After everyone had spoken, the Archbishop of Maplestone City, wearing a complete set of sacrificial clothes and a gigantic magic crown, looking more cumbersome than Hurd's Arrow Tube Warrior in double armor, walked up to the pulpit holding a golden staff.

Below the stage, Winters couldn't help but wonder: How did this scrawny old man manage to climb the steps wrapped in such cumbersome attire? Could he too be a user of Divine Arts?

Typically, there should still be hymns and consolation. However, today's memorial was private, so these were skipped.

His Excellency the Archbishop tactfully refrained from delivering a long sermon, merely said a few simple words, and then prayed for the soul of Bod Gates, praying that the latter would return to the embrace of the Lord.

With that, the formal ceremony concluded.

Next, those attending the memorial only needed to place the white flower in their hands in front of Colonel Bod's coffin and could then leave.

However, according to etiquette, before leaving, they also had to bid farewell to the theoretical hosts of the ceremony.

Thus, Mrs. Bod and Miss Bod, who most needed space and peace, became the busiest people in the room.

They were forced to listen repeatedly to the monotonous condolences of the mourners, express sadness, convey gratitude, and remain strong and dignified.

This is why Winters hated funerals.

After laying the flowers, Richard Mason came to Winters' side and, looking at Anna and Winters, asked in distress, "What should I say to Mrs. Bod and Miss Bod?"

Winters looked at the two unfortunate ladies surrounded by strangers from afar, sneering, "What else is there to say? Just the usual 'my condolences, take care' nonsense."

Mason turned to Anna helplessly. Anna could only respond with an apologetic smile.

As people who are among the few familiar with the habits of a magical creature called the Blood Wolf, they knew:

Expressing cynical views is a signal of this magical creature's foul mood;

And yet, this magical creature's insight is terrifyingly powerful;

Combining the two, whenever this magical creature is in a foul mood, it becomes exceptionally sharp-tongued, almost cutting to the bone.

One could only wonder which unlucky individual's heart would bear the brunt this time.

As Mason and Anna exchanged glances, Andre, having also laid flowers, approached.

He yawned lazily and said, "If someday I'm gone, make sure not to organize such cheesy affairs. It's gross, everyone feels obligated to say something, whether they know each other or not, and it gives me goosebumps."

"I've thought the same, but alas, it won't be up to us then," Winters sneered, "No choice, funerals aren't really for the dead anyway."

"What do you mean?" Andre couldn't immediately grasp Winters' train of thought.

"The dead don't need funerals," Winters said concisely, "the living need funerals."

Andre caught the drift and immediately beamed, clapping his hands in praise, "Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!"

The onlookers couldn't help but turn their heads.

Senior Mason's skull was about to crack open—one magical creature only sharpens its tongue when in a bad mood, and the other magical creature before them is perpetually rude, putting these two together was bound to be interesting!

"Gentlemen," Anna had to intervene to stop the two troublemakers disrupting public order, she said kindly, "I thought only in the Emperor's court do people take pride in making sharp-tongued jests."

Winters closed his mouth.

Andre, on the other hand, laughed, raising his hand in a gesture of surrender.

Since farewells had to be done one at a time, there was no doubt, following the Army Academy's rule—those from higher classes went first, while those from lower classes naturally waited in the distance.

Seeing this, Winters couldn't help but want to comment on the Academy graduates' obsession with class sequences.

But he ultimately suppressed the urge and said nothing.

Feeling guilty, Anna patted the magical creature's back. Lady Navarre didn't believe holding back words solved anything. If they were at home, she would listen to Winters grumble with a smile—but this was not the right setting.

Winters also sensed Anna's subtle emotions and smiled at her as if to say he was fine.

Anna then blinked.

While these two exchanged silent communication, Andre felt a chill run down his spine.

"Enough is enough," Andre said, arms folded and shoulders hunched, with a look of disdain, "I can't stand you two."

"What?" Mason asked, puzzled.

"Nothing," Andre couldn't be bothered to explain, changed the subject, pointed his chin towards Mrs. Bod and Miss Bod in the distance, and asked, "What are you planning to do with those two?"

"They certainly can't go back to the Kingsfort residence; outside Kingsfort, in the Eastern Forest Province, the colonel's family has some ancestral properties, but right now, it's probably not safe there either," Winters paused, "My stance is to respect their wishes. If they want to stay in Newly Reclaimed Land, all the better; if they want to join relatives or friends, even if it's over in Rainbow Creek, we'll do our best to cooperate and won't stop them."

"Then I guess they'll end up in North River," Andre stretched and smiled, "There's nothing but mosquitoes in this godforsaken Newly Reclaimed Land, what else is there to have? Can those two delicate ladies live comfortably here?"

As soon as he finished speaking, Andre recalled something, immediately looking at Anna, "Lady Navarre, I didn't mean that as a veiled jab at you, you're no ordinary noblewoman, unmatched by others."