The Distinguished Mr. Rose Chapter 62: Chapter 62: Our Happy Ending
Read chapter 62 of The Distinguished Mr. Rose by QuiteTheSlacker on NovelPedia.
Chapter 62: Our Happy Ending Humanity was ever so susceptible to the darkness in their hearts. They veiled themselves behind false identities, made excuses and pretenses to justify the burial of that which they refused to acknowledge. For someone like Ruggiero, so mired in resentment, it would not have been a surprise had he collapsed under the weight of it all. But the man before Lucius now… was different. He came to terms with the ugly truth, and he embraced the name that once brought him only grief. It was no longer a mask. It did not need to be, for he no longer wished to hide that which surged from his being. Seeing Ruggiero there, his eyes alight with a brilliant sparkle, Lucius could only smile. The man was truly beautiful: a masterpiece he had seen few others nearly reach, only to fail at the very end. But compared to them, perhaps Ruggiero could carve himself a happier ending. There was only one way to find out. The gentleman excitedly jumped from his seat and followed the enlightened Peer out into the smoky fumes of the outside. Embers and the faint stench of ash flooded his nostrils, and as he looked out into the distance, thousands upon thousands of angry rioters had already begun laying siege to the Eastern Ward’s gate. Bradamante and paladins from the castle attempted to stand in their way, but there was only so much they could do without causing harm. The people were relentless; their shadows, twisting and distorting in a deranged swirl, covered the city as they marched forward, closer, ever closer. Their eyes bulged, veins flaring—it was as if a wave of madness had swept through them all, dragging even the innocent and the unknowing along their maniacal spiral. The holy warriors impeded their advance with a row of shields, but the people pushed back, demanding that justice be served. “Bring out the traitor!” they cried and they roared. “He deceives you with his dark magic, enthralls your mind to his control!” “None of us are bewitched. You have to believe me!” Bradamante pleaded to them, but it was no use. The rioters were set in their ways. Convinced that the enemy had corrupted the Lord’s faithful. None of her words would reach them, for there was no reasoning with fanatics. Eventually, the mob began to seize control. Unlike the paladins, they were not opposed to violent means. They slammed against the shields and crawled over them, piling onto the panicked guards and beating them to silence. “This is for your own good!” they proclaimed, fists bloody and hairs slathered in grease. “We will rid you of that heretic’s spells!” The people thought themselves saviors, even as the paladins yelled out in fear under an endless swarm of those they vowed to protect. There was not an ounce of rationality to be seen. Their hate, their prejudice… it all came crashing down, finally given permission to let free the ugliness within. “... Our nature is ever so fickle, isn’t it, Lucius?” Ruggiero said, beholding the display with a mournful sigh. “For good men and women to be driven to such lengths, it almost seems insurmountable: that sheer wall of hate. They truly believe their cause is just.” “Will you back away, then?” the gentleman asked. To that, Ruggiero replied with a laugh. “No, I knew this choice would not be easy. But how could I give up before I’ve even started? This is my path to tread. I will follow it though, no matter the uncertainty.” The man took a deep breath, lightly slapped his cheeks, and then boldly strode toward the angry mob. “B-Beloved?” Bradamante stammered, eyes widening in shock. “Why are you here?” “To do what I should have done long ago,” he replied. No sooner did the people cast their eyes upon him, their hateful, unfair eyes, did their hysteria reach the highest peak. They screamed and reached out to him, cursed his name and spat a barrage of the most heinous insults they could conjure… and yet, Ruggiero stood determined. He did not react to their words, nor move in a way that could be seen as th