Another silence fell on the Twelve. At the center of the semi-circle, a man in a black robe, a holy man's garb of mourning, stood from his seat. His clean-shaven face and short trimmed blonde hair glistened from the thin sweat on his brow. Though only a man of twenty-nine, he held the respect of most men, no matter their position, being the High Priest of Hatra and received the title of King's Tome. With slow movements, he approached the body on the altar. As his King did before him, he imparted his final words to a man he looked up to. No one heard what the priest said, nor was he willing to repeat them for posterity's sake.
After speaking his heart, he took his place beside the throne. From the folds of his robe, he revealed a scroll. In a clear, loud voice, he read the text on the parchment aloud, words that all knew by heart after these fifty years, "In life, you gave all you could. We thank you for who you were. In death, peace has found you. May the gods watch over you as you pass into your next life. Perhaps we may see you again, but if we do not, goodbye. You will not be forgotten."
They were simple, but their importance goes back to the foundations of Hatra, which can be found in the fifteenth year of the Royal Chronicles. They were the words spoken at the grave of Hatra's first king, slain in battle, and since then, they were the prayer spoken over every departed soul, that they find peace in their next life, if that is where the soul goes. (Being a mere scribe, I know not the answer.)
With the prayer recited, it was time for the Twelve to deliver parting words of their own. For a time, none of them left their chairs. No one knew who should lead the procession, but it did not take long for one to decide. In the second seat from the right, a thin, dark man with thick black hair stood. Among the Twelve, he was the King's Coin Purse, but to all else, he was Levi. His shrewd eyes clarified that he had no interest in such services. Being the Royal Treasurer, he had many things on his mind. The end of the war brought about a major shift in his duties and mourning the dead was among his top priorities.
Despite this attitude, he passed by the altar before taking his leave. He bowed in front of the body, murmuring words of thanks. With his parting delivered, he left the proceedings and returned to the palace, where his work awaited him. Following him was a man in black clothes, though he did not wear them in mourning. His beard was thick, wild, and bright red. Skin was pale and eyes were piercing green, but even with these clear, distinguishing features, few of the Twelve recollect seeing him enter the courtyard, nor when he sat down. If they did not pay attention, they might have missed his departure as well.
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Such was Silas's existence, the King's Spyglass. He became one of the Twelve by being a man of perception and invisibility. When he found peace in death, there would not be a single sign that he even existed. As soon as Levi finished at the altar, Silas stood before Charon, the body at his chest. (Perhaps his smaller stature made him difficult to find.) He bowed, but said nothing, delivering his farewell in silence. Once he paid his respects, he vanished in an instant, and no one saw him again for months, but according to Haman, he did not leave the proceedings. The spy watched from the shadows, where he dwelled.
Speaking of Haman, he sat in the open, with a rather irreverent air around him. This was to be expected in his line of work. The shifty glances of his brown eyes confirmed that he felt the disdain that some had for him, regardless of his attitude. The twins, in particular, looked down their noses at him, but a slight glint in his eye made them look the other way. A thin brown beard wrapped around his tan chin, forming a permanent smile on his face, no matter if his lips frowned. There was no doubt in any of the Twelve's minds that scores of men saw that hairy smile as they passed into their next life, Haman's knife protruding from their chest.
The man surrounded by death, the King's Dagger, (perhaps Hangman is a more accurate title) stood up and approached the body with almost a skip in his step. He nodded his head and walked back to his chair, sitting in it backwards, that he may watch the rest of the proceedings, though no one knew why.
Disturbed by the assassin's mannerisms, the twins, Nathaniel and Bartholomew, stood up and almost ran over to Charon. The pair were the youngest, being only seventeen at the time, but already, they scaled the ranks of society taking their places as the King's Right and Left hands, his most trusted of advisors. (There is much to be said on these two, but that will wait for now.)
