Private Requiem For a Ducha

[Ben Khal]

Moonmist Palace, Harterra
Hapes Cluster

The funeral of a Hapan Ducha is always a grand affair, and Ducha Secciah Khal's was no different. Far from a somber and intimate affair, the ceremony held at Moonmist Palace was full of pomp and pageantry. The guests numbered in the hundreds, crammed into the great hall's vast arena. A live orchestra performed a requiem composed just for the occasion.

Seated in the front row alongside other members of his family, Ben tugged on his too-tight collar. He had returned home for his grandmother's funeral on short notice, without enough time to get a new suit. Apparently he had grown significantly in the past six months.

He glanced over at his mother, seated on the end of the pew closest to the aisle. She looked almost unrecognizable to him, decked out in his grandmother's jewels, with the Ducha's moonstone ring gleaming on her finger. He knew that things would be different once she became the Ducha of Harterra, but he hadn't expected the change to happen so quickly.

The ceremony finally ended, and the attendees began filing out. It was time for the funeral luncheon. That, at least, would be a more toned down and private event, with only members of the family and a few close friends invited. Ben walked closely behind his mother, his head bowed respectfully as they headed for the dining hall.

Arlessa Khal​

 

[Arlessa Khal]

Once the ceremony was over Arlessa stood and moved through the halls of Moonmist Palace with the steady, measured grace that had been drilled into her since childhood. The weight of Secciah Khal’s jewels rested against her throat and wrists, cool and heavy, as if they had never belonged to anyone else. The moonstone ring on her finger gleamed faintly beneath the chandeliers.

It already felt inevitable.

Servants parted for her. Distant relatives dipped their heads as she passed. Some offered condolences in hushed voices, others merely watched. The death of a Ducha was a tragedy; the rise of another was a matter of great interest. Arlessa acknowledged them all with the same restrained inclination of her head.

Her gaze then drifted briefly over her shoulder. Ben followed just behind her, taller than she remembered. Broader as well. The suit he wore strained slightly at the shoulders, and the collar sat too tight against his neck. Six months away and he had grown like a sapling after rain. She wondered when that had happened.

They reached the entrance to the dining hall, where attendants held the doors open for the family. The soft murmur of conversation already spilled from within. Arlessa slowed, allowing the rest of the relatives ahead of them to pass inside before she stopped completely. For a moment she said nothing, simply studying her son with the cool, distant scrutiny that had unsettled many people throughout her life. Yet there was no judgment in it; only quiet calculation. “You have grown,” she said at last. Her voice was calm, almost clinical. “It seems the Jedi keep you well.” Her eyes lingered briefly on the collar tugging at his throat before she added, with the faintest trace of dry observation, “Though perhaps not well-tailored.”

Without waiting for an answer, she turned again and stepped into the dining hall. She had important things to discuss with him. But the conversation could wait. There would be time enough for it.

Tag: Ben Khal