The Ancestral Hall in Gadreel, enshrouded in the heavy drapes of mourning, played host to a somber gathering that marked more than the passing of a patriarch; it signaled a subtle realignment of power within the Ballard family. The hall, with its sweeping arches and the silent portraits of long-dead forebears, was filled not just with the family but with several high-ranking officials from the Church of Gaia, their green and earth-toned robes a stark contrast against the somber blacks and greys of the mourners' attire.
Young Edward, newly titled Duke of Gadreel at the tender age of eight, clung to the side of his mother. The hall, with its towering ceilings and somber portraits of long-dead Ballards, seemed to dwarf his small frame, making his new title feel like an oversized coat dragging along the ground. His deceased father, Edward III, had overseen the family's vast industrial and wealth holdings. Known as a paranoid man and a drunkard, his life had been snuffed out all too soon. Yet still, he was Edward's father, his only protector from the ambitious shadows now circling around the young boy like buzzards.
As they approached the casket, his crying mother placed her hand on his shoulders. Despite her efforts to comfort him, Edward could see his mother's tears. No doubt she too felt the pressure from the stares around them. In front of him, a cardinal from the Church of Gaia stepped forward, her staff topped with a carved symbol of Gaia—a reminder of the cycle of life and death, of decay leading to new growth. She offered a prayer for his father, her voice resonant in the cavernous hall, invoking Gaia's blessing and speaking of the deceased's life and his return to Elysium.
The room was a chessboard of mourners. His uncle, James Vont Ballard VII, the current Viscount of the ancestral northwestern territory, maneuvered through the crowd with practiced grace. His role as the host required a delicate balance between mourning his brother and managing the family's complex dynamics. His approach to young Edward was gentle, his words carefully chosen to reassure him yet subtly remind the boy of the weight now on his shoulders. "You carry a great legacy, Edward. I'm here if you need me," he whispered, pressing a gold coin into the boy's palm—a family tradition meant to symbolize fidelity and continuity.
From the Great Frankreich Empire, his distant aunt Duchess Catherine II von Mueller made her entrance marked by quiet ostentation, her mourning suit more elaborate than most. She strode confidently as she approached the casket, her expression a study in crafted sorrow. Later, when she knelt beside young Edward, her voice was smooth, her message clear. "Your father and I did not always see eye to eye, but I respected him immensely," she told the boy, offering a small, intricately carved toy imperial ship as a gift. "Keep this as a reminder that the strongest alliances prevail."
King Hao of Qhosnir-Ballard, his uncle from a kingdom southward across the turbulent waters of the Birmingham Sea and a rival branch of the family, perhaps had the most contentious entrance. While his demeanor was subdued, his usual discontent was not hidden. His interaction with Edward was brief but meaningful. "It's in the dark we find our true strength," he murmured, his glance sweeping the room, leaving an unspoken question in the air about the true circumstances of the patriarch's death.
Last to enter was his uncle, Earl Alexander Vont Ballard of Petrol, from the western Rhaziesian Empire. His tribute was devoid of the usual platitudes, offering instead a gold coin and a warm hug. This gesture brought a rare smile to young Edward's lips, a brief respite from his overwhelming grief.
As the family moved from the hall to the chapel for the service, the air was thick with whispered strategies and fleeting alliances. Relatives from distant lands shared hushed conversations in shadowed corners, their words a mix of mourning and machination. The chapel service was a somber affair, with hymns echoing against the stone walls, each note seeming to underscore the finality of the patriarch's departure.
Post-service, the congregation slowly made its way to the family crypt. The crypt, an ancient part of the estate, was lined with the sarcophagi of Edward's ancestors. It was here, in the chill and quiet, that the true measure of the boy's new role settled upon his shoulders. Edward III's voice was a soft echo as he instructed his nephew on the responsibilities that now lay before him. "You must be wise, Edward, wiser than your years would suggest. Trust carefully, love wisely, and lead with both courage and caution."
As the crypt doors closed with a resonant thud, sealing away Edward VI, the young duke felt the full weight of his inheritance. The brief unity brought about by shared grief fractured, each member of the Ballard family stepping back into their roles in the ongoing game of power. Young Edward stood beside his family, a small cub amid a pack of drooling lions.