Carfax, Part 3: Inheritance

Gypsy camp, Umbranfield outskirts, England

Grey clouds lingered in the sky above the gypsy camp out on the outskirts of Umbranfield, mirroring the somber moods of the would be travellers. It was always cloudy in Umbranfield though, few could remember the last time they saw the sun, but today the sky seemed darker than usual.
Everyone, mostly gypsies and a few town residents, were gathered around a flower covered caravan, mourning the passing of the clan leader. His body rested inside the caravan, along with many of his personal possessions. Those that wouldn't fit were neatly piled up around it, along with flower displays shaped like the many passions of the clan leader, all doused in oil and surrounded by pyre wood. In the for front of the crowd stood the weeping wife of the clan leader, and his only son, Alexander, who, after the conclusion of the funeral, would assume the role of clan leader. Alexander approached the pyre, lighting a match and throwing it into the pyre, thus initiating his unwanted ascent to leadership.

These people were gypsies in name only, following few to none of the traditions of the Romani people. For over two hundred years they had made the outskirts of Umbranfield their home, barely moving at all save for along the outside of the city. Even the funeral was not in keeping with the traditions of other clans. But his body had to be burned. Every member of this clans body would be cremated when they die. No one knew why they had to do it, they just did.
Despite the sweltering heat of the fire the mourners remained until the fire went out, which wasn't for a while. The fire station had already been informed of the cremation but were on standby incase something went wrong, but thankfully nothing did. When the fire died down to embers the mourners dispersed and returned to their homes to make preparations for the reception. Alexander remained by the hot ashes. He loved his father, but he didn't understand him. He didn't understand why the clan remained outside Umbranfield while others travelled the UK. Why everyone had to be cremated after they died while other gypsies had luxurious funerals with huge coffins. Why every man in the camp had to carry a weapon. It had always been that way, but why continue the tradition?
Alexander turned to leave only to find a tall, strange figure standing not to far away from him. They were clad in a blue robe with a large, almost oriental hood pulled up and over their head, obscuring their entire face, and on that hood a golden eye had been stitched in and dominated the surface. Alexander didn't know what was more frightening, the fact that he couldn't see this mysterious person’s face, or the eye, that eye that seemed like it was staring into him, like it knew everything about him. This wasn't the first time he had seen this person. They appeared at his grandfather’s funeral, and took his dad somewhere. It was his turn now. He walked over to the figure and as he did they turned and began to walk, and so Alexander followed.
They led him into the camp, but everyone seemed to ignore them. As Alexander passed people would offer their condolences, but completely ignored the hooded figure. Alexander continued to follow them until they reached an unfamiliar tent amongst the caravans. Alexander had never seen it before in the camp, it was like something from one of those American Renaissance fairs and its design matched the mysterious person’s robes. The robed person went in, Alexander couldn’t however. At least, not at that very moment. He needed a moment to prepare himself. This was the same person who his father went with when his grandfather died. Who was this person? Taking a deep breath, then several more, Alexander entered the tent.
Inside the figure was waiting for him. The tent was bare and unremarkable, making Alexander question the point of it.
“Who are you?” Alexander asked.
“It's not about who I am,” she replied from under her hood, “it's about who you are.”
“Me?”
“Yes, and who exactly are you, Alexander?”
“I am… Was the son of the clan leader. I am clan leader now.”
“Indeed you are, though you seem reluctant, timid. You can't afford to remain that way. It is time you learned what it is to be clan leader. Why your people can't have a proper burial. Why you all carry knives and guns. Why you've been camped outside of the same city for the last two hundred years. Of the untold history of your clan.”
“What history?”