Chapter 502: Third Arc (Fallen Heart) - 267. Legacy V
Third Arc (Fallen Heart) - 267. Legacy V
King Gervis sought a small revenge against Angel. A poignant act that unfolded in the shadow of the looming tombs, a testament to the complexities of grief and retribution. In a move that echoed with a bitter triumph, Ilex's final resting place was chosen strategically, buried next to Angel's father's tomb—a plot that rightfully belonged to Angel himself.
The symbolism wasn't lost on anyone, least of all, Angel. A subtle provocation, a gesture intended to stir emotions and perhaps extract a reaction from the stoic ruler. Yet, King Gervis discovered a surprising truth—Angel remained unmoved.
The bitterness of King Gervis's revenge was palpable, yet Angel's silence prevailed. It was a moment that hinted at a different facet of Angel—the one who had, perhaps, resigned himself to the futility of retaliation and had no desire to claim the coveted resting place that King Gervis had strategically denied him.
The morning sun ascended higher in the vast expanse of the sky, its golden rays pierced through the thin veil of dawn, casting a warm glow over the solemn ceremony that unfolded in the courtyard.
In the center of the courtyard stood the adorned coffin, draped in the regal flag of the Asteria Kingdom—a symbol of Ilex's allegiance and the realm he left behind. Several royal soldiers, their armor gleaming in the subdued light, gathered around the casket. Not a single weapon adorned their persons.
The guests approached the coffin one by one. Each paid their last respects, their expressions etched with the weight of loss. Flowers, vibrant in their hues, were tenderly placed on the coffin as a final tribute to the departed prince.
Once the ritual of farewell was complete, the casket, now adorned with a kaleidoscope of blossoms, was lifted by the royal soldiers. With practiced precision, they carried their burden onto the awaiting carriage, draped in the somber hues of mourning.
The procession, a slow and deliberate journey, wound its way through the city streets. Along the route, citizens emerged, lining the path, each face reflecting a shared sorrow. An opportunity to pay homage to the fallen prince, a son of Asteria who had met an untimely end.
The carriage that led this melancholy parade held only three occupants—King Gervis, Princess Ophelia, and Angel. A trinity connected by blood to the departed soul. Rose, a notable absence, remained in the castle with Frost and the other guests.
The convoy, a somber procession of mourning, moved through the city streets like a river of sorrow, and the people, their faces etched with grief, gathered along the path to bear witness. As the carriage advanced, the collective hush of the crowd seemed to intensify, like a respectful bow before the weight of loss that trailed in its wake.
Eyes, filled with a mixture of reverence and sorrow, were riveted on the casket. The Asteria Kingdom's flag, draped over it, fluttered gently in the breeze, a poignant emblem of the realm's grief. Flowers, cast like silent offerings, adorned the path beneath the carriage's wheels.
Yet, as the procession continued, a subtle shift occurred in the gazes of the onlookers. Their attention, initially fixed on the casket, gradually shifted to the peculiar arrangement atop the carriage. King Gervis, flanked by Angel and Ophelia, rode side by side. Ophelia, usually clad in the attire befitting her status, had eschewed tradition for a black, boyish ensemble, adorned with her brother's sword—a clear symbol that she had embraced the mantle of protector.
The peculiar positioning of the trio ignited whispers among the spectators. Angel chose to align himself with Ophelia, placing them on an ostensibly equal plane. The hierarchy, a delicate balance in the kingdom, was momentarily disrupted.
In choosing this alignment, Angel projected an unexpected narrative—an acknowledgment of his past self, the prince of Asteria. It rendered his presence less conspicuous, a subtle maneuver that beckoned the curious to delve deeper into the complexities of his character.
The procession, bathed in the melancholic light of a city in mourning, continued its journey. The collective murmurings among the spectators spoke of intrigue and speculation. Angel's choice to ride beside Ophelia, despite his higher status, opened the gates to discussions that lingered beyond the scope of the funeral—a tapestry of questions woven into the fabric of the kingdom, where every gesture carried the weight of tradition and the potential for profound change.
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