The Distinguished Mr. Rose Chapter 101: Chapter 100: Orlando Furioso

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Chapter 100: Orlando Furioso ——— Roland Long, long ago, when I was still a naive child coddled in ignorance, I dreamed of being a hero. I wished to be like those knights in shining armor I had always heard about in storybooks. My own father, himself, was an honored Peer of Francia, as well as captain of the holy Paladin Order. His rank was second only to the Lord Commander of House Dordognes, and it was because of his position that I found myself surrounded by blade, steel, and towering warriors before I had learned to walk. We did not belong to a noble house; nonetheless, my father toiled laboriously to give our family a comfortable life. It was in those early days that he would whisk me away to the paladins’ barracks and have me watch their training. To him, the most important teaching in this world was that of Chivalry, and only those who held its doctrine sacred in their heart could grow to become a person worth respecting, whether they be knight or scholar or everyday kin. To be chivalrous was to be kind: to love thy neighbor, to be brave and loyal, and to be a champion of what was good and right against injustice and evil. Those ideas inspired in me a romantic vision of the warrior I could one day be. I felt a warmth in my heart, a calling, and from the moment I beheld those great, radiant paladins, I yearned to be just like them. My passion was insatiable. I scoured the archives for any and all fables of Francia’s noble heroes, devouring their legends as I imagined myself in their place. In the day, I was constrained to the confines of the capital city, but at night I was out there, in the wider world, galloping onto greater adventures. I rescued townsfolk from dastardly bandits, rescued maidens and damsels in distress, and slew great beasts the size of castles. I was a hero of justice, one whose exploits would be told in song for all of eternity. Unfortunately, my mother was not too pleased by this. She always did worry for my father’s safety, and during the months when he was sent off on orders, I would find her—cheeks stained in tears—waiting by the fireside, unknowing whether her beloved was still alive. She hated it, that gnawing fear, and wanted for me to enter a profession free of danger. Yet, I could not listen to her. I resolved to burn bright as a radiant star, even if it meant extinguishing just as quickly. After all, what was an epic without a heroic sacrifice? That, too, was romantic. Thus, despite her best efforts, I dashed on ahead to what I believed to be my destiny. I begged my father for a sword on my sixth birthday; and when the city’s gate was less guarded, I would sneak out and venture into the golden fields of wheat beyond our border. A confident child I was, yet also wholly unprepared. Someone like me would have surely suffered an early grave. It was only thanks to the sagely advice of Olivier, my best friend of many moons, and his companionship that we narrowly escaped death’s maw on our countless excursions. Truly, that I somehow lived could only be a miracle from the Lord. Time carried on, and my obsession with gallantry only continued to grow. Eventually my father ordered me to attend the imperial academy with the other aspiring knights. Of course, I didn’t refuse, and I even made a vow to him that I would excel at the top of my class. It was there that I would gather a group of like-minded fellows just like the heroes of old, together banded for the sake of justice. Olivier, Renaud, Maugris… yes, they were my precious comrades. I thought we would remain friends until our ailing years. Eventually, however, we began to change. Renaud withdrew from our fellowship for reasons I still do not know to this day. I remember distinctly how he looked at me then: the sadness, the bitter, murky hate. Never before had I been exposed to such pure visceral emotion. That day marked the beginning of something dreadful in me. Doubt. I felt a crack in my once-impenetrable heart. All this time I lived in a dream