Summary: The answer from Gwyndolin arrives and Dusk asks a question.

Ornstein jerked up when he felt someone nudge him, gasping and shouting: "What is it? Did we have another dragon attack? Do we need to move out?"

He managed to get a glance at Ciaran, standing in front of his bed, baffled. "Ornstein, the dragon war has been hundreds of years ago? Were you dreaming?"

Ornstein flopped back into the pillows, hissing when he felt a pang in his stomach, it seemed to be back. He should get another cup of that tea.

"Yes, I must have been dreaming...", he murmured.

"Anyway.", Ciaran said. "I was searching the whole area for you until I found out you decided to take a nap in broad daylight. We have Gwyndolin's answer." She produced an envelope and waved with it.

Ornstein shot up again, regretting the sudden motion when a bit of nausea washed over him. He slowly and carefully moved to the side of the bed, sitting on the edge. Ciaran handed him the envelope.

"Ornstein, if you feel that sick, ask Dusk for some medicine already.", Ciaran said. "A blind man can see that you are not feeling well."

"It will be fine, I just ask for another cup of that tea.", Ornstein mumbled more to himself and looked at the envelope, seeing that it was indeed sealed with the dark moon, the symbol of Gwyndolin. He broke the seal and read the answer.

"What does it say?", Ciaran asked.

"You all knew Artorias the best. I give you the authority to make the decision in my position.", Ornstein read aloud.

"Oh well, that felt like a waste of time.", Ciaran annotated. "I think we all have agreed that Artorias would have loved it to be buried here. Shall we bring our decision to Princess Dusk?"

Ornstein stood up from the bed and walked over to his armour, getting it on.

"Yes, we should tell her. Is she out in the garden again?", he asked, already opening the door to the garden without waiting for a reply. He glanced outside and saw that it already was late noon, almost evening. "Wait, how long have I slept?", he asked himself.

"Depending on when you laid down, it must have been quite some time.", Ciaran mentioned from behind. "She should be in the garden, she seems to spend most of her time there." Ciaran swiftly walked past Ornstein, scanning the garden. Ornstein followed her and quickly spotted Dusk sitting on the same spot as the last time. He walked over and sat down next to her. The princess flinched a bit when she realized his presence.

"Princess Dusk, we got the answer from Anor Londo.", Ornstein said. Dusk turned her head, smiled the usual sad smile and said: "Oh, that was pretty quick. And what is your decision?"

"We have decided that you can erect a grave for Artorias in the Royal Garden. We knights have talked about it, agreed that he would love it and the Dark Sun approves of our decision.", Ornstein explained.

"Well then.", Dusk got up. "We will start preparations on the grave at once tomorrow. It should take us a day and a half until everything is ready for the ceremony."

"Wait, what? That is awfully quick."; Ornstein said, bewildered.

"Oolacile isn't called the land of golden sorceries for nothing.", Ciaran said. Ornstein had almost forgotten that she was there too, she was awfully good in hiding her presence.

"Lady Ciaran is right.", Dusk said. "With the help of our magic we can greatly shorten the time of such a work." Her face darkened a bit. "Of course we are short of workers... but we will make sure to give Artorias the nicest grave we can muster. After all, we are in a great debt and this is just a little thing how we can repay him."

Ornstein's stomach cramped again. No, he had to keep it together. Soon, this all would be over with.

"It has gotten quite late.", Dusk said, staring at the sky. "How about both of you join us for some dinner?"

Ornstein looked at Ciaran, who only shrugged. "We gladly accept your offer.", he said. "... Can I get another cup of that herbal tea?"

"Of course.", Dusk said and started to walk towards the mansion. "Although maybe you should think about taking some medicine now? Are you sure you are able to stomach something?"

"It will be fine, it isn't that bad.", Ornstein said and then with a raised voice cause Ciaran had let loose a sarcastically cough. "I just don't want to get it worse."

A short while later they all were seated on the table, Ornstein and Ciaran on one side while Dusk and her maidens occupied the other side. Ornstein had gotten the requested cup of tea and was sipping from it while they were waiting for the food. He didn't even knew that Ciaran was capable of it, but she was holding some small talk with the maidens while Dusk just sat there quietly, with that fake smile on her face. Ornstein started to wish she would stop it. It made him feel uneasy. It reminded him too much of himself.

Luckily, the food arrived. It seemed to be chicken soup. The kind of food you would give to a sick person. Ornstein wondered if she had ordered this food on purpose while he took his sweet time eating it, trying to stomach it all this time. He could see from the corner of his eye that Ciaran barely ate anything and mostly stared at the food listless. He decided to concentrate on his own food instead, watching her made him feel far too uneasy.

"Would one of you agree to hold a speech at the burial ceremony?", the voice of Princess Dusk sounded. Ornstein nearly tossed his spoon in the soup and caught it just in time. He had completely forgotten about this. Of course one of them had to honour their fallen comrade like that. Before he could even say something in the matter, Ciaran took up the word.

"I am not one for giving speeches. I will leave this to my captain instead.", she said.

"Ciaran, you can't just dump that on me.", Ornstein grumbled. "But I guess I am the right one for doing it, I am the captain after all..."

"So, you will do it? How wonderful.", Dusk said, hands folded in front of her.

"Yes, I will hold a speech at the ceremony.", Ornstein said and got back to concentrating on his plate again, trying to avoid the satisfied face of the princess.

After dinner, Ornstein retreated to his room in the mansion. Ciaran had made clear that she would go back to the arena again, because someone had to watch over Artorias. Ornstein still had the conversation with her before she left on his mind.

"You have barely eaten anything, Ciaran, I noticed.", he said.

"You are one to talk.", she responded. "You can give me lectures when you manage to keep your food in."

"Touché...", Ornstein whispered. "Still, I am worried, you haven't felt like yourself since I arrived here."

"Don't worry about me, better worry about that speech.", Ciaran said and with that the discussion had been over. Ornstein stopped musing over it and stared at the scroll he had spread on the table, quill in hand. How should he start with that speech?

People probably would want to hear about the deeds he did and for what he died? Should he start in the beginning? That would have been the dragon war. Some fond memories of them fighting dragons together flooded his mind, but it darkened at once, thinking that he never would fight side by side with Artorias again... Shit, stuff like this really shouldn't be in the speech. He should get it together and just start writing. So he dipped the quill into ink and started writing.

He had just finished the first three sentences when he felt the breakdown coming. He didn't want to. He had to keep it together. He clenched the quill and continued writing, furiously scribbling on the paper until his hand shook so much that he dropped the quill. Some ink drops stained the paper as Ornstein put his hand on his forehead, he felt sweat forming. "No, keep it together.", he murmured his mantra. "Don't break down over this. You haven't even come to the lie." That realization was too much, his stomach turned upside down and the next thing he knew was that he was in the outhouse puking out all of the soup.

Ornstein staggered back in the room, grabbed the jar of water and cleaned out his mouth, spitting the water out in the flower fields in the garden. He returned to the table, massaging his stomach. He felt hot, really hot. Did he come down with a fever? He sat down on the table, picked up the quill and stared at the scroll.

He had scribbled "Keeping it together" all over it. Ornstein tossed the quill aside and just let his head fall on the table, sighing loudly.

Oh well, he had the whole day tomorrow to write the speech. He shouldn't overdo it. Ornstein decided to call it a day for now and got ready for bed.

(Author's note: Poor Ornstein... he is so confused and this guy just needs to admit that he needs some help... And Ciaran isn't much better.)