Proper funeral

This past hour has been really sour. Bardeelus was used to death, people died all around him all the time, especially recently. Yet, it wasn't as easy to fathom the death of a brother, an innocent one even.

"Tim died cursing my name," He thought, "He probably saw me as a demon… These powers of mine came at the wrong time, I wonder who else is going to die because of them?... This isn't my fault, god-damn it!"

He wasn't even given enough time to understand and accept his powers, nonetheless accept the death of a brother. He couldn't thoroughly grieve just yet, especially since Tim can't get a respective, proper, and thorough funeral.

Tim's head was the only thing that remained, so that was the only body part which they could bury. Earlier on, they could've looked for his skeletal remains, but that would just be disrespectful at this point; It didn't feel ethical.

"Spineless motherfuckers," Bardeelus couldn't help cussing after a while, "Those old fucks couldn't protect their food, and ate a kid instead… gods know who else they planned to eat. This camp went downhill!"

He still couldn't fathom the concept of cannibalism, and how openly it was practiced recently. The elders of the camp ate other people before, but they only ate enemies they've beaten, in rare occasions too when food was scarce.

However, what they did to his little brother was just treaterous and cowardly. Even within these raging wars, the camp's birth had never been based on cowardice, until now.

Initially, its backbone featured some of the toughest families from within many countries. The camp had the role of a peacekeeper, even, across the borders which shifted constantly, thanks to the faulty governments!

Many families had sent their members here, young and old, to fight against malicious groups of travelers, such as whole groups of marauders, and government officials as well, when they had to. This had been the camp's goal in the very beginning, and the camp had maintained many strong rules to keep things going.

Since it took too many hits in a short time, however, its demise seemed sealed. What had been a camp of one-hundred and fifty people in the very beginning, housed under thirty people now.

He could understand why the geezers were panicking, but still, a lot of fundamental rules and ethics have been broken! He was baffled.

At this point, he just guessed. "Maybe they're living their best life now? They're gonna die pretty soon, I know it, and maybe they accepted that too? That has to be it, what else could explain the stupid things they did?"

Bardeelus thought so because he wasn't alone in this world, for example, as he too was sent from elsewhere to serve in this camp. He had an extensive family tree back home, in another country, and if he went there to complain, then what was left of this malicious camp would get wiped out!

For that matter, he thought. "Those dried out bastards know this… they probably are suicidal as shit. It kinda makes sense now."

On a related note, he wanted to go home, as much as he wanted to follow this new quest about 'pure necromancy', but he was still muttering it over. It would feel nice to go home after months on duty, and it would be even better to take his siblings there, for their own sake but they couldn't just yet especially since his sister was held captive.

"They're too soft-spined, this camp broke them… we should've cut our losses long ago." He thought, "Now I gotta explain to mom how Tim died, she'll have me fucking exiled."

He knew that it wasn't easy to untangle the mess they were in, as a family. The rescue of his sister would be the easiest part of this journey, as the many generations of mages back home, won't take so kindly on failure and the death of a young member.

Bardeelus didn't know how to face them just yet, he felt embarrassed. At the moment, he just focused on honoring Tim with a little grave.

It was important to respect his soul and essence. In many ways, a grave, even if it wasn't marked, sealed one's safe passage towards heaven or hell. Bardeelus' insisted on digging a grave, and this goodwill wasn't for the sake of tradition, but for spirituality's sake too.

Now, more than ever, he was aware how important each soul was. Even as a necromancer of some sort, he wanted to respect most souls.

Two kilometers away from the camp, they found a spot in the forest which was secluded enough. They could spend a moment here, and even had enough space to openly grieve, though Bardeelus still held himself together.

He thought, "No point in crying now, I can't be the only one sobbing. This bastard in the bag wouldn't even shed a tear."

It was best to just dig a little hole now, which was deep enough to keep Tim's head away from wild animals. However, since they didn't have any shovels, he relied on the next best thing. Kutal the Sturdy, in his reanimated state, was commanded to punch through the ground.

Most of Kutal's outer-body was made out of metal, so if it even mattered, he wouldn't get hurt while digging this hole. It was the most efficient idea regardless of details.

Kutal did it in no time. Meanwhile, Bardeelus had rustled across the area, to find a couple of flowers to honor Tim's grave.

He gathered up a bunch of weeds too, for a similar purpose. The elders back home, had strict guides when it came to honoring soldiers who died in battle, or who were just ruthlessly killed.

To cleanse the person's gateway to the other world, two things had to be lit on fire. Bardeelus tossed the weeds in the empty grave, and had one of the enslaved guards, light them on fire.

The weeds burned thoroughly after a couple of minutes, and then, he said. "These hot ashes will hopefully burn his sins away. His death wasn't easy, so let his afterlife be."

Now, it was time to put Tim's remains in the hole. He pulled the head out of the bag gently, and tried not to look at the details, for the sake of not breaking down crying.

He placed the head within the hot-ish ashes, and then grabbed those flowers that he collected earlier. Their beautiful, yellow features were set on fire with that guard's aid, and gently, he flicked the burning flower down there.

"May your soul be free," Bardeelus said, "May the gods have mercy on you, and your stupid sacrifice. Fenik should've been the one in this hole, you were innocent."

While they pushed the dirt towards the hole afterwards, he was suddenly given a visual example, that the little funeral he just hosted, hadn't been for nothing.

A transparent, plushy entity popped out of the grave. Its color resembled light itself, and from what he understood, the rest couldn't see this entity at all, apart from Driola, who starred at it directly and knew enough to keep her composure.

"His soul is free," Bardeelus said, "I hope we meet death with a similar purity."