When the Marshal arrived, Court had initially paid no mind, so focused as he was on the ritual of laying the wreaths and the invocations he had made. As Portia and Bellamy exchanged pleasantries, Court’s mind slipped inward again, waiting for someone to address him.
It was more than he could ask for that anyone had shown up, though he wished that the Rosier gardener had. Having three Clovennians here meant a lot when he had expected none, but it would have had so much more value if an Aurellian had come, even if to satisfy curiosity. I wonder what thoughts Portia or Bellamy may have had for the war while I laid the wreaths. It’s a plaguing shame that social decorum means it would be indelicate at best to even ask. So much of our culture is shackled by its inability to deal with feelings, emotions, thoughts directly, rather than caging them.
He noted idly that no one had spoken to him, but words had been spoken about him. His lips narrowed at the minor offense, but he wasn’t the kind to hold it against people. Court reviewed what words had passed between the two and found himself suppressing an annoyed sigh. Lots of words saying nothing. Which means trying to hide something. Why is it always ulterior motives and maneuvering for position? Why can’t our people just talk to each other?
When Portia finally addressed him (thank Clove for the manners of a Marias lady), Court took a few steps closer, Raymonde rejoining his side and still giving a suspicious eye to the girl’s ephemeral form. He nodded to Bellamy, “Good evening, Marshal. I’m glad you could join us. I trust the investigation is going well?” Eyes looking between the two he continued, “I’m not sure about a speech. This doesn’t seem to be the place for it. But I can say this, the fallen who lie within those cairns, our own fallen who were carried home to Clovenne, not one of them had to die. The Civil War following Unification could have been avoided, by any number of means.”
He swept a head towards to cemetery and widen the gesture to take in Aurelle around them. “But even more than what could have happened, what should is far more paramount. Being magnanimous victors costs our people nothing. Everyone in Aurelle knows that Clovenne won. That war is over. But we have a choice to make for the future. Do we continue to rub the noses of Aurelle in their loss? Do we breed anger and resentment? Or do we acknowledge that once defeated, an enemy can become a friend? That respect and dignity are qualities that should be afforded to all?”
His hand dropped to his side and he shrugged. “Maybe its just me, but I understand the cycle of hatred that can drive the terrorists in the resistance to kill. I’ve been part of that cycle at it’s various points in other places in the Empire. It’s not unique to Aurelle. I think that the only way to really break the cycle will be to refuse to be part of it.” I wonder how they’ll react to this? Just the tiniest of anti-imperial treasons I’ve already written in my manuscript.