Young Emperor Karolus was met with many long, restless evenings following Ganelon’s trial. With the evidence provided by Lucius, Sir Olivier and his administration immediately apprehended all those complicit in the prior rebellion, as well those who contributed in the former High Tribunal’s sordid dealings. They complained at first and demanded to be released, but without any backing they quickly found themselves sentenced and summarily imprisoned. Perhaps it was precisely because the nation was undergoing such great change that the proceedings went smoothly — none had the patience nor energy anymore to tolerate these rotten links, most of all Karolus who delivered his judgement swift and fair.

  But unfortunately for the castle, with many arrests came also a lack of personnel. Every faction, from the judiciary, to the priesthood, and the paladin order, found themselves scrambling about in a mad dash, frantically doing the work of what would ordinarily take twice their number.

  Yes, the hole left behind from their absence was sorely felt, and yet it also provided an opportunity for those previously shunned and intimidated by Ganelon to make themselves known. A new age was dawning on the empire of Francia. As buildings were erected and the people, ever slowly, returned to their normal lives, they looked up toward the hill where sat their holy site; and they bowed in reverence, singing prayers and giving thanks to their new lord.

  In the rare chances Lucius spotted the boy outside his room, a gaggle of advisers would follow him wherever he went, practically suffocating the poor fellow in all the duties and matters that needed to be attended. His once bright and curious disposition had all but disappeared, making way for a boy with dark, saggy eyes and a quiet sigh.

  Roland and the other Peers did their best to lighten his workload. But unbeknownst to them, it was not physical exhaustion that truly weighed on his weary heart. It was the expectations, the hopes thrust his way, the people outside still uncertain about what tomorrow would bring. Even after another week had passed, he still found it difficult to leave the castle and venture beyond its confines.

  So it was that, on one faithful day, Karolus snuck away from his ever persistent entourage and shyly approached Lucius with a request.

  “Hoho, whatever is your concern, my friend?” Lucius asked.

  The boy hesitated for a moment, his small frame covered head to toe in bulky armor and regal attire, the front of which was covered in a myriad of gold, black, and white emblems to signify his royal status. He now wore the crown wherever he went, along with the Joyeuse which rested blandly in a decorated scabbard.

  When he finally found his voice, he said, “Um, is it okay if you come with me to tour the city? It’s the emperor’s duty to inspect the reconstruction efforts, and Grandpa Turpin said it’d make the people happy if they could see my face for a bit.”

  Lucius smiled and gave the boy a reassuring pat on the head. “Of course, of course! I’d be delighted to, but may I ask why you sound so apprehensive? Such a jaunt should be a simple matter for a fellow of your strength.”

  “Well, it’s kind of embarrassing to admit, but… I’m nervous about seeing them. My citizens. What if I’m not what they thought I’d be? What if they’re disappointed? I know it’s silly to think about, but still it’d be nice to have someone I know with me.”

  “What about the others? I’m sure Roland or the other Peers would happily serve as your escorts.”

  A somber look flashed across Karolus’s face, and he awkwardly stood in place before replying, “Yeah, they probably would. But it wouldn’t be the same.”

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  “They’re… different now. Before, Grandpa Turpin would always hug me with a smile whenever I saw him, and he’d give me all kinds of little treats or candies to snack on. I liked that about him, how warm he was, but now I feel like there’s this distance between us. It’s almost like we’re strangers. He doesn’t try to come close, always speaks so politely, and sometimes it’s as if he’s not even looking at me but rather something else.”

  Karolus sadly shook his head. “The others are pretty much the same. They’re all more cold, I think? Well, not in a mean or harsh way, but kind of like how Uncle Ganelon used to be. Our relationship’s changed so much and I don’t know if it’ll ever get better. But, it’s different with you, Lucius. Even now, you’re still ever the gentleman.”

  It was no surprise that the Franks would regard young Karolus in a new light. After all, he was no longer that timid little boy who’d hide away out of sight, uninvolved in the nation’s affairs. He was the emperor now. To the people, he was no different from God Themself, a holy avatar and a being that deserved—nay, needed—worship. In their eyes they did not see Karolus or who he actually was, but rather the royal mask called Charlemagne.

  It was that very name which compelled them to servitude, regardless of how the boy himself felt.

  “I see. Well, I currently have no business to tend to, so why don’t we make the best of this day and sally forth?”

  Karolus stammered and pointed at himself. “Wait, right now? I meant maybe in a week when I’ve finished all my work—”

  “No time like the present, my friend! Come now. There’s much to see before the suns set.”

  Before the emperor could refuse, Lucius picked him up and hoisted him on his shoulders, before dashing off with a dandy laugh. Karolus yelped and had to hold on tight lest the gentleman’s speed cause him to fall off; and soon, they barreled past the castle doors and ran across the courtyard’s new lawn. It was cloudy outside, a bit humid. Small dewdrops formed on blades of softly swaying grass. Not the best of weather for a fun afternoon adventure, but such sights had a charm of their own, how the filtered light illuminated the puddles and wet patches splashed about.

  For Karolus, this too was a new experience, and his once dull complexion soon returned to the innocent boy Lucius had come to know. This great emperor of so large a nation was now staring wide eyed, mouth agape, at the melancholic beauty that came with a rainy day.

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  But when the pair were just about to leave through the gates, Karolus snapped back from his trance and anxiously pulled Lucius back.

  “W-wait, we can’t go out looking like this,” the boy said, his cheeks slightly turning red.

  “Why not?”

  “Lucius, I can’t have my citizens seeing me ride on someone’s shoulders. I have to uphold the dignity of a ruler.”

  “Hm. Well, if that is what you desire, then who am I to say otherwise? But know this, my friend: it is never a bad time to look a little whimsical.”

  Thus did the boy climb down back to solid ground, before coughing into his fist and then doing his very best to assume a noble and regal air.

  “Ahem, I’m ready now,” he said, raising his nose up. “Prepare yourself, Lucius. We head to war.”

  Not a literal one, though their surroundings certainly became chaotic as the tense Karolus walked forth and stepped onto the rebuilt cobblestone roads of the city’s districts, where he was immediately beset with gasps and shocked stares from the nearby citizenry. They gawked somewhat unsure whether the person before them, the nation’s holiest figure so casually right there, was real or merely a trick of the light. But such thoughts quickly left them, and they dropped to their knees, prostrating with arms raised aloft.

  What was but a small gathering soon turned into hundreds, then thousands, and then many more until their reverent yet also baffled congregation stretched far beyond the eye could see. Every inch of the ground was covered; the stone could no longer be seen. Some nearby paladins almost collapsed out of pure shock, but they soon recovered and rushed to the emperor’s side, coddling him with their worries and concern. They even pleaded that he turn back lest an unsavory sort dare try to harm him. Nonetheless, Karolus insisted on continuing, saying that there was no danger he feared with Sir Lucius of the Peers by his side.

  The gentleman’s renown had long since been spread amongst the people, how he had held steadfast against the most wicked Evil of all. Lucius for his part was quite amused by how quickly such stories had spread. He didn’t purposely do it nor really sought after fame, but it seemed a few eloquent fellows saw fit to embellish the story, singing it in taverns and out in the streets. Thus the guards eventually relented and stood a distance away whilst Karolus marched on.

  He heard a great many prayers during his walk. He heard people thank him for saving the city, mothers and fathers relieved that their children needed not seek a new home, and he heard the whispers of the particularly devoted — how blessed they were to behold the holy son’s radiant visage. He heard people revere him, praise him, worship him as a living monument of their God. And as Karolus walked farther on ahead, those of Francia’s faithful trailed behind, treating wherever he stepped as having been anointed in gold.

  Through this all, the young boy never broke away from the mask called Charlemagne. He behaved as he thought a lord should, showing the people a gentle smile and waving with a charitable guise. Some individuals would give their livelihood to have the same respect, the adoration, that Karolus received now. Truly, even despite the gentleman’s exploits, there was none in the land more famous than he.

  And yet the emperor did not seem happy. He beheld his subjects and their faith, and he looked at himself, how small he seemed in comparison.

  When the people fawned and declared their loyalty to him, was it really Karolus they saw? Did they see the emperor, Charlemagne?

  No, what they embraced in their bosoms was far grander than that. They looked at the boy strangled in fanciful emblems, and they saw Francia itself. They loved this nation and their home. And so they loved Karolus in turn, because he represented everything they wanted him to be. They looked past the flesh, the blood and bone, and they saw the holy spirit that rested in them all.

  In a way, Karolus himself didn’t really matter. The people didn’t want him. They knew nothing about him, what his likes or dreams were. Until this day few would have recognized his appearance were it not for the noble majesty that exuded from his blessing of gold. Yes, what they truly needed, beyond all else, was a vessel. Karolus was the vessel to carry everything that was Francia.

  Perhaps the most somber revelation of all was that none knew this more clearly than the emperor himself.

  “I wonder if this is why father became the way he was…” Karolus whispered, his voice heard only by Lucius. “In time, will I become like him, too?”

  He closed his eyes and then raised his head up to the sky. A small droplet fell, then another, and another. The entire city soon rushed into the comfort of their homes as a rough downpour descended upon every crack and crevice outside. In the end, only Karolus remained, still standing as the waters dripped and puddled beneath him.

  The paladins tried to move him somewhere dryer, but he refused. The boy seemed spellbound for a moment. He did not speak nor even twitch a muscle, merely allowing everything he was to be soaked in the rain.

  “Oh dear, you’ll catch a cold like this, my friend.”

  Lucius raised an umbrella and stood patiently by the young emperor’s side. No other sound could be heard but the pitter patter crashing deafeningly around them as the storm raged on, yet even so Karolus remained despondently still, his appearance drenched both in body and spirit.

  “I—” he said. “I don’t know. I dont… know…”

  Something about the rain appeared to resonate with him. He saw the droplets fall and how helpless the people were before it, how a slight drizzle could so suddenly turn into a violent surge. Yet did they fear it? Could they stop it? No, for there was no stopping nature, nor was there understanding it. It nourished the fields and gave crops new life, yet it also had the power to rip it all away, to tear asunder the land and all those innocently caught within. And there was naught the people could do but hope that its temper was eventually sated.

  There was no stopping nature, for that was how it had always been.

  Karolus clenched his fist, and his body trembled in a fear he did not fully understand. When he tried to collect himself and lowered his head, he saw his image reflected in the water. He saw how it distorted, turning into countless terrifying forms. They were all him. They were all that he could be.

  In the ripples, he saw his father. For there was no mistaking blood. Perhaps in Pepin’s youth, he looked exactly as Karolus did now.

  “I-I’m sorry, Lucius,” Karolus muttered deliriously, turning around. “I think we’ll have to end this here. I can’t… I don’t want to go. No more. I don’t want to see.”

  Lucius reached out and tried to comfort the boy, but Karolus had already run off, fleeing from a phantom he couldn’t escape and back into the safety of the castle. It was the only place he had ever known. In those halls of glittering gold, in those lightless rooms no better than a cage, Karolus found himself suffocated, trapped where there was no hope of freedom.

  But at the very least, it was safe.

  “Karolus, ruler of this great and mighty land, do you not realize it?” Lucius said, dancing joyfully in the rain. “There is no outrunning fate. You cannot hide from the truth forever. The question is… will you accept it, or will it devour all that you are? Karolus, oh Karolus. So young, and yet already filled with such complex beauty.”

  Karolus was Lucius’s first connection in this world. He was his first Frankish friend, and for that he could only be thankful. Yes, it was because of him that Lucius came to know of the great potential in this land called Francia, the splendor and wonder it held. How very fitting, then, that the gentleman’s final flower before the Demon King’s raid would be the child who started it all.

  It was time for Karolus to bloom

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

  [The Distinguishedly Dandy Gentlemen Hall of Fame]