>>5537335>>5537341>>5537356>>5537360>"Let's all bury him together. He might have been a (rightfully) paranoid ass, but we should give him a good send off as a final payment for the decanter.">Set to burying the glassblower with Bredbeddle.“Are you sure, my lady? Perhaps we ought to bury him together.” You propose your master. “He may have been paranoid–well, perhaps rightfully so–but don’t you think we ought to give him a good send off as final payment for the decanter together?”
“Cornwall would’ve hated that mushy shit.” Your lady snorts, a rare kind of candor in her voice. “I’ll just pour one for the old coot later. And, besides.. I’d rather not see him interred in that state. Keep him in my mind as a foul old man. I’m sure you understand.”
“Ah.. I see. Then I’ll set off with the gnome for a grave. The best of luck.” You bid your master and the mossfolk farewell as they set off to the GREEN CHAPEL through the waist-high grass. It’s good to see that Sigrid is a little more fond of Molly, at least. You’ll just need to convince her of Bredbeddle. You feel like you might understand the witch a little bit better.
[...]
“Grave looks kinda crap, don’t it?” The pickpocket grimaces as you both stand back to admire your handiwork–a half-formed, shoddily nailed together CELTIC CROSS out of old wood you peeled from the back of the chapel’s shed. The mound of earth before it is thick–you had to bury him deep, lest goblins or any other scavengers pick at his body.
“Phew. Well.. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” You wipe the sheen of sweat from your brow, hands dirty and shovel heavy in your hands. The grave itself may not be the best, but you can’t deny the beauty of the sea as a final resting place, gentle waves of grass and breeze coasting over the cross.
“Guess we ought to say some final remarks, then?” Bredbeddle whistles. She slaps her hands together in a kind of half-prayer. “To that old, rank bastard Cornwall. Guess I got you killed. Soz about that. You were mean, crazy, old, and kind of racist against gnomes, but you didn’t deserve to die. Hope you’re drinkin’ something better than the usual swill wherever you are.”
“Right.” You clasp your hands together in a similar kind of half prayer. “Amen.”
[END OF CHAPTER.]
