Three weeks passed since the attack in Far Mile. Alfred sat alone in one of the many chairs before Chri's coffin, the service having ended. "Alfred," Isra called out gently, returning for her husband and taking a seat next to him.
"I've always wondered Isra. Did he realize?" Isra looked at him confused as Alfred sighed and grabbed his head. "That the one he was serving wasn't the boy he taught as a child. That he was serving someone else."
"Alfred," Isra said his name softly as she grabbed his hand. "It doesn't matter anymore."
"I know." His voice was bitter as he said that. "I just wonder. Maybe I would have told him the truth at some point, but now. I never can." Alfred wrapped his arm around her, bringing her in.
"What now?" Isra looked up at his face. Despite still feeling the loss he no longer was heavily affected by it.
Alfred smirked at her question. "What else can I do? I just have to push forward. It was the same with Raven."
