In came the King, carrying the front half of Octavian's body upon his shoulders. Blood had long since spilled and dried on his frame, furthering the gore of the scene. They were so near, so near the range he could smell it. "Only a bit further, Loccian." The croplands were near, he could see them on the horizon. The King focused upon lining up his paces with the Contessa's, determined to keep the fallen esquire securely on their backs. He would not drop him now, not this close to home, not after they'd come this far. Every step was labored, as was his breathing, whilst the King marched beside Loccian. When they reached the borderline, Gerhardt marched on a bit further to find a suitable place. The croplands would be the best option, as the soil there was always moist and would be easy to dig a grave in. It was all so morbid. They neared a spot the King felt would be suitable for the esquire, and he began to slow his pace. "We'll stop here, if that's alright?" Of course if Loccian preferred the burial to be somewhere else, the King would oblige her as best he could - though quite honestly he wasn't sure how much farther he could carry the esquire, even with her help. With Octavian still on his back, the King lifted his muzzle to the sky, letting out a long, mournful cry for his subjects. It wasn't demanding in nature by any means, though he did wish that at least some of them would come and bid their goodbyes. "speeeeech"

She had been silent since leaving those caverns in the North, storm grey eyes focused on the ground before her, not focusing on anything except for what was in front of her so she wouldn't trip and spill Octavian's body onto the ground. Even though she was small, she tried her best to help Gerhardt carry her dead brother's body, holding her shoulders high and trying to walk and smooth as possible over the terrain. Her fur was splotched with his blood that had now dried, on cheeks, neck, chest and side. And now it splotched her back from carrying him, she didn't mind though since she was moving his body to a place for a proper burial. Only a bit further, Loccian. Though it seemed like she was not listening, for she just continued walking, Loccian took in what he had told her. Legs were sore but she did not stop, couldn't stop. Her breathing was heavy, head bobbing up and down with each step, tail flicking behind her as they finally passed the borders and worked their way towards the croplands. At last Gerhardt had slowed his pace, his voice reaching her delicate ears. We'll stop here, if that's alright? For the first time since beginning of their track, Loccian slowly lifted her head, dull storm grey orbs looking to him, almost dead-like. Lips pressed together, forming words but her voice just didn't have it, nothing came out. She closed her yes instead, turning away from him and giving a simple nod of her head. This would due, it would be the best place for Octavian's burial. He lifted his head to the sky and gave a howl, summoning Seracians, if they would like to, to come and say their goodbyes to a fallen soldier, to a loving brother. Legs trembled during his call, her throat tightening and her stomach twisting and turning. She clenched her jaws, lowering the front half of her body to carefully let Octavian slide off her back with Gerhardt's help. "normal. talk. think. you."

Ghost would move, all four limbs gliding across the Seracian terrain. No emotion would glitter upon the dames face. The phantom had become her namesake, a seemingly emotionless being, save when she was with her pups and when she was alone with Segar. The call would breech her swiveling audits. The death. The death of Octavian. Her stride would falter, the perfect, effortless gait stuttering before resuming its flawless movements. Her direction would alter, her bodice carrying her in a new line. A swell of something sad would crack through her gut, but it would vanish just as quickly. Guilt and sadness held no place in the minds of the damned. However that did not mean she was heartless.

It was difficult for her lips not to curl back in ire at the sight of the king, but she managed. She hated him, but for Segar's sake and her pups she would attempt to reach some kind of medium. Her expression remaining meticulously blank and utterly stoic, she would dip her head to the woman and the king, silvery eyes drifting over the gathered group and ending on Octavian's corpse as she offered her silent condolences. Her jaws would not part and she would not speak. She didn't feel guilty, she didn't feel much of anything at all, sorrow, perhaps, for the loss of a friend, but ever since she had chosen Segar the male had made himself utterly scarce in her life. She hadn't seen him in many a moon.

She would recline to her haunches, tail coiling heedlessly around her flank before lying still. her eyes never left the warriors corpse.

Speech!