Six Sentence Sunday: The Duke’s Funeral

So Varranor found himself dressed in smothering ceremonial robes in the midst of a procession through the winding streets of Kyratia. He kept one hand on Korinna’s arm, just under her elbow, for fear of losing her in the crowd. Around them were all of the most prominent officials, merchants, and guild members in their finest robes, making sure that they could be seen honoring the late duke. Musicians wailed in discordant cacophony from every direction.

The early summer sun beat down on the whole procession, and in their heavy robes, everyone was sweating. The place stunk like a gymnasium during the Games.


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