The bells tolled over Village AD18, low and solemn, carrying across the hills. The crowd gathered around the chapel, their muted voices folding into the summer air.
"Of all the places we've been dragged to," Somner muttered, fanning himself with the funeral pamphlet, "this one has the worst hors d'oeuvres. Not even a slice of cheese. Funerals should at least have cheese."
"Somner." Hermes' voice was sharp.
"What?" Somner threw his hands up. "Don't glare at me, Master. People grieve in different ways. I happen to grieve with snacks."
"You grieve with snacks on good days too," Ymir cut in, folding his arms. His frosty gaze swept over the chapel entrance. "Behave."
"Oh look," Somner sighed. "Ice prince plays funeral cop."
