upon you for disrupting my slumber," I spoke in my best ghastly tone.
"Sorry but my family is already cursed with an overgrown child," Veronica chimed as she turned to face me.
"Tell me brother," she took off my hood and tossed it to the side, "how long were you practicing that poor performance?"
I shrugged as the billowy garments faded away revealing my usual garments that included a white buttoned down shirt tucked underneath a crimson leather vest and a pair of black baggy canvas pants.
The pistol Cortez gave me rested in the matching black holster fastened to my belt just over my right pocket for easier accessibility though I've considered wearing it across my chest.
The brief cold rain chilled my skin only to be stopped when the arms of the death shroud changed into a newly repaired trench coat with the VonKnight insignia on the back.
What remained of father's coat acted as the base while magic imbued threads stitched together concentrated shadows to fill out what was missing.
Such a process made it appear that I was wearing an endless flowing river of shadow while giving the coat the ability to take on any desired design.
Veronica sighed, "Anyway, let's go pay our final respects."
Tolling bells sounded loudly from their suspended rafters shaking stone walls of the squared coffin that reached high into the heavens so all of Ironclad could hear their thumbing calls no matter the distance.
Six nicely dressed pallbearers walked alongside the topless carriage carrying Uncle's coffin decorated in bright bluish orange ribbon while a mob of mourners led by Freya and Veronica followed behind.
Her wails sounded louder than the bells that I stood unders and cut deeper than any blade drawn across my flesh.
I descended into the amassed shadows of the belltower and began following behind using the shadows of the endless cold marble plaguing the area.
From each hiding place, I kept my distance so as to not add onto Freya's suffering and the massive blade Solomon wielded at her side.
I found refuge in a newly grown maple some feet away from the freshly dug grave that resided next to my Aunt and watched.
The carriage was adjusted so the head of the coffin was placed evenly with the descending mechanism that would place Uncle gently into his eternal home without much strain.
Ulf roared out an order telling the gathered knights to form arches with their swords leading to the grave as a sign of respect for the late King.
Each pallbearer grasped the golden metal rod hammered into each side of the casket before lifting in unison and followed Freya down the path.
The knights sheathed their swords and stood at attention when the coffin passed them before joining the crowd to envelope Freya and her father.
Freya placed the first foundations of a white rose pile before taking a position next to Veronica some steps away allowing Thirteen and his Queens to place theirs.
Sympathetic words were given by each attendant after placing their respective rose on the building pile at the casket's heart symbolizing that Ironclad was what drove Uncle forward.
I watched each one from my hiding place as Ruben, Ulf, and Xeth each gave Freya a heartfelt hug before joining the others awaiting for the final send off.
I pulled a black rose from inside the darkness of my coat and twirled it between each fingertip.
Kneeling down, I placed the flower into the small shadowy sphere at my feet and watched as it slithered under blades of grass toward the casket where it was settled on top of the pile when no one was watching.
"Fare thee well," I muttered to the wind before turning away.
I stood in front of the vine covered stone doorway leading down into the burrow as a slight anger burned upon seeing such disrespect given to my parents' tomb.
Long burned candles sat dismissively in their alcoves while moss covered much of the stone surroundings filled with populations of mushrooms.
Dökkálfar ruins carved deep into stone were filed down to an extreme that made reading them barely possible.
The only thing that lightened my anger was the old tree standing tall behind me surrounded by a castle of stone and untouched by unwanted hands.
It was the only thing undefiled by those who were against having a Dökkálfar as a queen let alone having her remains resting with past human royalty despite constant objections.
"Creideamh," I said after finding the center of the spiraled runes.
A faint glow surrounded my hand that was soon followed by the cold sting of a blade piercing the flesh of my palm.
The sting grew colder with each passing second forcing me to bite the inside of my cheek so that no pained screams escaped until finally it stopped when three streams of blood ran down the stone.
I took my hand away when the faint glow subsided only to be quickly replaced by the majestic crimson runes that shined through their decrepit state.
Familiar sounds of stone brushing hard against stone filled the burrow to the point that I had to use the surrounding shadows just to cover the opening so that none would be the wiser about my escapade.
Dust danced in the air from the long closed doors opening after so long allowing cold air to escape.
I was surprised to find a figure standing in front of the massive stone coffin holding the bodies of my parents.
The blood lock was placed to keep unsavory types like grave robbers or those who vandalized the burrow from stepping foot deeper into the tomb while allowing those most trusted free entry.
It was decided by some of mother's Dökkálfar friends that tended to stop by while visiting Athax Frein in hopes of protecting her after death.
I encountered them once again during one of my travels and was almost shocked that they knew who I was even behind the accustomed mask I wore while completing odd jobs for the Guild.
They told me about the wards placed if I ever wanted to pay my respects before heading back to their homeland.
I stood before the stone coffin overlooked by a statue of Etar the Dökkálfar god of crossroads and his all-seeing raven Edas. With a sideward glance, "Did you know them well, Kraven?"
A soft dismissive laugh boomed from the raven's beak as its owner reached into the folds of the billowy cloak and pulled a familiar pendant out.
I eyed the pendant with the eyes of a lost migrant coming up on remnants of past vows yearning to hold them close at heart begging for another chance.
The small family portrait stared up into Kraven's hidden eyes as his body shuttered from stifled tears.
It appeared that the man had close ties to my parents once in the long forgotten past or his tears were simply clouding his vision for an entirely different reason that only he knew.
Whatever the case, I would take this chance to understand how he came by that locket and get answers.
"You could say that," Kraven placed the pendant back into the bundles of cloth, "Your father and I were old comrades that graduated from the Knight's Academy. That being the case, I served as his lieutenant during the Great War and was there when he met your mother. The two of them fell for one another at a single glance which came with its own headaches down the road but I stood by his side."
I smiled at his words, "Is that why you carry His pendant and decided to aid me in Breura?"
Kraven didn't say anything as his eyes glared at the statue of Etar illuminated by the large bright hanging crystal suspended above us.
Cruel silence once again reclaimed its territory as the two of us stood beside one another without speaking, allowing our ears to pique at the merest sounds of eight legs moving along silk.
Small shadows darted behind us into crevices for shelter from the unexpected intrusion.
Shadows that appeared as gray blobs in my mind's eye against the shrouds of penetrating darkness.
Muffled bells demanded the dead's attention as another poor soul joined their eternal congregation.
A darker shadow shook along the ground behind Kraven indicating that his next words were filled with lies or wasn't the entire truth.
Such a spell was often used during interrogations to filter utter bullshit from the truth hidden within the selected target's soul by tracing said words back to its source or something like that.
I was never really sure how such spells actually worked even after many lectures about such topics given by Isabella during the first months working under her.
After many attempts, I finally noticed how people's shadows would often waver during dire occasions which resulted in betrayals of every kind starting with the Paladins of Lokdis incident.
Such an ability has saved my ass multiple times than I could count and often made contracts simpler.
Kraven broke my focus, "When I saw you in that sanctuary of death, I knew you were Zachariah's persecuted son thought to be dead after some riot."
He turned to look at me as he continued, "That's what I thought anyway until some rumors began to spread around the town of Siegfried. I knew that this was my chance to redeem the trust your father once had for me when we met in the Beastking's castle."
"As for the pendent," I was starting to grow tired of the endlessly wavering shadow, "your father had given it to me a month before his de-"
The sound of blades clashing disturbed the tomb's inevitable silence, sending unseen occupants deeper into hiding to avoid being trampled under foot as we danced with death.
Kraven deflected a thrust aimed for his heart easily to the side in such a small space before intercepting a misericorde thrown from the shadows.
A window of opportunity became available in this short amount of time that allowed me to turn the parried thrust into an upward slash that just grazed between flesh and cloth.
I descended into the shadows just in time to avoid being grabbed by the wrist but found a bolt of blue lightning grazing my shoulder when appearing halfway toward the entrance.
With my hand over the scorched shadows, I smiled watching Kraven desperately catch his mask before it completely fell free.
"Tell me the damn truth," I relaxed my stance and began to walk toward the coffin once more, "starting from that night, Father!"
I watched as Kraven let out a small sigh before placing his blade back into its sheath and slowly grasped the tip of the hood.
Shoulder length greying black hair cascaded from its hiding place to outline the mask like the bristled brush most painters used for the perfect stroke.
An all too familiar crescent shaped scar encircling the right eye causing a thin line in the brow before fading away mid cheek.
Dazzling yet piercing blue eyes etched into a fierce smile that complimented the equally familiar grin.
Those aspects aside, it was as if I gazed into a mirror showing a much older version of myself.
"Damn your inquisitive eyes," Kraven or shall I say my father muttered stowing the mask within folds of cloth.