2 The Funeral

The entire kingdom was tense.

The previously crowded and bustling streets were quiet and morose. There weren't unruly children running about with smiles in their faces, nor was there the sounds of their parents scolding them. The street vendors were closed, the shops' doors locked, the pubs even quieter than the streets.

The kingdom had become something akin to a ghost town after the funeral ceremony that had taken place that morning.

Ísar didn't understand why the dead corpses of his family needed to be paraded around the streets of their capital. He was pretty sure everyone knew they were dead. That being said, he did understand that it was tradition, that it let the citizens mourn as well.

Why they would want to mourn a greedy king, an abusive alcoholic of a queen and their useless and psychotic offspring is beyond him.

"His majesty looks so somber," he heard one of the noblewomen attempt to whisper behind him.

A child not happy at the burial of his family. A shock, my lady.

"He's so young and so small. To be left alone after seeing such a tragic event. And with so much responsibility. Why, I would've gone mad."

"Why did he insist on the traitor's corpse being included? Oh that's such a bad omen."

Ísar didn't want to acknowledge them or anyone else for that matter. He kept his gaze solely on the eight black coffins in front of him. All lined up in front of the castle's temple. He stood between the coffins of his youngest brother and of his murderer of a sister. The one he'd killed himself.

He could've saved his younger brother. Told him to go to bed early instead of joining them at the banquet that was celebrating the return of their sister on her subjugation of the monsters in the west. He could've, but he didn't. It was too risky, knowing his sister's mental state.

He would've had to die at some point either way. He wasn't academically inclined, not after mother purposely dropped him several times as a baby saying his cries gave her a headache. 'Punishment' she'd call it.

I do apologize, litla bróðir.

"Your majesty."

He didn't want to look up at the Duke, his father's cousin. He kept his eyes on either his sister or his brother. His ability to quickly numb his emotions was starting to make him wonder if he was as unstable as the rest of his family.

He could force himself to react appropriately, or move and speak how he believed he was supposed to but the feelings were mere whispers. He couldn't even tell if they were his actual emotions or what he thought he was supposed to feel in the moment.

Like the funeral for example.

He was supposed to be sad. He was supposed to be the somber, traumatized child he'd read about in books and seen on the streets when he accidentally walked into the slums. All he could think about was how he'd miss napping with his sister or brother. He was a cuddler, you see. How was he going to sleep after all that?

Though that could've been his own way of grieving.

"Your majesty, I do apologize but we must move on to the burial."

"I have not been crowned yet, Duke Kalason." The scratchy way his voice sounded after not using it for days bothered him. It helped with the image he was going for, but it still bothered him.

"Of course. Forgive me." The old Duke fell silent for a moment but stood beside the young royal.

They stood beside each other for a good amount of time. At least until the prince got bored and asked, "What is to be done with my sister's body?"

The murderer and traitor could not be buried with the rest of her ancestors nor with the warriors of old. There was no possible way that she would receive such an honor. Being allowed to be placed with the rest of the family during the ceremony was as much as Ísar could do for his unwell sister.

It wasn't his opinion or anything, but social rules wouldn't allow her to actually be buried at sea with their ancestors. As the young future King, following those rules was the best he could do at the moment.

He did not want to be king, even though his actions so far were contradicting to that claim. His plan was to simply survive because the only way to win against someone as powerful as his sister was through tricks and manipulation.

He knew she would snap that night, the last monster subjugation being the worst one yet from what he had heard. He'd seen the way she had fought the maids in charge of getting her ready for the banquet. He'd stood at the corner of her waiting room and saw the fear, panic and confusion in her eyes. She was not mentally there, and that was going to blow over. It was why he brought the dagger into the hall in the first place.

Even before all that, she had already brandished her sword at their father that very day, thinking he was one of the monsters out in the snow.

She was not of sound mind, but who could blame the child soldier for that?

"…She is to be thrown into the woods, your highness."

"The wolves don't go near human remains and the bears might nibble on her but they don't like the taste of people. She would be left to rot in the open." He knew he sounded odd saying that the way he did, but it was just facts. "Throw her in a deep swamp. It isn't the ocean so no honor to be found and it could help avoid environmental issues close to the citizens, considering how far the marshes are."

"As you wish. Already thinking of benefitting the people. I always knew you would make a great leader."

Ísar scoffed, unable to hide it.

Liar. You only knew I existed on that very night.

"I'll be returning to my room," he said as he turned around, the back of his black coat flowing with every step he took. His knights immediately lined up behind him as he headed back to the castle.

"There will be a meeting after the week of mourning. I will also need to gather all the former aides of my father's as well as prospective future aides." he said loud enough for the duke and the rest of the nobles present to hear.

He stopped walking when he got to Count Pierre, the minister of state. "Bring me every and all information regarding this kingdom as soon as this week is over and help me arrange a royal tutor."

He had been so far behind the line of succession, he had not been formally taught about what he'd need to take over the kingdom. He was going in blind and running off bits of information he'd heard from his siblings and father.

He did not want to be king, but he was going to be one whether he liked it or not. He might as well do a good job of it. There were many people in high nobility with experience, so he believed they could be of help to him. He hoped they would.

I only have a year and some months until I need to enroll into the Academy. There is too much to do. I do not have time to watch corpses descend into the waters. The gods can watch them for me.