Code Orange: A Life of LOYALTY

Stage/Turn 1: Gottwald's in Grieving

a.t.b. 2000

Jeremiah Gottwald's knees finally buckled under the weight of his sorrow.

Throughout the formal procession he had stood steadfast, desperately strangling his emotions, forcing a façade of strength as (His Majesty the First Prince, Jeremiah recalled, his teenaged youth offsetting the prestige of his title) Odysseus eu Britannia delivered their eulogy.

As a warm liquid stung into the corners of his eyes he reprimanded himself inwardly; his parents had been strong and noble warriors, standing amongst the finest soldiers of the glorious Britannian Empire-the mighty Knights of the Round-…and yet he was grieving.

They had bequeathed to him the honourable ideals of loyalty to a worthy master, the willingness to die in duty to one you had convicted yourself to serve, their deaths had been met in just such a heroic manner…and yet he was grieving.

Prior to the ceremony the First Prince himself had offered his humble gratitude to Jeremiah (stricken by the courtesy he was paid by a man of such superior status), assuring him that had it not been for his parents' sacrifice he (Britannia's heir apparent) would no longer be alive.

Now said Prince was (to the best of his abilities, that is, his age apparently not the only contrast to his rank) lauding lofty praise upon his father and mother, their duty to their masters having been very much fulfilled…and yet none of these facts satisfied his grief that they had been lost.

When the funeral came to a close the crowd saluted the coffins as they were entombed in the house of Gottwald's rather modest crypt within the vast military graveyard that sprawled sickeningly through a large section of the Imperial Capital Pendragon (a testament to the many great losses suffered by Britannia in its vast, blood-soaked history).

The vast audience present but a moment previously poured forth from the site near instantaneously as Prince Odysseus concluded their dirge, the spark of anger that so many Britannian's would not remain to pay further respect to such outstanding individuals proved the final blow to Jeremiah's resolve as he fell to his knees before their crypt-front tombstones.

Tears burst relentlessly from his face as the sorrow of their loss was hastily muddled by his own sense of frustration and worthlessness; he could not bring himself to acknowledge their deeds over his sadness and now he was prostrating his inability to properly process their sacrifice before everyone in the vicinity.

A condescending chuckle of a laugh broke out followed by words, "You act as if you are worthless, Jeremiah!", a soft yet alarmingly strong voice spat from over his shoulder, "Your actions are a disgrace to the Gottwald family, do you want to fail our parents after they've died to uphold our name!".

At the sound of her bitter words Jeremiah managed to wrench the reigns of his emotions back into hand, "No, I'd never fail them, a Gottwald never fails!", he croaked out while roughly swiping tears aside and pushing his quivering body back to its feet where his younger sister Lilicia awaited him with her short, frail frame offset by the stern expression adorning her face; cast into shadow by the mourning headwear atop her turquoise locks of hair.

"Correct, our mother and father left their name to us, if you cannot accept it then I will…as Gottwald's, I will not let you be so pathetic", a crack of repressed emotion jutted abruptly into Lilicia's speech and Jeremiah found some solace in knowing that his eloquent, refined, strong-willed sibling felt the same pain as he.

It seemed Lilicia had always been the one to take care of him in their parents' absence (which was often significant due to their deployments to battle) due to her serious, learned nature and her mention of their role in being the sole bearers of the name Gottwald had incited a sense of duty in him which dispersed most of his hysteria.

He was Jeremiah Gottwald and, despite being of but eleven years, he now needed to prove his loyalty to his name.