QuiteTheSlacker
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[The Distinguished Mr. Rose] Chapter 89: I Don't Want to Forget
🕑 Added 2025-08-14 00:14:39 +0000 UTCIt was on the morning of the next day that the castle practically buzzed with activity as servants and officials rushed about to prepare for Sir Renaud’s resignation ceremony. The event would take place in the central courtroom, where the influential judges of Francia, the Peers, and those from the priestly order would formally watch over the proceedings.
Renaud became a sensational topic overnight. There was no end to the gossip whispered amongst the halls; and as Lucius visited the dining room to fix himself a lovely breakfast, he heard many a Frankishman speculate over the reason for the former Peer’s ceding. Some believed he went mad whilst out on the expedition while others said that it must be because he wronged Sir Ganelon somehow. Unbeknownst to them, Renaud’s choices were solely his own. It would be quite intriguing to see how this ripple would affect the nation.
Not many would be given such an opportunity to witness the ceremony firsthand, however. It was no surprise given the drastic nature of the affair, and as a result most of the players were denied entry—except for Lucius.
A royal herald approached the gentleman while he was sipping on his tea and gave him an ornately decorated letter. Inside was an invitation signed by Sir Renaud. It would allow him inside the courtroom, where he was to gather with the rest of Roland’s faction near the stands. Lucius did not know why his friendly fellow wanted his presence there, but who was he to deny an entertaining show? Besides, Lucius would’ve just found another way to sneak in elsewise.
There were still a few hours left before it began, plenty of time to visit a certain friend of his.
After meeting up with Marco, Mili, and Harper for a brief get-together and exchanging information, Lucius skulked his way through the castle before eventually ending up at a familiar doorstep. The surroundings were empty as usual, save for a lone Adler Flower perched carefully to the side.
Lucius opened the door and was greeted by the smiling face of young Karolus.
“You’ve returned!” the boy said, jumping from his seat and guiding Lucius inside. “It’s a shame you always have to leave for so many days, but I’m glad you’re safe. The other servants said that only half of the members survived, so I was… a bit worried.”
Lucius chuckled and ruffled Karolus’s hair. “I am ever thankful for your concern, my young friend. It is true that my recent journey was filled with much peril; however, I had many great fellows beside me, and it is because of their aid that I can now stand before you. It is unfortunate that not all of us had the chance to return.”
Karolus nodded sadly. “I heard Sir Maugris fell honorably in battle.”
“That he did. He was a bright soul, one full of ambition. The people will remember his sacrifice for years to come.”
The boy shifted in his chair and wrestled with himself for a moment. He wished to say something, but whatever it was brought him much hesitation.
“Is death honorable, Lucius?” he eventually asked. He spoke in a low whisper and, oddly enough, appeared a bit guilty. Karolus didn’t seem like the type to voice his concerns in front of others; however, it was not a natural inclination, but rather one born out of conditioning. It was better for him to stay silent—to remain detached from the world, listless as the tranquil waters.
But when it came to Lucius, the boy began to stir. He knew the gentleman was not like the others. Where before he would likely be met with a dismissive wave, here he could speak his mind; and the other would truly listen.
“That is an interesting question,” Lucius replied. “I suppose it is not the act of dying itself that stokes praise, but rather the intention behind it.”
“The intention?”
“Yes, every act has an intention, whether we know it or not. For Maugris, I doubt he truly planned to die that day; but fate is a cruel mistress. It arrives without warning and forces us to make a choice. Maugris’s choice was to fight for his people, and though he died in battle, it is because of his intention to protect that others look fondly upon his memory. Quite interesting, wouldn’t you say? When one claims a death to be honorable, it is their actions whilst alive that are praised rather than the end itself.”
Of course, that wasn’t what happened at all. Maugris was no heroic champion—quite the opposite. He refused to acknowledge the ambition inside him and, consequently, succumbed to the demonic influence brought from his own hubris. Karolus didn’t need to know that, however. Nor did anyone else.
“I see…” Karolus lowered his head. “I understand that. Maugris gave up everything for Francia, and I don’t deny that he should be honored. What I am confused about is… why is no one sad?”
“How so?”
Karolus tapped his fingers against the table, unsure of how to reply. “Wherever I look, all I see are people talking about what a great man he was. But there are no tears in their eyes. They aren’t sad, or mournful, or even that bothered by his death. Their words seem so fake to me, and hollow. It was the same with Sir Ogier. They sing all this praise and glory, but if they truly respected him like that then they would have appreciated him more while he was still alive.”
“Well, that is because they do not know him, Karolus. Perhaps some had a brief conversation with Maugris here and there, but the truth is there were likely few who knew him personally. The servants, the commonfolk, even the priests of the order… they only know what has been spread through word of mouth. It is difficult to feel true grief for someone you have rarely met.”
Karolus scowled. “If that’s true, then why pretend otherwise? With how some of these people act, you would think he was their family rather than a stranger. It feels disrespectful, like they’re leeching on his memory to make themselves look better. It was only when he died that they started to care about him.”
“Such is only natural, Karolus. There will be those who spout empty compliments simply because everyone else does, and there will be others who do so to keep his memory alive. Only through death does one realize what may never be again. For now the deceased is the star of the show, but eventually… people forget. They weep, and mourn, and finally heal. They will continue on with their lives as they always have. This excitement will only last for a few days; by next week, Francia will return to normal.”
Karolus breathed in deeply, and then he let out a slow exhale. There was a resistance in his eyes, an unwillingness to let go, but whether it was toward Maugris in particular… Lucius had his doubts.
“I feel sorry for the dead,” he mumbled. “Isn’t it painful to be forgotten? Everything you were in life is talked about for only a few days before it’s all… gone, treated as if you never existed. I don’t want to forget.”
Lucius raised his brow and then bid the young Karolus a curious gesture. “My, were you really that close with the late Maugris?”
The boy shook his head. “No, I only got to see him a couple of times around the castle.”
“Then why do you hold such grief?”
To that, Karolus didn’t seem to know himself. He pondered for a while, before replying, “I guess I can relate, in a way. I’ve seen something similar before. Back then, though, everyone was too afraid of his late Holiness to hold a proper funeral. There was a flower wreath, some candles, and then… everyone moved on. But I didn’t. I still haven’t, and I want to keep it that way.”
“You must have cherished that person very deeply.”
Karolus gave the gentleman a sad smile. “Yes, she meant the whole world to me.”
After that, Lucius regaled onto Karolus of his adventures out in the wilds. He spoke of the thunderbirds’ attack, the grand creatures of the cliffs, the spectral wraiths of the hollow, and finally the expedition’s run-in with the legendary Beast Lord. Karolus had gasped in excitement, knowing a long-spoken fairy tale of Francia was indeed real; and he followed Lucius’s every word as the man concluded with the assault by the Evil of Ears.
When Lucius was finished, Karolus leaned back, exhausted as if he had undergone the trials himself, and a wide grin was plastered over his face.
“Your stories become more and more thrilling than the last,” he said. “There is one thing I’m uncertain about, though… you said Sir Renaud was the one who slayed the demon, but everyone else in the castle claims that the honor belongs to you.”
“Ah, that is no discrepancy, young Karolus. Renaud indeed was the one who dealt the demon’s final blow; however, he wished for me to declare otherwise.”
“Huh? That doesn’t sound like the Renaud I know.”
“What is he like to you?”
Karolus rubbed his forehead, thinking. “He is a very heartbroken person: a little weird, sometimes scary, but also gentle when no one else is looking. He’s a bit like Uncle Ganelon, only more sad. That’s also why I was surprised when I heard he was going to step down from being a Peer. Did he have a change of heart?”
Lucius smiled. “I suppose you could say that. The Renaud of present day is much different.”
“In a good way?”
“That is for him alone to decide.”
A slow, ringing bell echoed from the far reaches of the castle. Their time was up. Lucius leapt onto his feet and quickly cleaned the room, before making toward the door and bidding the young Karolus a hearty fare-thee-well.
“It would appear the ceremony is soon to start,” he said to the boy. “Would you like to come with me?”
Karolus was appreciative of the thought, but gently refused. “It’s okay, a servant like me wouldn’t be welcomed inside anyway.
“Ah, yes. A ‘servant’ boy. Very well, I shall be off then. Do not worry, I will recount the proceedings to you upon my return.”
With that, Lucius joyfully set off. He didn’t know exactly where to go, so he just followed the crowd and steadily made his way to an open part of the castle. A large waiting area with lounges and chandeliers and all sorts of fancy decorations was revealed before him; and at the very end was a large set of oak doors with the emblem of the Frank’s god inscribed boldly in the center.
A few guards roamed amongst them and checked their certifications before ordering the crowd to wait. There were some sneaky fellows—lower level officers—who tried to bluff their way in, but the paladins weren’t so easily fooled, and so many were left sulking back with their heads lowered. It was quite a strange sight seeing how many there were. Lucius thought the ceremony to be mere legal proceedings, but with how talkative everyone was, one would be fooled into thinking this to be some sort of spectacle.
Eventually, the doors parted way, and they were all pushed into a grand chamber with sparkling marble far as the eye could see. From the floor, the walls, the ceiling, to even the sculpted seats—everything was made of the stuff. Lucius was reminded of how truly rich the nation was.
The gentleman didn’t have time to admire the sights, however, before a familiar face tapped his shoulder. Lucius turned around and was met with the dashing visage of Sir Roland.
“I am glad to see you are here, Sir Lucius,” the leader of the Peers said with a friendly tone. “Come, let me show you to our section.”
Apparently Lucius was now firmly cemented amongst those of Roland’s retinue. He didn’t mind, though. It was quite convenient to have such influential people in his company; and so he followed Roland to the very back near where the judges’ stands were.
A great wave of people kept flooding in for some time. Even Archbishop Turpin made an appearance, although the elderly priest was just as confused as everyone else and mingled amongst the others of the holy order.
After a moment, the people sat themselves proper and paid careful attention as the leading figure of the court, Sir Ganelon, marched forth and took his place at the center as High Tribunal. The shifty man appeared noticeably irritated, and he grumbled to himself as his lackeys flocked to his side and barraged him with all sorts of inane questions.
“Enough,” he spat. “Renaud has made his choice. Sit down and watch like the obedient little fools you are.”
That quickly shut them up, and thus the judges took to their positions.
Ganelon cleared his throat and waited for the chamber to fall silent, before addressing them all in a dull voice. “Thank you all for attending my, haha, nephew’s going away party! Can you believe it? Oh, they grow up so fast. So… frustrating. But that is neither here nor there. We have gathered here today to witness Sir Renaud’s formal abdication of his title as Peer. He will no longer have the support of the castle, nor the privileges and benefits of his station. With this, he will return to a normal life as a civilian.”
A few people walked up to Lucius’s side as Sir Ganelon continued on with his opening speech. The gentleman smiled, for there before him were the stalwart Peers of Francia: Ruggiero, Bradamante, and even his new acquaintance, Lady Angelica. The latter stood a fair distance away from Roland however and practically hid herself next to Bradamante.
“Sir Lucius, you are a sight for sore eyes,” said the ever charming Ruggiero, who now wore a delicate necklace with a green jewel around his neck. Lady Bradamante also had a similar design, except her jewel was of a bright red.
“Ruggiero! My, you are looking positively stunning,” Lucius said, giving the man a friendly hug. “Judging by your necklace, I assume the wedding went well?”
Bradamante smiled with all her heart and gave Lucius a friendly punch to the shoulder. “It was everything I ever dreamed about and more. It sucks you couldn’t make it, Lucius, but I want you to know that Ruggiero and I are really, really thankful for all you’ve done for us.”
Lucius laughed. “Nonsense, my dear. I hardly played a part. Truly, congratulations on your marriage. I only wished we could have reunited in a more casual setting.”
Bradamante nodded solemnly and turned her eyes toward the court. “Yep, that brother of mine sure did surprise us all. Damned if I know what he’s thinking.”
“You have not spoken to him yet?”
“I haven’t spoken to him for years, and I doubt he’s willing to change that. It’s just… I don’t understand what this is about. Why would he suddenly break away from Ganelon’s faction now of all times?”
Roland replied in Lucius’s stead. “I believe I informed you already, Bradamante. Renaud is on our side. He may not be the brother you knew or the fellow I once called friend, but he is making an effort to change for the better.”
“And I told you that I don’t believe it one bit,” she said, somewhat annoyed. “Listen, you’re a capable leader, Roland. You want to see the best in people, I understand that, but that also means you’re gullible to a fault. People don’t change that easily. Renaud’s despised me and this world for over two decades now; and whatever plan he has now is done solely to benefit himself.”
“Bradamante… you weren’t there when he returned. I saw it in his eyes, that clear resolution to break free. None here are ignorant of your two’s complicated relationship, but please at least give him the chance to prove himself.”
Bradamante bit her lip and turned away. It was clear she still held some fondness for Renaud, but so long had passed that it was difficult to imagine the two ever reconciling. They were truly ill-fated siblings, torn apart by tragedies beyond their control.
Even so, perhaps a happy ending was not far off in their future. They merely needed the courage to face the other again.
“... Alrighty now, don’t go nodding off on me just yet!” Ganelon said, nearing the end of his speech. “I won’t bore you all any longer. You’re here for the main event, so let’s get it done, hm? Everyone, give your warmest welcomes to the former Peer of Francia: Renaud Dordognnes!”
The doors parted once more, and from the shadows, Renaud emerged into the room’s light with his head held high. He confidently strode forth and ignored the whispers of the crowd judging his every move, before taking to the center where a bright spotlight shone down on him.
“Renaud, this is your final, final, chance,” Ganelon uttered with a grim frown. “Let the esteemed officials of Francia act as our witness. Do you formally renounce your noble title of Peer and all the blessings it grants you?”
“I do,” Renaud replied without a shred of hesitation.
“Do you swear to the Lord God, the Almighty, heavenly Mother of the earth and sky that you do so in sound mind, without the influence of another?”
“I do.”
“Do you pledge to live as a common citizen of Francia, knowing that you shall never again have the opportunity to take up this position or be nominated as its holder ever again for the rest of your life?”
“I do.”
Ganelon clenched his fist and seethed through his teeth. “Very well, then it is done. By the power vested in me as High Tribunal of the Holy Empire of Francia, I hereby strip Renaud Dordognes of his Peership.”
The entire room descended into a mixture of chaos and confusion. They had expected this to be a ruse of some kind, a ploy thought together by both uncle and nephew to shake up Sir Roland’s faction, but the sheer visceral disappointment in Ganelon’s implied anything but. These two were truly estranged.
“He really did it,” Bradamante whispered. “After all this time, he finally let it go.”
Ganelon banged a gavel on his stand and called for silence. “Do you have any parting words, Renaud? Think carefully. This is the last time you will ever be worth something.”
Renaud crossed his arms mischievously and made a big show of deliberating over his words, before replying, “Why yes, I do actually.”
“Really? Then go ahead, speak.”
Renaud briefly glanced at Roland and met his eyes. The two seemed to share a secret conversation for a moment, before breaking away. Then, the former Peer announced something quite surprising to the court.
“I, Renaud Dordognes, hereby invoke my right of nomination.”
If Lucius thought the courtroom was rowdy before, the display before him now was of utter mayhem. Judges and castle officials alike gasped in surprise; and even the Peers collectively swerved amongst themselves, looking to Sir Roland for answers. But he did not reply.
It was only when Ganelon smashed the stand with his fist that the air was silenced again.
“So, you wish to nominate someone to inherit your Peership?” the man grumbled slowly. “Lest you forget, Renaud, tradition states you may only pick so amongst those in this room. And even then, they must garner the majority approval of the Peers, the judges, and the holy order.”
“That is fine by me.”
Ganelon sighed and rubbed his face. “You understand the gravity of this, yes? If you nominate someone undeserving, you will make a fool of both yourself and your new precious faction. Come on, Renaud. You know I’ll just block it. And without suitable accomplishments, the holy order will not approve either.”
But Renaud merely bid him a sly smile. “Are you done with your whimpering, uncle?”
Oh dear, now that really struck a nerve.
“... Fine,” Ganelon said, his veins practically bursting out of his face in anger. “Then say the name. Who do you wish to take up your mantle?”
Renaud slowly raised his hand, and then pointed directly at Lucius.
“I nominate Sir Lucius Rose of the otherworldly heroes to ascend as the next Peer of Francia.”
Comments
Arexio R.
🍿🍿🍿
DeadSlime
Hopefully Lucius doesn’t manage to ‘wiggle’ out of becoming a Peer. But of course a gentleman does not wiggle merely evades with grace and supreme poise.
