Oath of Steel

1 |The Austerity of the Dead|

The sound of the twin bells chimed with delight at the arrival of the hour of death.

The musical reminders sliding down the bell towers as its heavy chimes dwarfed the low chanting of the moderate crowd of officials forced into attendance.

Daunting Cathedral had never been famous for celebrating joyous events, not even after the erection of its first walls. Built at the time with the intention of becoming the resting place of the first heir of the first Rowelian rule after dying honourably in battle.

No wedding, nor a baptism, not even a sanctification had ever taken place inside those well-kept walls. The only times Daunting Cathedral opened to the public was when the nation prepared itself to mourn the passing of those considered of uttermost importance to the welfare of the country.

One of those days had finally dawned on them after so long.

The shining white marble slates darkened as the shadows of the attendees mixed the unbending funeral atmosphere. The same daunting atmosphere that'd lead to the naming of it in the first place.

The bishop wouldn't have attended the funeral service as per usual. He'd been alerted the morning before; with a messenger bearing the news that his esteemed presence wouldn't be needed.

Nobody had to know, nobody had to see, nobody had to say a word that could make the citizens become alert of what was happening inside Daunting Cathedral in that present moment.

The house of God, made up of five naves and divided by four colonnades had seen better days. Despite the never-ending donations coming from high society throughout the course of the decades.

The claristorium was the only part of the cathedral that won against the passage of time, dust, and war. Once again thanks to the lovely donations given to bury secrets and lies under the centenary-year-old foundations that kept Daunting Cathedral standing on her feet.

Only the half-first spiralled-carved fir benches sitting in the central nave had been occupied, seven dozen people kneeling in front of a black wooden casket.

There hadn't been one soul that'd voluntarily decided to attend, every single one of them paid a conspicuous amount hours before just to show fake interest.

It wasn't their faces that the curious visitors could see from the entrance, bearing only a white mask covering the upper part of their tired visages.

In cases like this, anonymity could have spared the lives of many men - if not of all the attending soldiers present for that last goodbye.

From the upper balconies overlooking the funeral service sat an old man covered in gold. With harnesses made out of the purest silver one could find on the market

"What a pleasant morning to attend a state funeral. Don't you think so too, Bishop Ferdis?"

"I beg to differ, dear sister. A death should never be celebrated in such gaudy ways," Bishop Ferdis replied, touching his chin-long grey beard with the first specks of white showing here and there.

Never taking his ancient eyes off the apprentice priest blessing the open casket,  his robes were just a few days old. New, and yet already dirty after walking around the cathedral and the perimeter of the house of God to attend his duties as a novice.

A laugh was all that he got as a reply.The figure stepped from the hidden door that led to the balcony, an internal stained window being the door opening and closing it without making a sound. Her footsteps made no sound across the tiled floors, but Bishop Ferdis could sense all of her movements which served as a sad reminder of his lost youth.