———

  Ganelon

  Some people are born to have everything. Wealth, power, influence… from the womb they emerge, already doted on by the world. I am not one of those people.

  Haha, definitely not. My earliest memory is of my mother, who told me with fearful eyes and withered lips to keep my head down, to be invisible, obsolete. The poor woman was a maid who served the patriarch of House Dordognes. One evening, the man decided he wanted more than simple service from her, whether willing or not. Thus was I eventually birthed: a disgrace, an illegitimate parasite.

  To this esteemed house whose lineage was no lesser than gold, I was an embarrassment they wanted nothing more than to be rid of. Oh yes, they despised me, but what they despised most of all was having their honor tarnished — of going against their precious Chivalry. The family elders silenced anyone who knew of their shame and beat the pregnant women until they bled in miscarriage. I wasn’t the only one sired from a ‘mistake’. If all the unborn were given graves, it wouldn’t surprise me if they encompassed the entire back lot.

  My mother, on the other hand, was smarter than they expected. She hid her pregnancy and went to great lengths to disguise her ever-widening stomach. When I grew too large for her to bear anymore, she hid herself within an isolated ward of the manse, within a dark and cluttered cabinet, so that her screams wouldn’t be heard. On that day, I emerged crying whilst drenched in a pool of her blood.

  She was always a fighter, always so stubborn. Even after enduring the pain of childbirth, my mother wrapped me tight and then ran straight toward the castle, where she declared my name and my blood, diluted though it might be. I was then inscribed into the House Dordognes’s family records, making me an official descendant: a public one. The elders couldn’t simply remove me anymore. According to Chivalry, illegitimate children had a basic right to education and competition. I could formally enter the battle for succession, protected by the very name that which brought my mother so much hurt; but nonetheless she was glad. She was happy, because it meant that I now had the chance to live.

  Of course, the elders didn’t take kindly to her treachery; and though they couldn’t outright kill her, they found… other means to sate their anger. I can hardly remember a moment where she wasn’t bruised or bloodied in some way. They tormented her all they could within the confines and loopholes of Chivalry, and when she came to my room with molded bread, I saw her tears, her cheeks permanently stained dark. But despite all she suffered, never once did I see regret in her smile. She shared her food at the cost of her own health, found joy in the simplest things like my first word or my little hands. Eventually the time came when she couldn’t endure any longer, and she fell asleep for the final time, isolated and abandoned in a separate annex none bothered to visit.

  So, I buried her myself. I remember it very clearly, for it was my eighth birthday, and I had just stolen a few pastries from the kitchen for us to share. I ran excitedly back hoping that the food might alleviate her sickness somewhat, but instead I wound up eating it alone, my nails caked in dirt and grime from digging her a humble pit she could rest in. It was from that moment forth that I likely became the—haha—twisted man I am now.

  Back then I couldn’t understand her. Was my life really worth the misery she faced? All the revolting, cruel things they did to her, all the hatred and spite she must have possessed… yet, rather than seek revenge, she instead chose to keep me safe.

  I didn’t understand, nor did I think I ever would. But there was one thing I knew. Yes, it became my mission, my life’s only purpose. I pledged there at the base of her grave that I would destroy this house if it was the last thing I ever did.

  But the world was cruel and unfair. A small, insignificant wretch like me would never pose any threat to those old fools fattened by centuries of inherited prestige. I needed power, I needed the influence to stand against them, and so I went against my mother’s plea and boldly participated in the family’s battle for succession. She had thought this damnable house would ignore me so long that I remained out of sight, out of mind, but she underestimated just how petty they were.

  I was given no food, no teachers, no opportunity to learn. In the moments when I let my guard down, a masked assailant would attempt to take my life. Thus did I learn to be crafty and shrewd. I learned to take advantage of people’s weaknesses and the same dirty tricks used against me, all for the sake of survival.

  I first started with a newly-hired maid, whose empathy and innocence had yet to be tainted by this house. She was amongst the rare few with a historian background. I knew this empire’s elites prided themselves in their lineage, so from her I learned all about the different high houses, the influential clans, renowned merchants and priests, and I jotted down the names of their children so that I could eventually make them my allies, my pawns in the battle against my house.

  I then moved on to others who would fall for my pitiful appearance and flattering words. I learned writing and etiquette from an old retired butler; I educated myself in the putrid words of God and scripture from a visiting priest; and I forced myself, through coarse breaths and stinging gasps, to perfect all the ways to take a life from a disgruntled paladin whose daughter also fell victim to House Dordognes’s depravity.

  This family did all they could to drag me down, yet nonetheless I persevered. Everything was ready; my preparations were complete. No one could stop my steady ascension, and so came the day that I entered the academy, whose students I plotted to bring under my control.

  There was someone in particular I absolutely needed to win over: someone special, someone holy, a blessed child that even my house's elders would have no choice but to grovel before. Yes, the year I entered was the very year that the heir to this empire’s throne was enrolled.

  I came to the academy, so that I could befriend the one called Pepin.

  Haha, I was so confident back then, so sure of myself that all would go as planned. But when I walked the academy’s aged halls and approached the famed prince of Francia, I felt something peculiar. It crawled on the back of my neck and sent shivers down my spine. I felt my throat closing up, for it took only one look at that thing for me to realize instantly.

  He was a monster.

  The way he carried himself, the coldness in how he viewed the world. I saw it plainly and I shuddered. His appearance was surely of man, yet my every instinct screamed that something was wrong. It warned of danger and begged me to run away. It revealed in him something sinister that lurked hidden underneath, an inhuman creature born of flesh and blood, yes, but not of mind. Not of heart.

  It was as if my plans had all been thrown away, ground to dust. How could I possibly convince this thing to help me, when it possessed no emotion, no empathy or kindness or consideration for all else except its own selfish wishes? It seemed an insurmountable hurdle, yet rage was a funny thing. It made reasonable men throw aside their self preservation and delve willingly to their doom. I saw in Pepin a monster that would one day be. Yet, instead of fleeing, I walked to his side and groveled. I pledged to be his loyal mutt, to do his dirty work and all else he was too lazy to do, so long that I could trail behind his shadow and use his name. It didn’t matter to me what he did or whose life he ruined. All I cared about was using his heritage to further my vengeance.

  Thus did my academy years pass by. Haha, I had my work cut out for me. At first that thing was relatively docile, too slothful and bored to act on his filthy desires, but as he grew that inhibition crumbled away, making room for the creature he truly was. Sometimes, he’d pursue a poor girl and spirit her away to the woods. I didn’t know what he did to his victims, nor did I wish to find out. In the end it was up to me to clean up after his mess, and so I did exactly as I did before and made graves for each of them, burying their bodies where none could discover. Other times his rampage was more public, and I’d have to intimidate, threaten, bribe and coerce the families whose children they would never see again.

  I remember laughing bitterly to myself back then, for despite his debauchery not one person moved to stop him. Not the priests. Not even the emperor or empress. They merely gave Pepin a short scolding and had him promise never to commit such heinous acts again, only for him to break it the next day, repeating the cycle year after year. He was the couple’s only child, the only one to have inherited the Mother’s blessed strength, and so they coddled and spoiled him rotten with such love that it made me want to retch. Haha, it was just so funny! That this… this thing had everything he could ever want, and yet it didn’t satisfy him. And it made me despair even more that everyone was content with just letting him be.

  It reminded me of my own circumstance, how negligent these preachers of Chivalry were. If they truly valued its tenets so much, why was my mother denied help, despite showing up with lashes and flayed skin? Why were good people forced to hurt and endure, to suck in their breath and grit their teeth while the ones responsible faced no repercussions, no punishment?

  This world has always been unfair. That’s just the truth. Some people tout otherwise from atop their privileged, comfortable havens, unable to see the masses begging and pleading for succor below; they’re too blinded by their egos and status to see that it’s always the common people who have to toil for their idealistic vision.

  The only ones who can thrive in this corrupt land are those willing to climb atop others, to push them down, to selfishly kick back and sabotage anyone impeding their way regardless of the methods used. I learned that lesson very well while under Pepin’s command.

  But sometimes, I would look down at my hands. The weight of everything would come crashing violently inside my stomach, and I would see the faces of those I’d wronged. Haha, it was inevitable; for all my sins I was still a man. I understood full well the damage I’d caused, but… what was I to do?

  How could I stop, when I was only further rewarded for it? I met the emperor and empress, and they thanked me for being friends with their son, for helping him so loyally and for being a diligent servant to the empire. With their grace, I was introduced to many influential figures. I attended their fancy tea parties and mingled in their grand mansions. I sucked up to them, flattered them, even did their dirty work. They rewarded me with more connections and more wealth. At that point, it seemed endless, the heights I could reach.

  And then, at last, I finally confronted the man who defiled my mother. The ecstasy and pleasure I felt wringing his neck, watching the light slowly dim in his eyes… it was beyond anything I could have ever imagined. I then understood why Pepin took such joy in his slaughters. Truly, even now, I don’t regret for a moment killing my father. He lived just as he died, disgraceful, and I would have to persist with the knowledge that his blood flowed through my veins for the rest of my life.

  But that was fine, that was okay. We were both selfish men to our very core. It just so happened that I managed to emerge victorious, and so I resigned myself to live as a filthy man, uncaring, detached from the cries of those around me. I would live only for myself. At least, that’s what I thought.

  Years turned into decades, House Dordognes stubbornly insisted on preventing me from becoming patriarch, and so my half-brother ended up inheriting the family’s title. He was a decent man unlike our father, but what I liked most of all was that he was submissive. He groveled before my feet and pledged to serve at my beck and command so long that I spared his family. He knew who the one truly in power was, so I let him keep that drab old house and instead drowned myself in pleasure at the castle, never wanting or desiring for more. I had already killed the elders and the siblings who wronged me. My revenge was complete.

  It was only a few years later that I was called by Pepin to clean up another mess. I had long grown accustomed to his fancies by then, but this time was different. It was someone I knew.

  He had maimed my brother’s wife. As it turned out, Pepin caught sight of her in passing the day she visited the castle to thank me for sponsoring her son. It was a foolish move on her part, and I warned her explicitly never to come again, lest she come to draw Pepin’s hunger. But my words proved fruitless. From that one, singular gaze, he found his next craving and then acted on it. The next I would see her was as an unintelligible, bloody pulp.

  For a long while, I simply stood before her, staring at her mangled remains. I thought I had become used to these sights, but once again I felt the creeping hand of guilt, its inescapable hold that which bore deep into my soul.

  I could not face my brother, nor console him. In my head I tried to rationalize myself, saying that I never directly swore to protect her or his family. I just said I wouldn’t do anything myself — such a promise didn’t involve Pepin. I would have said those words to him had my brother asked, grabbed my collar and demanded me to explain myself like everyone else. But he didn’t. When I shambled past him, I saw only his pale face, so sunken and feeble. He said not a word and walked away.

  Many more years flew by, yet I could never forget his expression that day. It appeared in my nightmares and left me drenched in sweat. I didn’t understand why it affected me so; after all, it’s not as if, haha, it was my fault. I even warned her! I told her not to come, and really everyone involved with the castle should have known better. Yes, maybe I could have handled things a bit differently, but… it’s not as if I was a prophet. I couldn’t predict everything.

  It wasn’t my fault.

  Yet, my guilt said otherwise. I was tired of feeling this way and being that monster’s hunting dog. Was I really going to let him treat me like this for the rest of my life? My revenge was already complete. I didn’t need him anymore.

  So, I did what I do best, and I plotted to betray him. Fortunately, once his parents died—who he personally killed after growing tired of their nagging—Pepin ascended as emperor, and he became obsessed with the idea of conquering the continent. There were many fools in history who had similar dreams, but they ended in failure all the same. I, too, expected Pepin’s campaign to blunder similarly, so I didn’t worry too much and instead used the opportunity to orchestrate his death.

  Then, as fate would have it, I met with another like me. It was a surprise to be sure. I was touring the old avenues of the academy, inspecting it as the new High Tribunal, when a young man happened to stagger by. I recognized him instantly, his face. Those similar features that which haunted my restless nights.

  It was my brother’s son. It was my nephew, Renaud, in whose eyes I saw a starkly familiar pain. He resembled me, in a way. That yearning, thirst, for vengeance was no different than what I had harbored in those days when I was still so weak, so powerless. Perhaps it was because I saw a part of myself in the boy that I reached out and offered to take him under my wing. We were both tormented souls, ones willing to wield any weapon, unsavory or otherwise.

  Thus, we then worked together and devised all manner of plots and schemes to rid this empire of its lord. Yet no matter what we tried, that monster continued ever the same. The war dragged on and the castle lost more and more of its people. My brother was amongst those in the casualty list, and I comforted Renaud as he lamented our failings; for we couldn’t succeed. In the weeks, months, years that would come, not one of our plots ever bore fruit. And so it was that we despaired, for it seemed that this monster’s life would never extinguish.

  I’ll be honest, haha. I had partly given up by then. Renaud was stubborn as ever, still trying, but for me I just couldn’t see a way to stop our debaucherous liege. Perhaps our cause was doomed from the very beginning, that we dared to harbor such murderous intent toward the holy one, the Mother’s favorite. I was too tired to care anymore. The war came to a close, and Pepin had officially been crowned as the ruler of all.

  All my energy just seemed to fade away after that. The empire held a grand ceremony and paraded the heroes of the war, like Roland, around. His Holiness, meanwhile, was getting it on in what he called his breeding chambers. Filthy place, rancid. I never liked going near it as it smelled of crust and rotted bodies. He took the finest and fairest of women from each country he conquered, and he brutalized them there, keeping them in constant agony whilst he attempted to sire an heir. Most of his seed perished in the womb. One died stillborn.

  It was toward the end of the year that a servant nervously approached me and whispered something surprising. I couldn’t believe it. There was one poor woman who managed to survive, and just like my mother she had kept her pregnancy hidden. She slashed her own face and ruined her appearance, all so that Pepin would grow disinterested in her, and so she remained in the castle all this time, waiting for the chance that she might escape with her child.

  But unlike my mother, she was too weak, too beaten by abuse, and when I arrived during her labor I could see the shadow of death above waiting to claim its harvest. Her skeletal hands and pale skin made her look no different than a corpse, but nonetheless she persisted to the very end.

  She gave birth to a healthy baby girl. I remember how she held her child with the sweetest of smiles, and she looked up at me with her last bouts of strength. “Gisela,” she said. “Her name is Gisela.”

  The mother passed away, and I was left alone. Alone with this newborn girl I didn’t know what to do with.

  Haha, I really was stuck. Should I smuggle the kid out? Keep her in the castle? For Stars’ sake, I was a bachelor, not a father. I didn’t know or even have the slightest knowledge about raising brats, and I sure as hells wasn’t going to trust her with any of my ‘associates’, knowing they were just as foul as me. It seemed my only choice was to put her in a basket and let some farmer take care of her out in the countryside. It was the only way to keep her safe.

  But as I reached down, something made me stop. This small child, this girl who would never know her mother’s touch nor the cruel fate cast on her… I thought perhaps it might be better to spare her from it, the pain of life and the misery it wrought. Rather than forcing her into this damnable world, it would be better to never face it to begin with.

  So I held my hand over her head, and I hesitated. I didn’t know why. This kid would die just from a slight squeeze. It wouldn’t be difficult — I had done much worse things before. This was mercy. It would’ve been better if she was never born to begin with.

  Yet the moment I resolved myself and leaned over, I felt a small tug on my finger. It was so slight, so tiny. I looked down, only to see a small hand grabbing hard, refusing to let go.

  I fell onto my knees; and for the first time, the very first since my mother’s death all those years ago, I cried. I sobbed pathetically there, unable to commit, for in this child I saw the same selfless love once given to me, and all the bitterness and spite and self-hatred I buried in my heart came flooding out. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t take her life, for the name so tenderly gifted to her represented a wish, a yearning, that she might grow up and find her own happiness. She was born because her mother, despite all she suffered, wanted her to live well.

  In that moment, I think I understood my own mother’s choice and why she endured for so long. Right there, in that somber room, I made a pledge once more. I swore to protect this little girl and give her the life I could never have. I wanted her to become someone much better than me; and maybe, just maybe, when she grew up and no longer needed my help, I could finally atone for everyone I wronged.

  Thus, I grabbed Gisela, and I brought her into my care. Unfortunately, the same servant who alerted me had blabbed to the other officials, so I couldn’t keep her existence a secret for long. Pepin came to her room, then, and I had fully prepared myself to die right then and there should he lay a hand on her. But instead, he merely turned around and began to leave.

  “I will give her ten years,” he said. “If mine Mother’s inheritance is not descended, then kill her.”

  With that, he was gone, and my legs gave away. The tension threatened to smother me; yet, I now had a new hope swelling in my chest. Ten years was more than enough. With my teachings, this child would surely become great.

  Haha, those first few years were definitely tough. I never realized just how exhausting children were, especially how they cried for attention and needed constant care all throughout the day, and admittedly it would have been easier to have another servant take care of those duties in my stead. But I couldn’t trust them. The only person in this world I could ever rely on was myself, so I handled changing her diapers, feeding her, and playing with her all by myself. It was an experience with many ups and downs, yet never once did I regret it, for as Gisela grew older I discovered a joy that I had never thought possible for myself.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Gisela was truly a precious child. The day she said her first word, I thought I would faint out of sweetness. She smiled, and she laughed, and despite being confined to her room and the castle, she found joy wherever she looked. Such simple and innocuous things she delighted in, but it’s exactly because of her glee that she never failed to make everyone brighten around her.

  She was a gentle, kind, and loveable kid. It seemed impossible that a creature like Pepin could ever be her father, and on her fifth birthday, we would welcome yet another child into this twisted little family. It was a boy this time, a quiet boy who his mother called Karolus. Unfortunately, I couldn’t save her as well, but at the very least I managed to arrange her a funeral. Gisela was still too young to quite understand death yet, but what she did know was that she was now an older sister, and that made her happier than I had ever seen before.

  I was happy too. I wished for these days to never end, and so raising Gisela and Karolus became my new purpose: my goal, which had only ever been about bloodshed. Of course I was still trying to kill Pepin. Unless he was dead, the two kids would never be fully safe, so I joined hands with Renaud more spirited than ever and we continued to plan, to scheme, to plot just like old times.

  Sadly that meant my time with the kids had to be shortened, but Gisela was always a considerate child, and she doted on Karolus with both our loves combined. The two were inseparable; and the brief moments when I could visit them was all that kept me from crumbling apart during a time when Pepin seemed ever so daunting. Haha, if it weren’t for the kids, I would have long withered into dust.

  There was one problem however, and that was Gisela’s aptitude. To be honest, she was just a normal child. She had no great strength nor affinity for sorcery. Had she been born under any other father, they would say she was healthier than most, a smart child brimming with spirit. But Pepin didn’t care for such things. He only wanted results, results that I couldn’t bring no matter the methods I tried.

  I think Gisela could see my worry back then. I was nervous, tense, for in but a few months it would be her tenth birthday. I was running out of time. I had to prove she inherited the Lord’s ability, but I just couldn’t… I couldn’t find a way.

  I remember gripping my face, how dejected and miserable I must have seemed to her. Yet Gisela merely patted my head with a wide grin, and she told me that everything was going to be okay. Perhaps she also knew that her end was coming. I saw her trembling lips and her shaky hands, and I realized for all the joy she showed, she was just as afraid. This girl, who had never seen the outside, never known anything else except for what was inside the castle, was forced to put on a brave front because of me.

  I had never felt more wretched, that I wasn’t strong enough to comfort her.

  I wanted to run away with her and Karolus, escape this land, this empire, which had only ever brought us pain. And actually, haha, I tried. The evening before Pepin’s set date, I carried the two in my arms and ran for the castle door. It was the dead of night and not a person could be seen; even the emperor was usually asleep now. I was confident, arrogant, and that led to my undoing, for the moment I thought we escaped, a rough hand pulled us back.

  There stood Pepin, his unsettling gaze as eerie as ever. He rumbled a jagged, amused laugh, and held his arms out in a mocking welcome. “This is why I so enjoy tormenting you, Ganelon,” he said. “So naive, so pathetic. Did you really think I wouldn’t know? I see everything. Everything in this vast land, everything in mine empire, is all under my control.”

  He knew. All along, he knew that Gisela had no talent. I couldn’t understand — I could never understand that thing or what its goal was. If Pepin truly knew all this time, why did he wait ten years? Why bother letting me raise her, if it was going to end this way from the very start?

  Ah, how silly of me. The answer was so simple, but I didn’t want to acknowledge it. That, all this time, all these years, the reason he still kept me around as his mutt… was to torture me.

  He wished to raise my hopes, allowed me to feel a sliver of happiness after having dulled my heart, so that my despair would be all the sweeter when it came crashing down.

  This world has always been unfair. It kicks, and spits, and strangles you until that's choked out is a defeated whimper. But even so, I thought there was a slight chance, unrealistic though it was, that I could be spared just this one tiny grace.

  Was it so wrong to want to dream? I remember looking up, my arms limp and my heart on the verge of shattering. I asked my God if this was Their punishment. If it was my wicked life that They sought to take, then so be it, but I pleaded for the children to be spared, these innocent children who had no hand nor clue of the sins I’d committed. If the Mother truly was loving, then save them now. Save them, I screamed. Please, please… save them.

  And then, I heard a rumble. Pepin looked around, confused, before barging past the door and stepping to the outside. I told the children to hide and soon followed after, for never before had I seen that expression on his face. It was not pleasure, nor anger, nor disgust. His ever vile self had cracked, making way for a look of pure unease.

  Out there, in the courtyard, I looked to the sky and saw a falling star. It flashed across the heavens, leaving behind a trail of twinkling dust before smashing into the distant mountaintops. And all the world began to shake. And the stagnant grip Pepin held over this land began to loosen.

  As if the meteor wasn’t enough, a bright glow erupted from within the castle. In there I saw Karolus, a boy just shy of five years, radiating a power not unlike the liege I was shackled to. He had awakened to the Lord’s gift, and Pepin rejoiced with a hideous smile. He walked over to his cowering son and gave him a new name, “Charlemagne.” He told him to abandon all that he experienced as Karolus, for with his new title came a responsibility, a duty, to lord over all inferior to their holy line.

  After that, he lost interest in Gisela, for what drew his attention was that faraway meteor which shook this land in such otherworldly beats. I suppose he was bored after conquering the continent, so this new arrival entertained him greatly, and he left the castle’s management to me before departing for the mountains.

  I was baffled, and confused. But most of all I breathed a sigh of relief, for with this he would surely pay Gisela, nor I, any more heed. It was worrisome how fixated he was with Karolus, but at least it didn’t seem like my boy was in any danger.

  We were still together, and that was all I ever hoped for.

  In time we came to learn of the meteor’s true nature and of the fiend that now took up residence at the mountain’s base. Pepin had emerged from his outing gravely wounded and rambled on about strange creatures that disturbed the mind, which he named Demons. From then on his slaughters and vile fancies became less frequent; his only care was of playing with these new, alien things that provided such endless amusement.

  It seemed as if the Mother had truly granted my wish, even if everyone else saw the demons as a threat. This was the last chance we had at getting rid of that monster, and so I used his newfound obsession to direct him to deadlier, more dangerous, battlefields. I made sure to sate his bloodthirst so that never again would Gisela cross his mind. And it worked. For a time, it really did work.

  Once again, my arrogance blinded me, and I foolishly believed that things could remain this way forever.

  But on the eve of Gisela’s twelfth birthday, Pepin approached me, and he spoke.

  “Ganelon, mine Ganelon, you have served me well over the years. I wish to reward you. How about… yes, that useless wench you so adore. Take her as your wife. Make her a woman, for that is the only use she shall ever be.”

  It was as if the entire world had come to a deafening stop. I could not process his words, his vile tongue that which so easily spewed such hideous, hideous things.

  “Y-your Holiness,” I stammered back then. “You… can’t be serious? She’s only twelve. I’m old enough to be her grandfather.”

  “Is that your answer?”

  That thing tilted his head, expression inscrutable, before uttering a grunt and turning around. “Then so be it.”

  I didn’t know what to expect, but something about his tone made my stomach churn. Dread surged into my blood and enveloped my entire body in flames. Immediately, I rushed toward Gisela’s room and flung her door open, only to find her the same as she always was, if a bit more confused.

  “Is something the matter, uncle?” she asked, to which I replied by giving her a relieved hug.

  “It’s nothing, dear,” I said. “Haha, just felt like giving you a visit.”

  I dismissed my worries and fooled myself into thinking that it was over. Whatever the reason for his sudden proposal, Pepin no longer appeared to be in the mood. I thought things would return back to how they always were.

  The next morning, I woke up.

  I dressed myself.

  I put on my armor.

  I reached into my cabinet and pulled out a wrapped box. Inside was a book on Saxon history that Gisela had always wanted to read.

  I imagined the excitement she’d have when I handed over her gift. I’d say it’s a special present for a special girl, and together with Karolus we’d celebrate, eating cake and playing for as long as she wanted. I’d hug the two of them tight and thank them for being there in my life, for giving this old man a reason to carry on.

  Yes, it’d be a happy day full of love.

  It was time to go. I reached for the handle, and I gently opened the door.

  What came swinging from the other side was Gisela’s severed head.

  …

  I can’t do this anymore.

  Haha, I tried so desperately to forget it all. The past is filled with nothing but deep, visceral pain, and I’m helpless to do anything else but recount it, torturing myself with possibilities that’ll never be. Sometimes I wonder just how I manage to stay sane, being so broken and bitter, but I suppose that’s just the kind of man I am. Someone who survives at the expense of others. Someone who can’t even die, because he’s too cowardly to take his own life.

  I’ve already exhausted all my tears, all my grief. I’ve spent each and every waking moment in constant agony knowing that I’ll have to suffer living another day. But you know what? I persist. I put one foot over the other, because there’s still one child left who I need to protect.

  Well, was. Karolus has… he’s become far stronger than I ever was. Haha, seeing him cut down that filthy waste of a life, Pepin, is probably the most satisfying moment of my putrid little existence. My boy doesn’t need me anymore. That’s good, that’s nice. Maybe that means I can finally die.

  It won’t be long now. Here, in this damped and tiny cell, all I can see in the darkness is rusted marble bars. My arms and legs are shackled. I can only sit in the corner and wait until those incompetent wretches above finally decide my fate.

  Haha, it’s funny. The court hasn’t given a proper death sentence for a long, long while. Anyone that needed to be executed would be handled immediately by Pepin. That the court would even bother with such formalities is a good sign, I suppose. I just hope Karolus won’t be too sad.

  He shouldn’t grieve for someone like me. Instead, it’d be more fitting if they held a festival. Doesn’t that sound nice? Make it a national holiday, put some flare into it. Have it written in the record books that the terrible, horrible, no good villain Ganelon was justly executed for his crimes against the empire.

  Hm, on second thought it might be better to just let me fade into obscurity. Let not a soul remember that I lived, not even Karolus. He should forget about me and carry on with his life, although… I don’t think he will. That boy’s too empathetic for his own good.

  Oh, damn it all. Who’s going to watch over him when I die? I can’t trust the Peers, those foolish louts. Turpin’s just going to lick the ground he walks and remain passive as ever. Maybe Renaud? Well, he’s competent at least, even if he has gone soft.

  Or maybe…

  Oh God, I can’t believe I’m even entertaining the thought. No. Never. Even if that thing is the reason for his change, I just can’t in good conscience allow my boy to be near someone so creepy and sinister.

  Thank the Stars he’ll leave soon.

  “Are you referring to me, my friend?”

  My heart nearly jumps out of my chest. I flinch and bang my head against the wall, yelping out in pain as I struggle to find the source of the sudden voice. There, beyond the bars, I see a figure emerging from the dark, their form wreathed in a drifting shroud. I know who he is. How can I not, when he’s the very reason why I now sit in this cell?

  “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” I sigh. “As if you weren’t already unsettling enough. What’s with the mask?”

  A disturbing porcelain mask covers the face of the creature called Lucius. One socket is covered by a bright red rose, while the other contains a leering eye. Leering? No, piercing. Unfathomable. I can feel it in my bones; the one before me isn’t the same man I knew.

  “A change in wardrobe is necessary for such a special occasion,” Lucius says, fully revealing himself with a cocky flourish. “How do you do, Sir Ganelon? I’m glad that you’ve ‘mellowed out’ or so the kids say. Perhaps now we can have that tea party I’ve been looking forward to.”

  At this point, I’m too tired to even bother asking how he managed to get past the guards. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Let this freak gloat all he wants.

  “Fine, fine.” I lift my shackles up in an inviting gesture. “It’s not as if I, haha, have anything better to do.”

  “Splendid! Allow me to spruce this drab place up to my liking.”

  With a clap of his hands, the cell transforms into an elegant lobby, complete with fine carpets, leather lounge chairs, and even a fireplace. Where the hells that fireplace connects to, I don’t know a damn. And I don’t care enough to ask.

  Lucius walks up to the cell bars and effortlessly rips it away; then he makes himself comfortable in one of the seats and brings out a teapot out of thin air, before pouring a peculiar blue liquid into a cup and handing it to me. I try to show off my shackles, only to discover that they’ve mysteriously disappeared.

  “Are you here to kill me?” I ask him bluntly, grabbing the cup and cautiously sipping it. It’s nice, fruity. It reminds me of the marionberries that used to grow in House Dordognes’s private garden. I’d sneak in all the time and rip a large cluster out. It was the only sweet thing I could manage to grab, other than the times I raided the kitchen for pastries.

  “Hoho, of course not,” Lucius replies. “Just a friend who’s visiting.”

  “I won’t resist if you want to try. Might as well put an end to my misery sooner than later.”

  “Now, now, why such self-destructive words? You still have a long life ahead of you, Sir Ganelon.”

  I lean back and howl in laughter. “Haha, I hope not. Are you trying to curse me? A long life’s the last thing I’d want.”

  Lucius tilts his head. “Why so?”

  “Because the world is unfair.”

  I’m tired of it all. I’ve paid enough dues, haven’t I? What more could anyone possibly want from me, when I’m already beaten?

  Lucius stares silently at me for a moment, never speaking, never making the slightest sound. I can feel his lone eye examining every part of my body; and when it finally seems he’s satisfied, the so-called gentleman raises a finger and points directly at my heart.

  “You’re running away, Sir Ganelon.”

  Alright, now I’m starting to get a bit angry.

  “What I’m doing is the exact opposite of that,” I spit back. “Do you think I’d stay in this dingy—well, was dingy—cell if I wanted to run? Haha, I daresay I’m a model prisoner.”

  “It’s not a matter of physical distance, my friend. This cell, this city, perhaps even the entire empire: No matter where you’d go, it’d be useless in the end. There’s no outrunning yourself.”

  “... Myself?”

  Lucius chuckles. Before I can even ask him to explain himself, he’s already moved on to a different topic.

  “I find it interesting, what you said before. ‘The world is unfair’, correct? Indeed, fate is an unpredictable force; it yields to no one and props some fellows up while pushing others down. Yet that is the inevitability of existence. If the world were not unfair, that would mean everything was fair, and that would mean everything would be the same. And if everything were the same, then there’d be no you, would there?”

  “What? Enough of the riddles.”

  Lucius shrugs. “My point, Sir Ganelon, is that there’s no use in blaming the world. It is a fact of life, a constant that shall never change. But does that mean you should simply surrender yourself to it? The answer is no. The world is its own separate entity, just as you are your own. You are capable of change; you have the unique and fascinating ability to make a choice. What you’re doing right now is no different than a child throwing a tantrum, drowning yourself in self-pity. You can’t use the world as an excuse forever.”

  I feel a vein beginning to burst. Haha, I knew talking to this freak would rile me up, but he’s especially annoying today.

  “And why shouldn’t I blame it?” I retort back. “You don’t know anything about me. You don’t know what I’ve gone through, the pain I’ve felt, or the effort I’ve slaved all my life trying to do what I thought was right, what was necessary, only to have it come toppling down because this world is obsessed with keeping me forever miserable.”

  “Is it the world doing so, or but the consequences of your actions?”

  I try to refute him, but the words refuse to leave my throat.

  “Part of the reason why you’ve suffered so, Ganelon, is because you’ve lived your life making excuses for yourself,” Lucius says. “You try to justify, to rationalize, to rid yourself of guilt or responsibility, but I think the man before me is a much simpler fellow than he tries to make himself out to be. Yes, his bitterness is a mask; spite he wields as blade and resentment he dons as armor. But Ganelon, oh Ganelon — you refuse to acknowledge the true you, buried deep within. You refuse to acknowledge that you’re afraid.”

  I take a trembling breath and seat myself firmly down. Oh, I’d love nothing more than to lunge at that arrogant neck and have Lucius gasping, pleading, for mercy in my hands, but I know it won’t work. And more importantly, I can’t bring myself to say that he’s wrong.

  “You fear that your guilt will eventually catch up to you, that if you aren’t constantly running, constantly shifting blame, then it will consume you whole. But try as you might, you aren’t emotionless, Ganelon. You feel and you hurt deeply. Yet nonetheless you made a conscious, active decision to live a wicked life; and instead of accepting it, you wave it off as necessary, as inevitable to achieve your goal, when all you really did was choose the easiest path — the simplest one, even if it meant afflicting the same pain you once endured yourself.”

  Sometimes, I wonder what would have happened had I not chosen to approach Pepin that day. If I had merely kept to myself, found a different way to integrate myself into the empire’s high society, would he have turned out the way he did? Was the reason Pepin became so blatant with his slaughters because I cleaned after him, enabled him?

  “You fear that part of yourself who could have been something different, something better. That version of Ganelon who lived without shame and was proud, confident, and free… he couldn’t exist, he couldn’t possibly be, because that would mean you chose wrong. You made the wrong decision and it led to the loss of far too much.”

  If I had smuggled Gisela away rather than kept her in the castle, would she still be alive now? Would she smile with the same bright, precious love that I came to know and mourn?

  “And do you know what you fear most of all?”

  Lucius leapt from his chair and slowly stalked over to my side until I could feel his mask brushing against the tip of my ear.

  “You fear that the cycle will repeat. You’re afraid, deeply afraid, that despite all your teachings Karolus will become just like his father, and he will prove that you’ve been wrong from the very start. That every choice, every decision, every little scheme you devised has only further worsened the world. That’s why you locked him away, unwilling to let him see the sky. You thought that so long he wasn’t exposed to the cruelties outside, he’d always remain his kind, innocent self. You wanted him to rot in an eternal dream, forever stuck as a child unable to grow.”

  I thought Karolus was just like his sister, a normal person. A boy who didn’t need to inherit the filthy legacy passed down by his father. So when I saw the light of the Lord radiate from him, I wasn’t happy. No, I was terrified because I loved that boy like my own child, and I didn’t know if I could have the heart to stop him were he to ever go down the wrong path.

  “Do you understand now, Ganelon?” Lucius asked. “What is the true you? What is it that you’ve refused to accept?”

  All these years, I’ve thought about only myself. I trusted no one and cared for no one. That’s why when those two precious children came into my life, I wanted to fool myself that I could stay by their side, that they’d love even a despicable man like me. But that isn’t right. I knew I didn’t deserve to be happy.

  When I lashed out at Turpin, at the priests, at the whole of Francia for standing idly by after Gisela’s death, it was really me who I blamed. I despised myself for not taking action earlier, and I regretted, even to this day, that I was too spineless to confront Pepin and instead cowered to protect my own worthless life. The insults I spat toward them were nothing more than what I thought of myself.

  And Karolus, my boy… you were right all along. Haha, I am a coward, always running away. You realized that far sooner than me, but when you had the opportunity to cut me down and take revenge for all I’ve done, you instead stood up to that monster who called himself your father. And you said you loved me. Regardless of my wrongs, regardless of how I fooled you, you still loved me; and I saw then how brave you’d become. Before I knew it, you had already grown into fine young man.

  The truth in my heart, the reality I’ve pushed aside? It’s simple. The answer’s so obvious that it’s embarrassing to admit.

  “The truth is that I’m a hypocrite,” I reply. “I condemned everyone else for my mistakes, insulted and demeaned them for what I only had myself to blame. Isn’t it funny? A man as old as me, still no different than the angry child he was so many decades ago.”

  “And yet, you’ve acknowledged it now. That sounds like progress to me!”

  I raise my head and look at Lucius for a stunned second, before breaking out into a laugh. “Who says an old mutt can’t learn new tricks? Though, I’m not sure exactly what knowing this will change. My fate’s already set, Lucius.”

  “Perhaps yes, perhaps no. Life is fascinating precisely because it’s so unexpected. But even if the court does decide on your execution, at least you will do so fully bloomed, certain in the man you truly are.”

  “That doesn’t sound like much, but I suppose I’ll have to take it, haha.”

  Fully certain in the man I am. Hm, that does sound nice; sitting here I feel oddly at peace. I once thought death was the only way I could stop feeling so exhausted, but that was just another escape, another way for me to flee from my problems. Now, it’s only the natural course of my consequences. I don’t fear it nor do I long for it.

  If there’s one thing I regret, it’s that I won’t be able to see the new empire Karolus will lead. Francia’s in good hands, but worrying over him… I can’t help it. After all, even if he’d pout otherwise, I still think of myself as his parent.

  As a father.

  And it’s a father’s duty to make sure his son’s future is bright, no? Even in this cell, there’s something I can do for him. There’s still some good I can yet bring.

  “Lucius, do you mind running an errand for me?” I ask.

  The gentleman takes off his mask, and he smiles with a bright, cheerful face full of love, just as Gisela once did.

  “Of course,” he says. “Anything for a friend.”

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

  [The Distinguishedly Dandy Gentlemen Hall of Fame]