No. I... ah... ate on the road. Galus replies.
His stomach rumbles in objection at the falsehood and he unsuccessfully feigns a cough to hide it.
He takes his meagre money pouch from his belt and, below the table, begins counting the coins there.
...eight... nine... ten.... eleven.... twelve. One silver and twelve copper. Great. he thinks, rubbing absently at his temple.
Clearly embarrassed he takes a look out of the window and sees that the rain shows no sign of abating. Still, he would not ask for charity.
I have... lodgings elsewhere actually, that will do for tonight anyway. he says somewhat awkwardly to the group. Good to meet you all. See you tomorrow I guess.
Thanks for letting me set a while by the fire, sir. he calls to the innkeeper as he shoulders his pack with a grunt and makes his way out of the tavern.
Zed shakes his head at both Rajuna and Galus. "Both of these men are staying on my coin for the night. I will not have a friend of the professor going cold or hungry if I can help it." He places two gold pieces on the table. "That should cover all our rooms, as well as my drinks and breakfast for the three of us in the morning."
I, uh, can't pay you back. Galus says, shamed. It's alright. It won't be my first time sleeping outdoors.
Raj shakes Zed's hand, "Thanks, I owe ya." He looks to Galus and decides to try another tack, speaking quietly. "Maybe the barkeep is right and no trouble will happen here tonight. But the way those local boys are lookin' at Zed and me is making me itchy... I don't feel like sleeping with one eye open. So how about you and that big-@ss sword stick around to make sure nothing happens to Zed or me. I think we'll all sleep better that way. And if there's trouble, the more friends of Doc's here, the better we'll all be. Whaddaya say?"
Zed holds up his hand. "Not needed. There is no reason for a man to sleep outside when another can help." He raises a brow at Rajuna. "That's a fair point, actually. I wouldn't mind some extra muscle at my back if the local people decided to act. It wouldn't be the first time."
Galus eyes the men on the table behind them and says;
Aye. Better safe than sorry. he agrees, his eyes locking with Raj's and seemingly full of gratitude. Maybe it's best if I do stay with you. And I may as well finish that soup if it's going to go to waste otherwise, miss he adds with a chuckle
Once the innkeeper mentions that he is also a friend of the Professor, Constantin rousts himself from the fireplace. He moves his pack next to the spear and pays a cautious glance to it, then reaches into his coat as he walks to the bar. He removes the folded letter of invitation from his pocket and says to the innkeeper, "Can you tell me where the cemetery is located? I'm here for Professor Lorrimar's funeral," -- he gives a sideways glance toward some of the other attendees -- "but I wasn't sure where to go on the morrow."
Vala moves into Kendra's home with a wan smile, "Oh don't be silly, dear. Wild horses couldn't have kept me from being here for your father!" The old woman takes her cloak off then, revealing her white hair up in a tight bun. She shakes some of the rain from the garment before hanging it by the door and smiles gratefully to Kendra as the younger woman takes the trunk further into her home. "You'd mentioned a kettle? Some tea would be wonderful, sweetheart."
The two women settle down with their cups of tea a few minutes later, with Kendra producing a small plate of hard biscuits to accompany the drink. She smiles sweetly to Kendra and politely nibbles on one of the biscuits as the pair talk and visit late into the evening. The older woman offers Kendra a tight hug as she prepares to retire for the night, "I'll be here for as long as you need me, sweetheart." She smiles again as she turns away and into the guestroom.
Vala then sits on the side of her bed and, in the low, flickering glow of a hungry lamp she regards a thin leather book that she holds in her lap: a gift she'd received from Petros more than twenty years ago. "Oh, Petros." She weeps quietly then, her tears falling and splashing onto the book in her hands. Giving the book a grateful squeeze, Vala wipes the tears from its cover with one wrinkled hand then leans forward to blow out the lamp before rolling back into the bed as she tucks the treasured book beneath her pillow.
Help me help your dear daughter, my old friend. Tomorrow and the coming weeks are going to awfully hard without you here, you old goat. Vala smiles warmly at the playful nickname and she can almost hear Petros calling her a 'wrinkled walrus' before she drifts away to sleep.
---
The next morning, Vala rises early and dresses in an unremarkable grey dress with a black shawl and veil. She also grabs a fine, black cloak to fend off an early morning drizzle and offers tight, appreciative smiles for those who come up to Kendra, extending a hand in greeting each time if one is offered.
Vala and Kendra share their tea mostly in silence. Kendra makes an attempt at small talk but clearly her heart isn't in it.
I'm sorry, Aunt Vala. I feel exhausted. These past few weeks have somehow managed to both crawl by and be the quickest of my life. she takes the older woman's hand and gives it a squeeze. I'm going to head to bed.
As she reaches the stairs she turns back, her face illuminated by the flickering candle in hand;
Thank you again, Vala. I don't expect many to come tomorrow. she says regretfully. I am glad you are here.
It’s the Restlands. the innkeeper answers. North of town. We’re a religious folk and if it’s one thing we take seriously in this life, it’s death. he says without a hint of irony.
The men on the table behind finally finish their drinks and gather their coats to head out into the rain.
Cheers, lads. the big man says as they go. Straight on home now, it looks nasty out there.
They grumble some half-hearted farewell and shuffle out, pulling collars up and hats down as they pull open the door and the cold breeze rushes through the inn, making the fire dance in protest.
At about the same moment a young man enters from a side door. He is tall and scrawny, thin arms and pigeon-chested. You would guess he is He has a mop of dirty blonde hair but despite these differences, his jawline is identical to that of the innkeeper and it seems immediately obvious he is the man’s son.
We closing up Da-? Oh, thought those men were the last. he says to the group in a breaking voice that can’t help but make you smile.
I was just about to lock the door, boy. These fine people are staying the night and going to Mr Lorrimor’s funeral tomorrow.
Oh. Will Miss Lorrimor be there, dad?
The innkeeper chuckles. Course she will, boy. But don’t bother her none tomorrow now, ok? She’ll be grievin’.
Yeah, I know. he shuffles. I just want to say I feel bad for her is all.
I know. Good lad. Go and clean up the kitchen now and then you can show these guests to their rooms.
.................
The morning dawns bright and crisp, the rain abating during the night and as the chill descends transforms the wet ground into a carpet of glistening frost that stretches across the town square and beyond into the fields until it is obscure by a low mist in the distance.
The town is quiet at this time of the morning and you make your way through barely seeing anyone else. The innkeeper and his boy are dressed in worn, dark clothing and cheap shoes with heavy overcoats to keep out the cold and they walk with you through town to the north.
You arrive at the impressive wrought iron gates that mark the entrance to the Restlands and see a small group of people standing beside. Next to them is a simple wooden coffin, sitting upon a cart drawn by a thin, miserable-looking pony. If this group represents the only mourners at the funeral it is a disappointing turn out indeed.
The group consists of a man and three women. The man is short and pudgy with several chins and a pale, sweaty appearance despite the chill. One of the women is in her late thirties, short and small-framed, tiny spectacles with thick lenses that rest on the end of her nose. She wears a small black hat that would do nothing to protect her should it decide to rain again. The woman beside her is tall and attractive, with pale skin and dark eyes that are currently red and puffy. She is wearing a conservative dress the colour of dried blood and her soft, chestnut-red hair is pulled up into a loose bun – seemingly the fashion in this part of Ustalav. The final woman is tall and older than the others by a clear twenty or thirty years but straight-backed and shrewd-looking.
The woman in the red dress takes a deep breath as you approach as if gathering her strength and she forces a smile to greet you. With a small nod of her head she says;
Hello. You must be Father’s old friends, mentioned in his will. I am Kendra Lorrimor, thank you for coming.
Constantin doffs his soft cap at the approach of the mourners. "Kendra," he says with a wry smile, forehead slightly wrinkled in consternation. "I'm glad I could come. I'm so sorry. I... I wanted to write but I never knew what to say. I hope that it's all right for me to be here. I wish I could've come... before."
He shifts awkwardly for a moment and looks down at the ground.
"I never really got to talk about what your father meant to me, but now I... I just wish there were something I could've done."
He looks up again with haunted eyes and a serious expression and says, "You have my condolences, and whatever you need."
Kazamir gives a deep bow over his knee.
Good Morning, Miss Lorrimor. I am sorry for your loss," he begins, the pre-canned response of a Watch Inspector informing the family of the deceased rising almost reflexively to his lips. "I am Kazamir Rhuul, and I owe your father much. If I can offer any service, you have but to name it. "
He bows again briefly over her hand, then steps aside for his new companions.
Always worse for those we leave behind, he thinks sadly.
Rajuna stays up late the night before wiping the mud from and spit-shining his worn boots then scrubbing the travel stains from his clothes. Fortunately, his attire is dark enough for a funeral as he has no other clothes to wear. With a shadow of doubt, he leaves his leathers behind - armor having little place at a funeral - but he takes his well hidden weapons. Old habits, they die hard... and Doc wouldn't mind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Raj wears his burnoose and cowl like a mourning shroud. As he walks lightly with the other attendees, he takes a moment to appreciate the crisp air and lightened skies. At the gates to the Restlands, he takes a moment to look on Doc's daughter. He wasn't precisely sure what he expected, but he just didn't figure she'd be so striking... even in grief. She carried grief and beauty like she carried herself - with an effortless nobility that painfully reminds Rajuna of Doc. In that, at least, she was her father's daughter.
Now, for the rest... Raj moves a step closer and shifts just enough to draw Kendra's attention, letting her see his face from a non-threatening distance. He'd found it was the best way to meet a lady. His scars had scared enough women over the years. Seeing someone gasp, recoil, and try to recover up close was embarrassing for both parties. Better to let her see him from a distance, cope, and plaster on a fake smile to greet him.
Once he's sure she's had enough time to adjust, Raj comes forward slowly, stops two paces from the lady and bows his head, conveniently concealing his face. "Miss Lorr'mor, my name is Rajuna. We've not met but your Da spoke of you with pride any time I saw him. I'm so sorry for your loss." He refreshes his bow and backs away.
Galus spends an uneasy night on the floor of Raj's room. Not because he is uncomfortable, he has often slept in far worse conditions than this. It is because of his damnable pride.
They speak little overnight and he awakes to the sound of Raj cleaning his boots.
He looks down at his own patchwork boots and decides he had best do the same, though without much success. Again, following Raj's lead he leaves his heavy armor and sword behind in the inn, he would have no use for it at a funeral, but he has learnt to his cost before that only a fool goes anywhere completely unarmed and he tucks a dagger into his boot.
----------------------
He approaches the wrought-iron gates of the Restland and sees the mourners in place. He approaches awkwardly and offers his hand to Kendra;
My lady. I'm not a man of words. My name is Galus Thero, I doubt your father would have mentioned me. I....uh... didn't know him long, I don't know why I was named in the will... he realises he is rambling and so cuts to the point.
I had a daughter, back in Courtaud. She was very sick when your father met her. He did everything he could but he couldn't save her. But those last few weeks he gave me with her... I will treasure those always. If there is ever anything you need, I am your man.
Zed watches the men leave out of the corner of his eye, sipping his spiked tea. Let's have a quiet night tonight, boys. He listens to the interaction between father and son silently, not adding anything to the conversation. He drains his cup and sets it on the table, silently heading upstairs.
He can't help but think it's for the best Galus went to stay with Raj. Knowing his lineage is one thing, seeing the full extent of it is another. He unbuttons and takes off his armored coat, hiding his weapons in cloth on the side of the bed, then falls asleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Zed wakes before the sun is up, going outside into the last half hour of moonlight. He sits in the grass in a meditative stance, seeming all but a statue. When the sun starts peaking over the horizon, he unfolds his legs and stands, going in for breakfast.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Zed goes to the funeral in his armored coat; not only is his normal attire mostly black, but as a representative of Pharasma it's proper for him to be guarding over the dead. The slightly odd part about him is his shaded round glasses, worn for eye protection from the sun. When he walks in to see the group of mourners, his eyes open a bit in surprise. Perhaps not as widely known as I thought. His eyes slowly sweep over those present as he walks up to the daughter. "Kendra. It is good to see you again. I wish it could have been under better circumstances. My condolences. I am here as a friend, but as a member of the Pharasman church I will aid however possible."
Years of training wasn't easily put aside. Without thinking about it, from the periphery of the small crowd, Rajuna watches the others and starts to assess behaviors. His eyes drift to Zed. There's an odd duck.
The man's inner stillness was uncanny and Raj found himself wondering if it was part of his race, part of his religion, a reaction to his upbringing, part of his personality... or something informed by all of them.
To see a dhampir, a half-undead creature among their number is...odd, to say the least.
Kendra smiles as she greets you all, regarding each of you in turn and offering her hand. Raj is somewhat surprised that to see that she does not recoil from his countenance at all, if she is shocked or disturbed she hides it well.
Kendra Lorrimor. she says by means of introducing herself to those she has not met previously. Thank you for coming and your kind words. I hope your journeys haven't been too difficult, I know it would have meant a lot to Father for you to be here. She lights up a little then as she adds; It's so lovely to hear you speaking of him in such high regard.
She looks past the men for a moment then and says;
And so by process of elimination you must be Hazel. she offers her hand to the young woman. And you've met Zokar already? she embraces the big innkeeper then.
As they break he says;
Is this it then? Everyone who bothered turning up. he spits the words in disgust before turning to the woman and the man besides Kendra. Jominda, Councilman. I'm glad you both came, Petros deserved to have friends to send him off.
The woman in glasses gives zokar a brief squeeze before turning to the rest of you.
Jominda Fallenbridge. I run the apothecary in town. I supplied Petros often with various bits and pieces. He was always such a good customer, such a nice man. This is Councilman Hearthmont by the way.
The Councilman offers his hand in a limp-wristed shake to each of you and unlike Kendra subconsciously curls his lip in distaste when it comes to greeting Zed and Rajuna.
Though they had little by way of a relationship, Kendra is more striking than either Zed or Constantin remember. She was always possessed of a keen mind, how could she not be as the daughter of the professor? You recall on many occasions her input into topics such as religion, medicine and even philosophy. But in the years since you met her first in her late teens, she has grown into a beautiful, though sad woman.
Kendra Image
Kendra Inspiration
Jominda
Councilman Hearthmont
Zokar
Constantin recovers his composure after the awkward re-introduction, and shakes the councilman's hand as he makes his way through the formalities.
"Councilman, thank you for coming. I hope we can make this event a simple and somber occasion without unduly disturbing the day-to-day life of your pleasant town here."
To the alchemical supplier he adds, "Miss Fallenbridge, pleased to meet you, excepting the circumstances."
Constantin replaces his hat on his head and says, "I hope everyone here has fond memories of the professor. Surely we'll all have some tales to tell afterward."
Zed raises his hand at mention of the journey. "It was no trouble at all. I wouldn't miss this for the world. The world is a bit darker without him here." He raises a brow at the sudden venom at the supposed lack of attendees. "It is a pleasure, Ms.Fallenbrdige. Your apothecary has been the main resource pool of a great deal of our research." Zed pays no mind to the curled lip behind a silent mental note. "Councilman Hearthmont, a pleasure. Did you know the professor personally?" He inquires. Or is this a political visit?
Raj is unfailingly polite at the other introductions but his head is elsewhere - dismissing the politician's reaction while pondering Kendra's more unusual one, fretting over the cause of Doc's death, and... Ulmin. A puzzle piece falls into place making Rajuna feel like a fool for not having made the connection before. He mentally flags the information for later investigation.
"The world is a bit darker without him here."
Raj's eyes swing sharply on the dhampir, trying to discern something, before placidity falls like a mask over his features. That's kissing the truth more than he knows. Or does he know?
"Ms. Fallenbridge, Councilman, Zokar." Kazamir greets each with a quiet repetition of their name and a precise little bow, then turns attentively toward Kendra, awaiting her instructions.
"Zokar, then? Yes, we've met! He's been a great host to myself and all of the others who traveled to be here today,"
It's a pleasure, lass. Petros was a good friend to me and it's a damned shame that no one else from this miserable pit has turned out to pay their respects. Zokar says, moustache bristling.
It's alright, Zokar. Kendra says, placing a hand on one of his big arms. His son meanwhile just shifts uncomfortably back and forth on his feet and looks as if he is deciding whether to say something.
The innkeeper shakes his bear-like head, a frown creasing his brow.
No, it ain't alright. But that's this place for you. I won't say anything more, love.
"Councilman Hearthmont, a pleasure. Did you know the professor personally?"
Of course, yes. I knew him, I know everyone around town. he says in a lisping voice. Father Grimburrow is in charge of proceedings here, Pharasmin law always takes precedence in matters of death, but it is still my civic duty to preside.
Zed mulls over the idea of the small crowd present. "Perhaps to make up for it this small crowd shall celebrate his memory all the more." I do wonder at the small size though. Perhaps some inquiry into the locals could reveal some information. Zed mentally shakes the idea. You're not here on work, and I'm sure the professor wouldn't want you investigating his town.
"Ah, I understand councilman. Well we certainly appreciate your presence, and I'm sure the professor would have as well."
Constantin takes a moment to introduce himself to Zokar's son as well. "I didn't get your name?" He offers his hand to the lad as well.
Ummmm... Pevrin, sir. he says nervously, taking Constanin's hand in a sweaty grip.
The lad gets a good -- though not overly rough -- handshake. "Good of you to come along with your father, Pevrin. My name's Constantin. I know this is a bit uncomfortable, but it'll be all right." He glances over his shoulder at some of the other folks, then says sotto voce, "Mostly us grown-ups drinking a little too much and swapping stories about the old days with the Professor."
The kind old woman standing beside Kendra smiles warmly and nods as each of the other mourners approach and offer the younger woman their respective condolences. She simply offers one gloved hand to each as they turn away from Kendra and in a sweet, warm voice offers her name and a simple greeting, "Valavastra Cross. Thank you so much for being here, dear." Through it all, her other hand keeps darting to Kendra's back, the older woman obviously doing what she can to offer the younger strength and support.
As the Councilman and other locals arrive, Vala nods and extends her hand to them as well. "Councilman, thank you so much for drafting the notice and sending it to me. I was devastated to learn of what happened but I would have been crushed even more to have been absent." Her eyes get misty then as she offers the man's hand a grateful squeeze. "And it was nice to see Petros honored with such formality."
Well met. All of you. Galus says simply. Petros was a follower of Pharasma then? He didn't strike me as religious.
Well met. All of you. Galus says simply. Petros was a follower of Pharasma then? He didn't strike me as religious.
Kendra shakes her head.
You're right, he wasn't. But he was a scholar of religion and very respectful of the tennets of the Bones Land In a Spiral. This is what he would have wanted.
She lays a hand softly on the lid of the simple pine box beside the group.
The rites decree that we are to carry his coffin through the Restlands to the graveside but Zokar has a weak back and with no one else from town I don't know how we are to manage. She sighs heavily, the weight of the day laying heavily on her thin shoulders.
Jominda steps forward and takes Kendra's hand.
It's alright Kendra, maybe these fine people will help? she says, looking to you hopefully.
Aye. Zokar says. And just so you know I don't have a weak back, it's just I hurt it at the moment. he shakes his head and chuckles. 12 years in the Canterwall militia and not even a scratch. But changing a barrel in the tavern and I throw my damned back out. You wouldn't credit it would you?
Kendra smiles at Zokar's explanation and for a moment her whole visage lights up.
I know you've all only just arrived but my father clearly held you in high regard. It would be an honour if you would carry him to his final resting place.
Are you-?
Galus stands in stunned silence for a moment before he gathers himself to speak.
I'd be honoured Kendra.
"I would have begged you for the priveledge, Madam."
Raj steps up, "Of course."
Zed gives a small, sad smile at the memory of the book. "We actually spent some time going over that book in our research." He almost starts going into detail, but he's sure the intricate details wouldn't interest the present crowd.
At the mention of his final wishes and carrying out the rights of the dead, Zed instantly nods. "It would be my honor."
The lad gets a good -- though not overly rough -- handshake. "Good of you to come along with your father, Pevrin. My name's Constantin. I know this is a bit uncomfortable, but it'll be all right." He glances over his shoulder at some of the other folks, then says sotto voce, "Mostly us grown-ups drinking a little too much and swapping stories about the old days with the Professor."
I know sir. I didn't really know Mr Lorrimor too well. But Kendra used to look after me when I was small and, you know, she's awful nice an' all. Sad to see her... ummm... sad.
Thank you, gentlemen, for helping me. We'd best be moving anyway, Father Grimburrow is awaiting us at the graveside.
The five of you lift the coffin easily onto your shoulders, the pony barely noticing the shift in weight from it's small cart. It continues to graze lazily at a patch of scrub grass beside the gate, it's ears flicking occasionally at a dragonfly that buzzes about.
The walk along the Dreamwake is slow and mournful. Kendra leads the procession in small steps that the pallbearers match and Zokar, quite surprisingly, sings a funeral dirge in a pleasant barritone, his voice cutting through the still autumn air. The others follow respectfully behind, the young boy Pevrin walking just beside Jominda with his head bowed.
The procession makes its steady way through the Restlands and you remark how well kept the graves are. This is a community firmly dedicated to Pharasma and followers of the Lady of Graves are nothing if not serious about death rites. The cemetery is large for such a small town and among the plain headstones stands the occasional impressive mausoleum, replete with decoration and intricate iron palisades.
A thin rain begins to fall, as if the skies themselves were shedding a tear for Professor Lorrimor and soon your clothes cling to you like the over-zealous embrace of a chided lover.
Somewhere, not too far away, a dog yowls and follows it a moment later with a series of long, low whimpers.
Old River. Jominda says from behind the procession as she erects a black umbrella and quickens her pace to stand beside Kendra in order to share it's shelter. He was always hanging around the Lorrimor place. I guess he knows Petros won't be there to give him scraps anymore. she adds, a tinge of sadness in her voice.
You turn onto another path, this one known as the Eversleep and, to your surprise, you see a large group of men standing in the path. They are all dressed in rough jackets and woollen cardigans, pulled tight against the rain. You notice that many of them have rakes, hammers, spades and a variety of other farm implements.
As you draw nearer, the tallest of these men - an older, but broad and wiry sort - steps forward.
That's far enough. We been talkin' and we don't want Lorrimor buried in the Restlands. You can take him upriver and bury him there if you want but he ain't going in the ground here!
Kendra gasps but is swift to respond, her sadness swiftly transforming into anger.
What are you talking about? she cries; I arranged it with Father Grimburrow. He's waiting for us! The grave's already been...
You don't get it, woman. the man interrupts. We won't have no necromongers buried in the same place as our kin. I suggest you move out while you can. Folks are pretty upset about this right now.
Stunned, Kendra's mouth moves once or twice but no sound issues forth.
Piss off, Gibs! Have some respect! Zokar shouts from behind you, clenching his fist in indignation.
Quiet, you tub of guts! one of the mob shouts back.
"Of course. Let's not keep the good Father waiting." Zed may be a church representative, but he is by far one of the more active ones. He may not have the strength of the really built warrior types but he's still a pretty strong guy.
On the walk Zed almost silently hums along with the singing as he examines the graveyard. They do very well here on death rites. The rain starts splattering his bald head. Even the skies weep for Lorrimor. His attention is grabbed by the dog and Jominda's words about it. Hmm. Perhaps I may adopt a dog after all. It's the least I can do.
Zed stops and stares at the men blocking their path. He listens silently to the exchange, opening his eyes in surprise at the necromonger accusation. Folks? That's why the procession is so small. The town has been turned against his memory. His own anger starts boiling up; not an easy feat with how cool-headed he is. However he can't let his emotions dictate his actions; yet. Perhaps there is truth to these claims. Perhaps not. Best to learn more first.
Zed keeps the coffin on his shoulder, not wanting it to touch the ground before it reaches its final resting place. "That is a heavy accusation. Do you have any evidence?"
My old dear is buried 'ere! the man ostensibly named Gibs roars. She'd be spinning in her grave to know a bunch of half-deads and furrners was trying to bury a necromonger next to 'er! Everyone knows he interfered with the dead!
Zed pointedly ignores the half-dead comment. Hopefully if he doesn't address it they can focus on the real issue. "Sir I understand your outrage. To be frank, I agree with you. A necromonger should not be buried here, or with any dead. It would be a tragedy. As a representative of the Pharasman church, it's my duty to make sure such a thing wouldn't happen."
"So help me to help you. If Lorrimor was a necromonger, I will be the first one to get his corpse away from this sacred ground. However, if he was not a necromonger, then you are interfering with death rites. So tell me, what evidence do you have that Lorrimor was a necromonger?"
When the group reaches the graveyard and the locals start to turn ugly, Constantin does his best to present a humble face and make a plea to the citizenry on the Professor's behalf. His eyes seem to harden for a moment as he stares at Gibs, then unfocus for a few seconds, then he takes a breath as he seems to shake off some fugue.
"Good folk," he starts, "Yes, we're outsiders and strangers. Yes, we are here by mutual acquaintance with Professor Lorrimor. We're here because everything has ended for the Professor and we've come to put him to rest."
"That's the whole point of this grave and these rites. Whatever you may have thought of the Professor while he lived, he's gone now. Everything in his past is just that -- the past. Waiting to be buried."
"Your loved ones, your family in their resting places, they can't be hurt now. Certainly not by the Professor, who's not in a condition to do anything to them."
Constantin turns his attention to the rest of the crowd and says, "And if we did turn away, where would we go? Bury the Professor somewhere in the town? Leave his body on some corner for the crows, a continual reminder of this ugliness? Something for you to look at every day as you walk by? Something awful, that nobody should have to see. Not least of which your children, wondering why someone in town was treated so."
"We're not here to hurt anyone or disturb anyone. We're just here to put the dead to rest. And that's the only way to bury the past, no matter how much it hurts."
He focuses back on Gibs and says, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry it hurts so much and I'm sorry that nobody can do anything about it and I'm sorry that this will always be a reminder of old pain. This is the only way that we can close that door."
(+2 from the successful Aura Reading previously)