The funeral was held in the gardens of the Castle of Valon.
They had been prepared to hold crowds before, but never like this. Stone paths and open lawns now carried the weight of history, every space filled with people who had come not out of duty alone, but recognition. The air itself felt restrained, as if sound knew it did not belong here today.
No one spoke above a murmur.
Kings stood beside nobles. Clan leaders beside academy directors. Professors and students gathered together without ranks separating them, all drawn into the same stillness. Banners hung motionless. Even the wind seemed reluctant to pass through the garden.
This was not a moment for display.
It was a moment for respect.
At the center of it all stood King Alveron IV of Valor.
