The Distinguished Mr. Rose Chapter 99: Chapter 98: With Silk Veils We Weave a Rainbow

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Chapter 98: With Silk Veils We Weave a Rainbow “Oh my, it would appear our intervention is rather unneeded,” Lucius said as the group walked into the pyramid’s highest chamber. The players were all perplexed, for despite their previous rush, Sir Roland had already subjugated the one known as Ferragut. He was a titan of a man, form even bulkier than Sir Ogier of Roncevaux Fortress. His veins bulged outward from gargantuan bronze muscles; his biceps were thicker than Miss Mili’s entire body. A white veil covered his face, and from the neck down he wore a curious mix of copper scale plates and furs, the latter made from some sort of monster hide. A single look at him would make an ordinary man tremble; and yet that very warrior now bowed his head silently before Roland’s blade. Speaking of the Peer, he turned his gaze over toward the group. His demeanor was nigh unrecognizable from the Roland of before. There was a savagery in him—a bloodlust not unlike the beasts Lucius had encountered out in the wilds—and were it not for their familiarity as allies, the gentleman had no doubt that Roland’s claws would have already lunged at their throats. So this was the truth hidden beneath his cordial exterior… how intriguing. Lucius had to extend his arm and prevent his companions from stepping closer, lest they accidentally trigger what fury Roland had yet to vent. The tension threatened to suffocate them all. “Roland…?” Angelica said, approaching him cautiously. She seemed familiar with his current state; however, that didn’t make her any less nervous. “Please, lower your blade.” Astolfo, meanwhile, looked confused. He did not understand, nor could he comprehend that the intimidating figure before him was his once-revered hero. The young Peer’s fist lightly trembled. He sucked in a breath of air and, unconsciously, reached for his weapon. The other players reacted similarly, yet neither person knew why. Roland wasn’t affected by a demon; nothing had bewitched his mind. So why was it that his mere presence made them cower? “... Ah, you are all safe,” Roland finally replied after a moment of silence. The vicious light in his eyes slowly faded, and he attempted to greet them with a friendly wave. But the damage had already been done. The players flinched back, uncertain whether he could be trusted. “Do forgive me for dragging you into this mess. I didn’t expect the new Emir to be such a hostile man, nor that Sir Ferragut would deign to betray us.” Roland sheathed the sword known as Durandal and then dropped down until he and Sir Ferragut were face to face. “Surely you understand there will be consequences for this, yes? I simply cannot fathom what brought about this madness. You know you cannot beat me, Ferragut. This strange tower was certainly a surprise, but… to involve the demons as well? You and all of Arabia have lost your minds.” Sir Ferragut did not respond, at first. He held onto his silence and shifted in place, shuddering, before ever slowly descending into a hollow laugh. “Arrogant as ever, o’ reaper of blood,” the Saracen giant said, his words gruff and spiteful. “We did not lose our minds. No, we hid it. For twenty years we have swallowed our rage and allowed your kind to rule over us. For twenty years I have lowered myself to be the mutt of the empire, and I have done this knowing that I bring shame to my brothers and sisters of the Levantine. But that shall end today. I no longer need to continue with this farce.” Roland shook his head, disappointed. “I understand your anger at Francia, but what does this accomplish? You would drag those innocent into another cruel war.” But to that, Sir Ferragut bid him a taunting smile. “You are wrong. It is not the empire, nor the Franks, nor even the Peers I wish buried beneath the sands. It is you, Roland, and you alone.” “Me? I haven’t—” “You know full well the lives you’ve taken. Even as you bathed in their blood and their whimpers pleaded for mercy, the monster I remember spared not a