A Man Worth Remembering
Part 1: The Living visit the Dead
It was amazing how one little grave could kick up such a fuss. That is what Climb thought to himself as he'd finally made his way to the furthest corner of the cemetery.
As the rainfall continuously pinged his armor, its unblemished white causing it to immediately stand out amongst the dreary surrounding, he barely needed to look around to know how to get to where he was going. Though it was mostly mud now one could still make out the tracks of his boots in the dirt path from the many times he'd come and gone from this place in the past few weeks. Always stopping at this exact same tombstone.
Gazef Stronoff
Loyal Friend of the King
Originally the marker was also going to include his title as Warrior Captain but the nobles it seemed would rather people forget such a position ever existed in the first place. It was because of them that King Ramposa III had never been able to properly knight Gazef and from what Climb had heard they were spitting mad when the king had created the position of Warrior Captain as a loophole to that.
It was nothing short of a small miracle that the tombstone said even this much, or that Gazef's body had been able to be laid to rest here in the first place. The graves that bore the names of commoners in this cemetery were few and far between, with a very morbid reality being that most of those had saved up money almost their entire lives just for the privilege for being able to be buried here when they were dead. Most commoners were cremated after death, with the families usually not having enough gold to afford even a plaque for their loved one's name or a quality jar in which to keep the ashes. Most commoners had nothing around of them left after they died and thus eventually were forgotten about. That's why the nobles were so insistent on buying up the plots in this cemetery and doing everything they could to keep others out. In their minds, only they were worth remembering.
The war against the Baharuth Empire had become so annual and expected that people had come to take it for granted. It was more of a territorial skirmish, honestly, and it happened every year without fail; same time, same place. This clockwork predictability sat well with most nobles and their plans for expanding their wealth and influence usually took the battle of at the Katze Plains into account.
The majority of the kingdom's army consisted of drafties, with most nobles having the power to avoid what the peasants could not. However, there were still plenty of nobles who voluntarily joined in. Typically speaking, the annual war had little in terms of overall casualties. People died, certainly. The Royal Army often outnumbered the empire's by at least a third. But they in turn had career soldiers whom were far better trained and far better equipped. There was no way to avoid losses. But those losses primarily consisted of those on the front line. The peasants sent out first to die. The nobles whom had joined in as commanders and generals could sit safely in the back, sometimes venturing forth to slay a few easy targets before the empire called the battle off and retreated like they did every time. Then the nobles could come back home as heroes, their mere presence on the battlefield being all the proof needed of their valor and patriotism. They cared little that Emperor Jircniv's true intentions were to whittle down the kingdom's strength over time and that the actual war meant essentially nothing to his empire. The war occurred during harvest season, a deliberate move by the empire as it meant food-production in the kingdom slowed to a halt with all the peasants being drafted, but the nobles didn't have to care. Not with all the food they already had horded for themselves. It didn't matter if Re-Estize fell to ruin, or at the very least the nobles had deluded themselves into believing their lifestyles could continue as is if it did. Their positions and well-being were secure and that was all that mattered.
And then, at this year's battle, a massacre happened. The only casualties being on the kingdom's side, throughout its entire army, from the front lines to the back.
The nobles had always hated Gazef but at least this time their motivations for trying to deny his body a final resting place had some reasons other than just pure spite behind them. The Noble Faction had lost many heads and first-born heirs in the massacre. Despite entering into a war, the possibility of dying had never even crossed their minds, thinking only of the fame it'd gain them. The prepaid slots in this cemetery filled up quickly, the remaining nobles wanting to buy more for themselves, and they became incredibly offended at even the mere idea that a commoner like Gazef would be taking up a slot that they viewed as rightful theirs, even if the space itself was owned and paid for by the king.
The Royal Faction and Noble Faction fought tooth and nail over the small single plot, and at first one would predict it was a fight the former was bound to lose. The king had fallen into a depression after the death of his bodyguard, too much to bear along with his first-born son, Prince Barbro, still missing since sending him to Carne Village to keep him safe. Despite the Noble Faction being the ones to insist they ignore the Warrior-Captain's warnings about the caster the Baharuth Empire was bringing into the fight this time, the king was still blamed regardless, by both the nobles and the commoners, for bringing them into the war again instead of just giving up the land the empire wanted. The small gain of power the Royal Faction had obtained since Ramposa III's and Second Prince Zanac's superb handling of Jaldabaoth's siege on the capital had now diminished considerably.
However, the Noble Faction's grip on power was not as tight as it appeared. With the loss of so many fathers and firstborns, it was now the second and thirdborn sons whom were being forced to step up and take over their families' territory and duties. In other words, the "spares". The spares were just as petty and greedy as their elders but lacked the same experience and education that made them such an antagonist to the Royal Faction. They were a headache, certainly, but not the same knife at the king's throat that the others had been.
In the end, this marker was the compromise where no one really got what they wanted. Gazef was given a proper burial but in the furthest corner of the cemetery where no one would ever pass by; his tombstone listing none of his accomplishments.
Climb stared at the words inscribed on the stone, letting the raindrops drip down from his brow without a care. His vision already wasn't particularly focused, so it made little difference.
"…Princess Renner really is too good to me."
How many times had she allowed him to come out here now? How many times had she insisted he come out here, the longing on his face apparent even to her? His duty first and foremost was to protect her and he would never allow himself to be anything less than fully devoted to that, even with his lady's own permission. He owed her far too much to do anything so selfish. But Renner was still as stubborn as she was generous, and thus whenever she needed some moments of privacy, like her current meeting with Lakyus of Blue Rose, she'd usually give Climb the subtle hint (which was often just short of outright telling him) that he should go visit the grave while he was waiting.
He felt gratitude to her from the very bottom of his heart, for this and so many other things that they couldn't be counted. If he could spend his entire life repaying her he'd still insist it wasn't enough. That smile of hers was more beautiful and precious than any treasure in the entire kingdom and one he wished to protect for all time. It was always an extra arrow of guilt that struck his heart whenever he'd return to her, still feeling the gloom attached to him from his visit to the grave. He hoped beyond hope that it didn't show on his face. How might seeing such a sight affect that smile? To have it falter, even a little, because of him, he'd never forgive himself.
He wondered to himself if Gazef ever felt a similar way when returning to the king's side. Maybe. But it was impossible for Climb to visualize. Flipping through every image of his superior stored within his mind and none of them were anything short of the picturesque Warrior Captain. Never fearful. Never in doubt. Never afraid. Not even at the end. Not even when…
"I suppose I should not be surprised to find another here."
Climb's spine nearly leapt out of his own back before he felt his blood run cold.
It wasn't just that he'd been startled out of his thoughts. He knew that voice. For as long as he'd live he could never possibly forget it.
Turning quickly and knowing what to expect, he still could only just barely stop himself from giving a scream. The flash of lightning was almost perfectly timed, illuminating the figure's face. A skull devoid of even the smallest hint of flesh stared back at Climb before it was shrouded in darkness again, leaving only two red dots behind to show where his sight was cast.
The man couldn't have been any more at home in the cemetery surrounding. A long black robe and a skeletal body. This could be no other than Death himself. At least, that's what anyone else might have assumed. But Climb had met this man before. Seen what he'd done at the battle of Katze Plains. Overdramatic as it could be, if he were asked, Climb would say this man might be even worse than Death.
He was Lord Ainz Ooal Gown. Ruler of the Sorcerer Kingdom.
The man who killed Gazef Stronoff.
