In the garden of Tourn, a group of men stood before an open grave, a priest stood before them quietly chanting for the man lying in the casket. Snowid stood, still as a statue, looking down at his dead friend. Touching Konrad's head, he closed his eyes and deeply breathed. "You're a fool." It was all he could say before turning around. Looking around him, Snowid saw the end of his reign.
His right hand and only friend in the world was dead, killed in his own home. Aleksander had vanished and was either dead or with the Empire. The Empire had taken his daughter hostage. All that remained was himself and his son.
The enemy stood outside the gates, ready to break in, and there was no sign of reinforcement. The moment of hope he had gotten from the Church's arrival was all but gone. Shaking his head, Snowid didn't look back at Konrad as he was lowered into the grave.
"Father." Lesezek ran up to Snowid and walked by his side, "What shall we do?"
