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A layer of snow has formed on the withered branch. The Rift Cloudbeast climbs to its tip, squinting in an impression of scouting.

The Saintess sighs, turning around to look behind her. The huntress following her pauses, her face slightly red from the wind.

Joanna... you don't need to follow me.

I'm very grateful for all that you've done.

As I told you, though, the Pilgrimage must be completed alone. Strictly speaking, I shouldn't even be talking to you.

I know.

I'm not following you. I'm not your guard or your servant. I just happen to be traveling in the same direction.

Don't worry, I won't talk to you. If anyone sees us, I'll pretend I don't know you.

I won't let danger strike you again. I'll just follow behind.

Do you know where I'm going?

Wherever you're going, I'm going. That's all I need to know.

But... I'm looking for Kjeragandr.

What?

Looking for Her... did She disappear?

I don't know. But disaster will strike Kjerag again if She doesn't return.

People will lose their lives, and even more will lose their faith...

I must return to the Vine-Bead Court and consult the tomes. The others must not know, for now.

Then I'll follow you. Don't worry, if anyone's on your tail, I'll chase them away for you—

Purr—

I think the Rift Cloudbeast just saw something.

In the direction that the Rift Cloudbeast is looking, the trail to the Vine-Bead Court is filled with people dressed in solemn colors.

Looks like... someone very important just passed away.

Who could it be?

Enya shakes her head. She cannot help but feel a shiver down her spine, thick though her clothes are.

Are you alright, Enya?

We'll go slowly, around the crowd.

Dark clouds hang low, almost touching the temple's eaves. It is a cold day even by Kjerag standards, and the north wind seems to penetrate the eyes and spines of the mourners.

Family members and clerics gather in the courtyard with heads bowed. The people of the Browntail domain have gathered outside, to honor and grieve their matriarch, who protected Kjerag with her life.

Snow falls upon the black umbrellas. One of the Browntail nobles gives the one in his hand a little shake, and sighs as the snow pours down.

So, the matriarch's body...

They never found it. The fire was too big. They turned over every inch of whatever was left, but found nothing.

I heard they had to put her usual attire in the coffin, along with some ashes gathered from the scene. Nothing more.

How sad... to think that one as bright as the matriarch would—

M-Madam Sciurus.

...I apologize. I spoke out of turn.

Sciurus does not answer. She walks to the center of the courtyard, waiting for her sister, who had been by her side for long as she could remember.

Chimes tremble to the melody of the flutes. The clerics put their hands together and chant Kjeragandr's hymn, and the people place their hands upon their hearts in prayer to the song—

Kjeragandr have mercy, take her with you.

Six members of Clan Browntail's main branch carry a heavy nanmu wood coffin up the muddy road, Yucatan at the head of the procession.

They carefully lay the coffin down on a table, in front of the new Browntail matriarch.

Yucatan walks to his wife, the grief on his face contrasting with Sciurus's calm expression.

Yucatan...

Rus, I...

Thank you.

The hymn draws to a close. All is quiet and all eyes fall on Sciurus.

For the first time, she understands the mask that Ratatos was forced to wear, the weight of responsibility, which crushes those unworthy of it.

Thank you for being here, to honor the memory of Ratatos Browntail.

She was my sister, staunch guardian of Clan Browntail, and faithful child of Kjeragandr...

Her wisdom gave her courage. She told me that she would protect me and everything here... and she always believed in a better tomorrow for Kjerag, even in the most troubling times.

All her life, she carried out the task that our grandfather entrusted to her, giving everything to Clan Browntail, even in her final moments.

I have lost someone very dear to me. It is only today that I realize the weight of the burden that she carried, but I will never have the chance to tell her.

I know you will remember her face, her voice, her sacrifice, and her deep love... for Kjerag, for Clan Browntail, and for her family.

And you will remember, as I do, who took her from us, leaving behind wounds that can never fully heal.

'A life so short and bright as dawn, shall walk with Her in eternity'...

By Kjeragandr.

'By Kjeragandr,' answer the crowd, following Sciurus' lead as they kneel and pay respect to the departed.

Even in times like these, when all is swept up in calamity, Kjeragandr will continue to bring peace and tranquility to the people of Kjerag...

Two figures emerge from the crowd as those in attendance stand back up. It is Arctosz and Matterhorn, approaching the coffin with white flowers in hand.

My condolences, Sciurus...

Ratatos died because of me. I'll never forget it.

Thank you, Arctosz.

This is a painful lesson to both our clans, to recognize who our true enemies are.

I...

Matriarch Sciurus...

Sir Enciodes expresses his regret for not being able to attend the funeral, and sends his apologies and condolences. He will pay a visit to Browntail Manor personally, when the time is right. Please take care, Matriarch Sciurus.

He's so busy he can't even come to the funeral?

Thank you. I understand. Clan Browntail recognizes the work that Enciodes has done for Kjerag.

Let us continue the ceremony. I believe we have matters to discuss.

The crowd departs. The empty coffin is buried on Browntail land, next to the grandfather who loved her so dearly.

With lips pressed together, Sciurus looks to the two men before her. Both look slightly angry.

I'm simply reiterating the decision of the last Tri-Clan Council, Sir Arctosz: All external affairs shall be handled by Sir Enciodes and Clan Silverash, including matters associated with Victoria.

Is this why you had the nerve to demand the Victorian spies?

The murder of the Browntail Matriarch is no small affair. I won't allow the Silverashes to interrogate them on your own.

Master Matterhorn, it was the Matriarch of Clan Browntail who was assassinated. I believe Clan Browntail should have full authority on this matter.

Is Enciodes not pleased with this arrangement?

Of course not. However, it is a matter of principle to defer to the tradition of the Tri-Clan Council. There is formal and rational justification for allowing Clan Silverash to handle the spies.

We've deferred to Silverash enough already, Matterhorn.

You people have given us nothing but excuses when it comes to negotiating with the Victorians, and now these people have conducted terror attacks in broad daylight.

How about we invite Enciodes to explain his attitude towards the Victorians and what he's planning to Sciurus's face, and then we can talk about the spies.

Kindly refrain from baseless speculation, Sir Arctosz. I have already shown considerable restraint.

You and Matriarch Ratatos were not the only ones to be attacked. Lady Ensia also narrowly escaped with her life. I would like nothing more than to get my hands on the assassins personally.

Well, if that's true, then this will be easy enough.

We'll put the Victorians on trial in front of all Kjerag, and then we let Clan Browntail have their way with them.

Let all Terra know that Kjerag shows no mercy to our enemies.

Too reckless!

We already interrogated them. They were awfully tight-lipped. I doubt a public trial would achieve anything.

Instead, I'm worried they may see that as an opportunity to get a rise out of the people. It's not a risk we can take, with all the unrest in Kjerag right now.

If they have the guts to do so, just cut their tongues out.

We should have dragged them out and spilled their blood for Ratatos at the funeral!

Arctosz... no one wants vengeance for my sister more than I do. But we can't get carried away while there is still the hope of actually coaxing some information from them.

Matriarch Sciurus is right. This is a matter for—

Please excuse the interruption. A cleric from the Vine-Bead Court has something to discuss.

The last envoy from Vine-Bead Court almost got Arctosz and Ensia killed.

How do I know you are who you say you are?

There is no need to be concerned. Sir Arctosz knows me.

He's right, this is Father Frey from the Vine-Bead Court.

Alright then. What is it you want to say, Father?

I am here for the Victorian spies.

The position of the Vine-Bead Court is that this is an extremely delicate issue. There will be considerable criticism and unrest, no matter which of the three clans takes charge.

Therefore, the spies should be placed in the custody of the Court. We shall arrange interrogations, of which you will be informed and in which you'll have the opportunity to participate.