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In the imperial capital of Lyon, the low, mournful sound of horns echoed for three full days.
Citizens poured into the streets of their own accord, grieving the passing of the Empire's greatest hero.
The life of the Silvermoon Knight was known to all. Countless youths could recite his victories as if they were their own memories.
For a hundred years, he had stood as Lyon's guardian, a figure worthy of reverence.
This grand and solemn funeral was no more than what such a hero deserved.
The Silvermoon Knight's coffin entered through the gates of the capital, borne by ten legendary paladins. They carried it all the way to the grand plaza before the imperial palace. The silvery-white drapes that once adorned the palace walls had been replaced with black. Before the coffin stood the young Emperor of Lyon, delivering a eulogy in a voice heavy with grief.
Sorrow filled the air. No one knew when it began, nor who started it, but the sound of weeping...
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