The formal memorial service was grand. Too grand. At least as far as Prince Relastin was concerned.

A private viewing box had been constructed on the second level of his palace arena. It cantilevered out over the farce taking place below him, all while the prince bit his tongue and cringed at having to endure the spectacle.

On the floor of the arena, a long train of commoners and more well-to-do sorts funneled past the blood covered boulder sitting in the center of it all. But he knew he had to appease both his image and that of his former Karo Shar. As well as the annoying love the people had formed for Kaden. Someone they had grown to see as one of them.

Prince Relastin hadn't realized how deep the admiration they felt for Kaden was. Not until he'd announced the former slave turned Karo Shar had died fighting Koronai in the Abyss. He hated to admit that not even he, as Ison's prince, understood the extent of it when his very survival hinged on knowing these sorts of things.

The prince's thoughts dwelled, and he seethed. All this, he thought, for a former slave and son of a traitor? But one who had risen from a scrawny alchemist to the prestigious honor of not only a Royal Guardian of Ison, but also the prince's right hand and Karo Shar.

As all the citizens passed by, they touched the stone's course surface reverently. And such only annoyed the prince further.

Some even made it a point to reach for the blood itself, not knowing it wasn't really Kaden's. It was just sow's blood. But they believed. And all they wanted was any possible luck that still resided within what they believed were the last bits of a man who had possessed copious amounts of it. Even as the man the blood supposedly once belonged to seemed to have run out of it.

As long as the people believed, the prince kept reminding himself, he could hide the shame that he'd chosen his Karo Shar unwisely. Not because Kaden wasn't a superb warrior. But because he was too superb of one. Something within that once pathetic boy had made him a warrior among warriors.

Prince Relastin in his thoughts feared that had this not happened now, had he not taken care of Kaden as a threat, and instead allowed another cycle of the heavens to pass, Kaden may have very well been strong enough to unseat him. Especially with the help of Ison's new Chief Alchemist, who also joined his Majesty in the box.

"Sahl, Son of Vern," the prince said to him. Seeking further distraction. "We must catch up on where we stand with your assigned tasks."

"I am working closely with Touran to give you what you want, my prince."

"Good. But we will discuss that further once we're in private."

The prince said that as the woman who was portraying his sister was led into the Royal Box. She was guarded by Sahkar Mon and a contingent of five other warriors all in red urks. Almost as though she were a prisoner. Which, in a very real sense, she was.

"Ah, Sister," he said, continuing the farce he had established as to her identity. "I am so sorry for your loss."

The prince went to embrace her. For her part, she compliantly allowed him to do whatever he wanted, and he pretended to console her.

She smiled as he retreated and nodded. "My husband's death," she played her part masterfully, "is a great loss to you and to Ison."

"Indeed. Indeed. I know this tragedy has been trying for you. You do not need to subject yourself to this." He waved at the ongoing pomp out in the palace arena. "Go. Return to your quarters. And I promise you, soon, I will choose a new Karo Shar to lie in your bed."

The false princess curtsied and turned to leave when she rose. The soldiers began to exit with her until the prince spoke once more.

"Sahkar Mon," he said. "Please remain."

While all of them initially stopped, the others and the princess left quickly thereafter. There was even a hint in his false sister's eyes that flashed for a second and spoke that perhaps she knew what was about to come. Even as she was led away.

Sahkar Mon persisted and remained silently at attention.

The prince allowed him to remain in that state while he returned to watching the ceremony before giving his next orders. "You know what to do with her," he addressed the captain.

"You wish the princess to be eliminated?" Sahkar Mon asked the clarifying question.

"My request should be clear with no further explanation."

"By your command." Sahkar Mon bowed, picked himself up, and left. Leaving Sahl and the prince as the only remaining souls within the royal box.

Something about the way his Chief Alchemist's breath hitched in his throat told the prince all he needed to know. "You don't like what I have ordered to be done?"

Sahl cleared his throat. "I don't believe such is my place to speak on your orders, my prince."

"Come now, don't play coy."

"It's not coyness, my prince. It's merely protocol to not voice opinions unless he who sits upon the Throne of Ison specifically requests it."

The prince bowed his head and shook it with more than just a hint of disappointment. "Kaden used to not worry about offending me so easily." There was clear remorse as he spoke.

"I am not Kaden," Sahl reminded him.

"No, that much is clear." More watching of the peasants groveling at the stone ensued. "Tell me what you think," he ordered.

"If I am speaking freely, then? It is cruel to punish her for Kaden's transgressions. I understand she is a slave pretending to be the princess, and not actually your sister. But she served you as you requested."

The prince smiled, detecting a deeper reason. "Is your objection based on your fear that I might do the same to you one day?"

"I don't—don't know what you mean."

"That even if you serve me loyally, someday I might have you snuffed out like a candle as well?"

Sahl cleared his throat again and louder this time. "I should hope you would not. But you are the Prince of Ison, heir apparent to the High Throne of Imeron. And compared to that, I am but a nobody. I could take a piss without your permission, and you could chop my head off."

"A bit extreme of an example," the prince said. "I don't believe I've ever ordered anyone's head lifted from their body for such a trivial thing."

"I apologize, my prince. Just trying to make a point."

"Eliminating her," the prince explained, "ties off the final loose end of this whole sordid saga I have found myself wrapped up in."

"We live in a cruel world," Sahl said somberly. "One where difficult decisions must be made by brave men."

"You don't know the half of it," the prince said. "The horrors that lay below Ison and beyond our walls. Perhaps I should take you into the Abyss some day just to show you?"

Sahl held up his hands in protest. "No. No, my prince. You certainly don't need to do that. I've heard plenty of stories of Koronai. And I've seen the men barely alive who've been dragged out of the Abyss first hand."

The prince sighed. Then he stared at the stone on the arena floor harder. "Kaden was not so weak or naive as you. I mean, at one time he was. But he grew into a warrior who understood most of what we had to do."

"You regret casting him out to be devoured by the Black Rohs?"

"Sometimes." The prince's admission was deadpan. "But on many levels, he was a liability. And liabilities are something I cannot afford to surround myself with." He looked to Sahl with a stone cold stare.

Sahl took a step back as though he were pushed. "I do not ever want to be a liability to you, my prince."

"Then make sure you aren't. Am I clear?"

"Yes, my prince." Sahl bowed to emphasize his sincerity.

"Good. Now go. Find out what Touran is up to and make sure he is on schedule. Or I'll hold you accountable."

Sahl didn't waste a moment. He hurriedly took his leave.

Alone, the prince was left to stare once more at the monument to Kaden, his former Karo Shar and the adoring throngs still coming to pay homage. Once this absurdity was over, he'd have it moved to the lower ring. That way, he wouldn't have to deal with the mob that would continue to come to it and seek a blessing that was not there to be had.

Probably within the year it would be chipped down to almost nothing as believers sought trinkets from the stone.

He would need a new Karo Shar, however. And he'd need one soon. He'd never be able to ascend to the High Throne without one. The problem, however, was there was a distinct lack of suitable candidates. Fine warriors were plentiful. But none that would be satisfy this sole and pressing need.