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[The Distinguished Mr. Rose] Chapter 35: The Man From the Moors
🕑 Added 2025-04-25 18:02:18 +0000 UTCA couple of hours after their departure into the sky, Lucius and his fellows were having a very intriguing conversation with the good Miss Brooks. Apparently, not all groups underwent the same Tutorial.
“You folks had to go through some kinda flesh dungeon?” The firefighter said, her face curled in horror. “Urgh, I probably would’ve passed out.”
Mili tilted her head and scrunched her eyes. “Huh, that’s weird. Was it different for you, Harper?”
“Thankfully, yeah. Well… it was no walk in the park, either.” She took a swig of water from a flask strapped to her uniform. “We had to deal with skeletons.”
Marco nearly stumbled over his seat. “Skeletons? Ya mean bones, right? The bones in our body—just walking around?”
Harper laughed, amused by his confusion, but there was a dark shadow hidden beneath her brow. She played it off casually and carried on with her tale. “Yeah, those skeletons. Couldn’t tell you how they were walking around without any muscle. We were taken to this creepy graveyard, with tombs and, uh, what do you call it… mausoleums. Big house-looking things. Seemed intimidating at first glance, but they were actually the only places we could get some sort of rest. If you took even one step out, a horde of those things would rise up from the ground and start chasing you.”
Harper looked down, mindlessly fiddled with her fingers, and opened her mouth. But no sound came out. She grimaced and scratched at her throat, trying to remove the lump stuck within. She scratched harder, deeper: more desperately until the skin flushed raw with red. And all the while the group watched on, drenched in an uncomfortable silence.
“You do not need to speak further if it pains you, Miss Brooks,” Lucius said.
The firefighter shook her head and let out a deep exhale. “No, it’s okay. I have to do this.” After a few seconds, she composed herself, looking a bit better than before. “Our mission was a bit different from yours. Rather than try to escape, we had to destroy these effigies placed around the graveyard. It wasn’t hard finding them—that was the easy part. No, it was the constant running. It didn’t matter how many of the skulls you bashed because another one would reanimate right after. Eventually, your body started to just… crumble from the inside. The fatigue mounted, and mounted, until you either found a safe place or collapsed from exhaustion.
“That’s how it got them, my teammates. One was dragged away, screaming, before being buried alive. Another one twisted their ankle and got their brain smashed in. The other guy was a bit stronger, but even he couldn’t take it anymore and, um, offed himself. Little ol’ me was the only one to make it out. I still don’t… really know how. It was all a blur toward the end - what I do remember is this burning rage, this desperate will to survive. I clawed my way out of that hell, and now—well, now I’m riding a fancy flying train. Could be a whole lot worse, right?”
Mili slowly nodded, bringing her hands up and placing it over her heart. She sympathized with Harper’s pain all too well.
“Yeah, could be a lot worse,” the musician said. “But you’re here. That’s the important part: You survived until now because your mind’s still raring to go. We can’t let this damn game get to us, Harper. Let’s make it to the end so we can pummel the crap out of the assholes that did this to us!”
“Language, Miss Mili.”
“Oops. Sorry, but you get my drift.” Mili scooted over to Harper’s side and hugged her arm. “Never feel guilty about surviving. If you’ve got the energy to groan, then channel it into heart pumpin’ power. Like this: Hrah!” She raised her fist and cried out in an electrifying rally.
“H-Hrah?” Harper mumbled.
“Louder!”
“Hrah!”
Mili giggled. “There you go! Doesn’t that feel better?”
To the firefighter’s surprise, it did. Her eyes brightened, and the creases on her face eased up - lighter. More relaxed. The gloom that had once dwelled in her shadow had all but disappeared before Mili’s aggressive affection.
Thus did the hours pass by in a flash. The two women were like peas in a pod, sisters in all but blood, and they chatted the day away as Harper familiarized herself with the other members of the group. She admitted that Marco intimidated her at first, but quickly realized the kind soul that dwelled underneath his tough and rugged frame. Apparently they both shared a hobby: baseball.
“Nonna, forgive me…” Marco made the sign of the cross and then clasped his hands together in prayer, goading Harper with a mischievous bout of banter. “Never thought the day would come that I’d be talkin’ to a damn Phillies fan.”
Harper roared with laughter and returned the teasing two-fold. “Careful there, old timer. I was in diapers the last time the Mets won a world series. When was it again? Oh, right: 1986.”
“Bah, just an unlucky streak. The next season’s gonna be the one.”
“You yanks have been saying that for over thirty years. Don’t you ever get tired of it?”
“Big words for a Philly. Come back when ya finally admit you’re just New York’s sixth borough - the new Brooklyn that ran away to munch on cheesesteaks. They’re not even that good! It doesn’t hold a candle to a good Penne Ala Vodka, I tell you what.”
Harper gasped as if she had six generations of her family mocked all at once. “Oh, it is on.”
The two continued to throw sharp jabs all throughout the afternoon. Lucius wasn’t all that interested in the sport, but he certainly enjoyed their verbal war of wit. There were so many interesting ways to insult a person! Each new taunt only further increased in complexity, in layers upon layers of slander all intricately woven to deliver the punchiest and most devastating impact possible.
At the end of the night, the two gave each other one final glare, and then exchanged a civil handshake.
“You’re not all bad, Marco,” she said, her forehead drenched in sweat.
“I could say the same for you,” he grunted, adjusting his disheveled attire. “Always nice to face off against a fellow snarker.”
With that, the two became the best of friends.
Meanwhile, during their friendly spat, Lucius was busy gazing off toward the outside. He had a lovely view from up in the air, and it was precisely so that he could admire just how lovely the city looked, away from the castle. The purple sky lent a dream-like ambience to the quaint buildings of stone and brick: taverns, chapels, open markets and houses. They all laid around neatly-paved roads as people passed underneath wide-reaching trees of verdant green.
It was much different from the rigid uniformity of modern architecture. Rather than be constricted to exact, measured ordinances, the city branched out naturally, fitting itself alongside nature and living in harmony among the hills and flowing brooks. Not a soul walked by that wasn’t surrounded by flowers in bloom.
Eventually, the sky turned dark, and a giant blue moon - possibly three times the size of Earth’s - gleamed forebodingly overhead.
The others had tuckered themselves out, and were now peacefully dreaming away.
Not Lucius, though. He had some business to attend to.
The gentleman snuck out of the cabin and made his way along the quiet house. Not a soul was stirring, not even a mouse.
At the far end near the train’s front, a faint flicker of candlelight seeped out from what appeared to be the conductor’s room. Lucius walked up and knocked on the door.
“Hm? Is someone there?”
It opened, and out stepped Ruggiero wearing a comfortable nightgown. Lucius realized this was the first time he had seen one of the Peers without their armor on, save for the scholar Olivier. How fortuitous—the man was now more approachable than ever.
“Good evening, Sir Ruggiero,” Lucius said, bidding him a friendly smile. “I’ve come to partake in your offer. May I come in? I’d love to talk over a nice hot cup of tea.
The good man stood still for a moment with a blank look, as if he were busy processing Lucius’s words, before suddenly snapping to attention and gesturing him inside with a flustered wave.
“Oh, of course,” he said, quickly scrambling to arrange Lucius a seat. “Pardon me for the mess. If I am to be honest, I wasn’t expecting a visitor so soon, especially not one this late into the hour. But I am a man of my word—whatever it is that avails you, I shall be happy to provide what counsel that I can.”
Lucius obliged and made himself comfortable. He glanced around the room, looking for anything that might provide further insight into the paladin’s character, but it was surprisingly humble for one of his status. There was a bed, a desk, and few essentials. One would have mistaken this to be a guest room rather than the man’s private dwelling.
“It is not counsel that I seek.”
“Really?” Ruggiero asked, looking quite baffled. “I cannot fathom as to why you’ve sought me out then.”
The gentleman chuckled. “Must there be a grand reason for two fellows to converse? I merely wish to get to know you better. It is not easy to be in your position, and yet the sir I have seen has been nothing but cordial and pleasant. Your efforts to welcome us as one of your own has not gone unnoticed.”
The good sir paused for a second, his mouth slightly ajar. He did not seem used to such blatant flattery.
“I… know not what to say.” He rubbed his hands and subtly turned away, his ears pink with embarrassment. “I’ve merely upheld the standards of the empire. It wouldn’t do to treat our guests harshly.”
“Not everyone believes the same, my friend.”
His face hardened, and a solemn air began to envelop him. “Yes, I cannot lie to you. Foreigners have always been treated differently in these lands.”
“I can understand. My people do not even belong to this dimension, after all,” Lucius said. “But you are different, Sir Ruggiero. You are a native of this world, so why do the empire’s citizens look at you with such caution?”
The paladin flinched. “Was it truly so obvious?”
“Perhaps not, but I have quite the keen eye. The knights would turn their heads away and treat you as air whenever you lent us aid. Even during moments of conversation, their eyes beheld you with a subtly hidden distaste. I simply cannot understand why they would shun one of their own.”
Ruggiero lowered his head and chuckled to himself - one laced with bitterness. “Because they do not consider me as such. One need only look at the color of my skin to see that plainly.” He raised his arm and showed off his darker tone to Lucius, parading himself like one would a circus animal. “Truth be told, I was not born here. My roots belong to a far-off nation known as the Land of Moors, and twenty years ago I fought against the forces of the previous Emperor—his late Holiness Pepin the Womb Mauler—during their self-proclaimed holy raids. As you can imagine, my people lost.”
Ruggiero recounted the memories slowly, immersing himself in the phantoms of his youth. “I thought myself destined for the gallows that day, but instead of execution, I was brought to serve. The emperor recognized my skill and bestowed me the title of Peer, so that he could erase my prior identity, my culture—even my name. Ruggiero is who I became; the person I was before has long ceased to exist.”
“Do you seek revenge?”
It was a simple question, one that the paladin considered for a long spell.
“... No,” Ruggiero eventually replied. And he was entirely sincere. “The man I so despised is long dead. Now, there are only those scarred and misguided by the legacy he left behind. What else is there to do, other than persist and hope that one day we may hold hands in unity?”
He looked up at Lucius, and smiled wide. “In that regard, I am quite envious of your people. There are those with skin like mine among your ranks, and yet you treat each other as equals. There is no bias or hidden scorn: only eyes that see without prejudice.”
How innocent the good sir was, for him to see them in such a way. Unfortunately, the truth wasn’t always so simple. “We are more tolerant, that is for certain, but it pains me to admit that our home also suffers from such views as well. No matter where one may go, there will always be discrimination of some kind.”
“Is… that so?” Ruggiero’s face gradually sunk, and he spoke to Lucius in a lower, more downtrodden tone. “It seems the woes we face transcend worlds.”
A moment of silence persisted between them for some time. When the tension was at its most palpable, Lucius reached forth and offered him a boon.
“Fancy a cup of tea?” the gentleman asked, manifesting a piping hot cup of Oolong. “It’s a medicinal blend—good for the stomach.”
The paladin looked at it, still somewhat down, but also amused. “You are a man of curious skill, sir…?”
“Lucius. Lucius Rose.”
“Ah, I see. No wonder I felt such comfort. You are the one who bears the—” Ruggiero coughed and hastily took back his words. “Forgive me. I am not allowed to speak further.”
He took the cup of tea and slowly savored it, letting the warm liquid permeate through his body. The tension he had bore now melted away with the cleansing aroma.
“This is quite good.”
“I’d be honored to treat you to another sometime, if you’d allow.”
Ruggiero grinned and turned his head, gazing out toward a starry expanse unburdened of worry.
“Nothing would please me more.”
