Lingering Fragrance (4)
Lingering Fragrance (4)
The funeral rite was brief.
Estelle stood before the altar and recited the prayers without hesitation.
Her voice was quiet and solemn.
In her white clerical robes, she looked beatific.
Though the woman herself wished every day that God would simply vanish.
A sparse handful of people sat inside the church.
Levina and Serepina. Kyle and his companions.
The wheezing Duke of Edelgard, and his wife—who hid her delight with all the subtlety of an open wound.
And a few family elders, some nameless faces.
For the funeral of a duke's son, the affair was remarkably small.
Estelle couldn't have cared less.
Sunlight spilled through the stained glass, pooling on the floor in dappled hues.
Dust motes drifted slowly through the colored light.
The service concluded, and they began to move the coffin.
Estelle followed behind it without a word.
The moment they stepped outside, brilliant sunlight flooded over them.
The sky was an impossible blue, unmarred by even a single cloud.
As though blessing Ravin's death.
As though mocking him: now that one miserable bastard is gone, the world can finally brighten.
The breeze was warm and gentle.
Birdsong carried from somewhere nearby.
It was the sort of day made for a picnic.
The thought surfaced unbidden: it would be nice to pack a few pieces of fruit and sit on that grassy hill over there.
With Ravin.
He'd have liked apples, probably.
She didn't know why—she just felt it.
He'd never eaten a peach, even when she'd offered him one.
For Serepina, the day was drab and colorless.
The sky hung gray, and the world's contrast had been turned down to black and white.
Ever since she'd looked up at Ravin hanging there, she hadn't been able to see color. It was as literal as that.
Everything was washed white or dark.
When she looked in a mirror, all she saw was her silhouette.
No expression, no trace of movement in her face.
So Serepina decided to simply go about with a smile.
And Estelle disliked the sight of Serepina wearing that smile on her face.
Disliked it enough to consider smashing her head open with the scriptures she was holding.
The coffin bearing Ravin Edelgard's name gleamed black beneath the sun.
As a priest, Estelle adopted a solemn, dignified expression throughout the burial rite and recited the prayers.
"We now commit Ravin Edelgard into His embrace."
Her voice rang out remarkably clear.
It seeped softly into the graveyard's silence.
The mourners bowed their heads and shut their eyes in time with her words.
"Though his life was brief and burdened with sin, he possessed a soul purer than most.
Receive his spirit, we pray, and grant him eternal rest."
Estelle's prayer continued at length.
She spoke of Ravin's life, drawn from the draft Levina had given her, and she asked that his soul find peace beside God.
Her delivery was brisk, almost businesslike, but the feeling beneath it seemed deeper than anyone else's in attendance.
The mourners were moved.
The Saintess truly is set apart, they murmured. Only someone like her could mourn that Edelgard scoundrel with such genuine devotion.
Right now, Estelle was fighting desperately to cage her emotions.
The tight press of her lips and the faint tremor at her fingertips gave proof enough.
She likely hadn't realized Ravin's death would hit her this hard.
The lowering of the coffin began.
It descended slowly into the waiting pit.
People threw dirt onto the lid.
Dry soil struck the wood with hollow, muffled sounds.
No one wept.
Not even the former fiancée, Serepina.
It wasn't exactly surprising.
Serepina hadn't cried when she saw Ravin hanging, hadn't screamed, hadn't denied reality.
Estelle simply stared blankly at the sight.
She too held a small trowel.
But she didn't lift any earth.
Throughout the entire funeral, Estelle never once appeared to grieve.
She carried out the rites as if they were a routine task.
She just didn't know how to show her feelings. That was all.
Or rather, she tried her best not to.
Because if she broke once, she might never stop.
Just like at her little brother's funeral.
That was all Ravin had been, really: a troublemaker of a friend who reminded her of the brother she'd spent only a few short weeks with.
Spending time with him, he hadn't seemed like the garbage the rumors made him out to be. He was just a tired, pitiable kid, worn thin.
Estelle had thought of Ravin as someone she could talk with easily. Someone whose presence was comfortable enough.
At some point, she must have felt a flicker of fondness for him. As a man.
Though living like that had always been the story of Estelle's life.
Being called the Saintess didn't make her the slightest bit happy.
Being praised for her compassion, her generosity, her kindness, her faith—no joy in any of it.
Truth be told, she didn't even love God.
She didn't believe, and she didn't follow.
Because God was always like this.
Always the thing that stripped away everything she might have loved or liked.
Hearing herself called a representative of such a thing could hardly bring her pleasure.
People who approached her never approached Estelle.
They approached the Saintess.
Ravin had been the exact opposite.
He'd looked at me as Estelle.
And I'd overlaid my brother onto him.
Even so......
The burial ended, and the mourners began drifting away.
Some to confer with the Edelgard family head, some to go home now that the ceremony was over, and some to attend the modest gathering Levina had arranged for the funeral guests.
Estelle paid none of them any mind. She stayed until the very end, standing guard over Ravin's grave.
No mound had been raised yet. Just a flat patch of earth covered with soil.
She dug a shallow hollow with the trowel, drew an apple from her robes, buried it, and covered it over again.
Then she pulled out two cigarettes and lit them.
One she planted in the dirt. The other she placed between her lips.
A pale thread of smoke dispersed into the blue sky.
The smoke held no shape. It merely dissipated.
Just like her time with Ravin.
Maybe she shouldn't have told him she'd seen her brother in him.
Not that hearing it had driven him to his death or anything.
She inhaled deep. Acrid smoke bit into her lungs.
She coughed violently, hacking like mad.
The world was profoundly peaceful.
The wind smoothed softly over her hair.
Warm sunlight tickled her cheek.
As if nothing had ever happened.
The cigarette burned about halfway down.
Ash lengthened, clinging precariously.
It fell with a soft tap and scattered across the dirt.
She ground it out with the tip of her shoe.
It vanished without a trace.
As though nothing had ever been there at all.
She burned it down to the end, then crushed the butt into the soil.
She stared blankly at Ravin's cigarette, still planted upright, then put that one out as well.
Wasting tobacco on the dead is a luxury.
I'm still alive, and I can barely afford to smoke.
She rose to her feet and brushed the dirt from her robes.
Then she walked away.
The gathering was held in the ballroom of the Edelgard mansion, small and subdued.
Outside the windows, a bright afternoon spread wide.
The table held simple food and wine.
But nobody reached for any of it.
A long silence stretched.
Awkward. Heavy.
Levina stood by the window, holding a wine glass.
She didn't drink. She simply watched the red liquid sway inside the glass.
Serepina sat slumped in a corner chair, her head hanging low.
Her shoulders trembled almost imperceptibly.
Kyle and his group milled about, looking unsure of what to do with themselves.
They had come because Levina called for them, but none of them had any fond memories of Ravin.
Estelle walked into the ballroom.
Every gaze turned toward her.
"The atmosphere here is so stiff. It's not like somebody died."
Estelle spoke in her characteristic teasing tone.
At least from your perspective, that lunatic bastard was never a person anyway.
She approached the table and casually poured herself a glass of wine.
"Nobody's eating? None of you had lunch. There's bound to be plenty of good stuff. This sandwich looks decent."
She picked one up and took a bite.
"The ham and cheese have this real commoner-pathos flavor to them.
You're really not eating? Should I just polish it all off myself?"
No one answered.
Estelle shrugged and took a sip of wine.
Her gaze settled on Levina and Serepina.
Those two. It felt like they were the ones who'd killed my only friend.
And yet here they were, with those expressions on their faces.
They'd killed a man and now one wore a smile that tried to look sad, while the other looked utterly indifferent.
"What's with those faces, you two? Aren't you meant to be the guests of honor today?
One of you just got rid of a shit-stain of a half-brother you couldn't even stomach calling family, and the other just got cleanly rid of a garbage fiancé who was dead weight. Shouldn't we be throwing a proper banquet instead of this modest little affair?"
Estelle's voice stayed light.
The already chilly air in the ballroom turned to ice.
Levina turned her head slowly and spoke in a low voice.
"This is my estate. I understand you've made a lifestyle out of not thinking before you speak, but I'd appreciate it if you chose your words carefully, Saintess."
"How terrifying."
Estelle swirled her wine glass and smiled, faint and feline.
"We've fought demons side by side, you and Kyle and I. Why be so cold?
All this over one feral pup that used to skulk around your house."
"Estelle!"
Kyle stepped forward.
His face was tight.
"Enough. Today, at least, this isn't the place for it."
"Is that so? I'd say it's the perfect place.
Don't you think? It's not like he can hear you cursing him out. He's dead."
Estelle flicked a glance at Kyle, then turned back to Levina.
"So, how does it feel? A weight off your chest now that the thorn's been pulled out?
Or did a drop or two of actual tears manage to leak out—you know, shared blood and all?"
She stepped closer to Levina and gently swirled the wine glass right in front of her eyes.
Dark red wine struck the crystal and rippled like blood.
Estelle rested a single finger on Levina's shoulder, traced it languidly over the bruising on her neck, then stroked her cheek, a smile still playing at her lips.