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[Lady LaBelle]

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He had not made it through the nights end. His breaths shallow and many, graduating to few. LaBelle nestled into the straw bedding next to her beloved familiar in his last hours. The stable boy looked in on the lady often. She could only shake her head silently at his inquiries to her needs. With her arm pressed gently into Sailongs flank, LaBelle set until his breaths were none. The stripling knelt at her side a time without word, then, "What are Milady's wishes for the remains of her steed?" he asked solemnly. After several moments of silence her reply came, "Cremation...that his soul might not linger with his form." LaBelle slid to her knees and bent over the breathless creature. Her hand stroked his muzzle, and she rest her cheek upon his, moments. Ignoring the straw clinging to her woolen garments, she stood. Tears bided their time to the rim of her eyes. As she reached the wooden gate, the stripling called out, " My Lady!" LaBelle glanced over her shoulder, "What of the ashes?" he implored. She returned, "Off the Cape of Heroes, boy. Thank you, for everything."

She had not bathed nor changed garments since the Regency Assembly. As the paladin woman arrived home she was grateful the task of hygiene. It was distracting. Continuing to her suites within the Hall of Paladins, she sought more distraction and so bent herself to the task of scripting leaflets as requested by her sister paladin. Sometime into the afternoon had there been someone to look in upon her, they would have found her slumped at her writing desk, pen in hand, tearstain upon her cheek, fast asleep.