QuiteTheSlacker
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[The Distinguished Mr. Rose] Chapter 79: Curiosity Killed the Priest
🕑 Added 2025-07-09 23:52:50 +0000 UTC———
Maugris
Ever since I was but a small babe, priesthood appeared to be my inevitable calling. It was no wonder, for my own parents were senior members of the faith. But they were not like others. Not like the other common folk. No, they were of high prestige — children of a long, honored lineage of bishops just like their fathers and their forefathers before them. I was born into such a family, and so it was that I was taught from the very moment I emerged into this world the sanctity and weight of religion… of God.
The young me did not quite understand yet, how deeply important, and engrained, religion was for the people. That boy of yesteryear merely took joy in the company of his family. He wanted to impress them. He wanted to be like them. And so, when they sat by my bedside and recounted passages from the scripture, those complicated tales I had neither the knowledge nor maturity to fully grasp, I simply nodded along without a sound.
I saw how enthralled my parents were by the word of God, and I witnessed how it influenced their everyday lives. The home we lived in was decorated in candles, flower wreaths, fabrics of white and black and gold. Symbols of the Chivalric Star and the Maternal Eagle rested upon our walls; and whenever came the holidays and the Dawn of Holy Birth, we would leave for the city square and conduct service for the masses.
Such strange ceremonies, I wondered then, and I wondered even more as I was taken every Idlesday to church. My parents conducted every service, and I was to watch, and study, and take into my heart their practices so that I would one day stand up on the altar just like them. But rather than delight in the songs, and the passage readings, and all the formality… I was simply annoyed.
I was annoyed by how we had to rise, and kneel, and rise again every few minutes. Why couldn’t we just sit still for the entire mass? My feet would often start tingling and burning the longer we stood; but just when we were finally given reprieve to sit, a mere moment later we would have to kneel on the hard wooden bench. It hurt my knees. More than that, it was just ever so uncomfortable, especially for a young boy like me then so filled with energy. I wanted to run around, to move, to stretch my body in some way… but such was not proper behavior inside the church. And so I buried my complaints and watched with dull eyes as the service continued.
At times, when I couldn’t bear the tedium any longer, my eyes found themselves drooping, lower, even lower, until they closed entirely and my parents were shown my slumbering, slovenly appearance in all my dishonor. They were very upset by this. While our household was not the type to use physical means of punishment, such was not proper for one of our higher standing, I would find himself punished through various means nonetheless.
For every church service I fell asleep to, I would not receive food until late into the night, when my hunger pangs had reached their limit. If I could not recount the specific psalms used that day, my parents would lock me in the study with my books for however long they decided. However, the worst punishment of all, I suppose, was seeing how disappointed they were in me. I saw their gazes, so cold, and rigid, and I thought then that they would surely abandon me if I did not measure up to their standards. That fear of loss was more frightening than anything else.
Thus, I buried myself in my learning, and I found new ways to keep myself awake during church service. Fortunately, there was one thing that never failed to appeal to my childlike wonder, and that was the moment the Chevalieres would awaken and conduct the Rite of Consumption. The first time I witnessed the statue of our Lord, the Three-Headed God of Eagle and Blade and Star, it mesmerized me. How could stone act like a living being, and how exactly could it conjure such beautiful bouquets out of thin air? That mystery and sense of the divine was what finally drew me to God.
But my faith was a little different compared to the rest. It was not the Lord’s teachings, Chivalry, or religion itself I was interested in. It was magic: the invocations and power that which the clergy wielded. It fascinated me. With magic, you could light a fire without kindle. With magic, you could heal wounds in the blink of an eye.
Magic was endless. It was capable of acts far beyond what man could normally accomplish, and to the little boy who had always followed the wills of his parents, magic was a pursuit that allowed him to be his true self: always curious, always seeking to reach greater heights.
Yes, those heights far beyond me. Those starry skies I could never grasp, and only look up towards. My fondest memories are of those younger days when I played atop the hills. There were no worries, no pressure to succeed my parents’ title. I simply laid on the soft grass and turned my gaze skyward. I extended my arm and pretended to hold those bright, vibrant lights.
The scripture had always described the sky as the realm of God. It was where the faithful, at the end of their lives, would ascend to, where the warm and loving embrace of our Mother would welcome us. There they would finally know eternal peace, thriving in that paradise called Heaven.
But to those who turned away from God’s grace… they would descend, rather than rise. Down, deeper, into the bowels of the Three Hells. The heretics and the blasphemous and those who worshipped other divinities — their fate was to be of only eternal suffering. At least, that was what my parents would always say. They threatened me with damnation in those youthful moments where I inevitably rebelled or complained in some manner: such was the propensity of children. And, well, it worked. I wanted to enter Heaven. I wanted to meet our God and see their visage with my own eyes, and I would only be able to do so by remaining a devout and loyal servant to the faith.
And so it was that, upon my eighth birthday, I would enroll into the imperial academy, and learn the ways of priesthood along with the other children. To my surprise, my fellow peers weren’t quite as knowledgeable as I was. They did not know the Psalms like Gregorius or Yeshua or Arthur, nor could they explain the tenets of Chivalry and its importance to our civil upbringing. My teacher’s hailed me as a prodigy in my first year; but rather than be grateful, I was confused.
If I had been like the others, my parents would have surely disciplined me. Yet I saw not the same concern or stress in them that I had so often felt. They were carefree. Unbothered. Whilst I often succeeded at the top of my class, I had not the same whimsy as those who played at the very bottom.
Eventually, I became bored. There was no challenge, nor did I have any reason to study, for the history of Francia and all that would encompass our faith had already been deeply engraved into me. As a result, I began to pursue other subjects, and so it was that I happened upon the magical studies class taught by Sister Maria. Her lessons were of how faith and magic were intrinsically intertwined: and that to use magic, one needed both a catalyst and a link to our Lord God.
The crystals found in the mines held various ‘potentials’, and it was the duty of the priest to draw it out and make it their own. The most common crystals were of the elements: those which held the fires, waters, thunders of God and many others. But some crystals in particular were unique. They held powers the common priest struggled to comprehend, and such was their complexity that only a rare few could attune to them.
Sister Maria brought out one such crystal for us to behold; and it was there that I, and only I, succeeded in calling forth its aid. I had always been interested in magic, I studied it and scoured the books for all mentions of it whilst in my study, but never was I given the chance to wield a crystal catalyst for myself. That class was the very first. The first time I experienced that rush, that bubbling might spreading all throughout my being.
I became intoxicated with that feeling. I needed more. I had to chase after the depths of magic to its very abyss. How convenient, then, that the knowledge necessary to improve my craft was locked away in the sanctum’s repository? Only high-ranking priests were allowed entrance, but that was just fine. My parents wished for me to become a priest anyway. Why, the pieces were all fitting together so conveniently! My future was set. All that was left was to graduate.
My ravenous desire for learning, however, came to unsettle my teachers. They encouraged me to leave my study and, instead, participate in social activities just like the other children. It annoyed me at first that my time would be spent engaging in these frivolous things rather than continue my research, but I realized that academic excellence wasn’t enough to enter the Order’s most elite. I needed connections, relationships, sponsors and allies to help further my recognition. Thus, I closed my books and purposely mingled among those from noble families.
Now that I am older and more wise in the ways of the world, I see now clearly that I was a very wicked child: calculating, selfish. Perhaps my nature then was due to my parents’ upbringing, but I cannot deny that my infatuation with magic also played a part. Day after day, I strayed ever further from the grace of our Lord, and I indulged only in my own interests, my own desires, and saw religion as merely a tool to hasten my goals. I would have remained as such and one day committed blasphemy, if it were not for the bonds I would soon come to cherish.
It was during my classes that I would become acquainted with Roland, Olivier, Renaud. Those three fostered in me a new feeling I had never felt before: friendship. Comradery. This subtle comfort knowing I did not need to don a mask or pretend to be someone I wasn’t.
The anxiety to succeed, the burden of being a bishop’s child… they all faded away as I played and found joy in the world as a child should. We called ourselves the Four Cavaliers. We terrorized the academy with mischief and youthful antics, and in days without classes, we explored the city and all the sights it had to offer. We ventured to the forests outside the walls and yelped in panic as we were chased by frightening beasts. It was a simple time, one where I needed not concern myself over the future. We merely enjoyed the present day and all it had to offer.
Yes, it was a wonderful period of my life. I learned much and changed much, no longer my old, cunning self, but… even so, I never was able to escape from the hunger within me. It was small, at first, but over time it weighed on my mind, begging me to remember the euphoria I felt as a child. No matter the years that passed, nor the relationships I would foster, magic remained an ever constant craving. But I buried it away. After all, I had plenty of time afterwards to continue my research once I entered adulthood. Here, in these naively innocent days, I merely wished to savor the company of my friends. For I knew this peace would eventually end.
It was on my fifteenth birthday that I was proven correct. Renaud suddenly changed; he was no longer the sharp and studious child who wished to help the nation through law. His eyes grew dark, his smile turned into a sneer, and a strange alertness shadowed his every action. He cowered away from the others and clutched his head, muttered dark words under his breath. Whenever another tried to reach out to him, he pushed them away with a crazed look, and retreated further into himself.
Roland, Olivier, and I tried to help him — to understand what caused this dark behavior — but each attempt was met with a scathing glare. He no longer saw us as friends, but competitors. Obstacles in his way. It was then that he became obsessed with becoming a paladin just like his father. I knew full well how a parent’s expectations could weigh on their child, so I told him to abandon this foolish pursuit. Everyone had their own strengths; Renaud didn’t need to wield a sword to contribute to our nation. Sadly, he didn’t listen, and it was from thereon that our group began to head our separate ways.
Roland left to join the paladins and eventually grew to such fame that he was anointed General of the Holy Order, directly under his late Holiness’s command. Olivier, meanwhile, continued his studies and entered the castle as an officer of administration. Renaud… he locked himself up in the Dordognes’s family mansion, where scarce a soul would ever see his face again.
With my fellows gone, I left to accomplish my original goal: becoming a senior priest, a bishop of the Order. And I did. It was quite easy, considering the achievements and prestige I garnered for myself whilst in the academy, and my parents being bishops themselves also provided the necessary encouragement for the clergymen to accept me as one of their own.
Thus, I was finally allowed access into the Venerated Sanctum and given free reign to pursue magic and sorcery as much as I wished. For a time I was ecstatic. My research quickly accelerated and I came to invent many wondrous spells others thought impossible, and during the holy war I would often sneak away to enter the mines of other countries. There were crystals and jewels there that couldn’t be found in Francia; and so I spent my days once again delving into all magic had to offer.
But eventually, I came across something quite odd… something I had never expected to encounter.
A wall: an insurmountable, boundless wall.
No matter how desperately I experimented, it became clear that magic had a limit — that there was a line man could never cross. But what was the reason? What exactly was preventing us from progressing further?
It was God.
One night, I realized that our connection with God was the very cause that hindered our growth. There was only so much power one could invoke from the Lords’ crystals. They could not be combined nor reshapen to increase their potency; and the prayers we used as ritual were clunky and slow to act. The only one, the sole being in this world capable of divine consecration without a crystal, is the emperor. God’s favorite; God’s chosen; the one who serves as Their avatar.
Even now, my heart aches in grief. Because of my mortal birth, I can never step beyond this earthly realm. The Stars remain forever beyond my grasp. But if I have the chance, the opportunity to break free from my kinds’ shackles… I know I can advance our magic beyond any priest or scholar in history. With time, perhaps we may even trespass onto the realm of the divine.
To become true equals with God.
… But if that opportunity must mean severing myself from the faith, is it truly right to do so? Lucius showed me the way. He revealed the secret kept within us all. I knew it to be blasphemous, that there was no turning back from the art of godless magic.
And yet, I reached out, and willingly committed the unforgivable; and it was breathtaking. I had fully expected God to smite me down like the sinner I was, but They didn’t. They allowed me to continue on, to savor and delight in the knowledge that I had finally crossed over that seemingly impassable wall.
Why, my Lord? Why didn’t You stop me? Will You truly look on as I climb higher to your closed-off realm? Do my efforts amuse You, knowing that a lowly, mortal child dare seeks to reach the Stars?
No, God surely has a plan. This power is… it is merely another facet of Their will. If I think of such sacrilege, then it will taint my soul. The reason… yes, the reason I do not need a catalyst is because I, myself, have been imbued with the very same potential after years of study. That must surely be the cause, right? And it is why I also need not speak in prayer. God already knows my wishes. I do not need to speak it verbally for They to answer my call.
There is a logical explanation for this. I must… I must believe it so.
But then why? Why did the demons’ treasure, that parchment covered in shadow, deliver upon me such intoxicating rapture? I felt in my bones, to the very depths of my soul. That page contains the secret to transcending God.
No, I mean—haha, nothing as blasphemous as that. I mean it would certainly be of great help in our efforts to slay the Demon King. If I could just… unravel its secret, bring out the hidden power contained within, then who knows? There needs not be any more sacrifice. No longer shall my fellows risk life or limb under the orders of that detestable man called Ganelon. Yes, Renaud will be free. He will surely thank me.
That is why I must claim the page for myself. That is why I have waited here, alone, as the hours creep on by. Until I can hear the others’ laughter no more. Until each and every soul has finally fallen asleep.
With anticipation burning in my heart, I silently leave my dwelling and emerge into the stale air of the outside. There is no one here — good. Of course I am doing nothing wrong, but the others wouldn’t understand. I know full well the impact religion has upon these people. It is better if I… convince Lucius whilst we are by ourselves. There is no need to involve others in this.
Let me see… ah, yes. His tent appears to be near the camp’s edge. How convenient. I cast my spell of detection and wade through the clutter until the gentleman’s abode is within sight. I see not his shadow in the fabric, nor can I sense him waiting within. Strange, but not surprising. Even during our long march, his presence never alerted my magic’s detection, even when he stood boldly in front of me. Perhaps it is but another of his otherworldly powers. Regardless, I am not here to sneak up on the man like some unsavory night-walker. I merely wish to exchange pleasantries, to convince him that I can be trusted with studying the demonic treasure.
Yes, we’ll just have a discussion. That is all.
I walk up to the tent’s entrance and slowly part the fabric with my hand. He is… not here. All I see is a mattress and a small desk. There, laying plainly on the wood for all to see, is the very object of my search.
I do not know where he could have gone, but… isn’t this an opportunity? I will have full chance to explain myself to him in the morrow. No, perhaps I won’t even need that much time. Just a few minutes: that’s all I require. Just a quick glance, and enlightenment will be mine.
All I have to do is reach out and take it—
“Good morning, Sir Maugris. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
I snap my head around and stumble back with a startled cry. There, standing by the entrance and wreathed in moonlight, is the very Lucius I have come to know. Except, not exactly. A strange floral mask covers his face, one with a bright red rose draped over his right eye. The other eye stares at me, looks down at me, and I cannot help but feel a cold shiver run down my spine.
The Lucius I see now is almost frightening, yet I feel no urge to resist or fight back. His presence lends both warmth and discomfort: judgement and goodwill. I cannot begin to even fathom the depths of the man before me, so utterly foreign in the ways of common understanding. The closest analogy I can compare it to is as if he were God. No, beyond even that — a force more ancient, incomprehensible. The slow creeping inevitability of fate.
“L-Lucius!” I stammer, attempting my best to collect myself. “Please do forgive me, but, um, I did not intend to intrude upon your quarters. Well, admittedly, I have, but it was not out of ill will—”
Lucius stops me with a raised hand. He does not appear flustered; on the contrary, the man is perfectly calm, as if he had been expecting me from the very beginning.
“Fancy a cup of tea?” he says, offering me a drink he plucked out of nowhere.
With nothing else to do, I accept and take a sip. To my surprise it is actually quite good: a little sweet, a little citrusy, with a nice and relaxing aroma.
“Passionflower Tea,” Lucius answers before I can ask for the blend. “It does wonders to soothe the nerves. You are nervous, aren’t you? I can see it in your body language, twitching, trembling. Oh my, your forehead is practically covered in sweat! Here, let me help you.”
Lucius reaches into his pocket and then hands me a handkerchief. I quickly take it and roughly wipe my skin as if doing so will somehow cleanse me of my wrongs.
“Now isn’t that better?” he asks.
“... Yes.”
“Good, then let us take a seat.”
A red chair manifests behind me. Lucius gestures to sit down, and so I do. Being here like this… it reminds me of when I was a child, back during my churchdays when I’d rest on the edge of the pew. It felt as if my every little action was being judged in the eyes of my parents, then, and the same holds true right now. Lucius is watching me. He waits to see how I shall react.
“You have come for the fragment, correct?” the gentleman says. He hasn’t moved one bit ever since he sat down. It is unnerving, how still he is.
“If you are referring to the page, then yes.”
“You would do so even knowing the risks?”
I take a deep breath and reply as confidently as I can muster. “You have seen what I am capable of, Sir Lucius. I promise that I shall not be led astray no matter what dark influence it wields.”
“Hm, is that so?” Lucius claps his hands together and ponders for a moment, taking in the silence and delighting in the tension between us. It is unbearable. I wish for him to say something, anything. For him to look at me no longer with that eye of his, that infallible, all-seeing eye. “Let me ask you a question, then.”
“What is it?”
Lucius chuckles. “Oh, nothing too complicated. I simply wish to know the why. Why do you seek to know the fragment’s contents, even when the danger has already passed?”
“Why?” I repeat back mindlessly.
“Well, yes. Is there any reason for you to do so? We have escaped the spire. The demons no longer plague this area. Even the beasts of the other regions will threaten us no longer on our journey back. All we have to do now is simply return with our heads held high, and triumphant in a mission well done. Isn’t that what you want, Sir Maugris?”
Is that what I want? No, not at all. I did not set out on this expedition for something so trivial as glory. It was Sir Roland who beseeched me to accompany Renaud. I merely accepted out of obligation, a favor to a childhood friend.
“All I wish for is to see us safely back at the capital,” I reply. “Fame, fortune, respect… Renaud may desire it, but such things do not concern me. I only—”
“You only care about your studies.”
I open my mouth to refute him, and yet not a word comes to me. I merely remain there, silent, drowning in my unease.
“That is… not entirely correct,” I eventually muster out. “I care for my fellows just as I do the pursuit of magic. If not, why would I be here instead of back at my study?”
“That is a very good question. Why are you here?”
“Must you continue to speak in riddles—”
Lucius threw his head back and laughed. “Oh no, I am being quite literal. Why are you here, now, in my room?”
“To… see the page?”
“And thus we return to the crux of the matter. You claim that your intentions are noble, that you merely seek to oversee this expedition to its success, but the reality, Sir Maugris, is that we have already accomplished so. Everyone is safe. There is no danger. So, why? What compels you to chase after an uncertain enlightenment now of all times, rather than back at the capital?”
I clutch my head and sigh. “You don’t understand, Lucius! If we were to return now, the Order would seize the page and prevent anyone else from approaching it.”
“Why?”
“Because… because it is…”
Lucius suddenly stands up and lunges to my side faster than I can react. My body screams at me to run away, to escape, to flee anywhere other than here, but it’s no use. I am already trapped.
“Because, deep in your heart, you know this to be taboo,” Lucius whispers into my ear. “You attempt to justify it, to say that it’s for the betterment of others. But Maugris… oh, my dear, flustered, insecure Maugris… that is not the real reason, is it? All this talk of the people, the nation, even those you consider friends — it is an excuse. The man I see before me is selfish, and greedy, and prioritizes his own desires above all else.”
I squirm in my seat and recede into myself. “No! No, that is not… not who I am.”
Lucius raises his hand and squeezes my shoulder with a tight, inescapable hold. “Now, now, there’s nothing wrong with a little ambition. Every person has their own goals. It is the nature of all living beings to chase after their desires in some way; however, those who cannot accept themselves, their true selves, will never move forward. You will remain stuck here, forever doomed to a life of lies.”
I do not understand. What lies? What about me implies that I wear a facade? No, he is the one donning a mask. The me right now is my true self. It has to be, right? Or else… or else how miserable would it be if my nature is as he says?
That, all along, I have only ever acted for myself?
“No!” I bring out what little strength still remains in my feeble limbs and push Lucius away. “You are wrong about me, Lucius. I am not selfish. I am only doing what is best for us. My people. The priests. Francia! With my power, I can help others to such lengths I was never capable of before. I could bring us all to that far-off realm, the skies God has so selfishly barred us from entering. I just… I just need to take a glance. That’s all! A single glance at the page, and I will receive the knowledge necessary to rid this land of the Demon King for good. I will not succumb to it. I will not…”
Why do I even bother? Lucius won’t listen to me. No one will. They are all too afraid, too subservient to God and their divine masters to realize this path of ours will inevitably lead to stagnation. The only way I will be able to change their minds is through demonstration.
The page, I see it! It is right there. It is within my grasp. I’ll show Lucius personally just how wrong he is. I stagger to the desk and gaze at the bewitching old parchment. Ah, I can feel it. All the years I have spent unable to progress, unable to step past that wall called religion… it ends here.
“Oh dear, I did warn you. But such stubbornness is, in a way, beautiful as well. Goodbye, my friend. May you bloom to your satisfaction.”
I reach toward the page, and let the shadows envelop me whole. It worms into my mind — the powers that which birthed the Demon King.
Ah, I can feel it. The slow unraveling of my mind. The hideous, grotesque change transforming my body. It is horrifying, at first, but it does not take long before that terror turns into sheer unbridled ecstasy. I am happy, for I’ve finally found it: knowledge in its purest form.
Now, nothing can stop me from devouring the Stars.
Comments
Jonas
That’s my bad, I decided to change the section to be more first-person like after some revisions. Some mistakes must’ve gone through. Thanks!
forgetfulposum
and take into his (-> my) heart their practices. And so I buried his (-> my) complaints. Everything else in this passage is written in first person.
