The Distinguished Mr. Rose Chapter 119: Chapter 118: Those We Must Protect

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Chapter 118: Those We Must Protect For a time, the Evil wearing Pepin’s skin did not speak. He sat there on his throne of gold, and he beheld the boy before him. He beheld the child in whose veins flowed a sacred blood and whose flesh and strength all sprouted from a lineage long consecrated. Karolus—nay, Charlemagne—was supposed to be his successor, the one who would become another he. That was his purpose, his very reason for existing. So why did he disobey his father’s command now? “Charlemagne, mine son. My vessel that which shall pass on my will. Even now, you continue to disappoint me.” Wreathed in the shadows of perpetuity, Pepin’s voice boomed with the force of Francia’s history. He embodied all that was the nation of now and the past, and despite all his atrocities, the weight of an emperor, the dignity of a ruler, had never left his countenance. The spirits of his ancestors rested behind his back; and they stared at the young emperor-to-be, judging him from beyond their golden veil. Pepin raised a crooked finger and pointed at Karolus. “You would raise arms against your own father, against the very one who gave you life? A paltry effort. You cannot even stay the tremble of your wrist, and yet from your lips spew a meagre rebellion.” The former emperor spoke true. For all his determination, Karolus was still a boy, a boy whose heart had long been drenched in fear toward his father. It seized his chest as if by instinct, screaming to give up, to obey, to fulfill the role assigned at birth as a puppet without a conscience to resist. But regardless of how his blood boiled, or the quiver of his eyes, or the terror that threatened to consume him whole, Karolus stood tall and directed his holy sword at the monster occupying the throne. “I know I’m afraid,” he said. “I’ve been afraid for a long time, and maybe this fear would go away if I did as you said. If I just obeyed, blindly did as everyone else wanted of me, then I wouldn’t need to feel so conflicted anymore. I could close my eyes and continue dreaming just as uncle wished. But all of this… even if it’s easier, I just can’t do it. I don’t want to pretend that everything’s okay or to hide when the people I care about are clearly hurting, so no. I won’t kneel to you anymore, father.” From within Karolus’s bosom, a gentle light poured out, wrapping around his body in a shimmering halo of white and gold. The Joyeuse shuddered in excitement. It gave the boy its everything: the power of the sword, the divine blessing he once sealed, and the hopes of all the souls still trapped by Pepin’s legacy. They propped his back and lifted his steps, urging him to the destiny he would forge. To Lucius, it was one of the most dazzling sights he had witnessed in this world. For the seed before him was undoubtedly holy. “Oooh… how the weak have corrupted you with their lies, mine son. It is regrettable, but what is a father if not a guide for his son’s path? So be it. I will correct your behavior, Charlemagne, and I will do so painfully. I will engrave in your soul a leash so tight that you will never dare to utter such drivel in my presence again.” With a slow, mounting groan, Pepin lifted himself from the chamber’s highest seat, and he descended the stairs, his foot stomping with a weighty thud. “It is an embarrassment that one like you shares my lineage, and dreams of such treachery, when you are nothing more than an inferior copy. Everything you are and will be shall always be one step behind my prime.” Karolus did not cower nor retreat. He faced his demonic father and took in a long, troubled sigh, collecting himself as the power he once abandoned came flooding back. There, on the floor, Ganelon looked up at the boy with a mixture of awe and shame. For so long he had been afraid of what Karolus would become, yet that very person now boldly held steadfast to his ideals, and he refused the inheritance Pepin would bestow. Such a tragedy it was that Ganelon would see such a sight only wh