THERE IS A LIGHT THAT NEVER GOES OUT

[Proddy 2415]

THERE IS A LIGHT THAT NEVER GOES OUT

 

Spoiler

 

 

The Count of Rochefort with Laurence August Pruvia (left) and Winston Rothesay (right), circa 1763.

 

As the clocks struck twelve in the afternoon, an outpour of clergymen burst from the Basilica of Exalted Godfrey in Providence. Led by his Holiness Owyn III, four priests of the assembly would carry an embalmed black coffin above their heads. Progressing down to the gates of Providence, the procession would meet with the deceased's eldest grandson: Robert Foltest Helvets, in the flesh. And so would begin a lengthy journey to Redenford, where few words would be exchanged on the trip. There would be a feeling of deep solemness and quiet mourning amongst the group and they all opted to travel in relative silence.

 

As they would reach the foothills of an unnamed hill just upon the outskirts of Redenford, the coffin would be laid upon the ground and opened for all to see - the corpse would be headless, yet clean and finely dressed in preparation for his last rites.

 

And so began the private funeral of Richard Victor Helvets.

 

The first and only eulogy was given by Robert Foltest - the young Kaedreni paced forth into the centre of the group, resisting tears and forcing himself to remain strong and cohesive in memory of his grandfather.

 

"I would like to tell you all that I knew my grandfather well… that I learnt much from him, experienced much in his presence and that I had learnt so many valuable lessons from him. But that would not be the truth of it at all. The truth is that he rode off to his hunting lodge in the outskirts of Owynsburg just shortly after my birth. An illness was taking hold of him, and I think he wanted to spend his final years in the place he had enjoyed most. Deep in the forests embrace, far away from the meddling stench of the Helenite bureaucrats that had practically overran the town he had spent much of his life to establish. I like to think, in his little spot in the forests, with the raw beauty of nature around him and not a scheming Imperial to be seen, he found solace there. A solace he could never have found otherwise.”

 

"I lived vicariously through stories of my grandfather throughout my formative years. I remember so vividly my father would sit me on his lap and regale me with tales of a man who was not always good and righteous of heart, but who possessed an unwavering loyalty and duty to his countrymen and his home. He would never turn his back on the Kaedreni as long as he drew breath. He was stubborn… to a fault, even.”

 

"But to all those true Kaedreni who hold firm and true, scattered by the cruel winds of time and circumstance from their homes and their identities and still longing for the glory of days gone by. For those Rhoswenii whose passion burns to see Kaedrin restored to its former self, like an ashen phoenix rising from a blazing inferno - they will never forget the name of Richard Victor Helvets, and nor shall I.

 

"There is a quote from a book that I enjoy greatly… it goes something to the effect of ‘perhaps God punishes people for no reason at all’. And my grandfather was certainly punished. For many things in his life, at many different times. But we cannot judge a man’s legacy in his final moments compared to a lifetime of achievements. My grandfather was in pain before he died, and now his soul has been freed.”

 

"In his last fleeting moments before his execution, I saw a certain… glimmer in his eyes as he looked upon me. Was that a hope for the future? A moment of clarity in realisation of the crime so heinous he had tried to commit? I hope that if there is a life after death after all, I will find that truth one day. And I hope that wherever he may be now, he has found the peace in death he so desperately craved in life. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”

 

And then he shifts away without a word - his tears uncontained now, falling down his cheeks like a rapid waterfall.

 

Duty done, the High Pontiff brushes away his grief-filled tears with a handkerchief, and at last calls for closure. “Abbot, Monsignors, you may lower the casket now.”

 

And so Richard Helvets body was returned to the earth that day, the casket closed upon his body forever. In a final act of commemoration for a friend now departed, Owyn III pops open the lid of a bottle of Rochefort Scotch and pours a glass-worth of the whiskey onto the dirt and soil.

 

[Draeris 3124]

Alone on his organ, His Holiness Owyn III would weep. Recollecting his first time in a tavern with Robert in Providence, he started to sing out of sorrow: 

 

"It's nine o'clock on the 15th of the First Seed, 

Regular crowd shuffles in..

There's a young boy sitting next to me

Makin' love to his first ever tonic and gin.

I ask him: son, can you play me a memory?

I'm not really sure how it goes anymore. 

But it's sad and it's sweet, and I once knew it complete

When I wore my premier's clothes..

 

La-la-la de-de da

La-la de-de da da-da

 

Sing us a song, you're now the Kaedreni man

Sing us a song, tonight.

Well we're all in the mood, for melancholy 

And you've got us feeling alright.."

 

 

[TheNunnery 1853]

"This man almost killed his own child! He deserves no proper rest in their canonist faith or respect, my my my this makes my blood boil! Valah are such the silly type sometimes" Comments Alyssa Seregon while drinking their morning or evening tea, it was hard to tell, in the NGS Museum's mini-bar.

[brujera 1152]

"Laurence August Jrent." Her Imperial Highness, Henrietta, Countess of Aldersberg corrected. 

[osumanduas 1442]

Spoiler

It's rare that a character ever gets a truly final send off, very glad to have a good beginning and a worthy end. Brilliant post Prod.

 

 

A man is made by the crucible of his life, and his decisions in those hardest of times. Once a kind boy the force of the world became a bitter man. A cynic forged from the cauldron of a young idealist.

 

As Richard Helvets, was laid to rest and his soul ascended from the mortal coil all sin was purged. The madness of his frail frame shed like snow from a sheer mountaintop by a strong gale. The stress of life and the duty which had haunted him in life all being stripped away. He would see his sisters soon, his brothers, some whom he had never met in his life, and perhaps his wife. Would they receive him well with strong whiskey and laughter? Or would he be damned to be as the souls he himself loathed. In all this the solace for a dead man who in a way demanded punishment for himself in his final hours. For all he had was by the sweat of his brow, and so in life all was taken by his hand and kept by his oath.

 

But now he was at rest, and with it would the line of Rochefort find it's future. To break from the shadow of a man plagued and unto the light of a new day.