After Karolus’s bold proclamation, a meeting was held amongst close advisors and friends to discuss whether it was truly possible to join the lands in fellowship. Long had the other nations toiled under Frankish subjugation, and they all held their own grudges and deep-rooted distrust. A new ruler was crowned; his dreams of cooperation were, indeed, admirable. But dreams were called so because they were yet to be realized. Even for Karolus, he had to admit that bringing about such a possibility would be nigh attainable, if not outright foolish.

  Yet it was the duty of starry-eyed dreamers to persist despite the odds, so long that a sliver of hope still remained. That hope was Francia’s recent partnership with the Arabian Emirate. The people of the sand were, perhaps, the most justified out of them all in their hatred and loathing against the Franks. Not a soul from both north or south was spared of the stories of blood that flowed ceaselessly in the once blue rivers.

  But nonetheless, the two nations had set aside their differences for the sake of their respective peoples’ future. That Mister Ibn-al-Arabi and Sir Medoro stayed in Francia as ambassadors proved their pledge was strong and not mere hearsay.

  Thus, as those who were more familiar with the other nations’ sentiments and current standing due to their mercantile dealings, the two Saracens were requested to join the meeting and provide counsel.

  “Hoho, you are a more ambitious fellow than our first meeting would imply, your Holiness,” Mister Arabi said, bidding Karolus a respective bow. “I cannot say I disagree with your proposal, and no doubt such an alliance would please the Emir. But now is not the right time. The southern kingdoms of Lombard and Moors have only been so docile because of the assurances promised by Ganelon. They wished to keep Francia rulerless, incapable of ever conquering again. Now that a new emperor has been instated, and their previous guarantor imprisoned in the gaol, they will understandably be cautious.”

  Sir Medoro nodded in agreement. “It is similar in the north. The Lord of the Saxons is a stern man. I once had the pleasure of exchanging greetings with him whilst I still served in the Levantine, but whilst his words were polite I saw in his face the temperament of a beast. He cannot be a simple man as one who succeeded in uniting the warring tribes of the Briton Isles. Keeping Francia weak is only to his benefit. Unless you can garner his respect, I would not expect help from their brigands.”

  Suffice to say, the Saracens' expectations were grim, and so the court found themselves gradually dimming in mood as time went on. Archbishop Turpin and the priesthood in particular mentioned that getting the Lombards to attend would practically require an intervention from God, for the two nations had bitterly feuded in matters of religion since time immemorial.

  The Franks believed the Mother’s sacrifice of flesh to have been out of love toward Their children, and so the people should celebrate and enjoy life to the fullest as thanks to God and Their benevolence. The Lombards, however, perceived the event differently. They believe it is because of mankind’s sins that the Mother withered away and eventually perished in body. It is the people’s duty to be forever repentant, to wrack their souls with guilt and apology, in the hopes that they would one day be forgiven and taken back to paradise.

  The two nations’ doctrines couldn’t be any more different from the other. They were, ideologically, complete opposites. Archbishop Turpin as he so eloquently put it compared the Lombard's nature to be that of frigid ice whilst the Franks boasted loudly and with pride as wildfire. The empire would need an especially enticing reason if they wished to attract the King of Lombard.

  After the priests gave their speech, Sir Ruggiero stepped forward to give his thoughts on the Moors. He was originally a Crystologist of well renown, one that still kept many connections with his homeland, and compared to the previous speakers he was relatively hopeful. The Moors hadn’t suffered as much due to their early surrender; if anything, the citizenry blamed Ruggiero most for their defeat. To them he was a traitor, someone who abandoned his very name to slobber over the emperor’s boots. As a result they didn’t quite have the same animosity toward the Franks themselves, but that didn’t mean they would simply answer if beckoned. In order to get the President of the Moors’s support, the empire would need to provide a mutually beneficial trade in exchange.

  With that, all voices had been heard, and so the emperor was left to think as his court members murmured amongst themselves in hushed tones. Karolus knew from the beginning this wouldn’t be easy. And while Lucius could give him the answers he sought, this was a chance for the young man to learn a very important lesson.

  There would be many times in his future when he’d be confronted with various opinions. In the end, it was up to him to take those opinions and build on them in his own way.

  “Thank you for your words, everyone,” Karolus began. “I think I have everything I need now to make this plan not just a dream.”

  The young emperor rose from his throne and then waved at Mister Arabi. “Sorry if I seem a little blunt, ambassador, but while I think you’re partly right in that everyone’s still a bit scared of us, I think it’s because of this that now is the perfect time to send out invitations.”

  The Saracen man raised his brow. “Oh? Why do you say so, your Holiness?”

  “Because they’ll want to judge what kind of person I am themselves. Will I be like my father? Am I someone they can take advantage of? Ordinarily they wouldn’t have the chance to find out so soon, but if I were to personally give them that opportunity then it’s to their benefit that they take it.”

  The officials slowly nodded amongst themselves, surprised by their emperor’s blatant acknowledgement of their neighbors’ cunning. Karolus at first seemed naively optimistic about his grand proposal, but out of all in this room the young man was perhaps the most humbled by the nation’s current reputation. It wasn’t pleasant. He knew everyone saw him and his people as dangerous, and that was why he needed to know all about Francia if he was to address its faults.

  Roland soon spoke out, still not convinced by his lord’s reasoning. “That may be true, but will they truly risk endangering themselves just to attend your summit? There is no better way to conquer a region than to remove its central leader. If the others suspect your intentions to be nefarious, then no matter their curiosity it will never be enough to draw them outside of where they are safest.”

  “Don’t worry, Roland. I know exactly how to fix that.”

  Before the Peers’ Leader could speak another word, his face grew pale after hearing Karolus’s foolproof plan.

  “We’ll let them keep their weapons, even during the meeting.”

  The entire court spontaneously erupted into a cacophony of gasps and disbelief. Never had they even considered such a thing, for it would mean endangering the emperor which they had just crowned. It wasn’t possible. They would never allow it! If Karolus were to perish now, so soon, all hope for Francia would be truly lost.

  But despite their vehement refusals, the young man in question remained firm in his will. “I'm sorry, everyone, but I won’t relent on this. How can we expect others to trust us if we don’t trust them in return? They’ll be in unfamiliar land and surrounded by unfamiliar people where just one threat could have them trapped so far from home. I want to give them some comfort, dangerous though it might be for us, because that is how we’ll prove our sincerity. Of course I don’t want to put any of our citizens at risk, so we’ll hold the summit a little ways out in a neutral territory. That way we’ll be close to the capital if we really are attacked while also being far away enough that they won’t have to worry about entering a trap.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The court was still feeling rather uneasy about Karolus’s suggestion, but they couldn’t think of any other solutions that would yield a safer result. The empire was essentially taking a gamble that all participants would be on their best behavior. Was that realistic? Perhaps not.

  However, Karolus wasn’t the meek boy of before who was shut away from the outside. With his own blade, he protected his empire and slayed his father who once was the strongest in the land. By his side were the stalwart and brave Peers who hunted down the Demon King’s dreaded minions.

  The reason Francia was so feared… was because it was powerful. And now they had the aid of the otherworldly heroes, whose might ended the Great Evils and their fearful hold over the land. Francia was stronger than ever. Even if the other nations were to betray them at the summit gathering, so long as the emperor was careful, then escape wouldn’t be impossible.

  “Trust has to precede trust, and that includes all of us,” Karolus said. “I trust the paladins to keep me safe, and I hope they trust me to fight for them and to stand by their side no matter what we face. So please, I ask that you all give my plan a chance. If it doesn’t work then we’ll just have to come up with a new one. I don’t want to let the possibility of failure hold us back.”

  Karolus held his arms out and encouraged his advisors to voice their refusal, if there were any at all. No such words came. Indeed, for Francia’s image to be given a new, gracious light, the young emperor’s proposal would help spread that they had changed — that, for the first in many long years, the foundations of peace were soon to be built.

  But even if they succeeded in bringing the continent’s lords all together, it didn’t mean their support would be so readily given. This was just the first step. Whether it would lead to many more depended on Karolus’s own ability.

  Thus the meeting came to an end. Many letters were written in the following days, personally penned by Karolus himself, and he had his Saracen allies deliver them as a show of goodwill. This way, it was less likely that they’d be thrown out.

  During this time, Lucius took it upon himself to spruce up the meeting location to his standards. It was decided that the summit would be held at a rural clearing east of the capital, and while it was technically still within Frankish borders, there were no nearby cities and fortresses from which an ambushing force could garrison within. The clearing had no hills, no large grass or wheat that could obstruct vision. It was a place entirely incapable of deception.

  However, it changed not that the location was, at its core, just a field. How could the gentleman allow such a drab thing to be where this continent’s most esteemed figures would gather? And so, he opened his metaphorical wallet and spent a hefty sum on the finest furnishings guaranteed to ease their guests' nerves.

  When Sir Roland came to inspect the sum of Lucius’s efforts, however, the gentleman was met with a bewildered gaze.

  “This is certainly quite a lot…” Roland said, trailing his words. “I by no means wish to undermine your aesthetic sense, Sir Lucius, but was the table of melted swords truly necessary?”

  Ah, he was referring to the lovely piece Lucius intended to be where the lords would convene. It certainly wasn’t quite what he would ordinarily design, but what was a meeting of kingdoms without a bit of dramatism? One had to consider that this occasion was to be inscribed in the history books; it wouldn’t do for the backdrop to be so dully mentioned, especially when it concerned the makings of a legend.

  Thanks to Lucius’s continued persistence, Roland relented and allowed the gentleman to piece together his stage.

  Many more days would pass thereafter. It was on one fateful morning that Karolus nervously dragged Lucius to his bedroom, where on a table sat the letters containing each nation’s answer. The young man didn’t want to open them alone and so Lucius dutifully gave him some moral support as he picked the letters up and carefully opened them one by one.

  Briton. Lombard. Moors. Arabia.

  They all had the same response.

  We will attend.

  Karolus clasped his heart and took in a deep breath.

  “Feeling relieved, my friend?” Lucius teased.

  Karolus gave him a wide smile and laughed in return. “A bit. Honestly, for how confident I seemed before, it was still a bit nerve-wracking to see whether or not they’d really agree.”

  “But your predictions turned out to be true, in the end. And thus the rest shall proceed just as planned.”

  “I can only hope,” Karolus sighed, before wearing a determined expression. “Let’s make sure to give them a warm greeting. Can you test me on etiquette really quick?”

  Lucius adjusted his top hat and donned the guise of a studious teacher. “Certainly. When meeting the penitents of Lombard, what gesture should you avoid using?”

  “A wide open palm. They believe it to be the last pose the Mother made right before she died in utter agony. It’s considered bad luck.”

  “Correct. Next, what kind of tone should you maintain while speaking with those of the Moors?”

  “Be blunt, short, and simple. The Moorish people value logic and the pursuit of their studies, so they dislike having their time wasted with needless formality.”

  “Very well done! Final question: What is the best and quickest method of obtaining a Saxon’s respect?”

  “Beat them up.”

  Lucius clapped his hands and took out a star-shaped sticker, before placing it on the back of Karolus’s hand. “I daresay you’ve surpassed your master, young Karolus. I have nothing left to teach you.”

  The young man stood straight up and then bid the gentleman a mischievous flourish, saying,“It is an honor, my good sir,” before descending into a giggling fit.

  “It’s really… coming to an end, huh?”

  “Indeed. If all goes well, our final confrontation with the Demon King shall be near.”

  “I’m glad. Once it’s dead, then there’ll be nothing to terrorize us. You’ll have no reason to stay here anymore.”

  A somber mood crept into Karolus’s expression. He glanced at Lucius for a moment, beholding the gentleman and all the memories the two had made, the friendship they shared, and he reminisced of those times spent alone wondering what would become of him.

  His world had changed after meeting Lucius. But with every encounter came an inevitable goodbye. There truly was nothing left for Karolus to be taught; the rest he’d have to learn, to explore, and to grasp himself.

  “What do you want to do after you leave?” Karolus asked, to which the gentleman responded with an immediate smile.

  “What I always do, my young friend. I will wander wheresoever my feet take me, to the beautiful blooms and blossoms yet to be.”

  “But do you have a dream? Like… a place you want to go, or maybe a treasure you have to get no matter what. Maybe it’s something I can help you with.”

  Lucius pondered for a little bit. “A dream? Hm, an interesting question. I’ve never been much for grand aspirations, but at the end of the day I am a florist, and so I would like to tend to a garden. In its luscious soil will be the most beautiful flowers in all the starry heavens.”

  >[Priestess of the Lily Tree says that it’s a wonderful goal! Whenever you feel like starting that garden, the Priestess gives you permission to try and grow one of her lilies. Be warned that it’s a bit… different compared to conventional flowers, so the Star will wait until you’re suitably strong enough]<

  >[Virtual Goddess of the Wired complains that they can’t contribute to your garden, as their body and environment is composed entirely of 0’s and 1’s]<

  >[Sinister Interdimensional Bureaucrat says that they’ll introduce you to some reputable vendors when the time is appropriate. There’s a Star called the All Devouring Chomper whose seeds when planted can bring a minor world to ruin in days]<

  Lucius appreciated his cosmic spectators’ support, but it wouldn’t do to have everything gifted so easily. He wanted to discover the universe’s beauty himself, to find, to nourish, and to love all that came his way.

  “Yep, that sounds like you,” Karolus said with a nod. “Is there a particular flower here you want to pick? If I ask the others, I’m sure they’ll help you get it.”

  “That is okay, young Karolus. I already know where it is.”

  Far, far off in the distant mountaintops, at the top of the highest peak, a lone figure waited to conclude this world’s story.

  There, if the gentleman’s predictions were correct and the Demon King’s identity was who he believed it to be, then Lucius would encounter one last blooming.

  The end was nigh. When the time came to climb those demonic heights, he hoped to see a truly beautiful sight.

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

  [The Distinguishedly Dandy Gentlemen Hall of Fame]