Chapter 48: Revolution Era - Black Rose (2)
In the early hours at Lumière, haunted by Ballian's words, I arrived sooner
than planned, only to be greeted by the cacophony of gunfire and screams.
Rushing to the scene,
I found Christine, lying in a pool of her own blood.
What happened next is a blur.
I slowly wiped my face with my hand,
The scent of blood lingering.
I could only gaze endlessly at Christine, lying on the bed,
Her dress was soaked in blood, bandages wrapped around her, her skin pale as
if lifeless.
The immediate danger had passed.
She wasn't dead, merely unconscious due to severe injuries.
Despite knowing this, I couldn't take my eyes off Christine's face.
This wasn't what I intended when I brought her into this.
I had faith in her abilities, never imagining she'd end up like this.
Perhaps, I had been ignoring the possibility of her being in danger.
A hot, sticky feeling pressed against my chest, making it hard to breathe.
"...Duke. Baron Caron's treatment is complete," Eris' voice came from behind.
"Alright."
A brief silence ensued, followed again by Eris' voice.
"...Duke, at the very least, change out of your blood-soaked clothes. Staying
like this won't change anything."
I turned my back and was about to say something to Eris, but then I kept my
mouth shut.
Eris looked up at me, her complexion as if she might collapse at any moment.
She's innocent. All she did was exert her strength to save Christine and Baron
Caron, even to the point of this exhaustion.
Was I about to take out my frustration on her?
As I swept my face with my hand again, Eris averted her gaze and spoke.
"I'll go rest first."
"...I'm sorry. And thank you."
"It's my duty."
Eris forced a bitter smile, turned around, and limped out of the room.
The accursed bullets from Abyss Corporation had drained Saintess Eris to this
extent.
Though the mechanics are unclear, the bleeding doesn't stop, and they even
interfere with the healing of wounds by holy powers. They're beyond the
healing capabilities of ordinary priests.
Had Eris not been with us by some stroke of luck, both Christine and Baron
Caron would surely have perished.
The thought sends a chill through my blood.
Did they really want them dead that badly?
To go so far as to use the powers of demons declared enemies by the Republic,
regardless of whether civilians in Lumière were caught in the crossfire?
What have Christine and I possibly done to deserve such extreme measures?
"Duke Lafayette."
Turning towards the door, I saw Baron Caron standing there.
Christine's loyal retainer, who almost died protecting her.
"...I heard Baron Caron was also hit by the same bullets. You should be
resting."
"I am still a knight. How could I rest easy when I failed to protect the
Countess? It's shameful, but there's something I must attend to now."
Baron Caron handed me a document.
As I began to read it, he spoke.
"In case of emergency, this was to be delivered to Duke Lafayette, as
commanded by Countess Aquitaine."
His words struck a painful chord in my heart.
In case she couldn't deliver it herself, she had ordered Baron Caron to do so.
Perhaps it was just her being thoroughly prepared for any eventuality.
But to me, it felt as if Christine, having dealt with these matters, had
become like a forgotten girl, considered expendable even by herself.
Feeling as if I had placed her in that position and relied on her too much,
Only anger and disgust at myself boiled over.
***
Before my regression, my life was a series of failures.
The future as a promising knight I had envisioned since childhood shattered
when I was defeated by Gaston in the knight's tournament.
My fiancée, Christine, whom I had grown fond of after a few meetings, was
assassinated while disguised as a soldier, unbeknownst to me.
With nowhere to turn and branded a complete failure by the Blue Knight's
design, there was no pride left to salvage as a noble.
So, I turned my gaze to the commoners. They alone did not care that I, a
noble, had been defeated by a commoner.
Just by treating them with kindness and generosity, they admired and praised
me.
I strived to do even better by them, to save even more of my soldiers.
So when those who followed me, my soldiers, crumbled before the revolutionary
forces,
And at the trial by the revolutionary government, when it was declared that
all of it was merely a vain consolation from my position as a lord, and I was
no different from the other corrupt nobles,
There was nothing left in my life.
***
As the sunset dyed Lumière city blood-red,
I arrived in front of a building after a frantic ride and dismounted.
The documents Christine had prepared, handed to me by Baron Caron.
The building marked on the map within those documents is the secret meeting
place of the radicals, the so-called Saint-Just Club.
"...Control the surrounding area. Let no one in or out."
"As you command, Your Excellency the Duke."
Drawing my sword, I knocked on the door.
"Who goes there? Ah, Lafayette Hou-"
The door swung open, revealing a man with an annoyed expression, which quickly
shifted to one of alarm.
Before he could shout, I clamped a hand over his mouth, pushed him aside, and
slashed his throat with my sword.
"Gurgling..."
The man collapsed slowly, spitting up blood foam.
Even after killing a minion, the insane rage boiling my blood didn't cease its
relentless pace.
Surrendering to that rage, I threw the man aside, kicked open the door, and
charged inside.
Bang.
The sound of the door being kicked shut echoed loudly, and as someone peeked
out to investigate the noise, I silenced them in the same manner, slashing
their throat.
"Gasp-"
Another, who came too late and desperately reached for his pistol, stumbled
and fell like a puppet with its strings cut when I drove a dagger into his
brow.
No other movements followed.
Glancing around, I spotted a bronze statue and deliberately struck it with my
sword to create noise, drawing another person out to check.
I killed them too.
After repeating this a few times, the mansion quieted down.
Soft voices from a room at the end of the hallway drew me closer, and as I
approached, the door opened.
"Hey, what's all this commotion-"
Finally, I faced a familiar figure.
One of the radicals listed in Christine's records.
The man, with his excessively protruding belly, went pale and slammed the door
shut.
The chatter inside the room turned into chaos in an instant.
I waited a moment by the door, then, as the commotion turned to pandemonium, I
kicked the door down with reinforced strength.
"Ah, ah!"
"Aaaaaaaaaah!"
The door, rotten as old wood, crashed into the room, and the assembled council
members gasped in shock.
One, two, three, four, five, six...ten.
Including the Saint-Just, all the council members listed by Christine were
gathered, prompting a smirk from me.
This will save me some trouble.
"To think such busy council members would gather like rats in one place, what
a curious sight."
No one responded to my words.
Realizing their gazes were fixed on my blood-stained clothes, my smirk
deepened.
"Ha, hahaha. Whatever you might be thinking, this blood isn't from here.
It's Countess Aquitaine's."
At the mention of Countess Aquitaine, all the council members visibly
shuddered.
I'm reminded of the sensation of running, clutching a body gone limp and
soaked in blood, unconscious.
Recalling the moments that felt like plummeting into hell made my mood even
grimmer.
I locked eyes with each of the council members before speaking again.
"Why the silence?"
You all have your specialties.
The greater good of the revolution, the justice of the republic.
Liberty, equality, philanthropy.
Draped in plausible hypocrisy, if something doesn't suit you, it's all too
easy to condemn it as the evil of the old regime with your deceitful actions.
As I slowly moved to the center of the room, the council members retreated to
the corners as if to avoid me.
Finally, pulling himself together from the shock, their leader, Saint-Just,
was the first to speak.
"Du, Duke Lafayette. What is the meaning of this? This is absurd..."
"What's so absurd?"
"That blood, the people outside, what about them?"
"Oh, if you're worried about your underlings, they're all dead, so no need to
fret."
Even as I spoke, it felt as if my insides were rotting and burning.
There's so much I want to lash out at them for.
But I know too well it's all meaningless.
"This is madness. We will denounce these barbaric actions of yours in the
parliament-"
Saint-Just's words were cut short as I aimed my sword at him.
"...Strange. How does one file a complaint when you are dead?"
"Gasp, huh!"
"Ahhh!"
A council member near the door panicked and made a dash for it, prompting me
to throw a dagger, embedding it in the council member's leg.
"Ah, my leg, my leggg! Aaaah!"
I slowly stepped forward, pressing down on the dagger embedded in the council
member's leg writhing on the floor.
A terrible scream filled the room.
Look, it sounds like the squeal of a pig being slaughtered.
What use is talking to beings that are less than human?
Amidst all council members trembling, their faces drained of blood, one of
them drew a pistol and fired.
The futile resistance was effortlessly deflected by my magic.
"Ah, ah...."
As despair dawned on everyone, one of the council members stepped forward and
knelt before me.
"Du, Duke! Spare me! It was Representative Saint-Just who orchestrated
everything! I was merely dragged here, knowing nothing!"
"Co, Representative Bernach! What are you saying!"
"To save his own skin! Duke Lafayette, it was Bernach who was actively
complicit. I had no idea this was a gathering for some mad act of terror!"
"Ha...."
Only a hollow laugh escaped me.
These were the people who denied my past life.
"Where is your liberty?"
The ones who executed me, accusing me of plundering the people, are now ready
to massacre the same populace as traitors for not conforming to their demands.
"And equality?"
Those who now sit in stolen noble mansions, dressed finely, discussing
contingency plans, are willing to let a few citizens of Lumière die if it
serves their purpose, staging terror in the heart of the city. Do they truly
regard the people as equals?
"What about philanthropy?"
The ones who championed the unity of Francia and parliamentary democracy, why
did they seek to kill Christine?
Because she was lauded for stabilizing the lives of Lumière's citizens, making
it impossible for them to manipulate the parliament at their whim.
Since they couldn't win with the democracy they so praised, they resorted to
the power of the demons they condemned.
- They don’t truly understand your worth, Duke. Your loyalty and dedication
are far too valuable to be offered to those consumed by their own ideologies,
blind to reality.
I knew all too well.
Had it been just me, perhaps it wouldn't have mattered.
-But what compensation is there for the sacrifices you and your followers have
made, for the parasites that thrive on your devotion?
Yet, there were those I was duty-bound to protect.
I demanded their sacrifices, striving to align with their republic.
Though I turned a blind eye, the seed Ballian planted took root in the growing
fissures of my heart.
-Indeed, has the cause you pursued with this republican government achieved
anything?
I convinced myself it was for a better future, if not the best.
The republic triumphed, and I was defeated.
They executed me, declaring their liberty, equality, and fraternity were just,
negating all I stood for!
Thus, I joined them to survive with those who believed in me.
I knew they were not just. They weren't worth my loyalty.
Yet, I told myself I served Francia, not them; I protected its citizens.
It was better than living as a traitorous wretch, I consoled myself, making it
this far.
Why? Because I couldn't comprehend the value in the democracy they extolled!
I had to wrap it in patriotism, engraving in my mind that these citizens were
mine to protect.
It had to be done.
At least, unlike my father who built his honor on sacrifices, I could convince
myself I fought to save many!
So, what was the result?
Did those who followed me receive treatment befitting their sacrifices?
The vassals who, even in tears, believed in me and relinquished their domains.
Count Lionel, who couldn't forsake the lands passed down from his ancestors
until the very end.
The image of Christine, limp and soaked in blood, powerless, haunts me.
"Du, Duke, please. I never anticipated this. Spare me."
A beast unworthy of a name whined.
"You'll regret those words."
It was the first time I realized I could laugh so coldly.
"Because you’ll be begging me to kill you."
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