Lauma, the old maid, went to great lengths to execute the few commands she received as the head of the house staff, as soon as she got the demand to bring out the best suitable outfit for the Uther's funeral, she ran to the point the joints in her knees started to ache.
For the six royal children, cloaks were brought. Capes, twice the height of their wearer, brushed against the ground in unison. The dark shades of the tissue on their shoulders contrasted well with the inside of the cloth. A reflective matter sewn inside snatched the light reflecting on the clean slates of the palace and let a spectacle of colors unfold inside their sleeves and under their shirts.
The perfect silhouette of the new king was damaged by a solid mass, creating a little shadow just below the left side of his hips.
Together, they walked like an arrow to Uther's last receptacle. No way to tell what was inside, the few who knew stood silent, concealed beneath a hood or a frown.
