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[The Distinguished Mr. Rose] Chapter 64: Renaud of House Dordognes (Start of Book 2)
🕑 Added 2025-05-26 03:19:59 +0000 UTC“What mean ye, that ye use this proverb, saying, the fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children's teeth are set on edge? As I live, saith the Lord God, ye shall not have occasion any more to use this proverb. Behold, all souls are mine; as the soul of the father, so also the soul of the son is mine: the soul that sinneth, it shall die. But if a man be just, and do that which is lawful and right, And hath not eaten upon the mountains neither hath defiled his neighbour's wife… he is just, he shall surely live, saith the Lord God.
“If he beget a son that is a robber, a shedder of blood, and that doeth the like to any one of these things, and that doeth not any of those duties, but even hath eaten upon the mountains, and defiled his neighbour's wife… shall he then live? He shall not live: he hath done all these abominations; he shall surely die; his blood shall be upon him.
“Now, lo, if he beget a son, that seeth all his father's sins which he hath done, and considereth, and doeth not such like, that hath not eaten upon the mountains, neither hath oppressed any, hath not withholden the pledge, neither hath spoiled by violence; he shall not die for the sins of his father, he shall surely live. As for his father, because he cruelly oppressed, spoiled his brother by violence, and did that which is not good among his people, lo, even he shall die in his iniquity.
“Yet say ye, why? Doth not the son bear the sins of the father? When the son hath done that which is lawful and right, and hath kept all my statutes, and hath done them, he shall surely live. The soul that sinneth, it shall die. The son shall not bear the iniquity of the father, neither shall the father bear the iniquity of the son: the righteousness of the righteous shall be upon him, and the wickedness of the wicked shall be upon him.”
Deuteronomy 24:16
———
A busy air had come to the castle of Francia. Servants and priests hurriedly rushed about, finishing their last minute preparations, as banners and flags of gold hung from the ceiling: decorations to celebrate the founding of a historic event. Yes, this day would be the day that the new Order, Expedition Argo, would finally be established.
It was an Order created to investigate the strange happenings among the demonic forces, their odd behavior and why it was that the Great Evils, who had once been merely passive, were now moving with goals unknown. The paladins to be instated as members were of the nation’s highest elite, for they knew the peril would be far beyond the likes any had seen thus far. Safety was a possibility. Danger was certain. Only those resolved to either stand in triumph, or give their life in noble sacrifice, were encouraged to join.
And so it was that the players from another world were given an ultimatum: join the Order and continue your fight, or stay in the capital and contribute to the administration. There were but scarcely five hundred remaining among the thousand who first arrived to this land. Of those five hundred, only fifty chose to venture into the unknown.
The gentlemanly Lucius and his ever-lively companions - Mili the musician, the brawler Marco, and Harper a noble firefighter - were amongst the brave volunteers to take up the paladins’ pledge. Thus, they now left the comforts of their rooms and joined a procession along with the other players leading out to the courtyard.
There, the initiation ceremony would begin, and the party would lay their eyes upon their new commanders. Lucius was quite excited to meet them, especially after all the juicy details he heard from the good Lady Bradamante, a member of the Peers and whose brother would soon join them on their unpredictable voyage.
But before they could leave the castle, Lucius thought back to an encounter he had the prior day.
It was on the eve of his final night that he visited a young fellow of his, Karolus, a supposed ‘servant’ of the castle, to bid his farewell. The boy had awaited him in their regular meeting room far away from the other sections of the castle—in a place long forgotten, or perhaps purposely avoided, from the fathoms of memory.
“Oh dear, now what is with that frown, my friend?” Lucius said, greeting a disheartened Karolus. The boy looked at him from his seat at the table, and he beckoned for the gentleman to join him.
“I can never get used to saying goodbyes,” he said. “I’ve said too many of them: to people I care for, people who promised to return. Usually, they don’t come back. And some I lost before I could even realize.”
Karolus’s eyes turned misty, and he wiped his tears away with an embarrassed laugh. “I can’t help but feel this… dread, whenever someone says goodbye. But what hurts me most is that I’m powerless to stop them. I know they must leave for a reason, that it’s for the good of the nation; yet some days I wonder, had I been stronger, more capable, more worthy of… um, I mean more influential, would they need to go? I ask myself that—a lot. Unfortunately, there’s no real answer.”
Lucius smiled wide and gestured to himself with a wide flourish. “You need not fear any such things for me, young Karolus. I have already returned once, haven’t I? My promise was kept; my words rang true. And so it shall be again. No matter the weeks or months I spend out there, I will come back: victorious and stylish as ever.”
The boy stared at him, and then smiled back. There was no hesitation or worry this time; for Karolus knew that Lucius was not merely bluffing. A gentleman’s vow could never be broken.
“Will you tell me more stories once you return?” he asked.
“But of course,” Lucius replied, ruffling the boy’s hair. “I have a feeling it will be a very exciting tale.”
Thus had they parted for the second time, though it would certainly not be the last.
Such brought Lucius to the present, where he and his companions had just arrived out onto the grassy fields of the outdoors. A line of paladins saluted the players from each side of the courtyard, and a large ceremony was held at the very center, where a podium, rows of neatly laid chairs, and an enthusiastic audience awaited them. The native citizenry of Francia watched the spectacle from afar, while those of higher standing closely monitored the proceedings whilst seated in a special closed off section.
There was, of course, those of the Peers: Sir Bradamante and Ruggiero, who were the talk of the city after their marital announcement. Alongside them was their leader, Sir Roland, and Olivier the Chief of Administration.
Archbishop Turpin and Ganelon the High Tribunal sat separately in their own corners. Regardless of factions, each person was very interested in the new Order’s establishment. The nation could finally spare manpower now that one of the Great Evils had perished; and so it was that two different Peers would take up the mantle as the expedition’s leaders.
The players were directed to their seats, and soon, they were joined by about two hundred of the paladins. Expedition Argo couldn’t be too large, for they needed to traverse the lands with speed and efficiency; but such numbers were not paltry whatsoever. It was almost as if they had drafted a force just large enough to hunt a Great Evil itself…
Lucius’s suspicions would have to be put on hold for now. Loud fanfare blared through the noisy crowd, and the people were soon silenced as two regal figures walked up and stood over them all on the podium.
The first was a wise looking fellow dressed in white robes and wielding an ornate scepter with a rainbow crystal—almost like one of those wizards Lucius had read so much about. Like the sage Merlin from the Arthurian stories. Despite his scholarly disposition, however, the man was as muscular as any paladin, and he presented himself in a humble light.
“Well met, brave volunteers of Expedition Argo,” the wizard said. “It is my pleasure to greet you all. I am a humble theurgist of the Holy Order’s combat division, faithful scholar of the Lord’s scripture, member of the Twelve Peers, and your vice-commander for the voyage ahead. I refer to myself as Maugris; please, do regard me kindly.”
Sir Roland and his faction applauded Maugris’s introduction, as well as the others in the audience. The only one who abstained from doing so was Sir Ganelon—who watched the display with a dry smile and an inscrutable gaze.
The next person to walk forth was… quite unexpected, especially for one who supposedly belonged to the High Tribunal’s faction. Unlike the calm, yet imposing, wizard that was Sir Maugris, this next man lacked any real presence. His hair, a raven black, was messy and unkempt. His eyes sagged with dark shadows. And his body was lanky even for Earth’s standards: with protruding bones, emaciated skin, and a hunch that imparted upon him a gloomy appearance.
Yet despite this all, there was a clear nobility in the way he portrayed himself: a regalness that only one born into higher standing could exude. That man looked out to them now, and he spoke in a low, dark tone.
“You do not know me,” he began. “The otherworlders, the paladins, and even those commoners outside the gates… none have been given reason to cheer my name. But that—that will change. This expedition is the beginning of my rise to fame! And I suppose yours as well. All of you should be honored to be part of this noble cause, especially now that you are led by me: Renaud of the noble House Dordognes. I am a Peer just like Sir Maugris, no matter what those scum of the outside say about me, so I expect to be treated with the same, if not higher, respect.”
Renaud’s speech was met with noticeably less applause than that toward his wizardly colleague, but the silence didn’t seem to dissuade him, and he carried on with the same, strangely spiteful, tone.
“I am your leader. Your superior, your commander, the one who stands above all in rank. Every decision must go through me, so do not dare to even entertain the thought of overstepping your boundaries. I will be always watching.”
With that last ominous sentence, the man swerved his head and then glared directly at Sir Roland.
“I will prove myself to you,” he said, as if speaking to Roland himself. “That I am not lesser. That I deserve this title just like the others. Look upon our departure with expectation, for we shall return triumphant like none in history have ever before. That is my pledge.”
Sir Ganelon suddenly stood up and whistled, his prior dull expression completely disappeared and now replaced with a loud, boisterous ovation. “That’s my boy!” he said with a hoot and a holler. “Well, what are you all waiting for? Clap.”
The paladins in attendance reluctantly clapped their hands, and so it was that Sir Renaud was given his moment in the spotlight as well, even if it wasn’t out of true goodwill. That didn’t seem to matter to him. The man hung his head back and delighted in their insincere applause, nonetheless—savoring the sound and burning it into his memory. He moaned and let out a creepy laugh, steadily growing in volume until all Lucius could hear was his manic cheers seeking for approval.
Lady Bradamante looked at her estranged brother with a pitiful look, and she held Ruggiero’s hand: grasping it tight.
“Renaud…” she whispered. “Do you really not see what you’ve become? What Ganelon has turned you into?”
Sir Roland’s expression remained cold despite Renaud’s almost blatant challenge, yet hidden underneath was a frown mired in sadness.
“When will you understand, old friend?” he sighed. “From the very beginning, I have never wished to compete with you.”
It was a very surreal experience, this intricate web of politics. Two sides fought for influence, and caught in the middle were the players, who simply wished to complete this world’s mission and progress to wherever the system would next take them.
Lucius for his part though was most intrigued by Renaud. The man was, to put it plainly, pathetic: a shell desperately reaching out for even the smallest scrap of recognition. But where one would see only a third-rate villain, the gentleman noticed something far more precious: more beautiful laying underneath.
A miserable flower waiting to be bloomed.
“Ah, but I suppose you all must be curious about our destination,” Renaud said, leveling his head and addressing the expedition members with a returned sobriety. “We first learned of strange happenings after the fall of Roncevaux Fortress. There, we received a report that the Forest Guardian had been corrupted. For a spirit of nature to have fallen… something is amiss, and it is our duty to discover what. As a result, we will all be journeying north-west—”
Renaud paused for dramatic effect.
“—to the primeval lands, where the Beast Lord’s domain resides. Prepare yourselves well. We leave at midnight.”
With that, he turned around and left, leaving the paladins to stew in their worry. The players knew not what this ‘Beast Lord’ was, but the mere mention of its name was enough to frighten the Franks: even more so than the demons.
The expedition had yet to even depart, and already it was off to an uneasy start.
>[Main Questline: To the Domain of the Beast Lord]<
You have fought against the demons and survived against one of the Four Great Evils, but your mission does not end here. A creeping influence continues to spread through the land, and bizarre changes in the hordespawn’s behavior have begun to reveal itself. A clue to resolving this troubling matter lies to the north-west, where a being of old known as the Beast Lord calls home. Travel to these lands, discover the source of the demons’ change, and you may yet grow ever closer to slaying your ultimate foe: the Demon Lord.
Reward: 1500 Cosmic Coins and a Skill Rank-Up Card
Failure: Death
Comments
Jonas
This chapter has a bit of recap(y) stuff just because it's meant to be the start of a new book, but hopefully it shouldn't be too egregious.
