Before the good Ganelon could make his next move, Lucius called for a meeting with the other Peers (in secret of course). Roland, Angelica, Astolfo, and even Olivier all huddled up in a discreet corner of the castle as the gentleman regaled them of the High Tribunal’s treacherous plot. No doubt they already knew of his shady dealings; however, for him to go to such lengths right after agreeing to a truce… well, it wasn’t much of a surprise. What did surprise them was his sudden urgency.

  The chief of administration, Olivier, pulled out a few financial documents and pointed at certain discrepancies writ within. “Sir Lucius is correct. In the past few weeks, the castle’s spending has increased drastically, with most purchases being hidden under relief efforts and supposed construction. But after comparing the numbers… none of it matches. Our treasury’s funds are being funneled into a third-party source. I have attempted to follow the paper trail, only to be led unto further dead ends; however the sparse information I could glean suggests that Ganelon’s purchases are being held in various storages hidden within the city. I am loath to say that I could not discover the exact locations.”

  Angelica clasped her hands together, her demeanor grim. “You believe he is stockpiling weapons?”

  “Yes. The High Tribunal’s intentions are quite apparent.”

  The gathering fell to a hush. Neither one was willing to admit the implication of this revelation, for it was too deplorable, unimaginable, even for one such as he. But the evidence left no room for doubt.

  Ganelon was planning a rebellion.

  “... Must it truly be this way?” Roland muttered, staring despondently at the ceiling. “I am not so forgiving a man to simply wave off his transgressions against us, and yet I thought, at the very least, that he believed himself a child of Francia: that for all his greed and ambition, he would still remember his pledge to protect his current Holiness. I suppose I was wrong.”

  The group nodded in agreement, both disgusted and appalled by how low Ganelon had stooped, but amongst them was someone still a bit hesitant.

  Astolfo anxiously tapped his foot and pondered to himself, before saying, “Still, doesn’t something seem off? No matter how much Ganelon hates us, this is way too rash. He’s normally a lot better at hiding his tracks, so why suddenly throw caution to the wind and risk exposing himself now of all times? The demons are still infesting the Grave of Emperors. If they escape, then no one’ll be safe. It’s like he’s… frightened by something.”

  Lucius innocently whistled to himself and acted oblivious. There was no reason to worry, for never would the Peers suspect the source of Ganelon’s paranoia to be standing right beside them.

  >[Virtual Goddess of the Wired beams with pride at seeing Lucius finally taking the steps to expose Ganelon once and for all. A seedy man such as the High Tribunal should have faced retribution long ago. Now, there’s nowhere else to run]<

  >[Sinister Interdimensional Bureaucrat says that their employers are quite satisfied after having witnessed Lucius’s diplomatic capability. To sway one’s enemy to their side is a skill most sought after amongst Stars like them]<

  >[Number 1 Rated Salesman 1997 yawns and tells Lucius to just jump the son of a (CENSORED) already]<

  “On the contrary, this is the perfect time to stage a revolt,” Olivier said, pushing up his glasses. “The common citizenry have already evacuated. Should Ganelon succeed, he’d need only to lay the blame on us, and there’d be not a soul to refute him - no witnesses to shout otherwise. He would have us all die for the sake of his heretical rulership."

  “But there’s no way that’ll work! Surely, the emperor won’t tolerate his lies?” Astolfo said.

  The young man seemed completely assured of this fact, but the others could only look away, their bodies tense and doubtful. In the end, it was Roland who had to deliver the truth.

  “Astolfo… his Holiness will never interfere,” he said. “Out of everyone in this castle, he is perhaps the most powerless of them all.”

  “That’s—”

  Astolfo dejectedly hung his head. “It won’t stay that way forever. Maybe we can convince him, somehow. Make him see Ganelon for what he really is.”

  “Perhaps, if we could speak in private. But only the Archbishop, and Ganelon, is allowed to hold an audience with him. I technically have the same right as the Peers’ leader, yet it holds little meaning if I know not where he even resides. The High Tribunal has hidden him too well.”

  Was it really that difficult for them to see the emperor? How surprising. It didn’t take Lucius much effort at all.

  Angelica joined in, saying, “The man is too far gone to be reasoned with now. If words shall not work, then we must prepare to retaliate with force.”

  Roland sighed and, though he agreed, had to let her down. “We cannot confront him for the same reason he cannot confront us: there is no justification. No reasonable cause. Whoever shall attack first will bear the brunt of the priesthood’s ire. Even Archbishop Turpin, with his passive ways, shall have no choice but to interfere. I do respect the man, but in his eyes there exists nothing more sacred than the law and holy rites; thus we would risk making him an enemy.”

  “Surely there must be another way besides waiting for that snake to lunge first?”

  “Perhaps if we could seize evidence of his treason, but I’m afraid that is unlikely so long that his safehouses remain concealed. Trying to uncover them will only alert Ganelon of our movements, and by the time we catch a trail, he’ll have already moved them to a safer location. If only we had an insider within his circle…”

  Actually, Lucius already knew where the safehouses were. He had a lovely dinner with the sleazy merchant, Mister Marcille, just the other day. It was in the midst of their conversation that the gentleman ‘just so happened’ to learn all about Ganelon’s precious supplies as well as where they’d be moved to. But why ruin the fun for his fellows? Telling them now would be rather anticlimactic.

  Besides, Lucius had already sealed a deal with the merchant to smuggle the goods elsewhere at the last second. In return for betraying Ganelon, Mister Marcille got to pocket everything for himself - how could a money-minded individual possibly refuse such a lucrative offer?

  Such proposals were also made to all the other ‘friends’ Lucius had made. The gentleman knew everything. Everything… as well as the next step in Ganelon’s plan.

  Astolfo raised his hand. “I think I understand. We can’t make a direct move, but isn’t that the same for Ganelon? I doubt he’s desperate enough to attack both us and the Holy Order at the same time.”

  Ah, now this was where Lucius came in.

  “Quite true, quite true. Such an act would be akin to suicide with his current forces,” the gentleman said. “But what if the High Tribunal, hypothetically speaking, was able to take control over the priesthood?”

  “What? Maybe, but it’s never going to happen unless the archbishop steps down—”

  The young man froze. Horror crept onto his expression, as it did for all the others in the room.

  “No,” Angelica gasped. “If it’s as I suspect, then he truly fears not the Lord’s retribution.”

  Roland sat rigid in his seat. “Most of the elderly priests have already been swayed by his promises of grandeur. Should the Archbishop somehow no longer be able to serve, then one of them shall take up the mantle, and Ganelon will no longer need to fear retaliation. All he needs take is the life of a single man to seize control over the entire castle.”

  Of course, the inclusion of another faction didn’t mean that the knights and priests already on Roland’s side would immediately defect, but those still uncertain of who to support would almost certainly flock to Ganelon. With more numbers, his uprising would transform into a full civil war.

  “... We must warn the Archbishop,” Angelica said, abruptly standing up.

  “He will not believe us,” Olivier replied. “He never has. In Turpin’s eyes, Ganelon is still the same, innocent child he once baptized and looked fondly after. Nostalgia and old memories blind his gaze. Only when Ganelon’s blade stops before his neck will he truly realize his mistake.”

  To that, Astolfo piped up with a proposal. “Then all we have to do is block it. We’ll save Turpin’s life right at the last moment, and then he’ll have no choice but to officially label Ganelon a traitor.”

  “I doubt he’d attempt such a thing if we were to be present. No, he’ll call for a private meeting betwixt the two of them, and only when they’re alone will he finally strike. We would not have a chance to interfere unless one among our ranks somehow hid nearby. Unfortunately, the paladins are not particularly known for their clandestine abilities.”

  With seemingly no further leads, the group shook their heads and let out a disappointed grumble. It was only when a certain gentleman spoke up that their eyes filled anew with hope.

  “May I be of use?” Lucius said with a wide smile. “It is not entirely impossible for me to trail the High Tribunal.”

  “Truly?” Roland replied.

  Stolen story; please report.

  “Indeed. All you would have to do is follow my directions…”

  ———

  It had been exactly twenty-nine days since Lucius’s return to the capital. In a few hours, it would turn the thirtieth, and the Greatest Evil of All would be set free.

  The gentleman had manipulated much so that Ganelon’s plot would be enacted this day. He used his connections to either delay or accelerate the rebellion efforts, all so that the actors for this dramatic play would find their proper place.

  The stage was set. The crowd waited with baited breaths. Now, Lucius simply needed to wait for the main star to make his appearance.

  Act one, scene one: Karolus’s room.

  A young boy laid woefully on his feathered bed. Not a sound could be heard around him save for muffled tears. The boy had been trapped here for many days, forbidden from leaving by the one he once trusted most. There were no windows, no shades, only a mountain of toys meant for a child half his age, as if the one who placed them here refused to acknowledge the boy’s coming adulthood.

  The room was brightly lit and by no means small. It had a space rivaling that of some of the biggest chambers in the castle. Yet, the boy found no solace in his dwelling, no matter how wide it seemed. It was but an illusion to hide the darker reality: his imprisonment, or protection if the boy’s captor was to be believed.

  Here, he was all alone.

  “Um, Lucius, how long are you going to stay up there?”

  Well, almost alone.

  “Don’t mind me, my young friend,” a dapper gentleman said to him while hiding in the room’s shadows. “Just a precaution, I assure you.”

  “I guess that makes sense. Uncle Ganelon seemed really mad the last time he saw you. I thought I wouldn’t be able to meet you again…”

  “Come now, I always keep my promises, Karolus. Whether it be through rain or shine, prison or bedroom gaol, I shall always be there to lend a listening ear or a refreshing cup of tea.”

  “Hehe, thank you. I really appreciate your visit. It’s just… you should probably get going soon. Uncle Ganelon usually comes to check up on me around this time.”

  “Oh, I do hope so. If all goes well, this misunderstanding between us shall be mended, and you will regain your freedom - and perhaps much more.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You shall find out in due time. For now…”

  The boy giggled. “I just need to keep quiet, right?”

  “Exactly.”

  After a few moments, the doorknob shook, and thus entered this play’s dandy protagonist. He went by many titles: The High Tribunal, the Peer of Francia.

  But to Lucius, he was simply Ganelon - a flower soon to bloom.

  “Karolus… my boy, you can’t stay mad at me forever.”

  Ganelon stood awkwardly at the doorway, waiting for young Karolus’s permission to come in. The boy never gave it to him.

  “I will try my very best,” Karolus uttered in a low drone. “What do you expect to happen, uncle? You broke my trust. You’ve confined me here for over a week now. How long am I supposed to rot before you finally explain yourself?”

  “Explain? I don’t—haha—need to explain anything!” Ganelon replied with a defeated raise of his arms. “Would it even matter? You never listen to me anyway. I’ve tried so, so many times, but it’s always in through one ear and out the other with you. Really, I just wish you’d understand how much I work to keep you safe. Is it a sin to want a bit of appreciation, maybe a thank you or two?”

  “Let me out of here and I might consider it.”

  “Haha! Funny, but no. A single step out there and you’d be kidnapped in an instant.”

  “By who?” Karolus asked, demanding to know.

  A nervous expression shadowed Ganelon’s face for a brief moment. He swallowed and tugged at his clothes, hands trembling in remembrance of the one who reduced him to this paranoid state. “That monster in a man’s mask is who.”

  “Sir Lucius would never—”

  Ganelon suddenly ran forward and forcibly smothered Karolus’s mouth with his hand. Terror shone in the High Tribunal's eyes, and he stuttered over his words whilst cautiously looking behind. “No! Don’t say that thing’s name. He could be lurking in any corner, watching us, listening with that crooked smile…”

  The High Tribunal was a shell of his former self. Horror and distress had rapidly aged his features; and he glanced around, terrified that even mentioning the gentleman’s name would be enough to summon him. If only he knew that the very person he abhorred was looking down on him even now.

  “It’s fine, Karolus. Just wait a little longer,” Ganelon eventually uttered. “Soon, everything will be complete. I’m close—I can feel it! After today, there will be nothing we need to fear ever again.”

  But the boy only shook his head. “Whatever it is you’re planning, uncle, it won’t get you what you want. I’m not as naive as you think I am. You’re going to hurt people, aren’t you?”

  “Hurt? Hah. Haha!” Ganelon descended into a roaring fit, slapping his knee and buckling over as he laughed and laughed until his voice grew hoarse. “Oh Karolus, my boy… I am going to do much worse than hurt people.”

  He straightened his back and then dug his nails into his face, scratching. His voice turned icy. Karolus could only step back out of unease, for the man before him looked more like a monster than any Ganelon had spoken of.

  “You’ve gone insane, uncle.”

  “No, Karolus. It’s this nation that’s gone insane.”

  Ganelon ominously took a step, then another, and another. He approached Karolus with a maddened craze until the boy had no choice but to crash into the wall.

  “All they talk about is the demons. Demons this, demons that! How quick they are to raise their voices against a common enemy, when all they did was cower against that filth called Pepin. It’s not the demons that are the problem; nay, in fact, those hideous things are actually helpful! They’re exactly what we need to fix this diseased nest of an empire.”

  Karolus shook his head, baffled by Ganelon’s words. “Save? How could they possibly save us?”

  “By keeping us weak.”

  In an instant, Ganelon became deathly serious. There was no irony or ridicule in his voice. From the bottom of his heart, he truly believed himself to be right.

  “Do you know what caused the Holy War, my boy?”

  Karolus refused to speak.

  “It was our strength. We were… too strong, too vast in our numbers and expansion. It made us arrogant. We were at the top of the world! So when that horrifying creature took up the throne, we thought nothing of it. The holy empire would remain forever strong, forever blessed. But that’s the problem, Karolus! It’s because of God that no one could stop us. Not one nation or army beyond our borders could slay his late Holiness. We are the enemy!

  “We’re a despicable, backwards, cruel and greedy people. We averted our eyes and merely watched as the land filled with bloody ravines, all because it didn’t concern us. We weren’t the ones suffering, so why should it matter? Haha, even Roland, that fool pretending to be a defender of Chivalry, dutifully followed the former emperor’s orders and slaughtered the Saracen people. But he doesn’t talk about that, does he? No, because he’s a hypocrite like all the rest.

  “And yet, despite this all, I do care for Francia. I care about it too much. I care more than you could possibly imagine, Karolus, and that’s why I need to gut its bowels. I need to keep us weak, scared, and angry at the demons. Those things need to invade us for all of eternity, to raze our fields and threaten our cities, because it’s the only way to keep our future emperors in check. With the threat of the demons, scum like Pepin can’t abuse their power. With the threat of the demons, the people will always remain united, shared in a common cause. Even the other nations will have no choice but to support us lest their land become the demons’ next target. Isn’t it a wonderful plan? Yes, it’s brilliant! Who cares if we need to sacrifice a couple—haha—paladins every year. It’s only about a thousand… okay, maybe ten thousand. But that’s the price we have to pay for peace.”

  On and on, Ganelon ranted about his vision for Francia’s future, how he saw the masses as innately lousy and the loss of his faith. And through it all Karolus could only listen, his once gentle demeanor slowly being replaced by something surprising.

  Rage.

  The boy who only knew to smile, to hold back his complaints and put on an obedient mask, was filled with pure rage.

  “It’s you,” Karolus whispered. “You’re the one holding us back. You’re the reason why the servants cry at night, mourning a brother or sister that will never return. You’re the reason why parents have to bury empty graves, unable to give their children a proper rest. You… you are the true monster.”

  Ganelon groaned and merely waved Karolus off. “Oh, please. Don’t get sentimental on me now. It’s good to care about the people, my boy, but too much empathy is a weakness. If not to the demons, they would’ve died whilst ransacking some poor city elsewhere.”

  “No!” the boy defiantly shouted. “It’s only you who thinks we’re terrible people, uncle, but I know better. I know that there are good people who still follow the tenets of Chivalry. Even now, they’re fighting to make a change.”

  “Change isn’t always good, Karolus.”

  “But it’s inevitable. You can’t stop it no matter how hard you try, Uncle Ganelon. Just like how you can’t stop me from growing up—”

  Slap!

  Karolus recoiled back and clutched his cheek. It was red, swollen. It burned. Disbelief flashed through his face, and his eyes soon turned glossy as he winced in pain. Yet, even so, he refused to cry. He refused to expose even a shred of weakness to the man before him.

  Ganelon briefly stood in place, stunned, before looking at his hand. “I didn’t mean to… it was an accident. Believe me, Karolus, I would never hurt—”

  “But you just did.”

  The boy’s words echoed throughout the room, each word painfully clear. It contained every bit of his disappointment, his contempt, and most importantly… his acceptance.

  Ganelon understood, then. Their relationship would never be the same again.

  “Are you going to hit me again?”

  The man sputtered. “No, no! I wouldn’t…”

  “Then leave. If there’s any care still left in your heart, leave right now.”

  A fierce determination enveloped Karolus. The boy was barely half of Ganelon’s height, his body frailer even still, yet it dissuaded him not from challenging the High Tribunal.

  In the end, Karolus won, and Ganelon hesitantly stepped back sulking toward the door. His skin was completely pale, devoid of any remaining life or resistance.

  “Karolus, please,” he begged one last time. “You know me—”

  “Get out. Now.”

  The boy slammed the door shut so hard that the wood shook in its hinges.

  “Good riddance.”

  After taking a long, deep breath, Karolus wandered over to his bed and sat on the edge. He looked contemplative for a moment, thinking. He seemed to have thought about a lot of things. And he would continue to do so as Lucius slunk back to solid ground and prepared to follow after Ganelon. Before he did so, however, he gently patted Karolus’s shoulder and gave him a piece of candy purchased from the shop.

  “It is time I leave, my friend,” Lucius said to him. “Would you like me to deliver any words to Ganelon before I give him a stern talking to?”

  Karolus bid him a light laugh, before sending the gentleman off with a Frankish gesture of good luck. “None. Just knock some sense into him, if you can.”

  “Very well, your wish is my command.”

  Thus, the good Lucius disappeared back into the shadows, leaving a pensive Karolus to reflect over the day’s excitement. How exactly he would change the next they met, Lucius knew not. But for now he needed to focus on one man, a sprout on the verge of greatness.

  It was time for the second act.

  The Esteemed Gentlepeople of the , to whom I am forever grateful

  [The Distinguishedly Dandy Gentlemen Hall of Fame]