Maestor Jamon spent the next fortnight forgetting himself in drink and gambling. It was easy for others to underestimate the blind Maestor, but he found it helped him forget the heartache. By the time he made his way back to the kingdom, the King had thought he had laid Belamica to rest in her hero’s tomb. He sneered at the thought, Bela hated being in the eye of everyone for her deeds she saw as her duty. She wouldn’t have rested in peace with everyone coming to boast over her tomb. Since so long had passed without a Maestor, the King had installed a new one. Jamon was welcomed back with open arms and worked alongside the new Maestor, Bartomius, for many years. 

The two grew close and worked under the light of the father to keep the kingdom safe. Nearing the end of his life, an illness took hold of Jamon, and upon his death bed he gave a confession that shocked his colleague. 

“And when he coughed, I knew his last breath would be soon. He wished me closer and as I moved in, the man grabbed hold of my robe, and pulled me close. Where his strength came from, I know not, but his blind eyes seemed to see me suddenly. He spoke of his love, a maiden of the light who had died a noble death. He had never told her of his feelings, and he always wished she had known how much he loved her. It seemed the woman he speaks of is the elf maiden whom we celebrate for in the Spring. He spoke of how she was one of a kind, and the king held her as his personal champion. A renowned Paladin she was privileged with training at the Court of the Father where the Relics of Light are held. She took the highest honor in battle. All of these things he told me with his last breath. I didn’t understand why he was telling me all this, until he coughed and his chest shook. 

Then he told me of what he had done, I almost couldn’t believe it. He had absconded with the maiden’s remains to lay her to rest in a place she admired, away from those who would idolize her. It was the most peculiar thing I had ever heard. He’d placed bones from the catacombs under her shroud to keep others from knowing. If the man hadn’t trusted me, he would have taken the secret to his grave.”

The words were scribbled and within a cracked leather tome, other passages detailing the rise and fall of the king and his men.