Chương 14: Vol 1. A Matter Of Family Business

The funeral was held on the third day of Lady Tulta's ascent into the afterlife. The cathedral had been draped in traditional mourning cloth, veils of black and gold hanging from the ancient building's marble columns. Sweet, tangy incense burned in the air, rising in opaque billows up to the ceiling. At the front of the chapel, beneath the stained-glass image of the Dual-Gods, Lady Tulta lay on a raised bier, one made of wood from the same species of trees that grew in the copses around her mansion.

Her paws were folded neatly over her bosom, her fur brushed and smoothed, and her body dressed in the formal colours of House Maraveth. The male servants of the house had taken special care to hide the stab wounds. Around her, candles danced in the evening darkness. The congregation knelt. The high priestess stood before the altar, wearing a black and red chasuble, her head bowed as she whispered the sacramental prayer. Beside her, an altar girl held a sacrificial knife in both paws.

The choristers began to sing, their voices soft and high. O' Mother, creator of all things, Our love, our pride, Take now your daughter to live with you in paradise, and may Seroth, your word, the prophet, guide her to your throne; may no pain come to her, may no suffering fall upon her may death never truly reach her. A sacrificial calf was brought forth. The high priestess took the knife. Once the sacrament was complete, she went to the podium.

"Sisters, brothers," she began.

"Today's service is held in memory of the great Lady Tulta Maraveth." The high priestess lowered her ears in a sign of reverent respect.

"She was the head of one of our four great royal households, those who keep Seroth's realm from falling into disarray. Without them, the blind would be leading the blind, the realm would be nothing but poor sinners fighting amongst each other; evil fighting evil; the power-hungry and the depraved trampling over the weak. There would be no peace. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

"Now, I ask all of you, my brothers and sisters, to take a moment to bow in reverence, and ask for the Mother's infinite mercy to rain down upon the late lady. May Seroth's sacred heart guide her to everlasting life." The high priestess bowed her head. The cathedral was more silent than a terrified mouse. When the service was wrapped up, all but Princess Selvara, who looked over her mother with a bitter expression. She hated how peaceful she looked. She didn't deserve to be at peace.

If the Dual-Gods truly existed, she would spend eternity in pure agony. The high priestess put one paw on her shoulder. There was genuine sorrow in her expression.

"I am… terribly sorry for your loss, your highness," she consoled.

"Your mother was a wonderful woman."

"Yeah, she sure was," Selvara lied.

"Let us hope the sacred heart of—""High Priestess Veyra Solenne," Selvara said low and even, "who do you wish to win the Coniton?" High Priestess Veyra Solenne's ears flattened.

"Oh, I um… I do not really care to get involved in politics like that. I am inLcharge of the spiritual, not the physical."

"I see," Selvara said.

"And… what if the spiritual and the physical merged?" Veyra starred at her.

"What do you—""If you were to perish, who would take your position as high priestess of this region?" Veyra's expression softened.

"Your highness…"

"Answer the question."

"Well, that would depend on a number of factors," Veyra said carefully, "but largely, I suppose if the High Priestess of Veyrath does not select a new one within thirty days, then the ruling noble lady of the region would have the power to select a new priestess."

"And she could select anyone she wanted," Selvara said.

"I … yes, I suppose so, in theory—" Boot steps echoed against the marble flooring of the church. High Priestess Veyra Solenne turned. A bunch of women in armour with broad swords burst into the cathedral and surrounded her. Mercenaries. Veyra stepped back.

"What heresy is this?"

"It is nothing personal, High Priestess Veyra Solenne. It is simply a matter of family business."

"You… are… did you—?" Selvara gave a devilish flick of her ears.

"I simply wish to control the spiritual realm and the physical."

"May Seroth curse you!" she spat. Then her world went warm and dark. A sword fell upon her. For a brief moment, the cathedral was utterly silent. High Priestess Veyra Solenne's head rolled across the floor, and came to a rest beneath the alter; the fraught face looked up at the icon of the weeping face of the Great Mother.