bookrebus Chapter 703 Coal Briquettes Are Deadly
Chapter 703 Coal Briquettes Are Deadly
In the winter of 1464, the weather was exceptionally cold, and the wind blowing against us carried a biting chill.
A few days after the Kingdom of Heldran celebrated the Festival of Light, scattered decorations from the festival still lingered in the streets and alleys. A piece of news, not particularly shocking but enough to stir the emotions of countless people, quietly spread throughout the kingdom: Coal Ball had passed away.
As a duck that has lived to be 16 years old, 16 years old is considered an ancestor among ducks. Even with restrictions on its reproduction, Coal Ball's family has now reached the fifth generation.
Some of the younger ones were given to various associations for disadvantaged groups and the Black Duck Knights' headquarters, but Coal Ball remained, guarding its soft-bedded duck nest.
Its departure was uneventful. The previous evening, the afterglow of the setting sun was still lazily shining on the duck's nest, and Coal Ball was still shakily moving its round body, swaying back to its nest from the pond.
The next morning, just as dawn was breaking, a servant carried the mixed food, clutching a clean piece of linen in his hand, and humming an off-key tune as he walked to the duck's nest.
After habitually tapping the wooden plank beside the nest, the servant waited for Coal Ball to wobble out and peck at the food in the bowl with its flat beak.
But this time, the duck nest was quiet, without the slightest sound.
The servant's heart skipped a beat. He quickly put down the food bowl and gently lifted the straw at the entrance of the nest.
He saw the coal ball nestled quietly inside, its eyes tightly closed, its round body curled up in a ball, devoid of its former vitality.
The servant was stunned for a few seconds before he realized what had happened. He didn't dare to delay and turned to run towards the palace, jogging to call the veterinarian.
The veterinarian arrived quickly, carrying a small wooden box filled with various examination tools. He squatted by the duck nest, examining Coal Ball's body, and finally shook his head, giving a somewhat sad conclusion: Coal Ball died of old age and eating too much food.
In conclusion, this 16-year-old duck died of extreme obesity.
When the news reached John, he was sitting in his study, flipping through a report on the village road construction project.
The servant pushed open the door and entered, speaking with a hint of caution, and reported the veterinarian's conclusions and the news of Coal Ball's death in detail.
John listened to the news for a long while before putting down the report and letting out a soft sigh.
"It's truly a miracle that this duck has lived this long."
There wasn't much heavy sorrow in that sigh; rather, it was a heartfelt感慨 (gǎnkǎi, a feeling of deep emotion or感慨) that the coal ball had actually lived for so long, long enough to outlive so many of its second and third generations of offspring.
News of Coal Ball's death was not kept secret and quickly spread to every corner through the kingdom's newspapers.
Surprisingly, the public's reaction was exceptionally strong. The area in front of the coal sculpture was filled with flowers spontaneously offered by the public, including hardy daisies and dried ears of wheat.
Meanwhile, representatives from various regions also took action, submitting a joint petition to the council chamber of the royal palace, hoping that the government would hold a public funeral for Coal Ball.
Their reasoning is simple: although Coal Ball is just a duck, it has made outstanding contributions to national development over the years as a representative of the Association for Vulnerable Groups and a number of charitable organizations.
So, on a day with even heavier snow and wind, Coal Ball's funeral began as scheduled.
According to the constitution of the Kingdom of Heldran, Coal Ball is just a little duck and is not eligible for a state funeral.
After careful consideration, John issued an order: all flags of associations of disadvantaged groups and the Black Duck Knights nationwide should be flown at half-mast in mourning.
At the same time, he ordered that a coffin made of oak briquettes be placed in the main hall of Helmingen Cathedral for all who wished to pay their respects.
John had assumed that the mourners would be mostly residents from the vicinity of the palace.
To his utter surprise, on the first day of the funeral, the number of mourners who flooded into the cathedral exceeded two thousand.
Each person wore a solemn expression as they walked to the coffin, bent down, and bowed deeply.
A small flag covered the coffin; it was the flag of the Association for the Vulnerable Groups, embroidered with a crooked duck pattern.
In the following days, the number of people coming to mourn did not decrease, but rather increased.
People came from distant provinces, traveling by horse-drawn carriage for days, just to offer a flower to Coal Ball; delegations of overseas Chinese came from abroad, bringing soil from their homeland to scatter at the cathedral entrance, saying it was a gift for Coal Ball.
The lines outside the cathedral grew longer and longer, sometimes lasting for hours each day, but no one complained. The statisticians said that the number of people coming to pay their respects these past few days was second only to the annual anniversary of the Yoda Invasion Rebellion.
On the last day of the coal briquette coffin exhibition, the wind and snow subsided, and sunlight streamed through the church's stained-glass windows, casting a soft glow on the coffin.
John stood on the platform on the second floor of the church, holding a prepared document in his hand, his gaze sweeping over the dense crowd below.
Everyone fell silent, all eyes turning to him, waiting for him to speak.
John cleared his throat, and his voice carried clearly throughout the church.
"Over the past five years, through donations from various associations and non-governmental organizations represented by Coal Balls, the Kingdom of Hilderan has achieved complete road access at the village level, ensured the infrastructure development of grassroots settlements in villages and towns, and provided free education for thousands of students in impoverished areas..."
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried enough sincerity to reach everyone's ears clearly through the loudspeaker.
John paused, his gaze falling on the small coffin downstairs, his tone tinged with emotion.
"Although for Sir Coalball himself it was just a little duck, for all the people of the Kingdom of Heldran it was an unforgettable memory. Thus, Coalball has completed its mission, and its soul is about to return to heaven..."
After he finished speaking, the church was silent for a few seconds, then a low sob rose from the floor.
John said nothing more. He put away his manuscript, looked up at the crowd below, and announced in a calm tone.
"The funeral begins, and the coffin containing the coal briquette is transported to the Holy City Cemetery."
The Holy City Cemetery is the cemetery of St. John's City. Coal Ball was not a martyr and was not eligible to be buried in the Martyrs' Cemetery. He could only be buried in an ordinary cemetery near St. John's City.
The carriage carrying the coffin made of coal slowly drove out of the cathedral, followed by a long procession of people that stretched from the cathedral entrance all the way out of the city.
The carriage traveled for about two hours before arriving at the cemetery near St. John's.
The grass in the cemetery was withered and yellow, covered with a thin layer of snow, making it look exceptionally quiet.
The coffin was carefully lifted off the carriage by the servants and then slowly placed into the pit that had been dug in advance.
John got off the carriage and walked through the thin layer of snow to the edge of the pit.
He looked at the small coffin in the pit, remained silent for a few seconds, and then took an iron shovel from the servant.
He bent down, scooped up a handful of soil covered with snowflakes, and gently sprinkled it on the coffin.
Then Matilda, Carl, and Catherine stepped forward one by one, each picking up a shovel and covering the coal briquettes with a handful of soil.
Next came the ministers, representatives of the association for the disadvantaged, and representatives of the people. They stepped forward one by one, and after everyone had scattered the soil, the servants picked up rakes and leveled the soil in the pit.
Then, a stone slab bearing the dates of Coalball's birth and death was placed over the pit, with a simple inscription: Sir Coalball, 1448–1464.
Finally, the attendants carefully placed the tombstone on top, and on top of the tombstone was a stone-carved duck.
The memorial service ended there, and the procession dispersed on its own.
People left in twos and threes, some still looking back at the newly erected tombstone, others talking in hushed tones about the past of the coal briquettes.
John didn't rush to leave. He stood in front of the tombstone, looking at the stone duck, and a strange emotion welled up inside him.
After most of the people in the cemetery had left, John dusted himself off and prepared to turn and leave.
Just as he lifted his foot, his gaze inadvertently swept across the crack in the stone slab beneath the tombstone, and he saw a transparent object slowly emerging from that narrow crack.