The weather was unusually dreary that morning, adding to the already depressing mood of the kingdom. Thousands of people, from peasant, to noble had come from all over Albion to pay homage to their first and last hero ruler, and her virtuous reighn that had been so tragically cut short. As the rain poured down upon the bitter masses, ten soilders slowly hoisted and carried the large golden coffin down the steps of Castle Fairfax, and out into the courtyard. Wails began to rise as the coffin passed each of the people standing on either side of the garden. Logan and Victoria stood beside Walter and Jasper, the young prince, soon to be king stood firmly and though his insides were drowning in tears, not a single drop of them left his brave eyes. Victoria was not so strong. The four year old howled loudly at the loss of her mother, as Walter wrapped his giant arms around her, trying to comfort her pain. The golden coffin continued down the path to the giant mausoleam in the center of the castle grounds. There, the soilders genlty set it down, and bowed respectfully, before backing up ten paces.

"This looks like its your que old friend." Walter nudged Jasper. Although the "old" comment did not miss his ears, Jasper was far to crestfallen to retort. The butler walked up to the great coffin and stood in front of it. He cleared his throat and began to speak:

"People of Albion. Today we gather because we have all lost something precious today. From the richest to the poorest, we have all lost our most valuable, sacred, and loved treasure, as has our kingdom. She was a benevolent queen, a fearless hero, a loving mother, and to some of us, a dear, dear friend." The butler struggled to keep his voice from cracking. "Today, we gather to bid farewell, to Queen Connie Remswood." The crowd continued to stand solemnly, although a few of the gatherers were already in tears. "Queen Connie had humble upbringings. She was not from a rich home, she was not from a home at all. She lived as an orphan, raised by kindly gysies, and was always filled with loss. She learned to fight, at a young age, and concentrated all of her energy to avange that loss, and to save us, her people, although at the time, we were still under rule from our greatest threat. She defeated him, however, and took his place as the greatest regent that this kingdom has ever known. In a very sort while, her son, Prince Logan will assume the throne, and in time, lead us out of this tragedy. Ladies and Gentleman, let be bring to your attention that Connie Remswood did not need to take the throne, nor did she need to save us from the grip of a madman. She did so because she wanted to, because she was selfless, and because she cared. So now it is our turn to care. Let us treasure her always, and may her great legacy never die." Jasper ended his words shakily, but the nods of approval and faint smiles he recieved from the crowd let him know that he had indeed done his job well. The ten soilder advanced upon the gold coffin again, while another ten, gave a hundred round salute to the late queen. As the coffin was lowered into the eerie depths of the mausoleam, a cloaked figure looming in the distance, turned and left. Though the hood of the patchy coat concieled his identity, people still continued to stare at him as he moved through the throngs of villagers. As he reached Bowerstone Market, he slipped into a cold wet alley, and removed his hood. He reached up and touched a still-remaining black heart upon his cheek, and then something else. A drip of warmth inched over his fingertips, and across the kissmark that symbolized his own personal forever.

Connie was buried in a huge tomb in the center of the castle courtyard, her favorite place to be. Reaver dissapeared from Castle Fairfax the night that she died, and threw himself into Bowerstone Industrial, and into madness. He became lost without his beloved, and became even more evil and selfish than before. He built a huge manor in the very spot where he had proposed to Connie, evicted all of the gypsies, and went on a killing spree. After Connie's death, when Logan was crowned king, he spent many a hard hour telling his son the whole story about himself, the Shadow Court, and Connie, his mother. Logan left his father in charge of Reaver Industries, where Reaver invented and toiled away. Logan foolishly out of vengence for his mothers death due to the sacrafice she had made for his beloved father set off to destroy the source of the Shadow Court in a dark foreboding temple known as Shadelight. There, however, he saw all of his best men fall to an overpowering evil there, and he himself was almost killed. A hideous scar down his cheek was all that remained of his denied victory. He remained vigilant to put an end to the Darkness that had destroyed his family-by any means nessisary. Sir Walter Beck continued the training with Victoria, preparing her for the day when she would aquire the guild seal that her mother had left for her so long ago. Both Victoria's attendant, Jasper, and her mentor, Walter never understood why Reaver had stepped down from power and burdened his son, as well as abandonded his wife and daughter. Because of this misunderstanding, they never told Victoria about him. Victoria never even knew her father. Reaver, in turn, never knew her either. He trained Logan outside the castle so there was never even a chance for an introduction. Victoria saw many posters of the very image of the man that was her father, but she was never to know, until much later in her life, when an unfortunate turn of events would lead her to storming his mansion during a mascerade party to steal some valuable goods. Reaver's hair seemed to turn blacker every year he aged, matching his once happy heart. Never would he love again. He tried to hide his pain by inflicting loads of it onto others, through child labor, forced labor, combat in his makeshift arena, among others. But beneth his malevont exterior, inside, he never forgot Connie, nor the love that they had shared.