The Distinguished Mr. Rose Chapter 61: Chapter 61: From the Mires of Resentment, a Flower Blooms
Read chapter 61 of The Distinguished Mr. Rose by QuiteTheSlacker on NovelPedia.
Chapter 61: From the Mires of Resentment, a Flower Blooms ——— Ruggiero Many years ago, from a time before my rise to Peership, before the war that would sweep the continent in fire and ash, I was admittedly a very arrogant man. Youthful hubris guided my actions then, for I was among the most skilled in the nation called Moors: a land of green, of wood and nature, yet also constant technological advancement. We were proud to call ourselves pioneers in the Crystological study, or the Holy Gems as the Franks called it. We thought of them differently than our religious neighbors. To us, the crystals were not tears of some divine being; but rather a natural geological phenomenon that formed from the ambient energy seeping from our world’s core. Different environments begot different crystals with fascinating effects. It was thanks to the scholars and Crystologists that our nation thrived as a leader in producing new magical instruments, and I was among the honored few to be considered an authority in the field despite my adolescence. None my age could match my talent, neither in intellect nor in invention. It pains me to admit, but it was because of that status that I grew to become an… eccentric sort, to put it politely. Temperamental if you asked my fellow colleagues. But I cared not what they called me. Selfish, egotistical, a mad genius destined to die alone—none of their insults mattered, for I was only concerned with rising higher, grander, to become the most praised in the land. And I had nearly done so with the creation of my most prized design: the Hippogriff Express. The Crystologists thought it an impossible task: a flying machine? One that could surpass the speed of a thunderbird, carry a thousand strong within its metal frame, and withstand even the most deadly of incantations? They called my schematic a wasteful effort, but I proved them all wrong on the advent of my eighteenth birthday. I unveiled the Hippogriff for all to see at the annual Inventors’ Summit and proudly boasted its capabilities. I was destined to become Savant of the Year… that was, until Francia’s declaration of war overshadowed my achievement. From then on, the Moors devolved from a peaceful nation of advancement into one that cared only for producing weapons of mass destruction. The change was done unanimously, and with grim acceptance; for it was the only way we could defend ourselves against the overwhelming forces of the Franks. Being the naive fool I was, I happily volunteered to take command over an elite squadron of Crystologists. We were trained in the art of combat instead of science, and I once again proved myself a prodigy: one wielding both blade and magic with deadly aptitude. The Hippogriff, once intended to be a vehicle for mass transport, was remodeled into an aerial weapon capable of bombardment. Thus, with confidence and a conceited pride, I set forth for the battlefield. And returned a scarred man. I saw, for the first time, the terrifying encroach of death. It laid its creeping hands upon all on the moist soil, whispered its coming, inevitable arrival. I saw both men and women, Frank and Moor alike, ripped apart without a care. All those years of life, the relationships built and good done for the world… gone with neither fanfare nor tolling bell to bid them departure. They merely sprawled limp, a nameless number to add to the growing casualties. I felt, for the first time, the insignificance of my being. Were it not for the Hippogriff’s safety, I, too, would have become just like them, another corpse to the pile. My inventions which I built to further our prosperity instead became soaked in splatters upon splatters of blood; and over time, the light in my eyes was replaced by a dull grey. I did not wish to see it anymore — the despair, the slaughter, the gazes of those who feared me. Both from foe and those I called allies. I cursed, for the first time, my incompetence. I could not put an end to the war, nor could I stop the ev