Monty remembered Titania's funeral vividly. Funerals in District Two were celebrations of a Games well fought usually. Flowers and speeches. Parties and reenactments. Doubly so when there was a Victor, as there had been after the 115th. Monty had been the guest of honor at his District Partner's final memorial, even more so than her parents and family.
He remembered how Abraham Howitzer had sulked in the back the whole time, still jealous that Monty had Volunteered faster than he had. He remembered the handful of Academics who hid derisive laughter behind their hands, thinking that Titania didn't deserve a party because she had died to poisonous beetles rather than in the glory of open combat. He could still see his father and mother, wearing black in honor of the fallen, but so very proud of their son, the Victor.
He remembered Everett, at 18, still thinking that the long hair Monty sported looked good on him. In this retrospect, Monty was a bit flattered, while at the time he had made merciless fun of Everett for wanting to be as strong and as cool and as everything as his older brother (none of which he was). He remembered the way his little brother looked at that funeral, the funeral of a Tribute who had fallen in the Games.
Monty had been to countless funerals for the fallen. More times than not there were four caskets a year. He didn't make it to every one - some of the families preferred smaller celebrations, or the Cannons had been blacklisted from one family or another. The Colts, for example, had expressly forbade the Cannons from entering the premises of their daughter's celebration. Everett had been there, at some of them. Some of them he hadn't been at. He wasn't always invited either. Sometimes Monty would get an invitation as a Victor that the rest of his family wouldn't get. Or Helios might get an invite for his work in government. Or their father, Lionel, might get one for the business he ran. Sometimes Monty and Everett simply didn't want to go. There were some funerals where no Cannon was present, and others where all of them were there.
Monty remembered a lot of funerals.
It was different from now. Now it was Mason who was the guest of honor, laying to rest a different Brick. The celebrations had been appropriate. Drinks had flowed, Mason spoke as eloquently as he ever had. Miller had been ushered where he needed to be, and remained understandably quiet. People had a variety of opinions about the patriarch Brick's speech, and only a few people hid said opinions.
All the Cannons were there. Lionel, Rheyna, Montgomery, Helios, Liliana, and Everett. All dressed in black, all offering congratulations and condolences as the conversations commanded. The entire family there to honor the Tribute who had fallen in the Games and celebrate the Victor who had come home. Montgomery would remember this funeral too. It was the first one in a while that they had all been in town and available to make it. As the Bricks deserved, after all. The families were so close. The Bricks had all been at -
Monty excused himself from the conversation he was in. Some young Academic, excited for her shot in the Arena, had been bothering every Victor she could find. She deflated for a brief moment before spotting Cato in the distance, who set her eyes a-twinkle again. It seemed to Montgomery that tact was rapidly becoming a lost art in the Academy. But he couldn't stop the admirable upward quirk in the corner of his mouth as she bounced away. It was good, if nothing else, to know that pride and tradition still remained strong in District Two.
He took a breath of the crisp mountain air, turning his back to the festivities. They were winding down. There were still hands to shake and people to see, but Monty's social responsibilities had more or less concluded for the day. Something had lodged itself in the corner of his eye, though, and it was never polite to rub at one's eyes in the company of others.
Something was different about this funeral.
