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[h3]⛼ O7 - Outskirts of Oratorio ⛼[/h3][/center]
“Returning people to nature,” snorted one of the followers, shaking their head slowly, sadly as they spoke in a quieter tone that was lost to the collectors in the din of their cart. “People aren’t beasts. If they were, we’d not be troubled by these worries.”

The gravekeep couldn’t help but agree, his mouth tight as he wryly looked on at the corpse-collectors’ works. To the men in the cart, what they were doing wasn’t ever exactly wrong. They had a problem, corpses in the streets of the countless dead from the city, and they had their solution. Those they took up were never asked about again, no not at all, and in fact were likely not even seen anymore as people. They were cargo, to be shifted about without remorse for the problem which had put them there to die, and in fact such collectors likely did not even have the remorse. After all, what were small men to do, to alter the city such that people would not die so? He couldn’t help but feel regret, though, towards the corpse-collectors. They had a problem, they had a solution, and they were not enlightened to the problems which such a solution would cause.

Lethe could already imagine their arguments in response. The nameless dead died so for a reason, forgotten because they had already become meaningless in life, and so there was nothing left to profit from remembering their names and how they died. He could already see the wonderment in them at the merest hint of a suggestion that burial was better, for there would be no one to mourn at the graves even if they had the time to do so. The base desire for burial and remembrance was never laid as a foundation in such men. What arguments could he present that might move men so?

Would the nameless dead even have anything upon them that might render a service back to a gravekeep merely by its existence? Would they have jewelry that might be sold to fund such efforts? Would they have clothing which might be sold? He doubted it. They were the nameless dead for a reason, lost in the streets for a reason, and likely anything that might have been sold would have already been sold. Likely those who could afford burial would already have their attendants, their gravesites, and turn their noses up at the likes of he and his. The gravekeep let out a long, dejected sigh at the prospects which lay before him.

“The task is a holy one, collector. People are people, and their passings should be written so those who come after know. There will always be work. The center, maybe?”