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

 

[Ben Khal]

As they headed to lunch, Arlessa turned to look at him. Ben felt her gaze keenly. With everything that had been going on, he hadn't had the opportunity to speak to his mother one on one yet. Even now she could spare him only a few words regarding his appearance. But her remarks were far from superficial. As she commented on his growth, Ben self-consciously reached up to rub the back of his neck, a nervous tic he did whenever he was nervous or embarrassed. In this case, it was the latter.

"Yes, M--Your Grace," he replied, stopping himself from calling her Mother. Now that she was the Ducha, he would have to address her the same way he had Secciah. In public, anyway. Private was a different matter. "There wasn't time to get a new suit."

He didn't think she would begrudge him that. After all, she knew that he was busy. He kept up a steady correspondence with her, writing once a week. Neither of them were usually available to holocall, so messaging was the next best thing.

Upon entering the dining room, Ben quickly surveyed those present. Just four guests in total. It was a shockingly small turnout, the empty chairs a sad reminder of recent losses. Whole branches of the family tree had been wiped out within the past two years. Arlessa and Ben were among the last surviving members of their house. The only other Khal here was Cedrin, Ben's cousin through his Aunt Mirella. The two had grown up together, but it had been a long time since they had seen each other.

Apart from family, there was one unrelated guest. Ben's eyes lingered on Mara Aurelai . She had suddenly appeared on the scene a year prior, the Ducha of a jungle world of little importance, the last of a noble house no one had ever heard of. Yet she swiftly inserted herself into their lives, befriending Arlessa. Even the late Secciah had liked her - she was even present when the old Ducha died. The only one present, in fact...

Mara caught his eye and gave him a friendly yet appropriately sorrowful little smile. He nodded to her, but didn't smile back. Something about her didn't sit right with him, though he could find no fault in her apart from her mysterious origins.

The guests gathered around the table, waiting for the new Ducha to give a toast to her predecessor.

Arlessa Khal​