Eshyk County, Part 3
To be honest, covering our faces was a necessity. Our biggest worry today was that someone among the mourners might recognize us. Since the Eshyk Count’s family was so prestigious, there was no telling who we might run into. Though I kept my composure, my heart was hammering against my ribs, anxious that a familiar face might appear at any moment.
Revealing our identities as the Saintess of Hibras and her Guardian didn't matter. The real problem was if someone recognized us as Sirien Ilencia and Rajen Bertus. Even if it felt like paranoia, I couldn't help but worry. Fortunately, very few nobles actually knew what we looked like, and even then, their memories would be of children from over four years ago. A simple disguise like this should be more than enough to keep us safe. For now, at least, I didn't spot any familiar faces.
"As you requested, we have set aside the first water drawn this morning. The shroud follows our family tradition, but we have lined the inside of the coffin with black silk."
"That is more than enough. Our order prefers to respect local traditions as much as possible."
Noble funerals were long affairs. They had to accommodate mourners traveling from distant lands. However, religious rites were usually performed as early as possible. In reality, the actual farewell to the deceased concluded in the initial stages; everything after that was merely using the funeral as a pretext to reaffirm political and social ties. Since obituaries were typically sent out at least a day or two after the passing, the bereaved family had to face the public only after their initial grief had somewhat subsided.
Still, of all things, it had to be the death of a father. It felt like a strange coincidence, considering my own recent ordeal involving my father. His face drifted into my mind. He was a man I had sent off without even a proper goodbye, yet his features remained vividly etched in my memory. Neither Sirien nor I had been able to properly lay our parents to rest, so moments like this always left a bitter taste in my mouth.
"Was he a good man?"
"Yes. I can say that with absolute pride. He was a father to be proud of, and he never lost his dignity, not even at the very end. The calm resolve he showed in the face of death will serve as my guiding light for the rest of my life."
"I see. To be able to part with a parent with such honorable memories is a gift in itself. Though the parting came too soon, I hope you find peace and comfort in due time."
"...Thank you."
After a brief wait, our turn arrived. This was the sole reason we had braved this massive crowd of mourners. Sirien was to personally perform the ritual to guide the deceased's soul to Rest, presiding over the funeral of the Eshyk County. This was, in truth, a massive favor from Dersian. In central politics, the name of Hibras was virtually unknown. Being chosen by the prestigious Eshyk family would serve as an invaluable credential for our order. In essence, it was a grand debut under the patronage of an influential house.
"Ah, it seems the preparations are complete. Please, follow me."
This was the moment Hibras's Rest would be revealed to the high nobility for the very first time.
The core of Hibras's divinity was Rest. He was a god who waited for souls at the final destination of all life, sometimes guiding them to eternal repose himself. Yet, to the living, Rest was a concept inherently tied to death. It was human instinct to reject death. Consequently, ordinary people felt an immediate, visceral aversion when confronted with the divinity of death. Even those like Baron Isquente, who had encountered it multiple times, could never entirely shake off the sense of foreboding it carried. For those experiencing it for the first time, the sensation was bound to be deeply unsettling.
"O Rest,"
Clad in her holy vestments, the Saintess personally lit the incense and began to recite a long prayer. Sirien's soft, gentle voice echoed through the hall. It wasn't just my bias speaking; her voice was an exquisitely beautiful instrument that anyone would recognize. Without a single word of warning, the whispers of the nobles died down instantly. Every eye in the room turned to Sirien, drawn in by an irresistible pull.
"Your Saintess seeks to guide a soul. Having completed his long and noble journey, he now wishes to find eternal sleep within Your embrace."
Paradoxically, the Divinity of Rest also induced a profound sense of warmth and psychological comfort. While it lacked the power to physically relieve fatigue like a god of mercy might, it was incredibly effective at soothing a troubled mind. It was like a plush, welcoming bed—possessing a magnetic pull that drew people in, much like a warm mattress beckoning to the exhausted. Every divinity had its dual nature, but Hibras's duality was exceptionally unique.
"Grant him Your lantern so he may not wander in the dark of night, and welcome him with Your gentle warmth."
As a soft, amber light of divinity enveloped the hall, the nobles began to whisper among themselves in hushed tones.
"I've never heard of a god named Hibras, but what a remarkably warm divinity."
"I heard he is a deity who guides souls. It's my first time witnessing it myself, but his name has been steadily spreading in the North."
"Oh, is that so?"
"Yes. A relative of mine runs a merchant guild in the North, so I heard about it early on. Apparently, he is highly revered among soldiers and mercenaries."
From what I could gather, most of the reactions were highly favorable. I let out a quiet sigh of relief. Even with my face covered, my natural aura must have leaked out, because I had definitely ruined our first impression earlier. People seemed to shrink away from me, likely due to the prominent scar on my neck. Even in the original novel, I had received rather poor treatment in the looks department. Putting aside Sirien, who was essentially the antithesis of the female lead, there was no reason for a pure villain like me to be handsome.
The consensus was that I looked excessively fierce and savage. Since I usually encountered others as an enemy, battles were frequent, and during those clashes, people often compared me to a beast or a wild animal rather than a human. Objectively speaking, they weren't entirely wrong. Sirien was the only person in the world who ever complimented my looks.
But if you think about it, doesn't that make Sirien right? Sirien is the most beautiful woman in the world. That makes her the ultimate authority on aesthetics. If the absolute authority thinks I'm handsome, who cares what anyone else thinks? If you have a problem with that, draw your sword and fight me. The Edelmar Empire legally recognizes death by duel as a legitimate act, after all.
"May the waters of oblivion wash away his sins..."
In any case, I had nothing to do while Sirien conducted the ritual. That didn't mean I could just lounge around in some quiet corner, though. As the order's Guardian, my duty was to protect the Saintess and ensure the ritual proceeded without interruption. But this was Eshyk County. The estate was heavily guarded by the Count's private soldiers, and fools stupid enough to ruin the funeral of a prestigious noble house for no reason were rare. Thus, my role was simply to stand a short distance from Sirien, looking solemn and imposing while observing the mourners.
Fortunately, it wasn't a completely useless endeavor. I could recognize the crests worn by several of the guests. Even if it was only in name, I was still the son of a Count. I had been thoroughly educated to identify the crests of influential families.
I spot a few faces from the original novel.
I recognized a few people Elis had encountered while wandering the capital. For instance, the man who had just mentioned the northern merchant guild. In the original timeline, he was someone who eventually followed us—though he quickly defected to the female lead's side once the tides of war turned. There was no need to brand him a traitor just yet, but there was certainly no reason to trust him either. Aside from him, most were minor characters. I had wondered if I might catch a glimpse of Harmenia's Golden Duke or the Crown Prince, but it seemed the timing wasn't right.
It's a shame. I wanted to get a look at their faces beforehand. There were illustrations in the original novel, but I couldn't have cared less about what those bastards looked like back then.
After all, reality and fiction were bound to differ. There were things that illustrations and written descriptions in the original novel could never fully capture. Who could have imagined that Dersian would be such an incredibly awkward guy in love? The other male leads might also possess traits vastly different from their novel counterparts. The most likely candidate was the Crown Prince. In the novel, he was described as a virtually flawless man, but no such thing as a perfect human existed in this world. There was no telling what dark secrets he harbored beneath that pristine exterior. Furthermore, the Crown Prince's sudden infatuation with the female lead had lacked any real narrative plausibility.
He had simply spouted typical, mass-produced romance fantasy clichés like that. Why the supposedly cold-blooded Crown Prince fell so deeply in love with Elis was never properly explained in the original novel. I had simply shrugged it off back then, chalking it up to the genre's reverse-harem tropes.
It was then. I felt a sudden stir ripple through the crowd of mourners. Though there was no loud noise, the shift in their gazes and posture betrayed a distinct agitation. It was caused by the late arrivals entering the hall. It seemed that even in an era like this, there were always those who couldn't arrive on time.
There were three newcomers in total: a young noble and his two attendants. The crest embroidered on their black formal attire was a snowflake, symbolizing eternal snow. As soon as I recognized the family that crest represented, my brow furrowed.
The Eternal Snow of the North.
Marquis Eloran had arrived.