A Knight's Farewell (PK)

[JesterMilk 81]

Holy Ser Lug MacSkaul would get the letter informing him of Gerard's death on his way to a ceremony. He would read the letter as he walked and as he did tears would fall from his eyes on to the paper. He would silently fold the letter and before he entered the hall would quietly utter the last words from the letter he received "God save us." 

[Vlaming 37]

Brother Matthias released some tears hearing about the death of his Grandmaster. A frown formed upon his face, clearly raging with anger and grief.

[Fleeperpriest 261]

Callahan leapt for joy as, having located him in the wilderness, an Owynist delivered unto him a copious cache of ritually pure KOSHER Owynist foodstuffs, lovingly weaved with PRAYER and THE LABOR OF HOREN'S CHILDREN for the consumption of the pure and holy race of Man.

 

"HE WHAT?"

 

The rest of that Priest of the True Faith's day was dedicated to funerary rites. He mourned, celebrated, offered up one quarter of the kosher foods that had come into his custody as gifts for G-d, and lit for Gerard a flame, as he had done for his beloved Padre Toni before him, that he might, by this light, find quickly his way into the Heavens. If reports were to be believed, and the man had died martyr, he had little doubt that he should much require the luminous aid of the mercyflame. Good brother Gerard had secured himself the martyr's ticket, and suffered at the hands of the world for the sake of his faith.

 

There was no greater a sure-way into the embrace of God, thought Callahan with certain conviction.

 

In truth, he had not wept for him. For his brother, he was very glad. There were few others who were alive that he believed to share his True Faith so genuinely as he. He was of a rare breed, an odd creed, and the complexities of the Faith simply clicked into place in his mind. He would have liked to have thought himself as a mentor to Gerard, but in truth, he had taught him very little. He had hoped that he might one day rise up into the Priesthood. But, for one reason or another, the time to make the offer never came. Some guilt began to cloud over him.

 

The Lector set out to inquire as to when the martyr's funeral would be, but discovered he had missed it. He thought to the Aengul Raguel, and the miracle in Saint Arpad's, which Gerard had witnessed. He thought the Holy Grail, and to his long intention to proffer its waters unto the Knight. But never had he had the time-- never had he made the time. The wight of this weight had manifested over him, and bared down on him shamefully. 

 

The Lector Rebbe would have to find some way to properly honor Gerard, or otherwise atone for what sloth by his hand had robbed the martyr.