Chapter 474 Goodnight... brother.
In the cold, damp depths of the ancient castle, the King and Sir Richard walked silently, their footsteps echoing through the stone passages. Torches flickered against the oppressive darkness, casting eerie shadows that danced like spectres on the walls. The air was heavy with the weight of unspoken words.
Sir Richard's heart pounded in his chest as he ventured deeper into the labyrinthine dungeon. He had mustered all his courage to ask the King for permission to leave the palace with his family and to abandon the life of nobility that had once seemed so desirable. But it wasn't just about leaving; it was about setting his son free. Free from everything. As for Harvey's health, he would find the best physician to nurse him back to health.
But the King had not given him an answer. Instead, he had led him here without any words.
Finally, they arrived at a hidden chamber, its entrance concealed behind an ancient stone door that bore the marks of time and secrecy. The King pushed it open, and he stepped in, Sir Richard following behind him uncertainly, but he hadn't expected to see what was right there.
The sight that greeted Sir Richard was heart-wrenching. At the centre of the room lay a simple, weathered gravestone, a haunting reminder of a life lost too soon.
Sir Richard's eyes widened in disbelief when he saw this.
"Prince Wilder," He whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. At once, he was back to his youthful self in his mind, remembering those memories. Tears welled in his eyes, and his legs gave way, falling to his knees as he felt his heart breaking.
How... was he here?
When...?
The King's gaze softened, and he placed a comforting hand on Sir Richard's shoulder. "I had to keep his body hidden here," he began, his voice heavy with sorrow as he turned his eyes to the grave of his brother.
Sir Richard could understand why without being told, and it made him sob even more.
They had branded Wilder a traitor, and that meant his body was to be mutilated and discarded if he had been found by the others first.
No matter what had happened in the past, Eli had always deeply loved his brother. Without all the labels and clashes for power, they would have lived as two loving brothers, enjoying hunting, sparring between themselves, and most importantly, being able to be beside the women they loved dearly.
He couldn't bear the thought of such indignity for his own brother, even in death. Wilder did not deserve that.
"I have been hoping for the day I could give him a proper burial and send him off to our ancestors," Eli added in a tight voice.
Sir Richard's heart ached at the King's confession. The bond between the two men ran deep—far deeper than anyone would have imagined. And he had been with Wilder for years, so he knew that King Eli was very important to Wilder. Even when he was frustrated with his choices, he still worried about him.
Sir Richard's tears fell freely as the evidence of his betrayal was brought right before his eyes, reminding him of the kind of youth he had been.
"I... found solace in here." the King continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "I could only share my burdens with him."
Eli turned to look at Sir Richard.
"Let Harvey stay. He will be treated until he is fine. If he chooses... allow him to be for Harold what we couldn't be for our brothers."
Overwhelmed with emotion, Sir Richard's tears grew louder. All signs of his nobility were lost.
He was here. Before his master. Before his friend.
He had been disloyal.
He choked out, his voice raw with grief. "I... am s-sorry for failing you."
He was sorry for everything.
He had thought that if he were given the opportunity to make a decision again, he would choose the same thing. But only now have his eyes cleared. Wilder had been his brother. His friend.
He wouldn't have done it.
He shouldn't have done it.
Sir Richard cried, his voice echoing all over.
The King shook his head. Putting aside his name, his title, and his dignity, he knelt beside Sir Richard, and their torches cast dancing shadows around them.
He was only but a little brother here.
No King.
No Alpha.
If only he could return to those days.
Those simple days with his brother and friends.
"You were never at fault." He whispered. "It was the machinations of others that brought this tragedy upon us."
Richard shook his head, refusing to accept that.
He had greatly contributed to this.
In that solemn moment, the King made a profound request. "Will you do this last favour for me, Richard? Let us... accompany him on his final journey."
His friend.
His brother.
Through tear-blurred eyes, Sir Richard nodded, his heart heavy with the weight of duty and love. "Yes, my King. I will stand by him until the end."
The night wore on as the King and Sir Richard emerged from the depths of the castle, solemnly carrying the heavy casket containing Prince Wilder's body. The palace courtyard was illuminated by the glow of moonlight, and curious gazes followed the procession.
As the pyre was erected, the air was thick with sorrow and anticipation. The flames rose high, consuming the casket along with the bracelet and painting of Wilder's beloved which he had found deeply locked in Wilder's royal safe.
Sir Richard stood at a distance, his heart heavy with the memories of his cherished friend, now reduced to ashes.
As the fire burned, the King looked at the flames with teary eyes, whispering a low, "Good night... brother."
Sir Richard's breath caught in his throat as he also said his goodbyes to him. It was long overdue, but he was grateful for the chance to bid him a proper farewell.
In the flickering light of the pyre, under the watchful gaze of the moon and the curious eyes of the palace members, Prince Wilder was sent off to rest in peace.
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