Chapter 14: Funeral - Final
Kingdom of Holfort
Bartfort Barony
Rivia Memorial Grounds
Omni POV
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The sky over the Bartfort Barony that day was a deep, oppressive grey, with a thick blanket of clouds stretched endlessly overhead, muting the sun and draining the world of color. The air itself felt heavy and still.
Rows upon rows of graves spread across the land.
In only a matter of days, the memorial grounds built for the victims of the Rivia Incident had nearly filled completely…..an entire village reduced to names carved into stone and at this point, only a handful of funerals remained.
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At the Edge of the Memorial Grounds
Omni POV
The soldiers who had arrived with Captain Rogers stood in perfect formation, with not a single thing out of place in their attire.
Two soldiers stepped forward first, bugles raised and a slow, mournful melody pierced through the silence, lingering over the memorial grounds like a final farewell.
Behind them, six more soldiers advanced in synchronized steps, carrying a single coffin upon their shoulders.
Draped over it was a white ceremonial cloth marked with three insignias.
The crest of the Kingdom of Holfort—his nation.
The symbol of the Howling Commandos—his brothers-in-arms.
And the sigil of House Bartfort—his home.
Their boots struck the earth in perfect rhythm, measured and respectful.
Behind the coffin walked Captain Rogers himself, his posture rigid despite the grief hidden beneath it.
The gathered crowd instinctively lowered their heads as the procession passed.
Some wept quietly.
Others simply stared, already numb at the number of funerals they had already attended.
Among them stood Leon beside his family, silent from beginning to end.
His eyes never left the coffin. Not once.
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Grave Site
Omni POV
The soldiers carefully lowered the coffin beside the grave.
The bugles slowly fell silent.
And for a moment—There was nothing.
No wind.
No whispers.
Only silence.
Captain Rogers stepped forward.
He did not need to raise his voice.
Everyone present was already listening.
"Today…" he began quietly, "we lay to rest a soldier."
"A comrade."
"A brother." His gaze shifted toward the coffin, before adding.
"Lieutenant Geralt." The name alone carried weight among those in attendance, he had helped so many in the years he had served as head knight of the Bartfort Barony.
"He served this kingdom with honour for over three decades."
"He stood on battlefields most men would run from."
"He protected people who would never even know his name."
A faint breath escaped Rogers.
"And until the very end… he remained exactly what he had always been."
"A soldier, a warrior."
Silence followed his words. Then—
"Let us call upon the Goddess," Rogers said softly. "May she guide our brother on his final journey."
The priest of Evernight stepped forward, black-and-purple robes trailing gently behind him.
He turned away from the crowd.
Hands pressed together.
Head bowed.
"Lady of Death…"
"Mother of Evernight…"
His voice was calm. Steady.
"Guide this weary soul."
"Protect your child…"
"…as he walks the path toward peaceful slumber."
For several seconds—Nothing happened.
Then a faint glow emerged from within the coffin.
A tiny shard of light slowly rose upward into the sky.
As it ascended, the clouds began to part, as day began to fade giving way to night.
Gasps quietly spread through the crowd.
Above them, countless stars appeared across the heavens. And among them—A new light settled into place.
For a single moment, the world stood still. Then slowly— The sky returned to day.
The clouds closed once more.
And the priest lowered his head.
"Oh Great Mother of Night, we thank you for blessing our prayers…Amen."
"Amen," the crowd echoed softly behind him.
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The ceremony continued. Captain Rogers personally read aloud every medal, commendation, and honor Geralt had earned throughout his years of service.
Every battlefield, every campaign, every act of bravery.
Not because the crowd needed to know—But because a soldier deserved to have his life remembered properly.
And as the final honor was spoken, Rogers gave a small signal. Immediately, the six soldiers beside the coffin moved.
With precise, practiced motions, they removed the white ceremonial cloth and began folding it carefully. Every movement synchronized. Not a single crease misplaced and by the end, the cloth had become a perfect square, each insignia still visible.
Rogers accepted it with both hands, he turned—And walked toward Balcus.
Balcus sat at the front beside Luce, Nicks, Jenna, Leon and the young Finley, with Zola and her children no where in sight even though they were required there by law and editticate as his official wife.
The moment Rogers stopped before him, Balcus immediately straightened instinctively like the soldier he once was.
Rogers held the folded cloth carefully between both hands. "In his years of service," he said, voice firm despite the emotion beneath it, "Lieutenant Geralt earned honors that brought pride to this kingdom…"
"…but no medal could ever equal the life he lived."
He lowered the cloth slightly. "In the absence of next of kin…"
"It is your duty and honor to receive his final badge of honor."
Rogers looked directly at him."Do you accept?"
Balcus stared at the folded cloth for a moment.
His expression tightened slightly. "…It would be my honor," he answered quietly.
Rogers nodded once.
Then placed it into his hands.
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Then came the final military rites.
The soldiers standing near the grave suddenly turned in unison.
Rifles raised toward the sky.
"Ready!"The sound echoed sharply.
"Aim!"Every movement synchronized perfectly.
"Fire!" A thunderous volley erupted across the memorial grounds.
Then again, and again.
Three volleys total.
A final salute to the fallen.
After the final shot faded—One lone bugler stepped forward.The melody he played afterward was quieter than before.
It carried across the graves as the coffin was slowly lowered into its final resting place.
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Late Into the Day
Geralt's Grave
Omni POV (Leon)
Most people had already left the memorial grounds.
Leon sat alone in front of Geralt's grave while Luxion hovered quietly beside him.
In Leon's hands rested a book, the same book Geralt had entrusted to Balcus with his dying breath, the lock remained untouched.
"Do you still refuse to open it, sir?" Luxion asked.
Leon looked down at the book silently for a moment. "…I can't."
His grip tightened slightly. "Opening it would mean accepting that he's really gone."
"There's still so much I wanted to learn from him."
Silence followed, then Luxion spoke again.m"While I am still unfamiliar with the emotional processes associated with grief," he said, "recent studies indicate that hearing or reading a loved one's final words can aid emotional recovery."
A brief pause."Therefore, I encourage you to read it."
Leon glanced sideways at him. "…Is that your attempt at comforting me?"
"Yes." Luxion puffed himself up slightly, metaphorically of course.
"I have recently begun studying emotions associated with death. At this stage, I believe myself to be quite proficient."
Leon stared at him for several seconds before letting out the faintest breath of amusement. "…Sorry to break it to you, buddy, but your comforting still needs work."
"Unfortunate, I had thought myself proficient"
Sitting beside the grave, Leon slowly unlocked the book. The moment he opened it, Luxion immediately spoke again. "Since you are now opening the book, would you say this action was influenced by my comforting?"
Leon snorted quietly. "Yeah, yeah… whatever helps you sleep at night."
"I do not sleep, sir."
"That's the joke."
On the very first page was a letter written in Geralt's handwriting.
The words were shakier than usual. Proof of how badly his body had been failing.
Leon,
As I write this, I find myself thinking about how the Gods never blessed my wife and I with a child.
And yet… somehow they saw it fit to bless me with a son worth teaching, not of my blood.
With my death, I ask that you do not drown yourself in despair.
Instead use this experience.
Let it fuel your will to move forward and reach heights greater than my own, for that I have no doubt.
Within this book I have recorded everything I created in my art. It is the only thing I can leave behind for you, which Balcus can't provide.
You possess the talent, the heart, and the resolve to surpass me someday. So never stray from your path, young one.
My only regret…
…is that I will not live long enough to see how brightly you shine.
From a grateful master…
…to his beloved student.
Leon stared at the page silently.
"…You knew what was written in here, didn't you?" he asked quietly.
"I have absolutely no idea what you mean," Luxion replied immediately. The sarcasm was so blatant it almost felt intentional.
Leon shook his head faintly before turning the pages.
Detailed illustrations filled the book.
Base stances.
Defensive forms.
Movement patterns.
Attack sequences.
Everything Geralt had ever created.
Everything he had spent his life mastering.
Leon kept turning pages slowly until he reached the very end.
The final page contained only a single sentence.
The remaining pages are yours to fill.
Leon stared at those words for a long time.
Then slowly—
He closed the book.And stood.
The wind gently moved through the graveyard behind him.
"You're right, master…" Leon said quietly.
"I don't have time to sit around forever."
Luxion floated beside him as Leon began walking away from the grave.
Behind them—
The setting sun broke through the clouds for the very first time that day.
And for just a brief moment—
The memorial grounds no longer felt quite so cold.
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[Chapter Image]
I am writing my A Levels this year so I'm already stumped and if you add the time I use writing I think I'm entitled to POWER STONES sooooooo give them to me
P.S
Let it be known that the Story is undergoing a Rewrite, hence if you read the unedited chapters its on you, they are no longer part of the story.