The Demon Among The Knights-Chapter 40 - 36: The Plea and the Funeral

Chapter 36: The Plea and the Feast

The evening air carried a weight of unease, thick with the scent of burning torches and the distant aroma of freshly baked bread from the village market. A hush fell over the crowd as all eyes turned to Brian and the arch-seer, the tension between them crackling like static in the air.

The arch-seer’s piercing gaze locked onto Brian, his voice calm yet edged with suspicion.

"What exactly is coming, Sir Brian?"

Brian hesitated. He could feel the weight of the villagers’ eyes, their whispered fears coiling through the crowd like restless spirits. Some clung to their loved ones, others gripped their weapons as if expecting danger to leap from the shadows at any moment.

He swallowed hard. I can’t tell them. Not yet.

"I’ll explain later," Brian said, lowering his voice. "I don’t want to cause panic."

The arch-seer’s brow furrowed, but after a long pause, he gave a slight nod.

"Very well."

With a sharp command, the mages dispersed, their robes billowing as they retreated into the night. Their presence was unsettling, their eyes betraying curiosity, skepticism, and a hint of fear. The villagers murmured among themselves, uneasy glances flitting toward Brian.

His shoulders tensed. He had bought them a little time. That was all.

Then Brian gave a speech to the crowd "at the graveyard we are going to do a memorial for those who we have lost "

"We are not there yet, but we will be soon."

"With every step, we draw closer—not just to a place, but to a moment that will stay with us forever. A moment where we will stand together, not as warriors, not as nobles or common folk, but as people who have lost something precious."

"The weight you feel in your chest, the silence that follows us, the memories that flicker in your mind like dying embers—these are not burdens. They are reminders of what was, of what mattered. And when we arrive, we will not only mourn. We will honor. We will remember."

"So steel yourselves. Walk with purpose. Let the pain settle, but do not let it break you. Because when we stand before their graves, we will show them that their sacrifice was not in vain."

"We are almost there. Hold your heads high."

Meanwhile, Luci’s cart rolled steadily toward the warrior’s keep, its wooden wheels creaking under the weight of its occupant. Inside, the demon prince lounged lazily, tearing into a roasted chicken with gleeful abandon. The grease glistened on his fingers, his sharp teeth crunching effortlessly through the bone. With each bite, he sucked the marrow dry, savoring every taste.

The sight of the keep rising in the distance intrigued him. The banners of the knights fluttered proudly in the wind, golden sigils of honor and righteousness. Strong walls, polished armor, disciplined warriors—the embodiment of order.

He grinned. How quaint.

When the cart finally came to a halt, Brian’s voice cut through the night.

"Luci, I want to talk to you. In private."

Luci flicked the last chicken bone aside, licking his fingers clean before stepping out. His chains rattled as he stretched, rolling his shoulders. He could feel the gazes of the knights upon him, their hands resting uneasily on their sword hilts. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, steel, and fear.

"No problem," he said, following Brian to a secluded corner near the castle walls.

The distant hum of the village faded behind them. The torches lining the stone corridors flickered, their glow barely cutting through the night.

Brian turned, his expression unreadable.

"Listen, Luci. I know you’re a demon. I know you love... well, violence." He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck, carefully choosing his words. "But I’m begging you to tone it down a little."

Luci cocked his head, crimson eyes narrowing slightly.

"Tone it down?" he repeated, his voice laced with amusement. "Who are you to command—"

"Today, you ripped off a man’s hand," Brian interrupted, his voice rising. "In front of children. In front of families. They’re terrified of you."

Luci tilted his head, a slow grin curling across his lips.

"Scared?" he muttered to himself. "I want them to be scared."

Brian clenched his fists, forcing himself to take a steady breath. He knew Luci wasn’t lying. There was no regret, no hesitation—just raw, unapologetic power.

Still, he had to try.

"I get it. You don’t care about them," Brian admitted, his voice quieter. "But if we want this alliance to work, we need trust. I’ll give you whatever you want, but please..." He took a step closer. "Control yourself."

Luci tapped his chin, pretending to think.

"Whatever I want?"

Brian hesitated, but nodded. "Yes."

Luci’s grin widened as he leaned in.

"You’re having a feast, right?"

Brian raised an eyebrow. "Yeah... why?"

Luci straightened, crossing his arms.

"I want them to serve only roasted chicken."

Brian blinked. "Only... chicken?"

"Only chicken," Luci repeated, deadly serious.

Brian exhaled, rubbing his temples. "Alright, I’ll make sure of it... Luci, sir."

Luci smirked, pleased. As he turned back to his cart, his chains dragging against the stone with a rhythmic clink, he let out a satisfied sigh.

"I think I’m liking it here," he muttered, biting into another chicken leg.

Above them, the night sky loomed, vast and starless. The wind whispered through the fortress, carrying the weight of what was to come.

The graveyard stretched endlessly before them, rows upon rows of freshly dug graves lined with simple wooden crosses. The scent of damp earth and burning incense clung to the air, mingling with the faint aroma of dying flowers left by grieving families. A cold breeze carried the hushed murmurs of mourners, their voices blending into a solemn hymn of sorrow.

Towering stone statues of long-forgotten heroes loomed over the graves, their weathered faces worn by time and war. They stood as silent sentinels, guardians of the fallen, their presence both comforting and unsettling. The ground was uneven, riddled with old tombstones covered in moss, whispering of battles lost to the past.

The knights stood in rigid silence, their gleaming armor dulled by the weight of grief. The civilians, dressed in mourning blacks and grays, clung to each other. Mothers held their children close, their eyes red with sorrow. Fathers stood with clenched fists, grief buried beneath hardened expressions. Brothers, sisters, friends—they all whispered names that would never be spoken again.

The last bodies were being lowered into the earth, the final shovels of dirt falling with a dull, final thud. The silence was suffocating, broken only by the occasional sobs of those left behind.

Brian exhaled deeply, the weight of responsibility pressing heavily upon his shoulders. He turned to Daniel, his voice quieter than usual.

"I’m tired of doing speeches. How about you give one this time?"

Daniel blinked, startled. "Me?"

Brian nodded. "Go on. The people are waiting."

For a moment, Daniel hesitated. He had fought alongside these men, had watched them fall, had carried some of them back only to see the life fade from their eyes. What could he possibly say to ease the pain of those left behind?

And yet, as he looked out over the grieving crowd, he realized that they needed something—anything—to hold onto. A reason to believe that their loss meant something.

He stepped forward, his breath slow and steady.

His voice, though calm, carried the weight of every loss they had endured.

"Today, we mourn the noble lives lost in battle. Brave warriors, fathers, sons, daughters, and friends—each of them gave their lives for the safety of this kingdom."

A ripple passed through the crowd. Some bowed their heads, others tightened their grips on the hands of loved ones.

"But let us not drown in sorrow," Daniel continued. "Their sacrifice was not in vain. Today, we stand here victorious because of them. Their courage lives on in our hearts, their strength in our swords, and their love in our kingdom."

The silence stretched for a long, heavy moment.

Then, as if guided by an unspoken understanding, the knights raised their weapons in salute. A slow, powerful cheer rose—not one of celebration, but of respect. A tribute to those who had fallen.

Brian watched from a distance, his chest tightening. He had seen too many graves, given too many speeches. But somehow, Daniel’s words struck differently. The people needed a voice, and in that moment, Daniel had given them one.

Away from the crowd, Luci stood in the shadows, observing. His golden eyes flickered with something unreadable as he watched the humans grieve, honor, and remember.

"They truly care for each other," he mused inwardly. "They mourn the weak, they weep for the fallen... strange."

In Hell, there were no funerals. No remembrance. If a demon fell, they were forgotten—just another failure, just another weakling unworthy of power.

Luci clenched his fists, the weight of his chains pressing against his skin.

"What a strange place... the human world."

For the first time in a long while, something unfamiliar stirred within him.

Not regret. Not sorrow.

Something else. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

Before he could linger on the thought, a sudden gust of wind tore through the graveyard, rustling the trees and making the torches flicker. The air grew unnaturally cold, a shiver running through even the bravest knights.

Brian’s hand instinctively went to his sword.

Luci’s eyes narrowed.

A presence.

Something was coming.

And it was watching them.

---

To be continued...