The Distinguished Mr. Rose Chapter 120: Chapter 119: To Your Oblivion

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Chapter 119: To Your Oblivion Young Karolus was quite flustered by the new arrival. To the boy still a fledgling in the world outside, the Hippogriff Express was a breathtaking thing, a marvel that could have been mistaken for a flying beast of metal if not for the grim-faced man who rode atop its trolleys. Yes, Ruggiero was here — he was a witness to all the ruin and destruction wrought upon the capital’s streets. His once friendly smile was now twisted into an enraged snarl. His body shook and trembled, unable to contain the fury within, and as he looked down to discover the culprit for all this madness, he came upon the figure of his former lord. Ruggiero’s eyes widened; far too many thoughts rushed into his head at once, yet he understood immediately what he had to do. The man held the reins of the Hippogriff with one hand, and he raised the gleaming crystal blade of the Balisarda in the other. Longer, wider, it grew until its form shadowed all those beneath the purple skies. Ruggiero shouted to the heavens and he plunged in descent, barreling toward the Evil whose guise remained ever unconcerned. “Pepin!” the Moorish Peer roared in anger. “Begone, foul wraith! Begone and rid this land of your curse forevermore!” With a swing of his arm, the Balisarda came crashing down upon Pepin’s decrepit form. The former emperor lazily stood still, expecting to endure the blow like he did against countless others, but that arrogance would soon devolve to surprise for the Balisarda carved deep his veins of putrid black, and it would have passed right through his bone had Pepin not resisted at the last moment. So powerful was Ruggiero’s attack that his foe was sent flying back, his feet dragging across the earth and leaving ruptured trails in his wake. When Pepin recovered, he looked at the large gash across his chest. He stared at it, perplexed, and then directed his ire back toward the one he once humiliated as a trophy of war. “Oooh…” he rasped. “Ruggiero, how amusing. To think the cowardly sparrow would grow to peck at its master, when before it could not meet my gaze without shivering in fear. Bird from another land. Pawn whose name I bestowed. Come to me and kneel, for I am your lord.” The revolting sound of Pepin’s voice confirmed Ruggiero’s worst fears. The late emperor had returned, his visage even more vile than before. One look at the demonic heart pumping in his chest gave all the explanation the Peer needed: the source of all this tragedy. Yet, when Ruggiero looked around he saw not his fellows nor his wife. There were no paladins nor priests armed in resistance. The implication of this wretched demon’s lone march would have surely sent him into a spiraling rage, were it not for the figure of a young boy standing a distance away, the one Ruggiero had expected least of all to see. “... Your Holiness?” the man sputtered, unable to contain his disbelief. “You’ve left the castle. No, it is not safe here. You must—” But Karolus shook his head. His resolve could not be swayed no matter who pleaded otherwise. “I’m not going back, not anymore. Now I want to stand alongside you, Sir Ruggiero.” The Moorish man wished to refuse, but his lord’s sincerity, his true liege, caused him to waver. This child should never have been forced to pick up the sword. Even now, Karolus’s hands trembled, yet nonetheless his gaze remained blindingly firm. He would be coddled no longer. The boy once content in a gilded cage had finally gathered the courage to soar free. “How dare you avert thine eyes before me?” Pepin crouched down and then leapt toward the sky, chasing after the snaking train. Ruggiero did his best to maneuver away, but unfortunately his steed was just too large, and the former emperor managed to grab one of the carriages. He mounted it with ease and raised his fist, ready to send the airborne vehicle plummeting back to the ground where it could no longer be a nuisance. Before he could however, a glint of steel flashed across his sight.