Lost In Character: Transmigration Chronicles Of A Nameless Heroine 45 The Funeral Vi

Despite the presence of the word "please," everyone knew that that statement was not a request either. But they also all heard what the attendant had said.

"Princess Hilde, I cannot," Inge said past clenched teeth. "You need it as well."

"Not at the moment," she answered, holding the vial up higher and looking at him pointedly. "What I need more is for you to not collapse on me at some point later. This concoction is tailored for my symptoms, but there are some things in there for pain." When he still hesitated and seemed determined to wiggle out of obeying this time, Hilde turned to the other soldier she knew. "Raban, he didn't also refuse the medicine that HAD been meant for him, right?"

The suspicion had only occurred to her, but it proved to be on the mark. Raban's expression darkened as his gaze flicked on his young comrade. "The man's a right fool, Princess," he answered candidly, letting his true feelings on the matter color his tone for the first time. "Through and through. I'm half-tempted to just give him what he wants myself."

Hilde swallowed and scrambled for what to do. How does one save a person who was convinced he doesn't deserve to live? Inge had said n.o.ble words earlier, saying he was offering her his protection in place of a "friend he failed," but if he had been sincere in that, wouldn't he want to do a thorough job of it? Wouldn't he want to make sure he was as whole as he could be so that he would not "fail" again?

With the way he was going about it, it looked as if he merely saw this as a good opportunity to throw his life away while also reducing the guilt he bore. A "two birds with one stone" kind of move. And if he failed, well sorry about that, that was only as much as his battered self could give, may he rest in peace now, please?

Hilde drew a deep, steadying breath. Steeling herself and letting the hardness bleed into her voice, she bit off, "I am giving you an order, soldier." With his body still twisted towards the right, Inge met the Princess' cold gaze. For the third and last time, she held up the vial emphatically, almost shoving it under his nose. Despite how he must have gotten a good whiff of it, he didn't flinch. "Give it to me," she said, the words greatly conflicting with the act that accompanied them. "If you don't want it anymore, just give it to me. I'll find a use for it."

Those who'd heard the whispered command could be at no loss at what she truly meant.

Their part of the procession reached the archway. As its shadow fell on the four Prince's Guards and the Princess they surrounded, they were each struck blind for a moment while their eyes adjusted to the change in light.

In the midst of that, Hilde felt the vial slip from her fingers – not downwards, because she did not drop it, but upwards…

...Because someone had taken it.

Hilde closed her eyes. When she opened them, they had reached the other end of the archway. The sunlight was as blazing as it had been just moments past; her hand, no longer raised, was empty. Inge was facing forward again, and so were Raban and the others. The vial of medicine was nowhere in sight.

Whether the foul concoction would work its wonders once again or not, she'll only get to see if not one but two injured souls make it to the end of this road still standing.

The funeral procession meandered down the winding, tree-lined avenue that led to the bottom of the hill. Then they reached the streets of Oste, empty and silent; the procession went past the houses and other buildings largely un.o.bserved. As if hearing in this hush a signal, the slow-moving line of biers and people also fell silent.

And so, when they turned the corner and reached the main street that would lead to the place where a mult.i.tude of humanity had converged, they heard the subtle rumble and the m.u.f.fled roaring even from a distance. As they walked farther down that wide road, the roaring steadily grew – they sensed it not only with their ears but also with their very skins.

When the head of the column was still ten yards away from the city's grand square, the people who'd gathered on it, standing in the press and under the heat these past hours, decided they could no longer wait. The wailing began, voices were raised in wordless cries and laments. And as it did, those who'd been on the edges of the square, free to move down the connecting street, also began to surge forward and meet the dead.

The moment they enclosed the procession, causing its already sluggish pace to slow down even further, that was the moment that the second part of the funeral rites truly began.