Only his snout had not been touched, still wearing the happy smile he had died with.
“Grampa Valtak!” The illusion was so perfect that for a moment Aran believed it.
“Grampa Valtak, wake up!” He ran to the colossal Elder Wyrm, believing it had all been a cruel prank and that Valtak was having a pleasant dream.
“Grampa Valtak?” Aran stopped after a few steps, feeling something was wrong.
The Fire Dragon was too still. His nostrils didn’t move and his chest didn’t heave. The final straw that broke the illusion was the cold air surrounding the Wyrm. Valtak’s inner fire was warm and kind, just like him.
Every time Aran was around the Father of Fire, it was like being wrapped in a hug yet now there was nothing.
“Grandpa?” Aran started to sniffle, touching one of the massive fingers and feeling it devoid of life.
The Dragon was no more, only a thing remained in front of the young boy.
Aran’s sobbing quickly turned into ugly crying. Leria fared no better, but while her uncle clung to Valtak’s finger, she hugged Kamila’s leg and refused to let go.
Lith turned around, ready to glare into silence any who dared mock the children for their naivety. Much to his surprise, none commented. There was no scoff, furrowed brow, nor so much as a smirk.
The Wyrms behind them looked down in silence, some with misted eyes.
If admiration toward a fellow Wyrm’s treasure was the highest form of praise, openly grieving his loss was considered the highest form of love and as such it was highly respected, no matter whom it came from.
Lith ignored the Wyrms and reached his little brother, gently lifting him up from the ground and holding Aran to his chest.
“It’s alright, lil bro.” Lith said. “Valtak is at peace now. Nothing can hurt him.”
Aran and Leria kept crying for a while before they managed to calm down.
“What will happen to him?” Aran asked and Lith nodded at Erghak to respond.
‘If I’m the one explaining, I bet everyone will consider me a butcher who is already seizing the best cuts of meat. Fuck them and the Kinslayer title.’ He inwardly grumbled.
“Unlike humans, Dragons are not burned or buried after their death.” The Fire Wyrm said. “Our fangs and claws are great to make weapons while our scales and bones can be used to forge sturdy armor.
“Our lungs which wield Origin Flames are great for generating powerful fire-based enchantments while our hearts are the place where we weave our spells during our lives. It makes them great amplifiers and almost universal ingredients.
“And don’t get me started about our eyes. Nothing of a Dragon gets thrown away, a bit like…” He turned toward the crowd of Wyrms behind them, nodding in apology and receiving their approval. “Like you humans do with your pigs.”
The comparison was far from noble but with children clarity was more important than pointless pomp.
“I see.” Aran nodded.
“But then what are you going to bury?” Leria asked. “An empty casket? His pieces of art?”
“Nothing of the sort.” Erghak shook his head. “Valtak had many children and grandchildren and he explained to them what each painting and statue meant to him. His heirs want to keep the pieces of art as a memento.
“The Dragon funeral rite prescribes to select from the deceased’s trove the objects about which he cared the most or that embody his way of life the best. Some are powerful artifacts, others ingredients, and others are just symbolic.”
The Fire Dragon pointed at a few piles arranged near the Father of Fire’s corpse. There were a few paintings, small weapons, a piece of Valtak’s own egg, pieces of the eggs of his firstborns, and even elemental crystals with a unique hue.
“By the end of the ceremony, we’ll arrange them in a single pile and burn everything with our Origin Flames. Our fire will revive Valtak’s and the smoke will rise in the sky, reaching the sun.
“We’ll keep the ashes in an urn while the feelings Valtak attached to these things now freed from their vessels will follow him in the afterlife.”
“Can I get some ashes?” Aran asked.
“Of course. Erghak nodded. “Everyone attending the funeral can. But I must warn you, it will be just a bit, less than a handful. There’s many of us and only so much to burn.”
“Okay.” Aran asked Lith to put him down and then for a handkerchief.
His clothes were self-cleaning, but the same couldn’t be said for his face. Aran’s eyes were red and his mouth covered in slimy snot. He washed them both with conjured water that he kept floating in the air after using it, not to taint the floor.
“Where can I throw this away?” He asked to their host.
“Remarkable technique and sentiment.” Erghak and the crowd murmured in approval as the Fire Dragon stored everything in his dimensional amulet to dispose of it later. “Follow me, please. Let’s make room for the others.”
“Sorry for making you wait.” Leria gave the Wyrms a curtsy and then bolted back to her family.
No one felt like admiring the riches and artifacts any longer so Erghak led them on the west side of the cave to the refreshment area. Vast tables had been lined up against the walls, each carrying either food or drinks.
Much to Lith’s surprise, the food was home cooked for the occasion. Much to everyone’s surprise, there was a single serving of each kind of dish and goblet of liquor with a dimensional amulet right next to them.
“Those are just samples for display. You don’t eat those.” Erghak explained. “You take what you want from the amulet. Divine Beasts have to do things like this or there would never be enough space for both food and guests.”
Kamila opened with a honeyed tea to calm herself down, quickly followed by the kids. Lith went straight to the meat dishes, looking at the many Dragon brews with longing. He had promised Kamila he wouldn’t drink until the end of her pregnancy and he meant every word of it.
Solus was in a really bad mood and could use something sweet, but she was also hungry from all those emotions. Her nose led her to a delicious smelling soup with pieces of meat and vegetables floating in it.
“Excellent choice.” Said a middle-aged man in a livery. “The rainbow soup was one of Valtak’s favourite dishes.”
“Rainbow?” Solus asked.
“Correct.” The butler pointed at the various arch-shaped pieces of food that often stuck together, forming a multi-colored clump. “With all due respect, I suggest you to avoid the Garlen, Verendi, and Jiera sections.”
He then pointed at three tables at the far end of the buffet where many Dragons enjoyed their delicacies.
“Why? Is it because I’m a human?” She asked.
The rainbow soup was a dish from the Empire which was in Garlen, confusing Solus quite a bit.
“Yes.” The man nodded. “But not for the reason you think. The plates here contain recipes prepared by cooking what you regard as cattle. Those tables instead have dished prepared with… another kind of meat.”
