At Dennisen's funeral, Panthonia gave a speech. He summarized his partner's character as humble, passionate, and brave. He had considered adding "optimistic" but changed his mind. The officiating priest stood beside the podium, head slightly bowed, his crow's feet betraying practiced solemnity and grief. Behind him, rows of tombstones extended like white migratory birds drifting between the regrets of the living and the silence of the dead.
"As colleagues in the Security Bureau, we are prepared to attend each other's funerals. But this does not lessen my heavy heart at this moment..."
About fifty people attended the funeral, most of them colleagues from the Security Bureau. Dennisen's fiancée sat in the front row on the right, accompanied by a family member. Panthonia had met her once long ago, but now he could not recognize her except for her hair color. Her face revealed that she had spent the past few days weeping, loathing food, and in restless sleep. This was a common reaction to the loss of a loved one, which Panthonia understood, though he doubted he would experience something similar. He believed that the key factor determining how one behaved in such situations was not emotion but the social environment and one's position within it. The Security Bureau had granted her a pension, and she needed to prove she deserved it. Genuine feelings and the need for assistance coexisted without shame.
She kept her head down, hands pressed tightly on her lap, avoiding any eye contact with Panthonia. What was she thinking? What had she heard? Panthonia had no clear idea. Based on past experience, Dennisen would have told her about himself but probably kept his colleagues' personal matters private. After killing Dennisen, Panthonia quickly considered killing this woman, but the possibility and necessity of this had gradually diminished—though it would never disappear. Since Hilsbeth's situation no longer mattered, the key was whether this woman had learned about Aretta from Dennisen. It was unsafe to contact her in the near term. If an opportunity arose to stage an accident or make it look like suicide...
He put these thoughts aside, finished his speech, and returned to his seat. In the front row sat Koen and his family priest, Hylan. Panthonia did not fully understand why Koen trusted the not-so-prominent Hylan so much. He suspected that Hylan had a role in Coan's decisions regarding the intelligence agency. Panthonia had tried to get some information from Hylan, but the knowledgeable priest always deflected questions with his habitual modesty, then resumed gently persuading Panthonia to embrace the Holy Light.
Panthonia noticed a burn mark on Hylan's neck between his hair and collar. The skin was uneven, like a rain-beaten mudflat. Perhaps the burn extended further. Panthonia noted this detail, hoping it might lead him to something else in the future—he needed to thoroughly understand Koen and those around him.
Ten minutes later, people filed past the grave, passing a shovel to scatter soil onto the brown coffin. The Security Bureau had performed an autopsy on Tennyson's body to determine the cause of death. His fiancée did not know this. Dennisen had been cut open and sewn up several times before and after death; the man she loved, who had postponed their wedding five times for work, would become no more complex than the soil in the darkness. Panthonia hesitated for a second before contributing his shovel of dirt, burying the coffin still exposed to the sunlight. Cover it up. Let people no longer see it. The woman's body buried in the woods twenty years ago and Tennyson's now were perhaps the same to him.
After the funeral, Panthonia quickly left the cemetery but could not depart yet. Koen would talk to him. While waiting, Tennyson's fiancée appeared.
She stood before him.
Looked at him.
He nodded, saying nothing.
Her gaze was not brave, only unfamiliar, as if they were meeting for the first time without reason. Perhaps she had something else to express, but it had separated from her emotions after the funeral.
Then her family took her away.
When Koen emerged, he had Panthonia get into his carriage. They talked as the carriage moved. Hylan sat quietly in the front, seemingly uninterested in the conversation behind him.
"I will officially propose the establishment of an independent intelligence agency at next month's meeting," Koen said, gripping his cane tightly.
"That's great news," Panthonia replied.
"Listen, this is no longer just about you. I chose this time because I've made promises to many, not because it's the best timing. Frankly, I'm a bit disappointed in you, Panthonia. I read your investigation report after the recent celebration. Although you took down Salvaney, how you did it and what you did during the process raise doubts. Are you so arrogant that you've forgotten I'm your guarantor? Can't you be more transparent in your actions? My not pursuing this doesn't mean others won't."
"However, questioning my actions shows the need for an independent intelligence agency. For the future of Stormwind, we need to work under a different system."
"Don't say 'we.' Don't include me."
"Sorry, I didn't mean to."
Koen looked out the window, tapping his cane with his right hand. "Damn it, Hylan, tell the driver to take a different route. This whole neighborhood stinks." After the carriage turned a corner, he continued speaking to Panthonia. "Remember, your name is now tied to mine. Don't do anything you shouldn't. I've worked hard to persuade many in the council for you. Don't squander my goodwill."
"I understand, Lord Koen."
Panthonia thought Koen seemed unaware of the contradictions in his words. He had just emphasized not saying "we," yet immediately stated, "your name is tied to mine." Maybe that investigation report indeed troubled Koen. However, he clearly had no mind to understand its details.
"And then there's the matter of the woman. Of all people, you had to get involved with Hilsbeth. Now I have to keep up the lie about being her cousin, telling the council she wants a peaceful life and asking for their understanding... forcing me to speak well of a woman from the Queen's District just because you bedded her!"
"I was indeed careless in handling my relationship with her. Rest assured, once the heat dies down, I will take care of her matter myself."
"What do you mean by that?" Koen turned to look at him. "So eager to handle it yourself. This isn't something you should be concerned with right now. Don't tell me you've actually developed feelings for her."
"I'm just saying, you don't need to worry about her."
"Unwilling to speak plainly? ... Never mind, you're a man who understands the gravity of things. I trust I haven't misjudged you as a fool who would let a woman ruin important matters. Panthonia, your problem is that you want me to recommend you as a leader, but you show no leader's temperament."
"I'm still a Security Bureau investigator after all, without..."
"I'm talking about temperament, not the power of a leader. Killing Salvaney has really made you arrogant. You need to understand some etiquette befitting your position, be more mindful when speaking to those of higher status. You need to start cultivating these little things. Have you seen the king? If you had, you'd know that his every move commands respect. And you? You're like a stray dog in the snow, unable to command anyone's respect except through force or intimidation. How do I persuade the council? Certainly, you've been a refugee for too long; no one expects you to transform suddenly, but..."
Koen continued for a while, mostly expressing dissatisfaction with Panthonia. Since the poisoning incident, Koen had privately treated him this way. Panthonia thought perhaps his guarantor was already regretting his decision, but after the celebration banquet praising Salvaney's elimination, Koen had no way to turn back.
"I have no more reminders for you. Be careful with everything until the meeting next month. Get off."
As the carriage stopped and Panthonia was about to get off, he heard Hylan say, "Lord Koen, I'd like to stay here as well. I wish to speak with the investigator."
Koen agreed. Hylan also got off and stood on the roadside with Panthonia.
"What do you want to say?" Panthonia asked.
"I just want to tell you that perhaps the Duke's words were harsh, but he means no harm."
"No harm, I believe Duke Koen has none. He has reason and the right to say such things."
"As someone who has served him for many years, I understand your point. With so many trivial matters to handle, Lord Koen cannot always maintain a good mood, but he always acts according to established principles. So, you need not worry about any changes to future expectations."
"How much do you really know? About what I discussed with him."
"The specifics aren't important to me. I only know that in all these years serving him, he rarely entrusts such significant responsibilities to anyone outside his family. So, I sincerely hope there will be fewer misunderstandings between you and him."
"Really? So what do you intend to do to help with that?"
"You've stumped me there, Mr. Panthonia," Hylan smiled. "I'm just a priest. Besides praying, there's little I can do. So, let me pray for you. And for that lovely lady with the beautiful voice."
"You've met her?"
"Privately? No. I've only admired her singing from afar in the church, like any other ordinary believer. Though we haven't met, I can tell from her singing that she is kind-hearted and deserving of blessings. In secular songs, singers can feign emotions; but in sacred hymns, that's impossible. Only by being utterly sincere can those melodies touch people's hearts. So, I feel sorry for the situation you and she face. But with time and your success, I believe you will overcome these difficulties."
If any other cleric had said this to Panthonia, he wouldn't have taken it seriously. However, Hylan's words carried a certain genuine authority, almost convincing Panthonia to accept the idea of singing reflecting one's heart. He couldn't let his guard down around this person, but... "Overcome difficulties?" What does that mean?
Panthonia didn't understand why Hylan would say such things. If Tennyson's private interactions and the council's scrutiny had tainted his relationship with Hilsbeth, then Hylan was the first to try to bless them.
"I have nothing more to say," Hylan said. "In any case, I wish you the best. I need to return to the Duke's mansion. Goodbye, Mr. Panthonia."
The priest left.