Game Master in Another World

The next morning, the sound of someone cooking in the kitchen drew me from sleep. I left Illara resting in bed and walked out, half-expecting to see Theo standing by the hearth as he always did.

It took me a full minute to process why it was Joan standing there instead.

Theo was dead.

A fresh wave of sadness washed over me as the realisation settled in all over again.

“Good morning, Drisnil,” Joan said, her tone quiet and matter-of-fact. “I’m making breakfast. Want some?”

“Sure,” I replied softly. “Could you make enough for Illara, too?”

Joan nodded, filling the pot with water. “I’m grateful for your hospitality. I hope to repay it.”

“You didn’t have to make breakfast,” I said, leaning against the doorframe.

“The truth is, I was hungry,” Joan admitted, stirring the water as it began to heat. “And that lazy wizard isn’t getting up anytime soon.”

I managed a faint smile. “Thank you all the same.”

I watched as she added rolled oats to the boiling water.

“You fought well for an assassin,” Joan remarked casually.

The suddenness of the statement took me by surprise. “Uh… thanks.”

“The way you wore us down over several days was very clever,” she continued, keeping her eyes on the pot. “And you even managed to beat Percy in a duel. I was quite surprised.”

“I didn’t really have a choice, did I? You wouldn’t have left survivors.”

Joan looked at me seriously. “Percy claimed you were plotting to attack Ravencrest and overthrow the lord.”

“Ah. I wondered what he had said to get you to attack us so fervently.” I crossed my arms. “What were your plans for the children?”

“We were told there were no children there.”

The porridge began to bubble, thick and slow.

“Knowing Percy,” I said darkly, “he likely would have killed them in secret.”

Joan shook her head. “Percy wouldn’t have done that. He was a bit of a rogue, but not evil.”

I scoffed. “I’ve seen his evil side up close and personal. Believe me, killing children wasn’t something he’d shy away from if it meant saving his own skin.”

“I can’t believe that. He was good to us.”

“Well, I’m afraid what you believe doesn’t match the evidence we found,” I explained simply. “Evidence we planned to present at his and Barnabus’s trial.”

Joan frowned, her stirring slowing to a halt. “Trial? I thought the extra soldiers the lord ordered were sent to protect the town from you lot.”

“Seems like an awfully convenient story, doesn’t it?” I asked. “We found proof of his crimes. We were going to present it in a few days' time.”

Joan stared at me, the pieces clicking into place. Her expression darkened into genuine fury. “If Percy and Barnabus did that… I want them to see justice now. I hate being used. All my friends died for nothing!” she shouted.

The bedroom door creaked open. Faie wandered out, wrapped in nothing but a bedsheet, looking thoroughly rumpled.

“What’s got you so hot and bothered this morning, my muscle mama?” Faie drawled lazily.

Joan kept her eyes on me, her jaw tight. “Drisnil was just explaining how we were tricked.”

“No need to get all hot about it,” Faie murmured, stepping close and wrapping her arms around Joan’s waist from behind.

Joan let out a slow, frustrated breath, leaning slightly into the embrace as she returned to stirring the porridge, her anger slowly beginning to cool.

As Joan began to ladle out the porridge, Illara appeared in the doorway. The flash of sadness on her face when she saw Joan standing where Theo used to be was unmistakable. She sat down at the table with us in silence, but Faie was more than willing to make enough noise for all of us.

“So Joan, are you keen to hang out again soon?” Faie asked.

Joan simply nodded.

“Good. I was thinking when we get back to Ravencrest, I could show you my bath.”

Her comment about my bath raised my eyebrows a little, but Joan just nodded again.

“I was also thinking about you moving into my place,” Faie continued smoothly.

I had to intervene. “Where exactly do you sleep at ‘your’ place, Faie?”

“On the armchair,” Faie replied, entirely deadpan.

“And don’t you think Joan would require more than an armchair?”

“Well, obviously you would give up your bed,” Faie said with a straight face.

“I think not. The best we could offer is the floor in the living room.”

Sensing the brewing argument, Joan interjected. “Faie, you will live with me.”

A massive, triumphant smile spread across Faie’s face. “Awesome. I’ll move in when we get back to Ravencrest.”

I suspected this was exactly what she had been angling for all along.

After breakfast, we prepared for the funeral. It was a warm, sunny spring day—a bright, beautiful morning that felt entirely at odds with the heavy grief settling in our chests.

I held Illara’s hand as we walked to the graveyard. Villagers stared at me as we passed; some had fear in their eyes, while others looked on with open disgust. A few people even crossed the street quickly as we approached. I didn’t care. I was here to support Illara, and I wasn't going to hide.

We were some of the first to arrive. A freshly dug hole waited in the grass, Theo’s casket resting quietly beside it. Cain, Jenna, and their family were already standing at the graveside.

Jenna saw us approaching. “Illara, I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said softly. “In time, I hope you heal.”

Jenna, however, didn’t acknowledge my presence at all.

Cain stepped forward and offered his hand. “Thank you, Drisnil—or should I say, Geoff,” he said quietly. “For looking after Illara right now. She needs someone close to her in these moments.”

“Thanks, Cain,” I replied, shaking his hand. “I appreciate the support.”

Ash and Sera were the next to arrive; Ash looked as though he hadn’t slept at all.

“Hi Ash. I’m sorry for your loss,” I greeted him quietly.

Ash simply nodded. He wrapped his arms around Illara, tears welling in his eyes , while Sera hung back respectfully and watched them

After a minute, they released each other, and Ash took his place beside Illara. I kept hold of her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze to let her know I was still there.

As more villagers trickled into the graveyard, they treated me as if I were invisible, offering their condolences only to Ash and Illara. Eventually, it seemed the entire village had gathered to pay their respects—including our prisoners.

A hushed silence fell over the graveyard as Jenna stepped to the head of the open grave. She wore the white robes of the Solvarn temple, her hands clasped tightly together. As she looked over the gathered mourners, her eyes swept over Illara, then Ash, and then passed right through me. She didn't blink, didn't sneer, and didn't falter. To Jenna, and to the rest of the village, the space beside Illara was simply empty.

With a gentle, sorrowful smile directed solely at Theo's children, Jenna raised her face toward the morning sun, letting its light wash over her.

"Solvarn teaches us," Jenna began, her voice carrying clearly across the quiet crowd, "that a father's love is like the morning sun—constant, warm, and life-giving. By that measure, Theo’s life was a roaring fire."

Beside me, Illara let out a sharp, trembling breath. I squeezed her hand tighter, anchoring her in the only way I was allowed to right now.

"Theo was a man who lived entirely for his family," Jenna continued, her eyes glistening. "He was not a man who sought glory or wealth. Every swing of his axe in the woods, every log he placed on his hearth, was for Illara and Ash. His children were his absolute world, and he defended them with the fierce, unwavering light that Solvarn asks of us all."

Ash dropped his gaze to the grass, his shoulders shaking in silent, heavy sobs. Sera placed a gentle hand on his back, offering what quiet comfort she could.

"As we return his body to the earth today," Jenna said, her voice dropping to a tender, comforting register, "we do not say goodbye to his warmth. We take comfort in knowing that his light will forever live on in the two beautiful children he raised. May Solvarn welcome him into the eternal dawn, and may he finally know peace."

"May he know peace," the village echoed in a low, somber murmur.

Jenna stepped back from the grave, picking up a handful of loose, dark earth from the mound beside it. She tossed it gently over the casket. It landed on the wood with a hollow, final thud.

She looked to Illara and Ash, stepping aside to give them the space to say their own final goodbyes.

Illara stepped forward. I followed her, still holding her hand—a silent anchor to help her find the words she needed.

She stood at the edge of the grave, looking down at the casket. “My dad was always there for me when I needed him,” she began, her voice trembling. “He helped me when I fell, gave me guidance when I was lost, and comforted me when I was sad.”

She stopped to wipe a tear from her cheek. I released her hand and wrapped my arm securely around her shoulders.

“You’re doing well,” I whispered softly.

“Thanks,” Illara breathed, leaning into my side. She looked out over the crowd, her gaze sweeping past the villagers. “Recently, he even accepted Drisnil. He trusted my judgment about her without question. He saw how much she meant to me, and he supported me by letting her stay.”

Illara stopped for a moment to collect herself, taking a ragged breath.

“I’ve always looked up to him,” she continued, her voice thick with emotion. “His patience and kindness were unparalleled. He always had time for me... Thanks, Dad. I’ll miss you.”

The last words broke on a sob. I helped her step back from the edge, wrapping both arms around her as she buried her face in my chest. I rested my hand gently on the back of her head, holding her tight while she cried.

Next, Ash stepped up to the grave. His shoulders were heavy, his eyes red-rimmed and exhausted. From his pocket, he pulled out a small, intricately carved wooden horse. His thumb traced the smooth lines of the wood—a quiet, heartbreaking echo of their past together.

He knelt in the dirt and gently placed the little wooden horse on top of the casket. Ash didn't have the voice to deliver a eulogy, but as he pressed his hand flat against the wood of the coffin for one lingering second, his silent message was deafening. Thank you for carrying me.

Ash stood up, wiping his eyes, and returned to Sera's side.

As the morning went on, others from the village stepped forward to speak. The rest of the eulogies all focused on Theo’s love for his family and his unwavering commitment to them. Some even brought up funny memories, evoking a warm, gentle laughter that was sorely needed to help remember him in a happy light.

When the final stories had been told, a quiet settled over the graveyard once more.

Jenna stepped forward to the edge of the grave. She looked down at the casket, resting her hand over her heart as the grave diggers stepped up to the ropes, ready to lower Theo into the earth.

Jenna raised her hands toward the morning sky, her voice ringing out clear and steady.

"Solvarn, Lord of the Morning," she began, the villagers bowing their heads in unison. "Just as the sun must yield to the horizon to grant the world rest, so too must this man finally lay down his burdens."

The ropes groaned softly as the casket began its slow descent.

"Guide his spirit through the long night," Jenna prayed, her eyes tracing the wooden box as it settled into the dark earth. "Let no shadow touch him. And when your eternal dawn breaks, wake him in your golden halls."

"Wake him in your golden halls," the village murmured together.

Jenna stepped back, picking up a shovel from the grass. She scooped up a small amount of dirt and let it scatter over the wood below—the first of many. Quietly, she handed the shovel to Cain, and the slow, heavy work of filling the grave began.

I kept my arm wrapped tightly around Illara, letting her lean her weight against me as we watched the dark soil cover the casket. It was over. Theo was finally at rest.

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