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[The Distinguished Mr. Rose] Chapter 25: Roland of the Twelve Peers
🕑 Added 2025-04-08 23:40:02 +0000 UTCThe paladin called Roland bowed his head, and addressed the players with a dominant, authoritative voice. “Well met, heroes of another world. I am Sir Roland of the Twelve Peers. Among the eleven others who serve as his Holiness’s advisors, we oversee the well-being and the defense of this sacred Empire, as well as the court’s high tribunal. You need only seek the insignia of the Imperial Eagle upon our garbs to identify our members.”
Lucius felt the hair on his skin come to a halt. Sir Roland’s demeanor was respectful, but his tone was anything but - pushing down on all within the hall with a spine-chilling pressure. It didn’t take a keen eye to see that the paladin’s courtesy was a poorly veiled front; his words, while cordial, were spit with a tongue laced in venom and distrust. He was nothing like the Archbishop. Rather than welcome the players with open arms, he regarded them with the most doubt.
Some of the more fearless players tried to stand up and resist his suppression, but they were soon overcome with a cold sweat: faces pale and drenched in exhaustion. It was as if an invisible force had chained them in place.
They would have been stuck there were it not for the Archbishop’s chidings. “Roland, my friend, this jest is in poor taste.”
The paladin reacted not, but after a moment the pressure disappeared, and the frightened players were released from their bindings. “I know not what you infer, Father Turpin. I am merely greeting them in accordance with the knights’ standard.”
“These people are not knights.”
“Such has been proven. We shall see if this result be fortune or disappointment.”
The paladin sighed, and then faced the group with a reluctant sobriety. At the very least he viewed them not as enemies - perhaps due to the mediocre resistance demonstrated during his taunt. “The Archbishop has deemed you warriors summoned by our God. Whether this claim be true, it matters not. You are here now, intertwined with our empire’s fate, so I am obliged to treat you as my fellows. I am not ignorant that you are all foreigners to this land, so I do not expect you to know nor familiarize yourself with our culture. Regardless, I will hold no quarter should you bear ill will to our people. The innocent harbor no sin. If you must direct your hatred, then let it be upon me.”
Sir Roland was not a friendly man by any means, but Lucius saw in him a sincere pledge to protect his people. It was inevitable that one shouldered with such responsibility would be wary towards those with unknown intentions and capabilities. The fact he still chose to accept them, however, meant that the troubles of this nation must truly be dire.
The Archbishop coughed and, discreetly, pulled the paladin back. “Thank you for your time, Sir Roland. The man may come across as fierce, but I plead for your understanding. Dark times have besieged us these past years. It is his duty to be cautious.”
His words were meant to inspire charity and cooperation, but to the players, they only felt a creeping sense of dread. If there existed ten others with strength similar to these two, then how terrible must this threat be?
The answer to that, the Archbishop would soon answer.
The holy man clasped his hands together and regaled upon them a solemn account of the empire’s history. The knights, and even Sir Roland, saluted out of respect, listening to the speech with clenched fists and… fear?
“Twenty years ago,” Turpin began. “This land was on the cusp of greatness. His late Holiness, Pepin the Cruel, had just united the warring territories under the banner of conquest. All became subjects of the Holy Empire, and toward this unfortunate, fragmented world, harmony was no longer an impossible dream. New trade routes were established; kings and queens alike relinquished their crowns; and for a time prosperity flourished like never before. Those of the Danes, the Saxons, Moors and Saracens all: they became our neighbors, forging new lives along our own.”
The Archbishop carried on with a patriotism that would make any loyalist beam with pride, except the knights’ reaction was not nearly so positive. They winced at the name Pepin, and if his moniker was to be believed, then no wonder. Roland himself was the most shaken up by the late emperor’s mention.
“However, that all changed ten years ago,” Turpin continued. “It was an ordinary day. I remember it vividly: the clear blue waters, the fields of golden wheat swaying in the wind. It should have been a day like any other, but then… a nightmare descended upon the world. It flew across the sky and landed in the western mountain range. To this day we know not its true appearance nor objective, but ever since then, our nation has been plagued by terrible, terrible creatures: monsters spilling forth from the mountain’s womb. We refer to these vile abominations by the name of Demon. And their leader - the Demon King.”
This was starting to sound very familiar to one of those stories Jack used to ramble on about. What was it called again? Ah, yes: Isekai. Lucius remembered it now. Some details were different here and there, but at least he had an idea of what to expect.
The Archbishop lowered his head. His eyes began to cloud, tears forming, but he quickly composed himself and spoke again - hand over heart. “Our noble paladins and priests fought valiantly in the defense of our people, but the horde pushed on, endless in their number. Eventually, even his late Holiness, Pepin the Bloodthirsty—”
Hm? It’s bloodthirsty now?
“—succumbed in battle five sorrowful years ago, leaving his current Holiness, Emperor Charlemagne, to inherit the throne. Since then, we have succeeded in halting the demonic advance at the western border, but we know not how long this peace can be maintained. The demons shall never cease their invasion until their wicked king is dead.”
Archbishop Turpin suddenly reached out his hand and beckoned to the players with a heartfelt plea. “Yet despite the tragedy, I believed hope would come to us yet. I prayed to our God, the Chivalric Star, night and day, in the far recesses of night lit only by candlewax, and I prayed ever more - even when my knees grew bloody and my throat cried parched. I prayed, and finally: I heard His word. The Lord gave onto me a revelation nigh two weeks ago. He foretold of your coming, declared thine people as the saviors who would bring rest onto our weary nation. You are warriors of the divine, whether knowing or not, and so I humbly ask thus.”
The Archbishop walked forward with a determined gaze. He stood in front of them all, and then without pause or doubt, dropped onto his knees - and bowed. This holy man of status and power who aroused respect merely with his presence… yielded himself to them, complete strangers, without regard for his image.
“Please,” he said, forehead pressed against the floor. The knights were flustered and tried to bring him up, but the Archbishop refused to budge. “Lend us your aid.”
The moment he finished his speech, a message window appeared in front of Lucius, as well as seemingly to the rest of the players.
>[GRAND QUEST]<
The Holy Empire, Francia, will one day fall if the demons are not subjugated. Rally your allies, grow your strength, and slay the Demon King hidden westward toward the mountains. The paladins of this nation shall aid your cause, but beware: they are men and women of mortal flesh. Should they perish in battle, victory will be all but impossible.
The time limit is two years.
Reward: 2000 Cosmic Coins, a skill book containing a random A-rank skill from the World of Charlemagne, and progression to the next stage.
Failure: Death.
The System’s commands were quite blunt: either you completed the mission, or you perished. There was no other choice, no option to simply forget their old life and forge a new one in this foreign land. After two years, everyone would be gone whether they willed it or not.
The Archbishop seemed to mistake their solemn acceptance for bravery, however, and his face soon beamed with joy. “Oh, thank you. Thank you, brave warriors! I know not how to express the depth of my gratitude.”
Lucius understood what he had to do, but there was one thing he was very curious about: where was the Emperor? The question refused to leave his investigative mind, and so he did what any other gentleman would do, and raised his hand.
“Yes, the elegant man in the violet suit?” Turpin asked.
“I do beg your pardon if this may seem rude,” Lucius began. “But may I inquire as to the whereabouts of his Holiness the Emperor? It surprises me that the leader of this nation would be absent, considering the importance of this meeting.”
The Archbishop and Sir Roland glanced at each other. It was quick, barely noticeable if one were not paying attention, but Lucius caught it. He saw in them, for the first time, something quite amusing: nervousness. The two holy men could cut the air with the tension between them.
“His Holiness is currently busy with other matters,” Turpin said after a strained second. “As such, an audience in the future is unlikely. Regard not his absence for neglect, however. The Emperor wishes you all well, and has ensured each and every soul in this hall a private accommodation within the castle. Let the attendants guide you to your chambers, and in the morning, Sir Roland will have you meet with the Holy Order for further instruction.”
After quickly changing the topic, the two holy men bid them farewell and left for their next respective duties. The castle attendants quickly cleaned the tables and guided the players out of the banquet hall.
“I’m not really a religious gal so I may be wrong,” Mili said, walking along with the other two. “But the mood was kinda weird.”
Marco’s eyes darted around their surroundings to make sure none of the natives were listening. “You’re right. Those knight fellas didn’t seem too comfortable talkin’ about the former Emperor. They almost looked like some of the boys I knew back home: the ones too afraid to leave their rooms after seein’ too much. Can’t say I buy into that so-called harmony spiel.”
“I suppose we are fortunate that the reigning monarch seems to be a more reasonable man,” Lucius added. “Although I cannot help but wonder about his identity. The Archbishop and Sir Roland were much too flustered for his absence to be simply due to a busy schedule.”
They spoke softly upon mention of the current ruler. Yet, their tone was odd. It wasn’t caution, nor dislike, or anything of that sort, but rather… guilt. The secret to this conundrum had to be the reason why his Holiness couldn’t meet with the players.
“Hm? Woah, looks like we’ve arrived!” Mili excitedly ran forward and entered a new section of the castle. The walls here were lined top-to-bottom in long, golden banners, and bright red rugs covered every spot of the floor. To the sides, doors lined up in the hundreds, stretching far out into a hall with no visible end.
The castle was utterly gargantuan: they had to walk for nearly an hour to reach this space. Lucius wouldn’t be surprised if he was told the building itself was the size of a large city.
“Welcome to the castle quarters,” an attendant said to them nearby. “The rooms here have already been prepared for your arrival. Please pick a space of your choosing, and inside will be a key you may use to lock the doors should you require privacy. A bed, desk, and a cabinet to store your belongings are all included, but we suggest only one occupant per room due to the smaller space. Bathhouses and dining spaces are located on the upper section by the stairwell.”
The servant made a curious sign on their forehead that resembled a combination between a cross and hook, before bowing their heads and leaving.
“Huh, it feels like I’m in a hotel instead of some medieval castle,” Mili said, trying to mimic the attendant’s gesture. “Not that I’m complaining.”
She quickly bolted into one of the rooms, snatched a key, and then ran right off into the bathhouse’s direction. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow, hopefully with less gunk on my skin.”
Marco yawned and took the room next to her. “Gonna get me a nice, well-deserved rest. You take care of yourself, Lucius; let’s meet up for breakfast later.”
“Will do, my friend. Have a pleasant evening.”
With that, the party broke off, and Lucius was left to his own devices.
He could retire for the night, but the gentleman had other plans in mind. With a castle this big, it’d be a shame not to explore every last nook and cranny of it. If he just so happened to come across a more… private section, one where he could gain more information into the affairs of this land, then who could blame him? A curious mind was one that just had to be fed, even if it meant trespassing.
All he had to do was avoid being caught.
