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[The Distinguished Mr. Rose] Chapter 74: Is It Any Wonder I Became So Twisted?
🕑 Added 2025-06-22 00:21:32 +0000 UTCAlthough the expedition’s plan was to rest until midnight, Sir Renaud changed his mind and instead allowed them to rise at the first break o
Although the expedition’s plan was to rest until midnight, Sir Renaud changed his mind and instead allowed them to rise at the first break of dawn. A capable leader was one who knew when to reassess and pivot depending on the circumstances, or so the man had once pompously told Lucius; and indeed his decision had wrought great morale from his weary troops. To delve into the Crag-Stone Cliffs so soon after their encounter with the thunderbirds would have been, well, less than ideal.
However, this change meant that they would be forced into traversing the rocky canyon in broad daylight. There was no darkness or mist here to hide themselves in. Any beast within the area would have full sight of the expedition, as well as greater protection against the priests’ blinding spell. Fortunately though, Sir Renaud had already taken these matters into consideration.
“The Crag-Stone Cliffs are unique even amongst the other regions in Francia,” the Peer said. Renaud had woken a little earlier than the others; but rather than wait around, he chose to personally keep watch at the outlook. It was there that Lucius came to him with a hot cup of tea, and so did the two pass the time whilst engaging in a pleasant conversation. “The land is barren, no vegetation thrives, and even water is hard to come by. The only life you will find here are the deadliest and most resilient of the beast kingdom; but such harsh conditions inevitably beget a lesser population. Apex predators tend to hunt alone. We do not need to worry about being outnumbered.”
Lucius raised his teacup and took a sip of the rich liquid. “How fascinating, but numbers matter little in the face of overwhelming strength. If these beasts are as dangerous as you say, then will the danger posed still not be the same? Prodigious size often is accompanied by an equally vicious bloodlust. I doubt blinding them will yield the same instinct to flee, especially in the daytime.”
Renaud nodded along, acknowledging Lucius’s concerns, only to then reply with a mischievous grin. “Perhaps so, but Francia is a nation of warriors. Our specialty lies in subjugation. Of course we are proficient in culling large swarms as well; however, there are simply less variables to worry about whilst hunting a singular foe. It will be simple, perhaps even relaxing.”
“A bold claim,” Lucius chuckled, to which his fellow replied with a confident gesture.
“You will not see a repeat of my shameful display at the wetlands. I admit, I was stuck in my ways then. I thought I knew precisely what to expect and how this journey would proceed, but no longer; for the one before you is a new, improved man. I have accounted for even more sudden scenarios - calculated plans for the most unlikely of encounters. Why, even if the Demon King were to make an appearance right this moment, I am certain in my commanding abilities to lead us all to… relative safety.”
So he claimed, but whether or not his words were true, only time would tell. Until then, Lucius took the chance to sleep with his eyes open until the blessed hour of six-o-clock had finally arrived. His companions had all awoken by then, along with the rest of the expedition, and they took a brief moment to freshen themselves up and fulfill their morning dues before cleaning up the camp and reassembling into an orderly line.
It was in the midst of Sir Renaud’s final preparations that the gentleman locked eyes with a gaunt Sir Maugris. A dark shadow covered his features; the man seemed to have hardly slept a wink.
“Good morning, my friend,” Lucius said, walking up to him and offering a big container of black tea. Some caffeine would do the wizardly priest wonders. “Is everything alright? You appear to have much on your mind.”
“Hm? Oh, yes. I suppose you could say that,” Maugris replied, his voice low and hoarse, and he accepted the tea before greedily downing its contents. “To be honest, I am rather conflicted. I know you meant no ill intent, and I am grateful for your repeated warnings, but it is because you expressed such caution that none remain responsible for last night’s events… save for myself. I am terrified to recall those memories. It happened so quickly, a blur amidst all else we suffered not so long before, and yet that moment I reached out toward the unforgivable has remained with me—stuck to my side like a nightmare in waking form.”
“Have you come to a conclusion, then?” Lucius asked, leaning in and peering straight into the man’s wavering heart. “Do you wish to research further into what lies within you—within all the citizens of Francia?”
Maugris stepped back and bit his lip, harder, deeper, until it drew blood. “I…” He looked around at the surrounding paladins and retreated into himself, his breath shaky, as if at any moment one would approach him now and accuse him for his sin: the sin of blasphemy, of curiosity. There was no hiding it. Lucius knew what it was the man truly wished to say, but the pressure of the majority was a powerful thing. Even when his soul hungered for more, Maugris clenched his teeth and buried himself in layers upon layers of lies.
He wanted to believe, despite all he witnessed, that God was still by his side.
“I will not pursue it,” he mumbled. “I cannot. This… urge inside me is but a false temptation. It is not the true path to enlightenment. I must believe it so, or else I—”
Maugris did not finish that thought. He merely sighed, rubbed his brow, and then sulked back toward his position in line. “I would be thankful, Lucius, if you were to erase our meeting last night from your mind. It will do us no good to linger over it.”
“... If that is what you wish, then so be it,” the gentleman replied, bidding him off with a wave. “My only desire is to see you at your most comfortable.”
Such a shame it had to be this way, but Sir Maugris’s reaction was well in line with what Lucius expected. The man needed a bit more ‘encouragement’, so to speak; unfortunately, there wasn’t a good opportunity for such pruning now, but Lucius didn’t worry. It was only a matter of time before Maugris’s apprehension whittled away. The allure of power, the joy of discovering something that would change history as people knew it… how could a scholar resist such seductive temptation?
“Just what has got that fool so worked up about now?”
Lucius turned around to discover a frowning Renaud staring at Maugris. His arms were crossed and, though he tried to hide it, the gentleman spied the slightest drop of concern nestled within his grizzled features.
“Does he think me so ignorant as to not realize his behavior lately?” he continued, grumbling just loud enough for only Lucius to hear. “This is the problem with childhood acquaintances, Sir Lucius. I cannot help but compare him to that arrogant brat of before; however, that brat is far more likeable than he is here. At least one had the maturity to sulk in solitude.”
“Oh, come now,” Lucius said, casually walking to his side. “Everyone has their bad days, occasionally. Sir Maugris is simply, how do you say, in a slump at the moment. Give him some time and he’ll be right as rain.”
Renaud shook his head and waved Lucius off, pretending to be apathetic. “Hmph. Why would I care about that wretch? Maugris is free to torment himself and suffer all he wants. My only concern is whether or not he’ll fulfill his duties properly. Beyond that, he is but air to me: an annoying reminder of days I do not enjoy to recall.”
“Is that so? A gentleman cannot be deceived, my skinny friend. I am sure there are at least a few fond memories amidst the unsavory.”
The Peer stood silently for a little while, before responding, “Even so, it does not matter. The slivers of happiness I felt then, or the days I spent laughing amongst those I truly thought companions… they are all nothing when compared to the pain I suffered as a result of their ignorance. It exposes every memento in a new light. It whispers all that could have been, if only someone had reached out to me, helped me, grabbed my hand when I was at my lowest. But no, they were not there in my time of need. I, and I alone, had to claw out of the muck myself. That is why I will never treat Maugris more other than an annoying pest, and it is in your best interest to do the same.”
With that, Renaud let out a puff of air in annoyance, and he turned back around to direct the expedition. No other words would be exchanged between the two. If the Peer had continued, he would have revealed far more about himself than he’d care to admit.
A rally horn blared, signifying their resuming march, and so it was that Expedition Argo charged confidently into the Crag-Stone Cliffs. This was of far different layout than the plains or wetlands, for they found themselves in a complex interconnected series of ledges, paths, stone walkways that either ascended in elevation or delved deeper toward the black abyss far below. There was no way of knowing where you’d end up if you fell, but the gentleman had a feeling it wasn’t somewhere pleasant. Best not to look down!
Oftentimes the group encountered many forks in the path that would twist right back around to where they started if not careful; fortunately, however, Sir Maugris served as their guide and led them through the cliffsides. Occasionally, they would need to enter a cavern, and inside were the most gorgeous formations of crystals and glowing jewels. They lit up the space with light where the suns could not reach; and farther in, they even discovered natural streams of water, which came dripping from the tip of icy stalagmites.
This discovery would not come without incident, however, for where there was water… there was also life. The expedition came to a stop as a loud thunk echoed through the cavern, stomping closer, until they were met with the sight of a large, bulky, and winged creature with the body of a dragon, chicken-like legs, and a whiskered face resembling a fish.
“The Jabberwock,” Renaud said, ordering his men to stand at the ready. “A fitting prey for our first hunt. Let us—”
Before he could speak further, a loud blast exploded behind them, and the Franks all dropped to the ground as a bolt of lightning sizzled forth, crashed into the Jabberwock, and incinerated it into a pile of ash.
Sir Renaud slowly turned his head around, only to discover the impatient visage of the musician Mili, who was not too pleased with the sudden halt.
“Can we hurry up already?” she said, voice surprisingly agitated unlike her usual self. Mili glanced at the cavern’s walls, the high ceiling, and shivered in disgust. The layout was reminiscent of the Tutorial dungeon Lucius’s party was first taken to, albeit with less rotting meat. Still, the brain was complex. It riddled one’s mind with anxiety at even the slightest resemblance of that which brought them trauma. “No point in slowing down for small fry. I’ll stand up there and blast whatever the heck comes out at us… let’s just get out of here. The sooner the better.”
Renaud blinked, glanced at the charred corpse, and then blinked again before inching toward Lucius’s side. “Were the otherworlders always this powerful?” he asked him. “That was a fully grown Jabberwock. It would ordinarily require a squadron of ten paladins and priests to subjugate.”
Lucius shrugged. “I am not as knowledgeable of the others, but at least in regards to my own companions, I can confidently say that we are no lesser in strength next to the other.”
“Mm, I see. That makes sense. I was surprised that none had perished after the thunderbirds’ attack, but I figured it was the hand of luck rather than skill. Perhaps I should change my methods…”
Renaud pondered to himself, tapping his foot and murmuring in long indecipherable phrases. Eventually, he snapped his fingers and beckoned for Lucius to come near. “If your kind are willing, then I shall allow them to deal with whatever threats should appear while we remain in the Cliffs. Of course I expect them to listen, and to fall back should I give the order, but let this be a learning experience in preparation for our entry into the Beast Lord’s domain. We need not maintain as tight a formation as we did during the wetlands.”
Lucius clapped his hands and gave the Peer an enthusiastic nod. “But of course! I am sure my fellows would be most delighted to take upon this honor.”
After the man approved his leave, Lucius returned to the otherworlder division and told the players there of Renaud’s proposal. As expected, most of them agreed, with the support oriented players choosing to stay back, and so the gentleman led his forty-some combatants to the front of the expedition. They held no ill will toward these underground beasts, but the promise of experience and further growth was too appealing to pass up.
A quick discussion passed, with the focus centered on how to distribute experience. The party decided on utilizing a rotation system; small groups of five formed with each member comprising a specific role, sort of how the young Mister Thames based his system, and they would take turns subjugating each creature—unless they failed to do so or were put into danger, which Mili was then given full permission to vaporize the remnants herself.
With that, the players gathered together into a group huddle and then shouted out in a motivational cry. It was charming, like one of those high school sports gatherings Lucius would always see in early nineties teen sitcom dramas. He wasn’t particularly interested in such films himself, at first, but that would eventually change after he found one particular disk propped up on an altar in the middle of Tenochtitlan, the ancient capital of the Aztec Empire. What was it doing there? He had no clue. The show was fun to watch, nonetheless.
Moving on, the group proceeded to leave the cavern whilst in their new formations, but they weren’t out of the Crag-Stone Cliffs just yet. They traversed through many more paths, entered many more cave systems, and also came across a variety of monsters.
There were large birds—actual ones instead of the demonized versions—that were as big as a bull and had razor sharp talons. Mister Crowley the bomberman dealt with them, launching a cluster of bombs that exploded and then split into more bombs. How fun.
As for those on ground, Marco and Harper pummeled a tall furry beast Sir Renaud referred to as a ‘Loup-Garou’, which sort of resembled some kind of werewolf or lycanthrope, with a tough hide, a slobbering jaw, and great agility. Such speed meant nothing to the two though. The beast had scarcely a chance to react before it was met with a combination of flame and piercing water.
Lucius also participated occasionally, although the experience gain was paltry compared to his current level.
*EXP + 15!
*EXP + 20!
*EXP + 10!
None of his current skills had ranked up either, likely due to the low danger the beasts posed. The system hadn’t even assigned them a mission; culling these things wasn’t even worth an additional reward.
>[Virtual Goddess of the Wired slowly begins to nod off, before snapping back awake and apologizing for the shameful display]<
>[The Primal Hunter checks in on your channel after noticing your battles, but soon leaves out of boredom]<
>[Jester of Nihility plays a game of poker against themself. They lost]<
Even the Stars weren’t interested in Lucius’s current journey. How fortunate for them, then, that the Expedition would emerge from their final cave system. The Crag-Stone Cliffs were behind them. The trip had passed without much incident unlike in the wetlands, but none of the expedition members complained. They were thankful to have a smooth journey for once, and thus with the day setting once more, they marched forward and entered the last region blocking their way to the Beast Lord’s domain: the fields of Sleepy Hollow.
Lucius looked around, expecting another eccentric area full of danger and curious scenery, but what he was met with instead was far more… dead. Grey stretched out endlessly into a flat open field before them. There were no trees, no grass, nor beasts or landmarks to note of. Instead, the ground was littered in countless swords, and spears, and broken armors long covered in dust.
This was no natural region, but a forgotten battlefield. One plagued with the fallen corpses of the Franks.
“... To think I would one day gaze upon this sight in person.” Sir Renaud walked up to a rusted helmet, and he gently brushed the visor until a symbol of a three-headed deity was uncovered from the grime. He stared at the helm for a moment, closed his eyes, and then muttered a prayer before respectfully laying it back down.
Lucius knelt beside him. He did not speak a word. He merely stayed there, waiting, until the Peer chose to confide in the gentleman once he made his peace.
“This is a hallowed land,” Renaud said, rising back up and looking out to the sea of shattered metal. “It is proof of our peoples’ resistance, their bravery and courage, and the site where his late Holiness, Pepin the Shadowed Monarch of Terror and Revulsion, made his last stand against the demonic forces.”
Lucius nodded. “So it was here that he perished in battle?”
“Yes, this is where that old monster fell, and our nation has been the better for it since. A shame he needed to drag so many of our paladins with him, but at least he managed to slay eight of the Great Evils. I shudder to think what would have become of us if they were still alive.”
“The demons, or Pepin?”
Renaud laughed and slapped Lucius’s shoulder. “Both. You would be hard pressed to find a single person in this entire continent who mourned his passing. He was repulsive. I had the displeasure of attending his audience along with my father, and every time I glanced at his face… I trembled, and choked, for that face was one of evil made manifest. How could such a person be called the avatar of God? That this man, who brutalized the maidservants, ripped off their heads, and drank the blood from their spurting remains merely out of entertainment, was the very icon I had to revere as holy? I feared for my life every second I prostrated before him. And even now, his dreadful appearance remains burned in my memory.”
“I am surprised none attempted to revolt, based on the stories I’ve heard.”
“How could anyone revolt against a man who sank islands with his rage? No, we could only cower and pray that his wrath was not set against us. Every moment before him was one spent in silent fear.”
Renaud tightened his fists and shook with a fierce rage that threatened to explode; but eventually, he managed to collect himself and then stared at his creased hands. “My mother was taken from us because of him. We were never given a reason, but it requires no wiseman to suspect why. The next we saw her was as a mangled clump of meat.
“Bradamante was not there, then, and I am thankful for it. If she was… would my sister have turned out like me? A spineless, powerless whelp, forced to slave under the very man who ruined his house. To this day she still does not know who killed our mother. How darkly humorous it was that she would run off to become a paladin for our sworn enemy! I envy her ignorance. I would have given everything to return to the boy I was before that moment.”
Tears formed in Renaud’s eyes. Lucius handed him a handkerchief, and patiently waited until he was ready to proceed.
“... It was only when Uncle Ganelon had succeeded in manipulating that monster into following his will that the nation was given some reprieve,” Renaud said. “But even so we could not kill him. It was impossible, no matter the assassins or poisons we sent. The former emperor survived it all. Yet still uncle did his best to protect us—we who had looked down on him as sullied blood unworthy of acknowledgement. Is it any surprise then that he would become so twisted?”
“It certainly explains quite a bit.”
“Yes, it does. Ganelon and I… we are both still ever entangled in the emperor’s curse, as are the souls of all those spread across this forsaken grey field.”
Renaud sighed, and looked up to the sky for a little while, staring at the Stars ever so high above.
“Let us make camp for the evening,” he eventually said, calling for an attendant and relaying the order. “There are no monsters in this region. Rest as long as you require, but do not stray from the border. The souls of this place demand peace. Any who dares to disturb it shall meet my full scrutiny. That is all.”
With that, the expedition broke away. A somber mood drifted through the people. Only a moment ago they were bright in spirit, but the gentleman supposed it was only natural to feel suffocated whilst in the midst of a graveyard. If one listened close they might even hear the faint wailing of a ghost—or perhaps it was just the wind. Regardless, everyone was unsettled in some manner.
“Hm…” Lucius muttered himself, observing the others with a slow, creeping grin. “Oh dear, at this rate I doubt anyone will have a good night’s rest what with all this talk about souls and the dead. Perhaps I should lend a hand!”
>[Sinister Interdimensional Bureaucrat raises their brow]<
>[Virtual Goddess of the Wired approves Lucius’s idea, but asks how he intends to help them]<
Lucius chuckled and pulled out the flowers he snagged from the wetlands. “Why, with a little incense, of course! These lovely blooms have a rich, soothing scent. Smoking them when everyone’s gone to sleep will aid in their relaxation, as well as give them strength for the morrow to come.”
>[Virtual Goddess of the Wired gives Lucius a big thumbs up]<
>[Sinister Interdimensional Bureaucrat nods knowingly and turns away, pretending not to see the purple flower hidden in the middle]<
Hiding? Surely not. Lucius wasn’t hiding a thing. No, the purple flower was merely another one of his collected blooms. One he obtained from Ruggiero’s home. The Belikorn flower… which, when improperly handled, induced hallucinations.
Lucius smiled, and wrapped the flowers into a bouquet. Yes, everyone was sure to have pleasant dreams this evening. And when they inevitably wake up, perhaps their excitement will bid the good Sir Maugris to act.
All that was left to do was snatch his scepter.
