52 The Funeral XIII (1/2)

From a hundred paces away, a pair of blue, heavy-lidded eyes watched the scene beyond the meadow's sole tree. He was not alone in this, and he did not fear that his curiosity would be closely scrutinized.

Still, the wandering attention of a few dozen individuals had also been on him since earlier, and they were no longer just from those who appreciated his looks. Included among them now were those who'd pursued, to its likeliest conclusion, the mystery of why a foreign prince would come to Arnica. He'd expected to receive no pleasant responses from that quarter, and he had not been disappointed.

Also, they must all be wondering at this point – which Princess was he after?

For once, Leal was extremely careful to put on a deeply uninterested look. If anyone were to see it, no one would have suspected that inside, he was absolutely seething.

'What does that wuss think he's doing?' Leal thought blackly as he leaned back on his arms, seemingly enjoying the soft sunshine, the light breeze, and the free entertainment. 'I ended up sticking my neck out because of him, and how am I to be repaid?'

As he witnessed the faraway events of the present, he simultaneously recalled the nightmarish scenes of hours before. He'd never been in a battle, but he imagined that, barring the blood and the terror, that experience must be similar to what war was like. The guards he'd been provided did what they could, but as they had all been unanchored to the bier, their protection had had gaps. Leal had soon found himself closer to where Lothar's brother had been stationed.

At that point, they had still been crossing the city square. Sweat had bathed the slightly older man's head, and due to his exertion, even his neck had become bright red. Though stooping and breathing through his mouth, he'd put what meager strength he seemed to possess into helping push his brother's bier.

But if one can only give so much, then that was only as much as one can give. From where could anyone pull more strength if the source was quite simply depleted?

Jostled, pounded, and knocked by countless other bodies, Lothar's brother had reached his limit a lot sooner than others did. After fainting, he had been saved from falling forward and possibly being trampled by the same unrelenting bodies that had overwhelmed his senses.

Leal had been an arm's length away and happened to have witnessed the moment, but his reach did not extend that far. Amidst the alarmed cries that had broken through the chorus of wails, a single female voice had rung out to sharply order the nearest soldiers: ”Get Theodar to safety!”

Breaking away from the grieving mother they were guarding, two soldiers had complied. That had still left the Lady with four to insulate her. At the shout that must have come from the only family member around the bier who could have witnessed what had happened, the Lord General had paused from his own hard efforts and looked around. With his unreadable gaze, he'd followed as his younger son was propped up between two of his soldiers and – slowly, steadily, carefully – began to be carried out of the crowd.

When he could perhaps no longer see the three heads going against the current, the Lord General pulled his gaze back only for it to snag on Leal's watchful one. It narrowed there. Leal couldn't help recall the words the older man had thrown at him when he'd learned his true identity.

”The fruit does not fall far from the tree, it seems.”