The following days were filled with much uncertainty amongst the castle folk. No longer was a weekly subjugation force enough to cleanse the sepulchre of the demons, for the nonsensical things surged in number, ceaselessly propagating with a speed that continued to grow. It became a daily occurrence for Bradamante to lead her paladins down to that haunting underground. Neither the Peers nor even Ganelon could devise a solution to this troubling matter, though they certainly tried.

  Roland had Sir Ruggiero flown back to the capital for a short period, as he and his trusty greatsword Balisarda had the most destructive power amongst the Peers. Sadly for them, not even the man’s concentrated strikes could scratch the barrier.

  In the multiple attempts coming after, they tried many different means, with some clearly logical and others quite silly in hindsight. The Franks brought the two Demon King’s fragments before it, thinking the evil influence would somehow resonate with what lay hidden behind, and when that didn’t work they dug beneath the wall hoping to discover an alternate entrance. Which of course ended in vain.

  So desperate did they become that the Franks resorted to hourly long sessions of prayer toward their God and sometimes dubious rituals that looked no different than the mad gatherings of a cult. Ganelon became fed up with it all and rounded up the demons, before tying them to planks of wood and burning them alive next to the mausoleum. Lucius had asked him what the purpose of such an act was at the time, which the man then shrugged and replied nonchalantly, saying that he thought it would appease the late emperor’s bloodlust.

  No other players were brought underground, thanks to Lucius’s intervention. He couldn’t have anyone else exposing the answers now, could he? It wasn’t as if the gentleman wanted the capital to collapse. But this situation provided him an opportunity… yes, an opportunity to delve deeper into the High Tribunal’s ever entertaining psyche. Whilst Ganelon obsessed over the Evil infesting his former liege’s grave, Lucius would watch him, observe him, and uncover that which would encourage even a stubborn man such as he to break.

  It was late in the evening one fateful night that the gentleman’s efforts finally bore fruit.

  Lucius was skulking in the dark as usual when Ganelon called his various lackeys to a midnight rendezvous near an obscured corner of the castle. Attending the meeting were old, corrupt priests of the order, veteran paladins well past their prime, greedy merchants and officials bribed with promises of fortune, and even a sizable portion of the judiciary. They came here, regardless of their busy duties, to prostrate before the puppetmaster who controlled their strings.

  “We’re accelerating the plan,” he said. It was a simple statement. Yet, the moment the words left his mouth, the entire room exploded in a round of nervous dissents.

  “What is the meaning of this?” one of the elderly priests said. “Our hands are already tied enough dealing with the demons crawling from our holy tomb, yet you would have us go against the Order now of all times?”

  A grizzled paladin raised their hand and spoke in a calmer tone, though their hesitation was still plain to see. “I trust you, Sir Ganelon, as do all of us who served under your command in the holy war. But this is not the right time. Roland and his faction still remain strong, not to mention the Saracen delegation currently in their midst. One wrong move and we risk provoking the new Emirate.”

  A merchant garbed in extravagant jewelry and gold-studded rings rudely interrupted, pointing at the High Tribunal. “Yes, Arabia! Why don’t we speak of your failure there? My caravan has suffered unprecedented losses because of this meddlesome business. We were promised Roland’s death, greater riches, direct passage to the Rivers’ Cairo treasury! Now they’re turning away any vendors associated with your name. How are you going to make this right, hm? I am beginning to doubt whether your claims are truly reliable.”

  Many more members bemoaned their recent losses and lodged complaints against Ganelon. The man had spent years building this dubious circle of his, gathering and controlling those necessary to manipulate the empire from the shadows, and for a time this arrangement worked out swell. The relationship between them all was purely transactional, beneficial. And yet it was precisely because so that these connections could be easily severed.

  Who was the cause for their recent troubles? Who was to be their scapegoat when their criminal empire showed signs of change?

  The answer was the very one who brought them together. Alone, they could only cower before Ganelon’s vast might, but when grouped up even the weak could find courage against the strong. They spat their putrid words and held a childish tantrum despite their fat bellies. Were it any other man, their attempts to lay blame might have worked.

  But Ganelon was no simple man.

  “Are you done?”

  He did not shout, raise in temper, or even move the slightest muscle. The High Tribunal remained disturbingly calm and addressed them with only the slow, deliberate drawl of his voice. The members present paled and broke into a sweat. They shrunk in demeanor, falling silent, for the venom in Ganelon’s gaze had spread throughout them all.

  A primal instinct surged in their hearts. One misspoken word, and their livelihoods would cease to be.

  “What’s wrong? You’re all so quiet now! Don’t let me, haha, stop you. Go on, speak.”

  They didn’t dare to meet his eyes directly. It was as if a snake had crept into the room and coiled around them, waiting for an excuse to swallow them whole.

  “Well, if you aren’t willing, then I suppose I’ll just have to continue. The next time you interrupt me, however… oh, I do hope one of you tries.”

  Ganelon slowly walked forward and examined each and every wretch who dared to go against him. When he was satisfied, he raised his hands and loudly clapped, causing everyone to flinch and tremble in their seat.

  “My patience only goes so far. Do you fools think you could stand where you are today without my help? I raised you, I fed you, and I let you indulge in whatever you wished. But it seems my kindness has let you become arrogant. The cattle wish to bite the hand of their master, hm? Let me give you a reminder then.”

  He walked up to the same gold-covered merchant from before, and he laid his hand on their shoulder. He leaned in close before whispering into their ear. His nails dug into their skin; blood trickled down their clothes of expensive silk.

  “You are nothing without me,” he said, nay, declared. “Everything you are, everything that’s been gifted to you, is because of my intervention. I granted you luxury and I can just as easily take it away. So, you will listen, and you will obey. You will do so with a big happy smile on your face because you’re too spineless and afraid of losing your precious little lives to do otherwise. Are we clear?”

  The group members fearfully nodded.

  “Good!” The malice in Ganelon’s demeanor disappeared as if flipping a switch, and he let out a big jolly laugh before bringing in his merry band into one of the most uncomfortable hugs Lucius had ever seen. “Then let’s all fulfill our roles, yes? We have much to do and little time to complete it. Roland and his entourage think we’re in a truce for now, so we’ll get everything done while their guards are still down.”

  This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Thus, their meeting came to an end, and the frightened pawns of Ganelon began to trickle out of the room. One group chose to linger, however. The veteran paladins who pledged allegiance to the High Tribunal soon gathered around him, and the grizzled fellow of before dropped to one knee in a respectful bow.

  “Their trust is shaken,” the man said, his head still lowered. “Must we still need to coddle those parasites?”

  Ganelon sighed and took a seat. “For now. Though, I’ll have to replace them soon enough. The greedy will always start to lust after more no matter how hard you try to sate them. Once we take over the castle, I’ll bury them in some beast field somewhere and bring in another, more naive, batch to take their place.”

  “As shall be deserved, but why this sudden urgency? There is an unease in your eyes, Ganelon. I see a phantom haunting your steps and I’m afraid it has clouded your judgement.”

  “My judgement is perfectly fine, Sir Pinabello. Nay, it’s better than ever! And that’s precisely why we need to rush this occupation. That new otherworldly Peer of ours, Lucius, is much more dangerous than he seems. If he were simply a strong fellow, I wouldn’t be as concerned. But no, that man’s the worst possible variable of the lot. He’s… unpredictable.”

  Ganelon nervously fidgeted, perhaps unsure himself what exactly about the good Lucius shook him so. “The otherworlders are simple to deal with. Warriors of God? Please, they’re even easier to manipulate than the Franks. But I don’t know what Lucius wants. Wealth doesn’t tempt him; he’s too carefree to desire power. Yet despite this all, every bizarre event as of late has traces of his involvement. The schemes I so meticulously designed have been unraveled one by one, and I just can’t seem to grasp why. Why did Renaud betray me? Why are the Saracens now on his side? It doesn’t make sense. That freak is the cause of all our troubles, but it’s impossible to deal with him because I don't understand what his true goal is.”

  Ganelon scowled. “Mark my words, that man will destroy us all. We have to kill him. By any means necessary, we must get rid of him or else we’ll suffer another catastrophe like Pepin.”

  The paladin called Sir Pinabello couldn’t quite fathom Ganelon’s urgency. The man he served wasn’t the sort to act this paranoid. He always had a plan, a ruse, a seemingly aloof character disguising a much more cunning and rational manipulator hidden underneath… and yet here he was, terrified by a single gentlemanly soul.

  “Very well. I shall inform the others to prepare,” he said. “But an undertaking of this magnitude would ordinarily take months.”

  “Get it done in one.”

  “Sir—”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of the difficult parts. Turpin’s already a few years away from retirement anyway, so I’ll have a nice talk with him, get him to step down early, and install one of my priests as Archbishop. Not even Roland will be able to stop us from taking the castle afterward.”

  “Still, we cannot be rash in our methods lest he accuse us of treason.”

  To that, Ganelon responded with a big guffaw and an overconfident sneer.

  “How can it be treason when the emperor won’t be involved one bit? It’s fine, it’s fine. He doesn’t need to concern himself over this. Nothing will change. He’ll be safe as always.”

  With nothing else to command, Sir Pinabello saluted Ganelon before departing with the other paladins. Their conversation was very, very interesting. Something big was about to happen, and the High Tribunal needed both time and support to carry it out.

  But really, why did the fellow treat Lucius with such caution? The gentleman was as polite as could be. He wasn’t going to destroy the capital. Maybe.

  What he was going to do, however, was what he always did: make new friends!

  Ganelon’s followers clearly had some doubts about their supposed leader. The High Tribunal paid their greed no mind since he believed them easily replaceable, but even the most unassuming of souls could play a part in toppling the whole, especially when the foundation was unstable to begin with.

  Thus, Lucius crawled out of the room, and he sought after his first prey.

  The target of his choice was the timid merchant draped in gold. Lucius followed him all the way outside, past the castle gates, into the affluent district, and finally inside a rather tasteless mansion filled with a random assortment of luxury goods. There was no style, no depth, no clear pattern besides a crude assembly of jewels. It was clear that this man had come into his wealth rather recently.

  He had servants and attendants, yes, but just how many were truly his? Lucius had a feeling these inconspicuous workers were Ganelon’s spies in disguise, so the gentleman waited until the merchant went to bed, and the mansion cleared of people, before skulking to his side and giving him a tap on the forehead.

  “Good evening, my friend. How do you do?”

  The man drowsily opened his eyes, only to immediately jump back and attempt to scream. Lucius quickly covered his mouth and bid him to stay quiet.

  “Hush now. We wouldn’t want any unnecessary guests, would we?”

  Fright crept into the merchant's heart, and he soon prostrated himself in a pathetic, whimpering bow. “P-Please, you don’t need to do this. I am a man of high standing. Yes, I can give you what you want. Does the name Ganelon ring a bell? We are very good friends, I'll have you know. Killing me won’t… won’t do you any good.”

  Lucius chuckled and gently patted the man’s head as if he were a dog. “Now, now. You misunderstand my intentions. Let us converse honestly, hm? My name is Lucius Rose, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  “Lucius, you say? Wait, that name! That name belongs to—”

  “Oh my, it would appear you already know of me. That is good. This shall be a simple matter, then.”

  The merchant gulped and meekly asked, “What do you want from me? How did you even get into my house?”

  Lucius wagged his finger. “That is the wrong question, my friend. What you should be asking… is what I can do for you.”

  “For me?”

  The gentleman smiled. “Yes. I am an otherworlder, as you know, and it is because of such that I am rather lacking in terms of connections. Being fellows with a man such as yourself, one so wise in the ways of business and commerce, would be a great, great honor.”

  That seemed to do the trick. The merchant relaxed and even became a little pompous, urged on by Lucius’s flattering words. But that wouldn’t be enough to bring him to the gentleman’s side.

  “Eh-hem,” the fellow said, coughing into his fist. “The way you approached me was quite rude, but you seem to have a good pair of eyes at the very least. Even so, you will get nothing from me. Please do be understanding. I am already very busy as Sir Ganelon’s close aide, and you… well, a merchant’s purpose is to make money, and I just cannot see what business could be had with one so sparse in relations.”

  “Ah, but that isn’t exactly true. I have one fellow in my network that I believe would interest you, Mister…?”

  “Marsile.”

  “Mister Marsile. I have heard tell that your caravans face difficulty in entering Arabia?”

  The man flinched and nervously backed away. “How do you know that?”

  “I know many things, my friend. I know of your plots with Ganelon. I know that he orders an unreasonable task. I know that you know this ship of yours to be a sinking one, a rotting rope so to speak, thus I do implore you to consider my words very carefully. You do want to protect your riches, correct?”

  The merchant hesitantly nodded.

  “Then you understand this loyalty of yours will only bear continued losses. Your main exports have stalled and your clients’ trust will gradually erode with time. This cannot continue. But would you look at that? My dearest friend, in fact, just so happens to be Mister Ibn-al-Arabi of the Saracen delegation. He is very close with the current Emir. Perhaps, if I were to put in a good word for you…”

  “... Then I, as you say, wouldn’t need to hold onto this rotting rope any longer.”

  Hook, line, and sinker. Greed ever was a predictable vice. All one needed to do was throw out a few honeyed words, before these men without morals fell slobbering onto your shoe.

  Lucius leaned in and offered the man a Frankish gesture of goodwill. “All I ask in return is that we be friends, Mister Marsile. Is that so hard?”

  Delight flashed in the merchant’s eyes. With a rub of hands, he agreed and eagerly shook Lucius’s hand. “This is your way of sealing deals, yes? I look forward to our continued partnership, Sir Lucius of the Peers.”

  “As do I, my friend. As do I.”

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

  [The Distinguishedly Dandy Gentlemen Hall of Fame]