"To live is to suffer. To exist, an injury."
Siegmund sat in his study. That phrase was rather prevalent in his mind at the moment, for it was one of the last things he'd imparted unto Marus. The hour was late when he received the missive detailing the boorish knight's murder of his brother. He did not cry, nor did he feel much of anything. Relief, maybe. He understood perhaps more than most that Marus Weiss would die a man hated, for those of Mankind so easily forget their love of a person when they're reminded of their imperfections.
Siegmund thought of that silly boy who stepped through the gates of Valdev all those years ago. He thought back to those simpler times when Siegmund came to love him as kin, teaching him how to read, play-fighting with him, all the things an older brother should do.
Yet Marus more than any other was there for him. Through Siegmund's worst times, he'd only ever known Marus as someone who would give unto a total stranger his last crust of bread if they asked for it. Someone who could become best friends with anyone. Marus was a good man. Marus was a good man all the way up until his final moments, for he had the sheer force of willpower to become unshakeable in the face of the worst of his race. He was a hero both to Siegmund, and those he fought for.
Yet, he would be doomed to be hated by history. Such could not be helped, Siegmund supposed. Infact, he had told Marus as much in their last meeting. But ofcourse, Marus did not care. He stood on principle, and was the better man for it.
"I'll miss you, sweet brother."
Only then did the tears begin to fall like rain.
In the deepest parts of the Dark Forest under a resplendent full moon, an Elf found a place to sit beneath the choir of stars, a lyre harp in hand. He first removed a flask of Carrion Black from his belt before up-ending it into the grass, to symbolically pour one out for the Man who had died.
Then, Kalador placed his fingers to the strings of his instrument and began to play. It was not a sad song, but one of stoic triumph against an insurmountable foe. His song filled the night, and he would play until daybreak, for the memory of yet another friend who had died to make the world a better place.
Another friend he would never see again.