Holy Templar Sanctum (Aincrad)

[Bloodedge]

Whatever Angelica thought of the situation, neither Charlemagne nor Fierabras could or would agree. What she called a 'man issue' was something twisted within Olivier ─ something with an effect on men, but stemming from the individual herself. Neither had anything more to say about that, though. There were things to do even beyond the coronation, so they had to get on with it already.

There was no shortage of odd sights when they reached Floor 100. Astolfo being drained into a submissive state was expected after Fierabras spoke of a taming, but then... there was possibly the most questionable lady of Aincrad herself, Olivier... actually sitting atop the most obstructive man of Aincrad, Roland. The man on his hands and knees was also sporting the templar uniform, albeit with a shirt that had been torn open. Closer inspection would reveal a few narrow gashes across his exposed chest. Whether the shirt situation was his own doing, or part of Olivier's reaction was a mystery to many, as either was likely. Whatever the case, he'd been gagged and beaten, and had the strangest, deepest blush spread across his face while he squirmed beneath Olivier. Why were things happening this way? It was no one's business.

Everyone's business, however, was the state of Father An. In his decrepit state, he'd been sitting on a throne brought out prior to anyone else's arrival. That thin, streaky hair fell over his face, which itself was half-covered by a partial mask of gold with no eye socket. At some point since the previous night, the Holy Father had lost his eye and more. The last two fingers of his left hand were missing as well, yet still, he held onto that golden staff. "Ah... there they are. The Holy Emperor, blessed by the light of Father God, will soon be born," he muttered breathily. "Children. Come. This will be a moment for both of you."

[Apollymi]

There were not any direct arguments presented against the point made by Angelica, but she as far from naïve enough to believe that the pair of individuals she was talking to had bent completely to her logic. In her own mind, people allowing themselves to be manipulated by others was their own fault. Any amount of charisma allowed to overtake one's mind is their own problem. And given the personality of Olivier, many could just avoid her and never have to deal with her at all. The fact that they still chose to do business and adventuring with her, meant that they fully accepted that her personality was as dominating as it showed itself to be. Thus how they felt about it, was completely their own problem and not hers.

Ah, but issues like this had no place in current conversation. No, current conversations both mental and otherwise were about the build of Charles's Peers and their very interesting habits. A man on his hands and knees with a blush on his face, gag in his mouth and torn clothes would have been cause for investigating. But who investigates the activities of the Grand Inquisitor? Well, given how Roland tended to have very outlandish reactions to things, it was probably for the best that he was distracted by his current predicament. "This is always such a eclectic group of people..." Angelica murmured. That wasn't a negative assessment at all, it was just really weird to see such shenanigans in the middle of various normal people.

Whatever the case they were called forward but it seemed like a single night hadn't done the 'Holy Father' any favors. Angelica's eyes widened as she took in the sight of her father again. But still her senses didn't say anything was truly amiss. He had missing fingers, a mask obviously hiding some kind of facial deformity and was barely able to get his sentences out. "How is he worse than he was yesterday?!" she whispered seemingly outraged. Still, she would make her way forward with Charles since apparently this had something to do with her. She turned her eyes to Charles and knew that they should take over this place if only so this man could get himself a life less harsh on his soul the next time he arrived.

[Bloodedge]

"You kinda get used to it. Almost..." Charlemagne said begrudgingly. If anything, he expected this to be the one time Olivier wasn't using a person as furniture. At least Renaud wasn't throwing that massive sword of his around. If nothing else, there were a few points toward the group for normalcy today. On the other hand, there remained the abnormal situation of Father An. How was he still deteriorating, and how was it at such a rapid pace? Approaching the man was almost like walking into the aftermath of a snuff film. Even with that being the case, Charlemagne took that first tentative step forward.

Angelica shared the to-be emperor's curiosity about her father. She spoke in a whisper, but Charlemagne was just close enough to hear it. "I don't know, but it's really concerning. I'd like to get this done quicker just to snag him a break," he said. With that, Charlemagne continued forward until he stood before Father An. There were things to say ─ things that all present needed to hear. "... Children of Aincrad. Today... is a most glorious day. By the grace of the Lord, before you stands... the Holy Emperor. He who has completed the Labyrinth with no aid. He who has... overcome many trials and tribulations... is suitable in the eyes of the Father. The Great One himself stands before you all today. See here... the last true Holy Grail."

As the Father spoke and Charlemagne approached, the Holy Grail levitated and radiated a brilliant, golden glow. It floated above Father An, inching closer to Charlemagne by the moment. For whatever reason, the young man had a sense of familiarity toward that golden goblet. "Charles the Great. In your service to the Lord, do you accept the mantle?" the old man asked. Charlemagne let out a heavy sigh, steeling himself to take on the position of a lifetime... which he never wanted. "... I accept," he said, somehow prompting the grail to glow brighter by doing so.

Still breathing in a very labored manner, Father An nodded weakly. At this point, his mouth couldn't even close. That one eye was trying its hardest to close against his will, though. Regardless... the exchange was not yet done. "Templars. Noble folk of Aincrad. Are there naysayers among you? Do any have a candidate to put forth, or shall the peace be kept?"

[Apollymi]

Charles thought that his band's oddities was something to almost get used to, Angelica could agree with that. It was good that these ceremonies didn't get too stuffy, and she hated the idea of them in general because of the unnecessary fanfare. Here and now, there was something more pressing than Angelica's distaste. Her outrage at her father's rapidly deteriorating state was being quietly discussed by the pair. Apparently, Charles thought to get through this ordeal just to snag the man a break and Angelica could only agree. "Yeah, he looks so tired, it's sad..." she stated softly.

After making their approach the speech began. Charles had indeed overcome a great many things, and he was the sole current person who'd completely the Labyrinth by himself. According to Father An he was suitable in the eyes of the 'Father' and as such he would be granted the title of Holy Emperor. As they stood there and Charles accepted this great title, Angelica heard the words spoken and took in the view of the crowds. Much to her own surprise a great number of the nobles seemed to be showing discontent. Though everyone in Charles group seemed to be happy for the lad in question.

When the time came to lodge complaints several nobles shared hushed whispers but eventually one would speak up. A particularly portly looking man with a large mustache would have words to share, as his equally unpleasant looking sons stood around him. Obviously, they didn't enjoy the idea of being passed over for ascension and at least a couple of them were exceedingly upset. "This boy is no great person. Even a heretic cleared the Labyrinth. For all we know he is one too... you can't claim he's exalted!" he made this claim making Angelica's eyebrows furrow immediately. "Yeah, my son is twice his size and much more suited to carrying on the title of Holy Emperor!" another said pointing out a large man in robes with dead eyes and a creepily thin mustache. Angelica looked over both of these people and scoffed. Neither of them were people she'd consider marrying. They were disgusting. And how dare they talk about Charles like this. Olivier looked over from her perch and took note of the naysayers, she was sure they were more guilty of crime than anyone else... they could easily disappear.

[Bloodedge]

Upon offering his acceptance of the new position, Charlemagne was subjected to the whispers of others standing against him. Naturally, he agreed with many things he heard. Others were certainly better-suited to the position of Holy Emperor. A small part of him hoped someone would speak up properly, and lo, someone did. Of course, Charlemagne didn't care much for being called a heretic ─ nor did he care for someone referring to Jeanne d'Arc as such. Apparently, Father An didn't like that talk either. "None of that! Would you question the word of God? His chosen... is no heretic. Look how the Grail responds. I will not abide slander," the elder declared.

One noble insisted that their own son was more suited to the position. That sort of thing could be discussed at the very least. Sadly, the discussion basically offered was from a very specific perspective. "... Hah. Size? If size is what makes an emperor... then put it to the test. If God sayeth so, the Grail should respond to one who defeats the Knight Commander. What say you?" An wondered. He knew the outcome of all this talk regardless. There were, however, reasons he required Charlemagne's full acceptance as Holy Emperor. A unanimous acceptance was the one true way, regardless of individual reason. It seemed the only proper outcry for a better candidate was currently one of those muscle-brained types. Alas, might did not make right in this case; it never had anything to do with strength alone. If it did, the Knight Commander, Renaud de Montauban, would have been a candidate from his very birth.

[Apollymi]

The first of the naysayers was left a bit speechless. The heretic was previously the only person to complete the Labyrinth the implication that it couldn't be done by one human alone was something which had proliferated the masses after her execution. Of course, this was simply a matter of circumstance. None had been capable of completing it, so it was a task assumed impossible. The envious would always choose to question those who stood out, instead of questioning their own shortcomings. Whatever the case, that one would only give a scoff and choose to speak no more, to question the will of god was the act of a true heretic and he was nothing of the sort. He still didn't like the idea of some no-name upstart getting to take on a title of nobility, even if he'd apparently earned it. That being said, he wouldn't argue if it was truly a decision made by god.

On the other hand, the man who'd spoken up on behalf of his son, and the strength that man possessed was given a different anecdote. He was told that if the strength was simply enough his son should be able to defeat the Knight Commander. This man seemed to think highly of his son's strength and continued on his boastful way, "Of course he could, go on boy... show them!" he proclaimed. The meathead man moved forward. He seemed confident enough in his own strength and held himself with confidence sword at his side and shield on his back. To his credit the sword he carried was larger than most could wield with one hand and the shield was as large as a small person's body. He was built as a crusader and seemed to think this alone would be enough for him to stand before the Knight Commander. Of course, he had little combat experience against such a person as this, and would soon learn the error of his ways.

Just the same a smile spread across Olivier's face and the young woman still sitting atop an entire grown man managed to snicker. Angelica for her part in this wondered if this man knew that making his son face the Knight Commander was basically a death sentence. She wasn't into the soldier types, but she respected Renaud's skills enough to know the man was definitely more than capable as a warrior. But warriors alone didn't make good rulers, that should have been obvious to everyone. But the type of man he was, he likely wished to have his child in charge, so that he could manipulate him from behind the scenes. That at least was the thought in the mind of someone like Anais and Ivy who knew for a fact that neither just brains nor brawn made for good leadership.

[Bloodedge]

What a strange turn of events. In the midst of an otherwise peaceful coronation, some random noble had to go and open his big fat mouth. Renaud thought this would be the one time no one showed their idiocy in this accursed place, but no... he could be satisfied even today. From the sound of things, he would only be doing something justified. That noble was ordering his son, a member of the Knights Templar, to attack his brother-in-arms. That could be considered treasonous behavior. The son listened to his father, readying sword and shield to battle his commanding officer outside of regulated training. That was a broken oath.

With these things in mind, Renaud stepped out into the open. He bore no shield and no armor, sporting only the Templar robes and his massive flamberge boasting a size greater than that of most people. That weapon, he wielded with one hand, casually as one brandished a kitchen knife. Slinging it over his shoulder, Renaud glared at his so-called 'brother'. "To love my Brothers the Knights and my Sisters the Dames and help them, their children and their widows with my sword, my advice, means and wealth, my credit and everything in my power, and will favor them, with no exception, over those who are not members of the Order," he preached. Mentally, Renaud was counting violations of the Knights Templar being committed here. He needed justification before someone else opened their mouth.

"To abhor all immodesty, and not to indulge in illegitimate pleasures of the flesh and then only with my legitimate spouse." Surely there were more segments of the oath this man had gone against, but once the abhorring of immodesty rose, Renaud figured that was more than enough. "Botolf le Fort, stepping forth on your father's command is a violation of your blood oath. This will be to the death," the Knight Commander concluded, somehow managing to keep the grin from his face and maintain an air of seriousness. Ah, but he wanted few things more than a quick bout against another. If he recalled, this particular man had quite the reputation under his belt. Maybe those accolades were worth Renaud's time. . .

[Apollymi]

Angelica watched as this whole scene unfolded. This man, this Templar immediately took up arms against the Knight Commander. That was foolish. To the surprise of none of Charlemagne's direct group, this challenge wasn't one which would be taken lightly. The Knight Commander who wielded a giant sword went on to express his understanding of this particular situation. He claimed that because Botolf had taken such an order from his father and drawn his weapon against his brother his fight would be to the death. Yes, that was about what would happen in such a situation. "Fine, it's hard to hold back anyway..." this man said. Certain that he wasn't throwing his life away this day. He was young and cocky, sure the man known as the Knight Commander did nothing but active combat, but that still hadn't done as much to shape his body into the sort of weapon Botolf had been raised to be.

Angelica's arms crossed over her chest. This type of behavior was exactly what she didn't like about soldiers. Well, at least it wouldn't be a loss to the friend group she'd been ingratiating herself into, at the very least, it was also getting rid of someone who'd insult Charles who'd never done anything to deserve negative commentary. The Botolf stood before his commander ready and willing to attack. Still, his shield was up with one hand ready to deflect and his sword was gripped with the other. Two strikes was all he needed to do something about the smaller man. His general way of attacking involved rattling the bones and skulls of his opponents before following up with heavy hits and slashes. Admittedly, an opening would be needed to properly attack the Knight Commander, but it could be done. He was certain of this.

[Bloodedge]

"Ho?" Renaud seemed slightly interested in what Botolf had to say. If he had difficulty holding back, he was precisely the type Renaud enjoyed fighting. Botolf took his stance with both sword and shield. Renaud watched as if studying the man. Indeed, he learned a lot from a few moments of staring... a lot of disappointing facts. Botolf was a seasoned fighter, but the frequency by which he 'punched up' in a manner of speaking, was far too low. By glancing at his form, Renaud would assume he faced stronger combatants in only 20% of his training sessions, even less in true combat, and neither case saw a very large gap between himself and the opponent.

"Uh-huh..." said the commander. "One chance at redemption." When he spoke, Renaud did so very specifically. Some others may not have understood his meaning. The truth was that he'd allow Botolf a single chance to redeem himself, not for his oaths, but for his arrogance. Underestimating an opponent was something that disgusted him long, long before this life began... and he was being severely underestimated. Naturally, the proper answer involved Renaud twirling his own sword until he could lodge it into the ground. Botolf was too casual in his approach, so Renaud would match what he saw ─ of course by standing in the most lax manner possible. "C'mon. Like you mean it."

[Apollymi]

Botolf was indeed not the type to just fight people who were stronger than him. Those who were obviously more accomplished and physically more imposing wouldn't be good for him. He needed matchups to show his strengths not ones to get him knocked around or put down. No, instead he was able to beat others because his fights were more carefully chosen than most. Even so, he didn't think it was impossible for him to beat someone like Renaud. Instead he seemed to just be sizing him up.

Much to this man's surprise, Renaud took on a more relaxed pose, and even put down his weapon. He claimed that Botolf would have one chance, and he should attack him. While it was generally seen as uncouth to attack an unarmed man, if he could bash him with his shield before he could pick up his sword again, he would most definitely be capable of killing him. Yes, this man would very well regret underestimating him. And then all those silly words he'd spoken about treason would die with him. Actually in the mind of Botolf, given what his father had to say, all of Charles group could be considered fruit of the poisoned tree. So, at the very least, he could open up another spot for someone more deserving by killing Renaud here and now. "It's your funeral," he said those few words to cement this idea.

Yes, great idea, brilliant idea. He'd rush forward with his shield before him, aiming to slam directly into the red haired man's body with his full strength and the addition of his momentum. It was strong enough that he could have collapsed a brick wall with relative ease, and would be immediately followed by a quick downward blow with his sword aiming to cleave into the man's body diagonally from left shoulder to right hip. It was a powerful movement meant to take out the Knight Commander in a single set of blows. It was a maneuver he'd pulled off plenty of times before against smaller opponents in practice and in combat... it would definitely work.

[Bloodedge]

His funeral, was it? Surely there would be no funeral for anyone today. The disgraceful were not buried with honors, after all. Botolf was quite sure of himself, however. The charge he initiated had to be one he'd seen much success with in the past. It looked to be the typical approach of one who simply threw their own weight around in hopes of it working. At least he had the weight to make it work against the weak.

Sadly, Renaud was not among the weak. In all of Aincrad, there were very few who stood a chance of equaling him. Those few happened to be his own peers ─ all of whom were many leagues above someone like Botolf. Knowing this, Renaud took the time to stretch, both arms over his head as if to make clear he had no intentions of reaching his sword. By the time Botolf's shield reached him, his right elbow had lowered to collide with it. Any reverberation was liable to be felt more by Botolf than by Renaud. Ah, but there was a sword to be worried about, wasn't there? Well... no. Renaud's left arm had lowered as well. An open hand lay in the blade's path, fingers collapsing to pinch the ambitious knight's weapon and halt its movement entirely. With an inhuman strength of grasp, Renaud would allow neither advance nor retreat of that blade while he chastised Botolf's decision. "You should have aimed for the head," he stated.

Renaud wasn't touching his sword at all, yet his magical power surged through it nonetheless. Massive tongues of holy fire surged from the blade as he reached out to the handle. Still, no movement of Botolf's sword would be allowed. "That was your chance. At least try to make it entertaining in the end," he stated. The moment Renaud's sword was pulled from the ground, that massive quantity of flames spewed forth to surround himself and his 'opponent'. Botolf thought he could end things in two strikes. Renaud would soon do so in one.

[Apollymi]

No funerals. Well that wasn't really a problem, it was just a saying, nothing more. Regardless, there was quite a bit about to happen with what was a very normal type of attack for Botolf. His completion of his movements was executed perfectly, but the reactions of Renaud to those actions were far from expected. He'd gotten more relaxed by the moment, even going so far as to stretch while lifting his hands above his head. Oh, but they lowered enough by the time the large shield came crashing against his body. An elbow left a large dent in the metal of his shield and sent the reverberation down Botolf's arm.

Oh well, he was a big boy, he was still grounded though his knees buckled just a bit. What he wasn't expecting, was the hand which captured his weapon. It was stopped in its downward momentum and he couldn't pull it out nor could he force it further down. The words shared by Renaud were almost mocking in their depth. He should have aimed for his head? Who would do that? Splitting a skull even with momentum was far from an easy task with a bladed weapon. Perhaps if he'd had a flail or mace instead of a sword that would have been the method to take. But no... he'd gone for body, for squishy and exposed flesh, and for his trouble the flames used by Renaud began to flicker. "You..." he muttered furiously. How dare such a man act as if he needed lessons in fighting. Sweat accumulated on his brow as he kept trying to pull that sword back. The movement of his shield happened again instead. A bashing motion from his grounded position would happen instead. If Renaud wouldn't let go, he definitely wouldn't be able to properly situate that sword he'd picked up. Botolf needed only to wear him down before he actually gripped his weapon properly, that massive thing had to require two hands to use properly, as long as he held him here he could send reverberating shots with his shield into Renaud's body in the hopes of eventually freeing himself.

Olivier watched this struggle with a marked bit of disgust. Such movements weren't going to accomplish anything, and with someone like Renaud fighting him like you intended to fully end his life with everything you had was part of the dance. She clicked her tongue against her teeth, knowing that nothing that other man could do could count as entertaining. Not to her, and definitely not to Renaud.

[Bloodedge]

Olivier was right; Botolf was not one who provided entertainment. Renaud was disappointed, nothing more, nothing less. Botolf had a blade caught between fingers, a dent in his shield, and still the desire to lash out. Did he think he would find salvation? Honor? Renown? Men like this were fools who would die a fool's death. That battering shield proved no hindrance for Renaud, whose swift use of that unwieldly flamberge had him blocking with the back of his right hand... while casually holding his sword in the same hand. "I said aim for the head."

Those few words had purpose as well. When he said those words initially, Renaud noticed something resembling disbelief in Botolf. If he didn't think that was a reasonable approach, Renaud would simply show him. Besides... the idiot's father had broken several creeds as well. "This is how you do it," he said. The next choice he made was to apply a bit of extra pressure with his parry ─ enough to deflect Botolf's shield away and free some space. Renaud would use that space to dart past the lad, burning flamberge overhead and swinging down upon the father's head. He'd not lose any momentum from this movement, intending to cleave the older male in twain vertically while turning about to face Botolf again. "One for turning a knight against his brothers and commanding officers. Treason."

That statement was not all Renaud had to offer. The crimes of Botolf were known, but the moment of execution was to be accompanied by some sort of speech, right? When Renaud's mouth opened again, it occurred while he effortlessly flipped his flamberge into a reverse grip over his own shoulder. "One for multiple counts of betrayal." With that statement, Renaud chucked his oversized blade at Botolf with enough power to pierce a mountain. Multiple nobles with even average combat ability were nearly blown away by the force alone, with even those of repute feeling its pressure. Renaud didn't even give consideration to his attacks failing; he kept up a nonchalant attitude, expressing minor displeasure at only one oddity in the event. "Ugh. Now I'm doing someone else's job. Jan, what do I owe you this time?"

[Apollymi]

A fool's death? Yes, that is how Angelica saw anyone taking on a fight that was not to protect their honor, or someone else's life. This man could have chosen the right path, he could have decided not to engage his commanding officer in combat just because his dad said he should, but he didn't make that decision. And now the physical prowess of Renaud was showing up a large man who couldn't even beat past the unarmed man. Renaud to his credit continued the teaching moment in a way which was likely very unexpected. And the senior member of the La Forte family was the person who'd soon know this.

He watched as his eldest son battled against the Knight Commander, and though he'd been held back a bit he didn't believe initially that anything negative would come from this moment. Until of course, he watched. He couldn't even make out what happened, nor could Botolf. He'd been knocked away, the man had casually moved past him and gone on to do something seemingly spectacular. By the time he'd turned around to see where he went, he saw his father being split in half from the top of his skull down his body. There was shock on his face, and then surprise. His body had moved instinctually to protect itself. His shield moving towards his fore to protect him as he didn't even have time to mourn the loss of his father. The man hadn't even shared any final words, all he'd gotten was a scoff out before his impending demise. Botolf, on the other hand had a flaming sword impale him at high speed, through even his own shield, leaving a hole in his chest much larger than could ever be healed. He didn't even get the chance to speak as blood poured from his mouth and he collapsed, in a most shameful death.

At the same time, someone called Jan was being addressed about someone taking a job of hers. She was the Executioner, but this day her fanged face held a large smile and even now, she didn't seem to pressed about the death she'd not caused. Normally she demanded recompense when lives were stolen from her, and her usual currency for such things were blood or lessons in new kinds of torture or weaponry. This day though she seemed to be in a great humor. "I'm in a good mood today... don't worry about it Rey~" she chimed happily. An active snicker escaped the mouth of Olivier. "I bet you are..." she chortled before she thought too much about it. Just the same... the spectacle itself was over. And it'd ended about the same way that Angelica assumed it would... in the death of two men who by her own logic deserved it. For breaking their oaths, for challenging someone stronger than them for no reason, and lastly for talking bad about Charles.

[Bloodedge]

Renaud didn't spare a single additional glance at either of those traitors. He would converse with Janessa for however long it was necessary, if only to find out what her price for him today was. It was no strange occurrence for Renaud to 'accidentally' perform the woman's duties for her, but this time... she claimed she wanted no remuneration for the offense. How strange. Astolfo would probably be settled for days, judging by that reaction from the executioner. "Huh? Guess I'm no good anymore. Suit yourself," he said while walking over to the fallen Botolf. If nothing else, he had a sword to reclaim... and some words to share with Olivier. "What about you? Doubt you'll give a pass for me handing out judgment without your say."

In the meantime, other matters were beginning to settle. At least one naysayer had been silenced, and now that the nobles were able to regain their bearings, Father An could speak once more. "If there are no others... then it should be settled. Charles the Great will take the Holy Grail of our Father. Take it, my son. It is yours to claim," the old man said, prompting Charlemagne to reach out with his left hand. That grail's glow had been something inviting this entire time. Not reaching out earlier was difficult, but now it reached to him just as he reached to it. Shortly, he'd be seen holding it... but that wasn't all. Archbishop Turpin had been standing by the Holy Father's side, holding something equally enticing. He brought to Charlemagne what appeared to be a wrapped sword. "For the Holy Emperor: a sword forged with the power of God himself," the bishop mentioned while handing the object over. With Charlemagne holding both grail and sword, Father An saw fit to offer the lad his crown... and more. "These Holy Relics will serve you well. The grail, your sword, this crown... more will come in time. Now... my daughter, L─... Angelica. Before the nobility of Aincrad, I bless this union. Come. Let me see the two of you together while this old eye still functions. . ."