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Guard the Barclay’s beckoned Baerin Furnival, occupied with handling the wounded Lucy Devorax “do you know where the body of the late Konstanz Barclay is?. A delegation consisting of his family; Wilheim, Anton & Steffen Barclay, accompanied by Natalya Elizaveta Ruthern, Peter de Sarkozy, and Father Abraham Blumhardt had ventured to the ghosttown of Helena to retrieve his body, presumably used as an archery target.


Sure, follow me to the war camp. Furnival beckoned, the entourage following without any words. Natalya and Konstanz’s brüders prepared for the worst: namely, a carcass pierced with arrows. Yet some unnamed guards had the decency to bury the beheaded man, albeit at an unusual location. As Father Blumhardt, Anton, Wilheim and Reinhard Barclay started digging in the soil: they eventually reached a makeshift casket with a sloppily painted Lorraine cross. Natalya wept as the brothers attempted to maintain their posture, only the young Steffen Barclay couldn’t hold back his tears. 



Father Blumhardt spoke: “We are here to say our last goodbye to our friend, Konstanz Barclay. He was truly a good, honorable and brave Human. He did everything to make his brothers and sisters happy, so that he could keep himself happy as well.Though unexpected fate met him, and he was executed by Helenian soldiers in an unfair trial.. Now, he is with GOD in the heavens, up there in the skies. Watching over his friends and relatives, together with other ancestors of the Barclay lineage. Let us have a minute of silence for him.”


The entourage lowered their heads, as Wilheim stepped away for a moment. Anton, in a haze of clarity, propositioned to father Blumhardt and Reinhard to carry the casket to Freisburg for a proper burial. As the men carried the casket, Natalya and Steffen wept whilst trailing behind them. 


Once in Freisburg, the man dug a hole in the corner where a young Konstanz would often sit, staring at his elders sparring and tending to the livestock. A corner that now symbolizes his absence, as much as his empty chair at the dinner table. A man was taken from Haense, from his friends, from his brothers. A man could no longer toast to the success of others, embrace his betrothed, pat the heads of his nephews. That corner now served as the humble grave of Konstanz Moritz Barclay:




He was trialed by the Solicitor-General Veikko Harjalainen, sentenced by the Emperor himself, and then, like the 10 million Lorrainians, beheaded by Ser John de Balain. A tragic death for an honourable Haenseni, an affront to the unity of our Empire. Nevertheless, Konstanz had found his resting place at home, with a new casket and proper tokens of  remembrance, surrounded by his favourite flowers. 


May his sins be forgotten and his accomplishments forever remembered. Konstanz, meine brüder, wait for us in the Seven Skies. Amen.


[[Special thanks for helping writing the post to]]




[[and for the event]]










((i was coerced into posting this under threat of my end rod chest being looted. send help.))


Edited by yandeer

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Anton Barclay sat in his room that night, silently looking at the flask that Konstanz gave him. After a while, he'd start to rythmically slam his fist on his desk. He began quietly humming, then singing: ”Ich hatte einen Brüder.... . A tear slowly falling from his cheek as he remembered his brother Konstanz.

Edited by kippenveer

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“Shame, he’ll be missed” Peter would say carving a small deer with his hunting knife

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“Pity he who finds injustice within this life, and mourn those that die by unjust jury.” 


Dele would remark when she hears the news of Konstanz’ passing, recalling the time in which she had come to meet and know him only lightly. She drinks off the bottle of Yoppil given to her by Wilheim that night when she’d been brought to Freising for “moral support” and begins to wonder how Konstanz would feel if he had only but lived.


“I apologize for grave travesty to fall upon this family, for the blood of a Barclay to stain an executioner’s sword seems... wholly unfounded- baffling even. To incite such a heinous crime of injustice upon a man such as he... I suppose there is a place in hell for those who kill unjustly....”


Upon the elfess’ next passing of Freising, a note would be laid upon his grave, a mourning sort for a life she never got to know, a flame snuffed out when it burned the brightest.


 He sang about tomorrow and tomorrow never came.

                                             An empty chair at a family table.

I harken a soul that he might be redeemed in his next life, a better life I hope he gains,

to cut a man down in his prime they did- a crime that I cannot believe.



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