Marius Audemar wept, for his father was gone. Had it been so long? Since the times of his father burying him beneath the powder-snow of the Rimeveld along with his sister to teach the Princeling discipline. Since the times of drawn out politicking, upon the matters of foreign affairs, the management of the Kingdom. Since the times of Warfare where his father stood tall among all, as a beacon to remind each soldier valiantly that the fight goes on, that the battle was not lost- victory was ahead.
He wondered if all had been in vain, if all had been for naught. His father gave him life, education, his father gave him fight.
It was he who crafted him from a young boy to a prospering man, meticulous in his lessons and word. He battled the thought of if life would continue, if it could all go on, if he could continue to be the man his father expected of it. The final words between Karl and Marius offered the boy closure, words he would look back upon: "Live without me, Marius. That is all I shall say. Your legacy is your own."
Marius was his sword, his ears, his advisor.
Trumping everything, Marius was his son. This life of his, goes on, so Marius smiled. "Rest now, father. Your final triumph."