Funeral and Wedding

The town of Gumbinnen had never felt so heavy, its cobblestone streets and timber-framed houses overshadowed by the somber occasion unfolding in its heart. Today was one of many funerals for those lost to the Zwerg's attack. 

The stone church of St. Casimir stood as a beacon of today's sorrow, its doors flung wide to welcome the mourners draped in black, their steps slow and heavy with grief. 

The interior of the church was a show of solemnity, the air thick with the scent of ancient and digital incense. Hundreds of real and digital candles flickered, casting dancing shadows that played across the faces of the gathered, each one a story of loss. The stained-glass windows, usually with vibrant saints, now projected a sad digital overlay, casting images of angels and saints in mourning. 

At the altar, the priest, robed in black and gold, intoned the Requiem Mass in Latin. His voice, deep and resonant, seemed to fill every corner of the sacred space, amplified by subtle acoustic technology. "Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine," he chanted, beseeching eternal rest for the departed. The congregation responded with a whispered, "Et lux perpetua luceat is."

If someone from the 21st century looked at the people they would see a church filled with giants. That's how tall everyone was.

Among the mourners stood Lucius, his tall frame cast in the shadows at the back of the church. He watched as the priest Peter blessed Adeline's casket with holy water, the droplets sparkling like tears in the candlelight. He further sent a fragrance of incense from the thurible, the nano-particles creating an ethereal glow as they spiraled towards the high, vaulted ceiling, a visual prayer for Adeline's soul rising up to heaven.

Her parents, seated in the front pew, were the very image of sadness. Adeline's mother wept silently into a handkerchief, her shoulders shaking with the weight of her sorrow, while her father stared ahead, his eyes red but dry, as though no more tears were left to shed. Above them, holographic memorials of Adeline and the other fallen flickered gently, capturing moments of their lives in silent tribute.

After the service, the congregation slowly dispersed into the graveyard, but Lucius lingered, his gaze fixed on the now-closed casket. Adeline's father approached him, his hand trembling as he extended a small, silver locket. "She wanted you to have this," he managed, his voice breaking like the last note of a dirge.

Lucius accepted the locket, feeling its weight both literally and metaphorically. The craftsmanship was exquisite, a testament to Adeline's taste for beauty in simplicity. Opening it, he found a miniature video portrait of her, her laugh as warm as the sun, and a lock of her hair, as if she had left a piece of herself with him. The gift was a sharp reminder of his loss but also something that fueled his vengeance. 

With a heavy heart, Lucius left the churchyard, and the locket is now forever a reminder. He sought refuge in the local inn, 'The Drunken Spaceman,' where the day's end brought a different kind of life. The inn was alive with the hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the glow of Holographic Displays, broadcasting sports events and news channels from across the empire.

Lucius settled into a stool at the inn's bar, the clamor of voices and clinking glasses. He signaled for a beer, the simplest one on offer, hoping it might blur the edges of his grief. 

Around him, a farmer, his face weathered by the sun, animatedly spoke of the wonders of his homebrew "drone technology", his hands mimicking the flight of the machines. "They've sowed half my field in half the time I'm telling you, I'll soon be the richest man in this town," he declared with pride to another, who looked at him skeptically, envisioning the possibilities of acquiring such tech...

Lucius then overheard some merchants talking, their voices low in conspiracy. 

One merchant, leaning in close and whispering, grumbled, "This planet is a damn struggle. Back home in Utrecht, you deal with one office, and you're done. Here, every noble's playing their own game."

Another nodded, his voice barely above a murmur, "Spent half my day with Grantham, then had to start all over with Halvor. One wants a cut of the profits, the other's after our tech. It's like they're kids with their own toy shops."

The third, taking a cautious sip of his drink, added, "And don't get me started on the costs. Security fees, under-the-table payments... for what? So these lords can pad their pockets while we're the ones taking all the risk? And those security drones watching our every move, making sure we toe the line."

The first sighed, his eyes scanning the room, "Maybe we should narrow it down to a few nobles who aren't so bad. I hear this town noble is agreeable?"

They paused, their conversation breaking off as the bartender approached, their expressions a mix of frustration and the cunning of seasoned traders navigating the murky waters of near frontier commerce.

Lucius listened, thinking, "Hmm, maybe I can use them in the future."

Some time had passed. After the few drinks provided him momentary solace, the warmth spreading through him like a brief respite from his grief. Yet, as he left the inn, the sound of church bells pealing joyously drew him back to the place of his sorrow. The same church that had housed Adeline's funeral now echoed with the sounds of celebration.

Curious and compelled, Lucius approached the church again. Inside, a wedding was in full swing, the stark contrast to the morning's funeral almost surreal. The saints on the stained glasses were now moving in happiness and jolly. The couple, dressed in modest finery, stood before the priest, their hands joined, their eyes locked in a gaze that promised a lifetime. The priest blessed them, his voice now lighter, filled with hope rather than mourning. A choir sang, their voices weaving a tapestry of love and unity, their sounds enhanced by hidden speakers for a richer auditory experience.

Outside, the square was festooned with simple decorations; bio-engineered wildflowers adorned lamp posts, changing colors with the setting sun, while colored ribbons fluttered like banners of joy. Commoners threw petals over the newlyweds, their laughter mingling with the scent of flowers. Lucius watched from the shadows, the couple's happiness a poignant echo of what he had lost with Adeline. The bride's smile, so reminiscent of his beloved's, stirred a whirlpool of emotions within him for what might have been.

Returning to his villa, Lucius placed the locket on his desk, its presence a silent testament to his vow. He glanced at his personal communicator, where he had saved messages from Adeline, reinforcing his resolve. Looking out into the encroaching night, he whispered to the darkness, "For her memory, I will not rest until those responsible are brought to justice," while overhead, a surveillance drone passed silently, a reminder of the empire's ever-watchful eye.