Reeve

Admiral Dorian Haddock stood beneath swollen, sickly tinted clouds that roiled around in a putrid sky. The wind rustled through the thick white fur of his neck, causing it to ripple in waves much like the tall grasses surrounding the manicured flight field. The rapidly, chaotically moving air brought with it the familiar smell of damp earth and fragrant vegetation. Dark fabric wrinkled and scrunched around his fingers as he laid a hand against the deceptively cold, hard surface. It was a show piece only. His pointed ears dropped flat against his head as he pressed his admiral’s cap further into his chest with his other hand, fingers beginning to ball into a fist around the stiff material. A line of six uniformed soldiers stood, unseen to the Admiral’s eyes, behind the flag-draped casket, each one holding a long rifle tight against their sides. Two flag bearers accompanied them, one on either side of the line, likewise holding their poles tight against them, disallowing the fabric to move freely with the growing wind. Stoic faces stared out towards the gathered audience, somber eyes trying in vain not to betray the loss each of them felt as they attempted to appear emotionless in holding their positions. The big malamute closed his eyes, head bowed, and let out a heavy, defeated sigh. After a moment, he replaced his cap hat between his ears, and turned to walk over to the awaiting podium, heavy boots like thunder against the stage floor amidst the wind strewn silence.

Haddock’s head remained bowed as he stood with his hands on either side of the dark wood. He idly watched several small petals blow away from the fragrant floral wreath affixed to the podium’s front as he attempted to gather his thoughts. He raised his eyes and searched the crowd in front of him, pausing briefly on familiar faces sitting in the first row. Friends, family, and loved ones of those who’d given their lives to the gods. When he came to the pair of huskies, their hands intertwined with one another, it was all he could do to tear his gaze away without conveying the shame he felt beginning to gnaw at him from within. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

“It’s always hard,” Haddock began, his deep voice cutting through the wind, “Losing one of our own. Losing thirty-two, is harder still.” He cracked the tiniest of smirks and shifted his gaze down to the blank podium in front of him. “Thirty-three, if we count Percival.” The audience couldn’t help but allow a quiet chuckle. He addressed them again, the smirk slowly growing across his proud muzzle. “And we must count Percival, of course. There would be no peace if we overlooked him.” Several in the audience exchanged knowing looks and small smiles. “He always did love that bird,” Haddock mused fondly.

“We gather here today to honor those thirty-three fallen men and women. Each and every one of them played a crucial role in His Majesty’s Royal Navy. The crew of the R.N.S. Gryphon was much more than your average cargo delivery ship. So much more in fact, that I cannot even in death disclose the true purpose of the ship, its crew, and their captain. Know simply that their missions and their actions, however disguised, were crucial in maintaining the safety of Tyrnea, and her citizens. I can however, say this.

“Captain James Alexander Bennett. Ben, to his family and friends. Quite possibly the most brilliant pilot I’ve ever had the honor of meeting. All those years ago, he took his entrance exam on this very field, using this very drone,” Haddock turned slightly, extending his left hand out to draw attention to the old flight drone stationed next to the stage. Cleaned up, dragged from the hangers, and decorated with flowers and long trails of black ribbons, it stood as a tribute. “The day of the entrance exam, I assumed it would turn out like all the others; a handful of young, over eager pilots trying to dazzle the proctors. Most pull off mediocre scores and runs, go on to fine tune their knowledge and abilities, and become stellar members of the Royal Navy. Some, unfortunately, fail miserably, and are sent home with the notion to improve themselves, and try again next year. But it’s a rare thing when a young man or woman walks through our doors and passes the written exam flawlessly. When that same young man or woman steps onto the flight field, and proceeds to bewilder everyone present, it’s unheard of.