The state funeral for Maren Thornwick-Ashvane was the largest, most somber gathering in Ashenveil's long and bloody history.
Despite the biting, freezing temperatures of deep winter, tens of thousands of citizens packed the grand plaza outside the Crucible's primary cathedral. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder, a massive, silent ocean of humanity bundled in thick wool coats and heavy scarves. The air was thick with the sharp, resinous scent of burning incense and the low, continuous, thrumming hum of mass prayer echoing from the clergy.
