章 16: Old lady.
After a quiet lunch, Fraihn rose from his seat, his movements measured as he turned toward a different path, leading him away from the direction of his office.
"Where are you headed, General?" Selene called after him, a trace of confusion in her tone. She raised an eyebrow, a light laugh escaping her, as though the thought of Fraihn losing his way was an amusing impossibility.
Fraihn stopped mid-step, casting a glance back over his shoulder. A faint smile curved his lips.
"I'm going to pay my respects to my brothers and sisters." He replied quietly, his voice laced with a gravity that needed no further explanation.
Her gaze followed him for a moment, her hands adjusting a loose strand of hair that the wind had swept across her face. Her smile was hollow, tinged with both sadness and a silent acceptance of his unspoken need.
"When you're ready to return, come find me, General." She gestured to the small pastry box that sat beside her. "We'll share it together."
Fraihn nodded, a silent promise in his gaze, then turned and continued along the winding path that led to the hill where his fallen comrades rested.
The path stretched ahead of him, lined on either side by ancient oaks whose broad branches arched over the walkway, their leaves rustling softly in the breeze. The trees seemed to bend toward him, as if bowing in reverence, acknowledging the significance of his journey.
When he reached the hill's base, Fraihn took a deep breath, the solemn sight before him settling into his heart. Thousands of white granite headstones stretched out across the grassy field, each one standing as a silent testament to a life given in unwavering service to the Imperium. The sun's light caught the edges of the stones, casting soft shadows that danced with each breeze.
At the crest of the hill, two flags stood tall over the graves, their fabric billowing gently in the wind.
One flag bore the symbol of the Imperium, its deep crimson and gold colors vivid against the sky.
Beside it flew the Flag of the Fallen, a pristine white banner emblazoned with the silhouette of a soldier, head held high, walking toward the horizon. The image symbolized the journey of the fallen to a place beyond this world, an eternal march to peace.
Fraihn removed his hat, holding it to his chest as he ascended the hill, his steps slow and reverent.
When he reached the rows of headstones marking his own unit's resting place, he stopped, his gaze moving over each name etched in stone. Here lay the men and women he had led into battle, whose laughter and voices still echoed faintly in his memory, now forever silent under the open sky.
At the foot of these graves stood a carved wooden plank, weathered by time but lovingly maintained. Its inscription, though simple, carried a weight of meaning that resonated deep within him:
"To those who walked through fire and storm, who stood unwavering when all else fell. May your valor be eternal, and may the Imperium carry forward the memory of your sacrifice."
As he walked, his hand brushed lightly against the tops of the headstones, a silent gesture of respect and remembrance.
Each touch, each step, felt like a continuation of an unbroken bond, a quiet conversation held between worlds.
Eventually, Fraihn stopped before a particular grave, his gaze lingering on the name engraved there. He had known each of his comrades in ways words could never fully capture, but this name, this one held a particular place in his heart, a friendship forged through battles and sacrifices that ran deeper than blood. He stood in silence, lost in reflection, memories playing like fragments of a distant dream in his mind.
As he stood there, a gentle touch on his shoulder brought him back to the present. Startled, he turned to see an elderly woman standing behind him, her posture dignified yet softened by age.
Her eyes, faded to a gentle gray but still sharp, held a quiet intensity as they studied him, a gaze that seemed to pierce through to the weight he carried.
She looked at him with an empathy that needed no words, her expression tinged with a sorrow that matched his own.
"Did you serve with them, darling?" She asked, her voice soft.
Fraihn dipping his head in a respectful bow. "I was their battalion commander." He replied.
Without a word, the woman stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him in an embrace that was both fierce and gentle, as though she wished to shield him from the pain that seemed to hang in the air around them.
Fraihn stood frozen for a moment, caught off guard by the unexpected gesture. But then he relaxed, allowing himself to be held, feeling the warmth of her embrace seep into the parts of his heart he had long kept guarded.
When she finally pulled back, her eyes were filled with tears that slipped quietly down her cheeks, her gaze fixed on him as though she had waited a lifetime to meet him.
"My son, Ljira, came home alive because of you, darling." She said, her voice trembling as she spoke his name. "You are Fraihn, aren't you?"
Fraihn nodded, his own emotions swirling just beneath the surface.
"Yes, I am." He replied softly, meeting her gaze with a mixture of sorrow and gratitude.
A bittersweet smile touched the woman's lips as she hugged him again, her embrace even tighter.
"You were their light of hope, the one who saved them… and my son."
Fraihn exhaled a quiet, shaky breath, his heart heavy with the memories of those he had lost.
"I tried… but so many of them fell." He murmured, his voice barely audible, the weight of each loss pressing down on him.
The woman stepped back, looking up at him with an expression that was both fierce and gentle, her eyes filled with a motherly wisdom that seemed to cut through Frainh.
"Don't let yourself suffer alone, darling." She said, her voice firm yet filled with compassion. Reaching into her pocket, she drew out a small medal, its silver surface adorned with three delicate flowers woven together in intricate detail. "I made this myself," she whispered, pinning the medal onto his uniform. "These flowers are called Qverily. They are the blooms of hope and bravery, said to have guided the Great God Hammus down the path to defeat every demon that crossed his way."
Fraihn looked down, tracing the medal, the silver glinting softly under the fading light. Each petal, each delicate detail, seemed to carry a piece of her spirit, her love, and her quiet strength.
But when he looked up again, the woman was gone, vanished as silently as she had come, leaving only the rustling of the trees and a faint warmth where she had touched him.
It was as though a gentle breeze had spirited her away, her presence fading into the fabric of the world around him, leaving him alone once more among the graves.
Yet, something within him felt lighter, as though she had left him with a piece of peace he hadn't known he needed.
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