Ithran watched as Dalfador's body was paraded through the monasteries street. The old man that lay upon the wooden loft looked relaxed and....... happy. Although Ithran was young and had not seen much in life to compare things to, he'd never seen a man die so willingly. A soft fanfare sounded in the background, and Ithran tried his hardest to keep his face neutral. The Holy Guard had made two lines facing each other, so that Dalfador would come between them as he was brought through the crowd. Many had come to see this man pass; he had made many friends. As Dalfador's body came through the column of Holy Guard, they drew their swords in salute. "Lord, take this soul into thy Kingdom forevermore, all glory to You, forevermore," was what was uttered, soft, but strong from the lips of the Guard. As thy body passed Ithran, he muttered, "Sleep in peace, my brother, and I shall see you in Paradise."
* * *
The night was cool, leading Ithran to draw his cloak closer to him. It was quiet, thankfully, making it a good time to reflect on the day. Dalfador had passed away.......... He had passed away. The thought was a tough one to bear; how could one so lively, so enthusiastic, fall into death such as that. His musings stopped abruptly when a strong but gentle hand grasped his shoulder, and he turned around to face the Archon. He smiled, a sympathetic one. It had been hard earlier to tell what the Archon's reaction to the death of Dalfador had been, but he had realized that he knew it was for the best; he wanted a peaceful ending for Dalfador. "How goes the watch?" Ithran returned a small smile, and replied, "Quiet, as usual Archon. A bit cold too." The Archon chuckled, and looked into the distance fora bit. As if shaking himself back into reality, he looked at Ithran in the eyes and said, "He left this for you," and handed him a large pouch which seemed to hold a large quantity of gold. He didn't have to ask who 'he' was. He nodded his thanks to the Archon, but received the answer "Why don't you head in for the night? I'll send Theseus out for the next shift." Once again, he gave a nod of appreciation, and set off for his room.
Ithran stared at the outrageously large pile of gold in front of him. He almost chuckled to himself, but felt like vomiting instead. What had he done to receive such favor? He shook his head, grinding his teeth to bite back a tear. He sat on his bed for a while more, but stood up with the empty pouch in hand to go put it on the windowsill. As he reached it, he felt something else within it. He inched his hand into the bag, and pulled out a small note, along with a metal object. The note read, "The fear of the LORD is the instruction for wisdom, And before honor comes humility. Prov. 15:33". Ithran almost dropped the note, so stricken by what it had said. Dalfador must have written it before he passed. Ithran slowly opened his hand to find that the metallic object was a ring, a sword crossing through the single Latin word "Humilitatem". Humbleness. He slipped the ring on silently, and for once in a very long time, Ithran let a tear fall down his cheek. He closed his eyes, and the image of Dalfador, readied in armor, spear in hand, ready for battle, flew across. Ithran smiled, and opened his eyes. Dalfador would never be forgotten, never.
~IN MEMORY OF DALFADOR, ADEPT OF THE HOLY GUARD~
