"My fellow children of Faereign," Vivola started, not acting a thing like her usual shy self. Maybe it was not having a personal discussion that made her confident? "We are gathered here to rejoice in the Unscarred Creator taking in this child of the sands. Today should be a day of rejoice, for we have known this great man as a King," Vivola looked at Craetor, her eyes filled with... well, nothing. She was holding onto her Void Mystic. "As a brother. And even as a friend"
Vivola went on talking about Saeron's life, but Craetor knew no one truly cared much about his death. It was more about their failure to do their duty and someone making a strike on the great kingdom of Faerein. Saeron hadn't been the most benevolent of leaders, despite his attempts. He had fallen to corruption early. Politics and power had ruined him. Craetor knew that somewhere in that stained heart, his brother had still lived, but he also knew no one cared for that, save him and maybe Monstroth.
Well, Craetor couldn't blame any of them. He needed to focus on finding out who the perpetrators were. If Faerein didn't react to this, then the other countries would assume that the sand kingdom didn't have the resources. And that would potentially open them up for an attack. The castle town wasn't in any immediate dangers, but the surrounding towns on the edge of Faerein and the people who lived isolated to farm...
Craetor shook his head. Why was he thinking about this during his own brother's funeral? When his sister and mother had died, Saeron had been there to support Craetor. Despite the man being unstable himself, Saeron held it together and supported Craetor as he healed the scars inside his heart. Both times... He wasn't the best king, but he had been an admirable brother. Craetor would always remember that.
"...and let his body and soul be cleansed in the sands before ascending into the Unscarred Creator's Holy sanctuary." Vivola nodded to Monstroth and then to the person who stood at the other side of Saeron's coffin. Craetor smiled to his daughter. It was forced, he realized. Remembering the past had made him sentimental.
The two of them moved in symmetry, bowing to the deceased. It symbolized the Final Farewell. Ever country had it's own version, but the name always stayed the same. In Faerein, they bowed, then used swords to slice the ropes suspending the deceased's coffin. Since Craetor and Kaela were the only relatives of Saeron, with the exception of Monstroth, they were expected to perform this.
A sword-bearer came up beside Craetor, handing him the large blade. It wasn't complex in design, really; just a normal two-handed sword with the emblem of Faerein embedded on it's blade and hilt. The only thing that made the blade he and Kaela now held different was it's weight. The blades weighed next to nothing.
It was a Voidblade. Void Mystic was the power of displacement. Though it had many uses and could be more dangerous than any other Mystic, many revered the users and implored them to donate their souls after they grew old. It was an odd thing to any who didn't use Void, but the ones who accepted the requests could remove their own soul and place it into an object. The objects would then gain a lightness that defied reason and became immune to Mystics. Maybe it was the fact that the soul was more powerful than any Mystic, Craetor did not know. All he knew was that these blades were useful on the battlefield.
"Release the bonds to life."
Craetor and Kaela struck as once, cutting both sets of ropes with ease and maintaining symmetry as well. They hadn't practiced, but Kaela excelled in most things she did. Craetor wanted to tell her how well she had done that, but that wouldn't be proper at the moment.
"If you will proceed to the throne room," Vivola said in her professional voice, "We will commence with the ascension of the new king."
Craetor froze. What? New king? Today was a day of mourning! "Vivola!" Craetor said sternly, gaining the attention of most the people around him, "What is the meaning of this?"
Vivola didn't react immediately. That was a side effect of Void. A lack of emotions to those who controlled it properly. "Craetor Frae, we of the confident have decided that in these troubling times, we need a king on the throne." She looked at Saeron's sinking coffing, which was only a corner now. "It is what the previous king would have wanted."
Cursing mentally, Craetor silenced himself. No doubt the confident had decided something else, too. Well, good luck making Craetor a puppet like they tried to do with Saeron. He wouldn't break under the stress like Saeron either. He couldn't afford to. But, for now, he had no choice but to follow the crowd into the throne room.