(1866-06-10) Cassomir Funeral: The Final Goodbye
Cassomir Funeral: The Final Goodbye
Summary: The ceremony for Jaren Cassomir and Raelyn Cassomir
Date: 1866-06-10
Related: Alphard's Peace and all the related Black Vigil Logs.
NPCs: {$npc}
Players:
Jaren  Raelyn  Henric  Elaine  Faustius  Melisande  Matthew  Wulfred  Jaelynn  

Galenthia - Ironhold - Iron March Church
Newly renovated following the Succession War, the Church of Iron March is large as churches go, though not of a size or structure great enough to be called a cathedral. Still, there is room for plenty of worshippers to be had here, and on holy days and during masses it's still generally packed to the point of standing room only. A Bishop of the Faith is responsible for the church, with a few priests and lay clergy assisting them. Generally things are run with great efficiency, and there is a steady flow of parishioners throughout the week, mostly to give confession, though occasionally to meet with members of the clergy on other matters. Of course, weddings and funerals are fairly common as well, and in particular it's not unusual to find several pairs of commoners being married at once, having pooled their money to pay the proper tithes for the service to be performed. Nobles of course, can afford to have individual ceremonies, though further festivities normally occur in their homes following.
The grounds of the Church are immaculately kept, with neatly-trimmed hedges and plenty of flowering plants that make the church grounds fairly spectacular to walk through in the spring (indeed it's not uncommon to find people doing just that). A graveyard adjoins the church, with sections for those of both noble and common birth (the latter of course being much larger, while the former contains a few elaborate mausoleums dedicated to specific families, though the Cassomir family itself maintains a separate space a short distance outside the town. The interior of the church is of course dominated by the main gathering area, where services are held, but there are offices for the Bishop and a few other clergy behind the pulpit, a small dining area, and a few other rooms for various purposes (supply storage, a small library, etc…).
Juin 10th, 1866

The atmosphere was solemn in nature; grief thick in the eyes of the people, in the sounds of their wailing and sobbing, in the silence of bowed heads. The reactions of the common people of Iron March varied, for there were some who were waving Cassomir flags and applauding the return of their Champion and their Mistress of the Hunt when the carriages rolled by - others threw flower petals, and others fell to their knees in honoured salute in the accustomed position given to their liege.

For indeed, the adorned ornate carriages decorated boldly enough for any prince of the Kingdom, had been presented down the streets of Iron March in a funeral parade. It was announced well before hand so that the common folk could come see the momentous occasion and line the streets to view it, clogging it with how many had in fact come out to pay their respects.

Six black draft horses, glittering with harness buckles and decorative horse brass and heads adorned with feathered black plumes, had clod through the streets at the front of each carriage. An honour guard of Royal Lancers, Iron Guard, and mounted cavalry trailed behind the carriages. In the front was where the last son of Aric Cassomir was positioned, riding his own black stallion, dressed in the burnished black armor, black cloak, and open faced helm with that black plumage fluttering behind him. Strapped to his arm a shield for house Cassomir, the very one his brother gave to him, in the other hand a lance, which at the top a Cassomir standard stretched back in the wind, animated. There was a stiff expression on his face as he rode, keeping the exhaustion of his vigil at bay for a while longer.

The funeral parade would come to a rest before the Iron March Church, where even more people had clustered to catch a glimpse of ceremony to honour the fallen. Horses were pulled up and reins given to those attendants ready to do their part. Henric dismounted after his lance and shield was passed on, turning with a flip of his arm to his cloak to approach the caskets.

Also dismounting from her chestnut mare Ivy would be his wife, Viscountess Elaine, the black of her dress showing beneath the cloak of a very dark shade of green, at which a moderate summer breeze was tugging; the hood remained in place, however, covering most of her blonde hair. Reins of her horse were handed to a servant, before the Viscount’s wife turned, and her grey-blue eyes followed him as he approached the caskets, her mien caught in a blank expression, but so far keeping her composure. A hint of rosiness covered her pale cheeks, but right now she stood with the other Cassomirs, her hands clasped before her, waiting for the caskets to be lifted off the carts and brought into the Iron March Church.

The Bishop and his clergymen were aligned to receive the dead, the rites already beginning as the yeomen saunter behind him swinging the suspended thurible which wafts the smoke of cleansing incense around the area. Meanwhile Bishop Fogg has already begun the rites, making gestures of the One as he walks down the middle to which both carriages have been parked. His words sing out with the authority of the One god above them, phrases used from the holy book to quote the loss and the transformation from this life to the next.

With a nod, the Bishop will give the signal for the pallbearers to approach the caskets. At this point, selected individuals will attend the caskets. For Jaren, Henric would be a part of it, along with the Lordships of Ironhold, including Lord Volstak, as well as any significant friends that had pleaded for the honour - such as a few Royal Lancers which had long served with Jaren. For Raelyn, the post was taken almost solely by her Huntresses, however, of note, a Law Keeper by the name of Stephen Sokar was there as well to labour the burden ahead. Together, the two parties started to shuffle walk the caskets toward the church once they had been unloaded from the wagons, marching behind the group of clergymen who had started to sing hymns. Trailing behind were those who had blood ties and family friends, were of noble standing,or of vital worth (such as the Master Steward and some High Merchants from Rivergate). There had been limited seating of course, so everyone else would be welcomed to stand in the back once the pews were filled.

Upon entry into the church, the Rose Queen was already in attendance, waiting with a black veil and dress, her features utterly masked. It was believed due to the security risks for her not to be exposed to the throngs of common folk and positioned specially in the church so only her elite guards had access to her - anyone else would have to fight through them.

Behind the casket bearers, Elaine and the Cassomir cousins would follow, their steps measured to match the pace of those ahead of them. Elaine’s eyes are now and then lifted, glancing ahead to where her husband carries the casket of the late Viscount with some others, her lips pressing together, but her face apart from that minimal twitch unmoving. Before her gaze flits down to where her hands are folded, and her steps take her further into the church.

The caskets are moved to the ceremonial stands that would bear their wait until the caskets were transferred to the catacombs below. The funeral blankets and portraits of each are arranged for viewing, caskets kept closed however due to the length of time it had taken from Murias to get them to Iron March. From there, the pallbearers drifted back toward their seats, those reserved up front - save for one individual whose task it was to be on vigil.

This is where the ceremonial rites set in. The Bishop calls to Henric to stand before him, situated between the two caskets. Henric approaches stiffly as he’s then asked to bend to a knee and bow his head. The Bishop addresses the ‘Black Vigil’ and the ‘Honoured Guardian’ over the souls of the slain. Bishop Fogg rises his voice in this great sermon as his hands come to rest on Henric’s shoulder, a symbol of the weight that the Cassomir has endured. At the last, in this ceremony to end the vigil, the Bishop releases the duty from Henric’s shoulders and his soul, by asking him to rise.

Henric does rise, stoic in doing so, proceeding to leave the altar where his siblings are, to attend the pew in which his wife is seated. The Bishop will then turn to the various readings from the great book of the One, as the traditional ceremony continues.

Elaine sits further to the front, the hood of her cloak drifted back by now to reveal her blonde hair that has been worked into a braid and twirled at the back of her head, held in place by a number of hairpins. Grey-blue eyes linger on the Bishop as he calls Henric forward and releases him from his Vigil, a soft sigh escaping her lips, in relief that the burden now finally was removed from her husband’s shoulders. Shifting a bit to the side so that Henric could join her and his other kin, her hand would reach for his to give it a reassuring squeeze. Her hands would join next before her, her eyes closing in fervent reverence as she hears the readings, her own lips echoing the words in a low, pious murmur, for the souls of Jaren and Raelyn Cassomir.

The ceremony continues between songs and sermons, until the Bishop gestures to Henric, advising the congregation that they’ve come to the part of the ceremony where family and friends can speak of those that are lost. The new Viscount of Ironhold would be the first.

Henric looks aside to Elaine, nervousness flickering in his gaze as he rises to once again approaches the altar, this time for a different reason, a purpose to honour thy brother and sister with a heartfelt eulogy. He had prepared for this moment, as a piece of parchement is drawn out and unfolded as he takes the center stage. His eyes swept over the crowd, as if looking for someone, before they turn down to his notes.

“We are gathered today in the memory of Jaren Cassomir, my brother, and Raelyn Cassomir, my sister, so that together we may acknowledge and share both our joy in the gift that their lives were to us, and the pain that their passing brings. In sharing the joy and the pain together, may we lessen the pain and remember more clearly the joy.”

“First I would like to speak of my brother. As some of you know, this past year has been difficult on our family, for the words that surrounded my brother and I specifically, which I shall not repeat other than to bring light to the fact it wasn’t always the way. Jaren was my brother. He was the best of us and a role model to look up to. He was what everyone of us aspires to be. He was noble, loyal, selfless, faithful, compassionate, dutiful, and honourable.”

“When he took me on as a squire, asked to do so by our father’s bidding, he didn’t hesitate as he encouraged me to take my first steps away from home - all the while I was kicking and screaming to stay.” He looks up with a marked half smirk until he falls back into the eulogy, “During the time I served as his squire, it strengthened our bond. I learned many things from him, most importantly what it was to be a man and to be a Cassomir. When ever I wanted to quit, to lay down my sword, to cave to my exhaustion, he would be there to push me, to guide me, to never give up on me… even when I had given up on myself.”

“My brother was very protective over me. When I was younger I remember that this bothered me, but now that I look back I know that he loved me a lot and wanted what was best for me. I realized he trusted me far more than I ever imagined. He was always there for me when I needed him…” He trails off there, for some reason or another.

“Jaren took all of the roles in his life to heart and he strove to honor, support, and guide and most importantly, protect his family. He was at his happiest when he was surrounded by his family - even during those inevitable tough times that life has a way of throwing at you. His devotion to his family was the foundation of his actions - the anchor that defined and shaped his life.”

“As I look out at the faces in this church, I see many family members and friends and I know that you too will miss the friendship that Jaren brought into your lives. I'm sure you all will remember him in your very own special way, whether he was your Champion or the man to beat in the tournaments, he will be remembered.”

“I know my brother left lots of things undone and others that he never had a chance to start. But I promise I will continue what he has started and hopefully fulfill his dreams for him. This is just my small way of saying thank you for everything he did for me. And… I admit, it hadn’t been easy to be his younger brother, for the boots are large and impossible to fill, but I wouldn’t change any of it. He may have been named as the Queen’s champion and defender, but he was my champion long before that.”

Henric offers a weak smile as he looks down, soldiering on.

“And then… the difficult loss of my sister, who was only a year older than I. As you all know, our world changed five years ago when the Thorns attacked Iron March. Raelyn was a fierce defender of our people, holding ground against all odds. She lived her life with that intensity after the loss of our older siblings, their families, and our parents. She took it upon herself to become what we lost, in our father and our mother. She wouldn’t let anything break us again. She made her point loud and clear and would defy any treachery against us. She was indomitable, loyal, strong willed and wouldn’t hold back what she thought. She was a warrior.”

“But before the attack, she was quite the prankster… at least where I was concerned. I can’t tell you how many times my face ended up in the mud after she’d ‘hunt’ me down in our various play sessions, how often she would tie me to a tree and giggle as she threw apples at me and threatened to shoot one off my head. Oh yes, Raelyn was the best archer I have ever witnessed, not that I liked staring down the aim of her point.”

“It wasn’t a habit that she would keep to our childhood. I recall being dunked in the rivers of Four Corners appropriately after one of the Tournaments. All she wanted was the best of us and she wasn’t afraid of delivering the hard knocks to teach us valuable life lessons to get it.”

“Even though my sister was a brilliant person who was very strong willed, I looked out for her. I was happy to help her whenever she needed me, even though she was usually determined to solve problems on her own - or solved my problems for me. My sister was a hard worker, mastering skills that would take some a life time to learn. She was truly an inspiration to every woman that came into her life.”

“It is sad that Raelyn’s life ended so early in such a tragic way. It is hard to accept that she will no longer be with us. She had loving siblings and friends and was a brilliant Mistress of the Hunt. No one was prepared for this tragedy and it can be difficult to understand how life works sometimes. Her memory will live on in our hearts forever. We will all be proud of her accomplishments forever and will never forget how wonderful a person she was.”

“Galenthia has lost two of its finest to a conflict that started when I was just a boy. I struggle with their loss for how they died, but worse for it because they died committed to peace. They died because we thought it all ended in 1863. They died because we were not vigilant. They died because we forgave our enemies and our enemies betrayed our benevolence…”

He takes a breath and glances just briefly toward the Queen, knowing the weight of his words, “This time, our enemies will not be forgiven. For those who cannot put down their blades and take up arms against us, they will come to know the strength of Ironhold, the courage of our people, and our need for justice.” His eyes travel over the crowd, “They took our Champion, they took our Mistress of the Hunt, but they will never take the flame that burns in our hearts which speaks to what they stood for, what they protected, for what is now ours to carry. Brother, sister… Rest easy, for you, as well as all the sons and daughters of Ironhold who have fallen to protect our way of life, shall know we will never surrender and that our courage remains.”

Henric turns toward the caskets and bows to them, a sign of respect as his closed fist goes to his chest. Slowly he eases up and steps back, while the Bishop calls forth another to give their own thoughts and prayers to the lost.

As Henric steps back and the Bishop calls forth another, it is a distinctly sombre Sir Wulfred who steps forward. The Elder de Ufford, Knight-Commander of the Burnished Spur and loyal comrade to the Cassomir family. Clad in his brigadine, all polished to a fine shine, the white surcoat bearing his gold knightly lineage is a distinctly sombre affair given the black sash that cuts through the brightness and is knotted loosely against his left hip. The beard distinct, the moustache waxed and his mess of greying hair swept back from his saddened and pouchy brown eyes.

It is with a slight catch in his throat that the bellow he is renowned for comes to a sudden halt before a rumble sets that little blip straight, "Lady Raelyn Cassomir was a woman whose skill in battle far surpassed her years. I have been in awe of the Huntresses since as long as I can remember and I was honoured to fight alongside her not too many months past and to witness her aim, her brilliance and her dedication was heartening to one so long in the tooth." Wulfred pauses for a moment, glancing down to his hands, now clasped against his portly frame, the scarred left hand laced with the unscarred right, "She was a also a dear young lady with a long life ahead of her, sentimental perhaps… for those dedicated to protecting the subjects of this Kingdom, our lives are often amongst the tally of those who have fallen to preserve peace… but no less true. She was young, brilliant and strong and taken before her time. She'll never be forgotten."

"Viscount Jaren Cassomir was a most able man, a man I admired. A champion. A protector. Chivalrous. Gallant. He was as many a knight should be. His loss is keenly felt for he too I fought beside, during the Great Raid upon Four Corners and to watch him fight was indeed to witness something tremendous. His enemies fell before him and alas no decent enemy could fell him…" Wulfred pauses and exhales slowly, a ragged and saddened breath, "… could fell either of them… it took a coward to deprive us of these two great soldiers. All that is left is that we honour them with our deeds and our thoughts and our actions. The One watch over them both."

With those words rumbling to a close, Sir Wulfred steps back and bows deeply towards the caskets before moving away from those who seek to follow.

For a while, those who had brought forth their desires to do so, would, approach and speak upon their memories and the achievements of the two Cassomir siblings. Eventually, the ceremony would roll to a close with the final word from the Bishop given.

The congregation rises with the new Viscount and Viscountess of Ironhold, following them out of the church to a somber hymn that the clergymen sing.

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