It was on the last day of the month that Karolus ordered all of Francia’s officials to assemble in the throne room. Many were caught by surprise, for never before had their lord acted with such decisiveness, and those who saw him after one peculiar rainy night spoke of a change in his steps: his air, his voice.
The Karolus of before merely tried to replicate what he thought an emperor should be or how they should portray themselves. Now, the people were met with a strange assurance. The one before them with soft smiles and bright eyes was the true appearance of Francia’s young ruler.
When they gathered on the determined date, the emperor gave them a command. “From now on, I wish to be recorded as Karolus, not Charlemagne,” he said. “It was my mother’s gift in the hopes that I would become someone great. My father, too, chose a similar name, but his intentions were different. Let everyone here be witness that I will never follow in his footsteps. I want to honor my mother, and my sister, and become someone who is respected not because of his strength, not because of fame or fortune or conquest, but because he encourages everyone to be truly great. That is my will and my promise as Karolus Magnus, the 92nd emperor of Francia.”
Thus was it writ in the historybooks, the proclamation of Karolus that would serve as the foundation for his future reign. And it didn’t take long before he made good on his word.
From that day forth, Karolus would regularly visit the townspeople and roam the city streets, taking in the sights, their struggles, with his own eyes so that he could better understand them and what they needed. Of course, Lucius was by his side all the while, at times even guiding the boy toward places otherwise hidden from public view.
No longer was the young emperor satisfied with only reading his books and fairytales. He wanted to experience both the good and the bad, the pains of life as well as its joys, so that he would always be reminded that the world wasn’t just his little corner in the castle. There was a wider land out there; and though he couldn’t yet explore it, those far-off wonders would always be waiting for him. Just as those he loved would await his return.
For Francia was his home, no matter where he went or how long he’d part from it.
But before Karolus could embark on an adventure of his own, there was one scourge that still remained, still threatening his subjects and plaguing the continent in unease. Yes, the Demon King yet lived. High above the corrupted forests and nestled at the mountain’s very peak, the source of all suffering rested in its den of evil.
The nations of the continent would never know peace until the mysterious fiend was slain.
Time marched on, and soon another month had come and gone. Lucius was quite busy during this time, for he had the honor of preparing a special day for a very special occasion. It was to be Karolus’s birthday soon, his sixteenth. For the Franks this was a matter of utmost importance, for it would also be the day that their young lord finally became an adult.
The people hung colorful ribbons of gold and white and black all around the city now that the recovery efforts had, at last, been finished; and what better to celebrate its revival than with celebration and good cheer? The players were also invited to partake and were formally allowed back inside the castle. Not a sober gut was to be seen as the merrymaking continued through the week, and Lucius’s fellows all had fun in their own way.
Mili busked near the courtyard, playing her music. Marco played a native Frankish sport called Blitzball in a local tournament. Harper took up wood carving lessons and tried, albeit unsuccessfully, to make figurines of her companions (maybe using the fire axe wasn’t the best of ideas).
Mister Crowley and Miss Rhodes, meanwhile, were tending to the perturbed Miss Enapay, who had been making great progress along the road of mental recovery. The experience with the former emperor left a great terror on her soul. And yet, slowly but surely, color returned to her face, and she started speaking again. It wasn’t frequent at first, just small whispers here and there, but thanks to the efforts of her two fellows she felt safe enough to relax and properly heal. It took time, of course; all things took time especially when it came to scars of the mind. That she could now brave the world and step out displayed the strength that resided within her.
Plus, her new mechanical arm helped immensely with her confidence. Mister Crowley said he built it with all kinds of extra features, like a miniature flamethrower, a grip strength of ten men, and a small compartment near the wrist that held a hidden blade. Miss Enapay was a bit disturbed by it at first, but she grew fond of it after nearly setting their camp on fire. “My elders would often nag that our flesh is sacred, and that weapons of metal only served to corrode the soul,” she said. “I do have to admit, though… this arm feels comforting. Strong. You have a way with machines, Nicholas.”
The inventor smiled proudly. “Of course it is. I made it after all, and trust me it’s only going to get better from here. Granted I did have to use up almost all of my coins to get the materials, but… eh, I’m sure I’ll get more eventually.”
Yes, the capital’s jubilee was a sight to behold. Unbeknownst to the citizenry however, the energy inside the castle was much more frantic as officials and priests ran about, exhausted after restless nights of keeping the city in working order. The star of the festivities, the emperor himself, was also soon to make an official address to the nation, and so they were buried under even more mounds of drudgery.
It was on the eve of Karolus’s birthday that the boy rigorously practiced his speech, with Lucius acting as coach and moral support.
“Phew, okay. How did that sound?” Karolus asked.
The gentleman pondered for a bit, before replying, “It is an exemplary speech as befitting a wise monarch, however… it doesn’t feel quite like you, my young friend. Your old habits still somewhat remain. The tone is excessively eloquent and a bit rigid. Now, If I were giving the speech, then perhaps it would fit perfectly—”
“But I’m not you. I’m simply me.”
Lucius chuckled. “Exactly. For now, I challenge you to think about your intent. What do you wish to convey? Without excess formality or needless concern, what do you truly desire to say to your people?”
The answer to that, Karolus didn’t quite know yet. The boy had been taking small steps as both a lord and a public figure, accustoming himself with daily visits mingling with the people, but there was still a part of him that wasn’t quite sure how to handle all this newfound fame. How could he get the people to really, truly listen to him and not just his divine title?
Well, he’d figure it out eventually. Some trials were meant to be solved on the spot, and so the two spent the rest of the night sipping on teas and munching on some delectable pastries.
Come morning, an excited buzz spread across the city. Many citizens, as well as the players, woke up at the crack of dawn and made their way to the courtyard, where large groups of priests were already found preparing the ceremony. Carpets were laid, banners were hung, and floating crystals surrounded the very top of a balcony that overlooked the entire courtyard.
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It was there that all the Peers of Francia marched out and lined themselves to the side, kneeling as a figure robed in gold steadily approached and gazed out to a mass of hundreds of thousands.
There stood Emperor Karolus, his crown gleaming in the purple light of the rising suns. The people fell to a hush and prostrated themselves. They waited with bated breaths, hands clasped tight in prayer.
Karolus lingered quietly. For all his practice and rehearsals, he still hadn’t found the right words that best resembled him, but pressure was a funny little thing. It came like a storm, hounding on you and forcibly drawing out that which you yourself might not even know.
For Karolus, that storm soon surged inside of him, and he spoke not the script he prepared or the tone he imagined himself to have. Instead, he spoke as simply Karolus.
“I love my home,” he said, to which the people stirred amongst themselves, confused, for the voice they heard was much different than they had expected. It was different from his outings, different from the regal and wise child who gave alms to the hurt and needy. Instead they heard the honest declaration of a young man ready to bare his heart. “It hasn’t always been good. Sometimes, it might even feel a bit shameful to call myself a Frankishman, for our recent history has been anything but respectable. And yet, I still love my home with all my being.
“I love it because it’s where our people are. It’s where we feel safe, where we laugh, and play, find comfort, and cherish all those around us. Even if tomorrow seems uneasy, even if we don’t know what it’ll bring, we still pick ourselves up and try to find joy in whatever we can. We’re hardy and stubborn people. We grit our teeth and keep marching on, hoping that eventually we’ll push past the bad times in front of us.
“But that’s part of the problem. We can’t keep enduring forever. Eventually there comes a time when we’re just too hurt to bear it anymore, and when that happens we start to lose what makes us so kind. The Mother wrote the laws of Chivalry so that we would live with compassion and appreciation of everything They have made. And yet, we have forgotten these ideals. We have let war and conquest and those we thought we could trust twist our beliefs into a cage we willingly stay trapped in. We’re afraid of change. We choose to remain ignorant, to isolate ourselves from the wider world, because that’s the safest and easiest path.
“I know how painful that life is, and I understand, more than anyone else, that yearning to close yourself off from everything that’s scary. We’re already busy with so much to worry about — why should we risk facing even more? I know what it’s like to feel that way, but it’s because I’m so familiar with it that I now realize this isn’t how we should live.
“We’re not moving anywhere. All of us, this nation… it’s slowly rotting day by day, and that’s why my father’s curse haunted us even after his death. We forgot how to resist. We abandoned what it means to stand up for what we believe is right, all because we’re too tired, too beaten, by the hate festering in our hearts. If the otherworlders hadn’t come, then we would’ve carried on just as stagnant as before until the demons eventually claimed all we love.
“That’s why, I…”
Karolus raised his head, and he took a long, deep breath.
“I don’t want to stay like this, and I know if I just ordered you all to think like me, accept my every word as law, then maybe we’ll be okay for the next couple of years—decades even. But what about when I’m gone? There’s been plenty like me in our history, but that didn’t stop people like my father from taking power. I am not your savior. I can’t fix everything. You all believe me to be the holy one, the core of our empire, but the truth is Francia has always been about its people. It is where you wish it to be, where your hopes and longings reside. I can’t save our home by myself, and that’s why I plead for you, every single person who considers this land and its culture their own, to find what it is you believe in.
“What about Francia do you love? Why do you treasure it, hold it dear? And when you find that answer, then ask yourself to what extent will you fight if it’s taken away? This empire has seen many enemies and unfortunately there will be some who try to corrupt us from within. If the impossible happens and our nation, what we love, is overtaken by them, then it is up to you who represent the soul and spirit of Francia to gather around and protect it with your own hands. The emperor or empress won’t always be there to do it for you. We must seek help either from our friends, our family, or even our neighbors. We must be willing to go outside and forge new bonds with those we can trust. That is why I shall declare it here and now: the path I believe most to be just.”
Karolus pointed toward the distance, where beyond lay lands some had never and will never see. Yet it changed not that the people there, out of sight, lived in the same world as they.
“I, Karolus Magnus, will hold a summit including all nations in the continent. I will invite everyone who will listen, from the inventors of the Moors, the Saracens of Arabia, the penitents of Lombard, and the Saxons up north in Britannia. I will welcome them with open arms and hope that we may see each other as friends, for despite our differences we all wish for the prosperity of our lands, to thrive, to see our people thrive, and to bask in a morrow shining with hope.
“We cannot survive if we shut ourselves from the world. We must face it head on, and only then will a tragedy like wrought by Pepin will never repeat again.”
Every person standing in the courtyard was stunned into silence. And perhaps they also felt a shiver, a grandness that furiously surged in their bosom at the passionate declaration of the man before them, so radiant and sure in the path he would take. But just because he spoke like so didn’t mean they wholly agreed, especially those who had lived under Pepin’s tyrannical reign, taught and molded to fear and to be wary of those from outside the borders of Francia.
What Karolus said before, however, was right. If he ordered the populace to blindly follow his vision, then they would have done so without pause, without a moment’s reflection. But what he was trying to inspire in them now was different than any emperor had done in the long and storied history of Francia. He told them not to live as obedient, mindless slaves to faith, but to be thoughtful and to question. He wanted them to live as people with thoughts and beliefs of their own, and that’s why it was so important that he gave them a choice.
“If you are truly against this, then please make your voice known,” Karolus said. “I won’t punish anyone who disagrees with me. Even if you spit my name, curse me, or complain about how my plans shall bring us only hardship, the paladins and the priests will ensure your right to speak. I am only one person. Sometimes, I might make mistakes, but I’ll never know if what I’m doing might be wrong if no one ever tries to say otherwise. You, the people, are my advisors. I will listen, I will sympathize, and I will learn. I can’t promise I’ll follow all of your wishes, because just like how you have your beliefs I have my own that I hold dear. Still, the Francia I wish for is one where the people are not powerless and even the mighty will need to respect them. That is my solemn oath.”
With a swift motion, Karolus pulled out his holy blade, the Joyeuse, and raised it high in salute. “Citizens of Francia, today we move forward to a new age: a kinder one with you, the people, just as involved in its creation. So let it be heard and sung, let our voices echo to the starry heavens. Today, Francia is reborn!”
For a moment, not a sound could be heard. There were no jeers, no shouts, not even a whisper. And then the world exploded all at once, the very stone quaking under the force of the peoples’ united applause. “Long live the empire!” they cried. “Long live his Holiness, Karolus the Great!”
Even the young emperor himself didn’t expect their support to be so joyous. He beheld the emboldened faces of his subjects, and he surrendered his body to the roaring echoes of their thunder and their pride.
“O-oh, wow,” he whispered, before turning toward Lucius. “I didn’t think it’d go this well.”
The gentleman uttered a small laugh, before gesturing to the masses so filled with love. “And it is all for you, my young friend. Not for Charlemagne. Not for the emperor. Simply… for who you are and your sincerity.”
Karolus once believed that the people would never see him for who he truly was, beneath the mask of lordship, beneath the false name of Charlemagne. Even after he resolved to live as himself, he still thought that his subjects would never break free from the subservience faith had instilled. But the sight before the young man now with his efforts clearly rewarded, it proved that he had been wrong all this time.
The people saw Karolus, and they welcomed him. They cheered his name until he was too embarrassed to face them any longer.
“Long live his Holiness, Karolus the Great!”
The Esteemed Gentlepeople of the , to whom I am forever grateful.
[The Distinguishedly Dandy Gentlemen Hall of Fame]
? S.P.E.C.T.O.R - [A Sci-fi space adventure with fantasy elements] ?
by Sweeper
Unconscious and on the verge of death, an android appeared before taking him to a place ship, Spector, which healed him up.
Now this Spector wants him to be its operator, so that they can leave Earth. But before that, he needs to settle the grudge he has against those who attacked him and killed his girlfriend.
Armed with advanced technology, Adam hunts them down before heading out to explore the universe.
Strangely, though, he has to do all this and more while livestreaming to the whole universe.
Release Schedule: Daily
This story is also available on RoyalRoad, Webnovel and Patreon.
Access 40+ chapters on Patreon.com/Sweeps083
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Discord:
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I plan to use the usernames of readers who leave comments as some of the livestream viewers in the novel, so if you want to be included, leave a comment.
Also, add what planet you would like to be from and if you would rather your viewer be pro MC or against the MC, or maybe you just want to see the universe burn.
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Sexual content, while not the primary focus of this novel, is a part of it. The warnings listed below are in the chapter titles that have sexual content.
* = Minor sexual content.
** = Around 1/2 of the chapter has sexual content.
*** = Over 3/4 of the chapter has sexual content.
This novel also contains Yuri elements.
