Chapter 937 — Obituary

"...Lady Milmina was a guide and protector worthy of all respect. Through the long ages of human civilization, She diligently bore and fulfilled Her divine office and divine duties. She guided us through the darkness and barbarism of civilization's early days; She protected fragile mortals through the long night of civilization's dawn...

"...The life of Lady Milmina was a radiant life, a life of loving kindness, a great life, and a life filled with battle. She was both a teacher and a warrior who led mortal civilization to cut through thorns and brambles. Her courage in struggle..."

The black characters on the paper burned into Morgan Hugo's eyes. For a time the old mage lost entirely his usual keen thought and proper bearing; he did not know what expression he ought to wear, nor even what he ought to be thinking—like the vast majority of mortals, he had never imagined that one day he would face the fall of a god, still less that news of a god's fall would be presented to him in this form. The sheer absurdity of the matter exceeded the bounds of human understanding, so much so that for a moment the old mage did not even realize that this "obituary" was itself profoundly strange.

Bang—the door of the room was thrown open. Morgan Hugo raised his head in a daze and saw another high-ranking mage in robes standing there—the second-in-command of the Paramel Observatory, a trusted friend he had pestered and coaxed away from the Saint Sunil Astrological Society. And now this white-haired mage stood there wide-eyed, dazed and aghast, like a man waking from a nightmare.

"Morgan!" the mage at the door finally cried out. "Heavens, have you seen the message broadcast over the magical net today?!"

"I've seen it... I even have a printed copy here; the device printed it on its own..." Morgan pointed dully at the paper on the desk. "Benjamin, are we dreaming? The Goddess of Magic, She... has fallen?!"

"Goddess of Magic..." The archmage called Benjamin drew a sharp breath, then strode quickly to Morgan's desk. He saw the printout still giving off a faint smell of ink, and his face became a mixture of several expressions at once. "...A minute ago I also thought I was dreaming, but... damn it... Morgan, we..."

He reached out and snatched up the printout. After muttering to himself for a few seconds, he managed to piece his words together again: "Morgan, is this credible? Is this news credible?"

"It came from the imperial capital, bearing His Imperial Majesty's signature and seal, as well as the marks of the three chief consuls..." Morgan Hugo finally roused himself somewhat from his daze. He looked at the printout in Benjamin's hand with a complicated expression. "At least the document itself is absolutely genuine, and as for the news upon it..."

Benjamin shook his head. "I haven't received any response from the Goddess of Magic for many days now. I rarely prayed before, it's true, but at least I can tell what the Goddess's response feels like."

Morgan opened his mouth, but the words he had meant to say would not come out. He looked at the printout again, at the earnest and moving words of mourning upon it, and at last a strange feeling stirred in the depths of his heart. "This is a eulogy written by humans for a god... Benjamin, I keep feeling it's odd—mourning a god... can you imagine it? Mourning a god..."

"But how else could words of mourning be written?" Benjamin raised his eyes and lifted the paper in his hand with a bitter smile. "How would you have His Imperial Majesty write it? He has already exhausted every word of grief and praise..."

Yes—a letter of mourning written by humans to a god was indeed extraordinarily strange, so strange that it seemed it ought never to have appeared in this world at all. Yet as Benjamin said—if not written this way, how else could it be written?

If a god had truly fallen, then humans could only mourn in this way, Morgan thought. He felt that the reason these eulogies seemed odd to him was simply that... in his limited lifetime, he had never yet witnessed the fall of a god.

Now, he might truly be about to witness one.

On the printout in Benjamin's hand, the closing words were clear and sharp: "...We mourn with profound grief Lady Milmina, Goddess of Magic, and lament Her fall. A god so diligent and devoted deserves the remembrance of all mortals—at least of all humankind. To express our mourning and remembrance of the Goddess of Magic Milmina, after joint deliberation and decision by Emperor Gao Yang Cecil, the Empire's Supreme Administrative Hall, and the Empire's Theological Administration, a 'Divine Funeral' and commemorative ceremony shall be held on the 45th day of this month. On that day, sirens, alarm bells, and horns shall sound throughout the nation, and the Imperial Dragoons shall conduct a grand send-off ceremony...

"His Imperial Majesty hereby calls upon all spellcasters throughout the nation to observe a moment of silence on that day, to express our grief..."

Morgan Hugo closed his eyes. Though he was not a devout believer in the Goddess of Magic—or rather, almost no one was a devout believer in the Goddess of Magic—the heartfelt words of this eulogy still struck deep into his heart. He seemed to feel the sorrow with which His Imperial Majesty had written these words, and was deeply moved by the emotion conveyed through the text.

As for the odd turns of phrase in that eulogy, and the strangeness of the bulletin itself... at this moment they no longer seemed to matter much.

What else could be written? No one had ever been through anything like this...

...

"This news will spread across the whole country soon enough..."

Windsor Mabel sighed softly, her gaze sweeping over the original manuscript before her, her expression beyond description, neither sorrow nor joy.

Daniel sat across from her, the old mage's face as cold and faintly gloomy as ever: "In fact, it has already gone out across the country through the transmission tower network; only the newspapers and public notices at the far end will be delayed a little. But that hardly matters. The mages control the vast majority of communication resources—they will be the first to receive the news."

"Next... we must seriously prepare for the 'funeral,'" Windsor said with a nod. "This is our first joint operation with the Cecilians, and moreover a hasty collaboration with so little preparation time. His Majesty hopes we will give it our all and not make the slightest misstep in front of the Cecilians."

"Of course, none of us will fail His Majesty's expectations," a faint, barely perceptible smile seemed to appear at the corner of Daniel's mouth, though it vanished in an instant. "Then I shall take my leave first—the 'Transnational Funeral Committee' is waiting for me."

Windsor rose to see him off, watching the old mage leave the room and disappear into the depths of the corridor. Only then did she withdraw her gaze and murmur softly, as if to herself, or as if seeking proof once more: "Goddess of Magic..."

In the spiritual world there was no feedback at all; at the end of the prayer there was only emptiness.

In the end, Windsor received no response—the Goddess of Magic was, it seemed, truly dead.