The Distinguished Mr. Rose Chapter 130: Chapter 129: Prosperity For All

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Chapter 129: Prosperity For All The next to speak—or rather, write—was King Desiderius of the thorn-helmed penitents. Unlike President Maleficent who expressed herself with a haughty cackle and a sly-eyed glare, the ruler of Lombard was a taciturn man, rigid and difficult to gauge beneath his mourning robes and eerie mask. His every movement was stone-like and deliberate, and as he penned his thoughts to paper the members of the summit hushed themselves, for there was a quiet menace in how he carried himself. The Lombardy people were just like the Saracens of before. Their malice was palpable. When King Desiderius had finished, Lucius took his message and announced it for all to hear. “Twenty years,” he said. “Our faith, smothered. Under the heretical boasts of a false lord, we penitents have forsaken our vows, an unforgivable sin that will forever mark our souls. The gift of Rapture will never come to my generation. When in death we are sent to the lowest hells, our grudge shall curse your people; eternal is our hatred and everlasting is our scorn.” Karolus somberly listened to the king’s wrathful reproach, for it was true that Francia had desecrated the penitents’ faith. The empire burned their scrolls and toppled their temples. To these people whose lash oft fell upon their own backs in acts of reverence, in atonement, toward their God, there could be no greater humiliation than the gradual abolishment of their faith. Yet despite how Pepin forced his scriptures on them, the Lombardy people silently kept close their faith and waited in the shadows. Dangerous was the resentment of a zealous few, much less an entire kingdom’s worth, and so before the very heir of his sworn nemesis, King Desiderius delivered what was all but a declaration of war. “You speak of unity and alliance,” was writ in his next letter. “Such dreams are impossible, young emperor. My people demand blood and sacrifice. Nothing will quell the fury in our hearts save for the death of every last cur who calls themself Frankishman, for our sins are many, and only with retribution can our children of tomorrow be spared of God’s damnation. There can be no coexistence between our religions.” The Katholicism they practiced was the very opposite of Francia’s revelry. Even back in Lucius’s home world of Earth, the tiniest of differences often led to war. Those who claimed to serve the same God broke off into various branches because of a clash in interpretation, and so it was that parents took up arms, shedding blood in a feud that would continue with their children. Was such a future possible, then, where this cycle could be broken? Karolus had to believe it so. Though slim in possibility and naive in thought, he had to try, for that was the duty he bore. “I will make no excuses, nor do I expect for Lombardy to ever forgive us,” he began. “But if there’s even a glimmer of hope that we can step beyond the divides that bound us, then I’ll chase after it, no matter how difficult. And… I think you feel the same, King Desiderius. You wouldn’t have attended this summit if vengeance was all you wanted.” The ruler of the penitents remained unyielding in his seat. Yet, for just a moment, Lucius saw a subtle change in his air. “Maybe if the empire was demolished, the Lombardy people would prosper for a time. How long would that last, though? You and your people know well that religion is not easily felled. The remnants of Francia might scatter to the far reaches of the land, but their faith will remain with them, as well as their anger. They will rebuild and they will fight. Then both our faiths will clash again, and again, until a victor emerges and the cycle repeats once more. I want to end this, King Desiderius. If you truly wish peace for the Lombards that come after, then we must lock arms not with bloody chains, but a promise to thrive in a world with no more wars.” So long that a seed of resistance remained, that which unified a group would always endure. A slaughter t