Legacy of the Destroyer: Ragnarök

Chapter IV: Sympathy

CHAPTER IV: SYMPATHY

HE SOBBED FOR WHAT felt like hours.

Avera Raziel wouldn’t wake up again.

Death had not been kind to her. He had seen peaceful deaths; this wasn’t one. Her eyes were glassy, a frozen kind of horror on her face. Perpetual sadness caught within its depths. The expression that she wore was blank and pitiful.

Demetri moved a shaking hand over his mother’s eyes, closing them. “Be at peace,” he murmured. His trembling fingers moved downwards. Her lips, cherry-red and gentle, had sung lullabies for him when he had trouble sleeping. Her chin had cradled him when he had been lonely. Her shoulder, her arms, and her arms all bore the signs of labor. Yet they were still delicate. He touched her hands with his, the warmth not yet entirely gone. He remembered when she had petted his head, when she had rubbed his stomach when he had been sick, when she had washed his face for him.

But would never move again.

Demetri got up, nearly falling over again, and performed the ritual bow of respect done for the dead. When he was done, he knelt down and kissed his mother’s hand once. “I won’t forgive them,” he said, knowing Amoris was just behind him. “I can’t. My mother… she hadn’t done anything. They came after me… she was just trying to protect me.”

“I know.”

He hit the ground with his fist. “There is no justice in this world!” he cried. “How can someone order the deaths of thousands of people just because of a prophecy!”

Amoris laid a hand on his shoulder, but his eyes were elsewhere. “Queen Dresmia is young. She acted rashly.” He paused. “She, much like you, is afraid. The burdens of responsibility is great. Especially for someone so—“

“Don’t compare me with her!” he screamed. He knew of the rumors of the girl queen. She was ruthless, justifying her decrees by claiming she was working for the good of the people. “She’s a killer!”

Amoris spoke to the servant boy. “Call some people to move the body,” he said quietly, countering Demetri’s loud tones with softness. “The least we can do is give her comfort in death. This is the death of a great woman.”

Demetri drew in a shuddering breath. “Did you know my mother?” His voice shook.

“I know of her,” was the gentle reply. “Let us not linger here. My servant will bring her body to my manor house. Worry not.”

The boy didn’t get up, so the man leaned down and helped him up. “We can talk more there. It’s not too far.”

---

“How far has the decree been enacted?”

Dresmia’ voice was blank, yet there was a plaintive yearning within it. Castelain wondered if the young girl felt any remorse for what she had done. For the families she had torn apart. Not even the sons of nobles had been spared. Those who had resisted the soldiers had been cut down with the rest. He bit his lip. His youngest son had just turned eleven. As a father himself, he knew the pain he would have felt if the age restrictions had been a year different. Heartless though it was, he couldn’t help but feel relieved.

“Castelain.” The queen did not find it amusing that her advisor hadn’t been listening.

He jumped a little. “Yes?”

“The decree,” she reminded him patiently, a warning gleam in her eyes. Castelain stood up a bit straighter, gulping hard. “How far has it been enacted?”