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“Is this it? A funeral out in the countryside?”
Once she had given her condolences, Marchioness Demel turned and sighed deeply. Her husband, Admiral Demel, looked about the small chapel with mixed feelings. It was hard to believe that this was all there was for such a great man, the husband of an imperious woman and descendent of a well respected family. Someone who had achieved the very pinnacle of imperial aristocracy.
“How terribly unkind of His Majesty, regardless of his hatred toward Duke Dyssen. I wonder how the Klauswitz couple might be feeling at such a funeral.” Marchioness Demel dabbed away tears with the corner of her handkerchief.
Odette looked resolved. The Woman’s Association of the Navy had offered their support, but she had declined, not wishing to be a burden. If she had accepted, her fathers funeral could have been more fitting for such a man.
“Perhaps its for the best, the fewer people who see, the less chance for gossip.”
“Yes, I can understand the desire to keep it small, given Duke Dyssen’s reputation.” Marchioness Demel looked about the mourners in the small chapel with a mix of compassion and curiosity. Odette was stood at the coffin of her father. She was well composed for someone who had just lost a father. It would be hard for anyone to have guessed that she was in mourning. It must be hard to maintain such a facade.
“Oh, which reminds me, do you know when Major Klauswitz’s ship is due to come in?”
“If the sailing is smooth, his ship should arrive tonight, although the exact time can never be certain, we will just have to wait and see.”
“Such a shame that he could not have gotten here in time to attend the funeral, it must be so hard to have to go through this alone.” With a resigned sigh, Marchioness Demel took her seat. “Its so strange to think of those two together, something doesn’t add up, there has to be a story there,” she said confidently.
Odette was completely unaware that her husband was due to return that evening. The Marchioness learned this when she was able to talk to Odette alone briefly. She had asked Odette if it was not better for her to wait until Bastian’s return to hold the funeral, Odette simply shook her head, the long journey made it impossible and he would not return in good enough time. Which meant she didn’t know that Bastian had set sail the previous weekend, before Duke Dyssen’s passing.
“I know that its hard to establish contact with a warship when its sailing,” Marchioness Demel said to her husband. “But I find it hard to believe that Odette doesn’t know her husband is on his way home, so why can’t she wait another day?” As she pondered this rhetoric, her brows furrowed. Admiral Demel simply grunted.
“But if she truly doesn’t know her husband is returning, then why would Major Klauswitz conceal this from his wife?”
“I don’t it was a deliberate plot, he might have simply not had time, his recall was rather swift.”
“I doubt that he had such a tight schedule that he couldn’t take five minutes to send a letter, especially not for a man so dedicated to his wife, or did he just simply forget to share such important news?”
Admiral Demel opened his mouth to say something, but he was at a loss for words, he closed his mouth and swallowed the lump in his throat. He wanted to defend Major Klauswitz’s honour, but he could no longer think of any logically reasoning that would adequately defend him.
“I thought it was suspicious when he hadn’t taken a single day off in the last two years. I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything, any rumours?”
“What kind of rumours?”
“Anything, like, does he have a woman on the side?”
“Uh-huh, sure dear. Major Klauswitz is a true and honourable person, a hero of the navy.”
“I know, but he’s also a burly man in his prime, any woman would die for just one night with him.”
“That’s…”
The chapel doors swung open, saving Admiral Demel from a very awkward conversation. Everyone in the chapel all turned their attention to the entrance at the same time. Even his wife stopped her rumour-mongering to look.
To everyone’s surprise, the unexpected mourner turned out to be Count Xanders, along with his young daughter.
*.·:·.✧.·:·.*
Duke Dyssen lay peacefully in the coffin surrounded by lilies. He looked no different to someone lost to slumber.
Coming face to face with the reality that her father was now dead, Odette still found it hard to cry. It wasn’t loss that she was feeling, but a heavy weight of guilt and remorse, mixed with a strange sense of relief.
He passed when the rain had finally ceased, during the third day of his voyage, sometime late into the afternoon. Odette had been sitting at his bedside, diligently keeping watch. Although the agonising fits had subsided, he had never been lucid enough for her to say a proper farewell.
Even without the excessive amounts of painkillers keeping him from being lucid, anytime that he opened his eyes, he would simply ramble to himself. He would mutter about his time as a carefree boy at an esteemed private school, or the admired socialite, the clandestine lover of an imperial lady. He seemed happy lost in those bittersweet memories and Odette did not want to spoil it for him. At the least, her fathers last moments were happy ones, rather than him blaming and cursing his own daughter.
“Helene…”
The name whispered from his weak lips, carried on his increasingly shallow breath, and then, after but a moment, he had no more breath with which to speak. The only time Odette cried was when she was calling for the doctor.
Odette lifted her head, suppressing her sympathy and disappointment for foolish lovers. She looked around at the mournful faces, spotting Tira sat at the far end of the chapel, tears flowing down her cheeks. It was time to think about Tira.
“Mrs Klauswitz,” a child’s voice called out and while Odette gathered herself, a child ran down the chapel and hugged Odette’s leg.
“Alma.”
“Are you okay?” Alma said, looking up at Odette, tears wetting her face.
“I’m fine, Alma.”
“No, you’re heartbroken.”
“Did your father tell you?”
“Yes, he said we are coming here to give you lots of hugs because you are heartbroken.”
Odette noticed that Alma was wearing a floral ribbon in her head, the very one that Odette had made her for her birthday last year. Odette giggled weakly, because although the child was trying to console her, she was more bubbly than what should be allowed.
“Alma,” Count Xanders said, looking embarrassed for his child’s boisterous behaviour. “I’m sorry, she doesn’t quite understand.”
“That’s alright, it was actually very affective,” Odette said with a slim smile.
“It doesn’t hurt any more?” Alma said, a glint in her eye.
“No, it doesn’t, thank you Alma,” Odette said.
Alma beamed up at Odette and the bleak atmosphere of the small chapel was forgotten for a moment. Odette went to a knee and kissed Alma on the cheek as Count Xanders watched them. Their eyes met and a tender smile curled his lips. Alma had the same dark chocolate eyes as him.
“Daddy,” Alma said gleefully and jumped into her fathers arms.
With a quiet sigh, Count Xanders reprimanded his daughter for acting too boisterous in the current setting. Even when being admonished, Alma still sported the same bright smile.
Did me and my father ever have that kind of time together? A fleeting thought passed through Odette’s mind.
Odette adjusted her vail back over her faced and greeted the next new mourner that had come up to pay their respects, Countess Trier, as a representative of the imperial family.
*.·:·.✧.·:·.*
A black car pulled up outside the main gates of the chapel grounds. Beyond the gate, the graveyard spread out across the green grass outside the front of the chapel. The place looked abandoned and crumbling.
Annoyed, Hans unfolded a map, double checking his location. This was undoubtedly the funeral hall and his confusion only grew. He had never taken a wrong turn.
“Good job.” A low voice from the backseat said.
Hans spun around to look at his passenger, who was peering at the chapel through the window. Hans sprang out of his seat and moved around to open the passenger door for Bastian to step out. Despite the weariness of such a long and rapid journey, Bastian looked pristine and fresh.
Bastian’s unexpected arrival this morning caught Hans off guard and in his state of shock, took a staff car out to the middle of nowhere, half driving and half checking directions on the map.
“You don’t need to wait around for me,” Bastian said, stepping toward the chapel.
“If you’re sure, my lord.”
“It is an order.”
Hans saw no need to be stubborn in the face of an order from a superior. He had been Bastian’s confidant for over a decade now, he understood his master’s temperament. Hans took his place in the drivers seat and did not waste a second.
As the engine came to roar, he looked up at the dark clouds overhead. The rain was going to come down so thick it resembled fog. An adequate atmosphere for such a bleak funeral.