Easy Accolades

…

What?

Unsure whether he can trust his ears, the entire world to Renard pales like a tasteless farce. But as the Iron King leads him into the palace, to discuss the impromptu promotion privately, it becomes clear the King was not joking. He is seriously giving Renard the title of knight for brutalising that unarmed Pilamine.

Rather, as the Iron King phrases it, for ‘an unmatched show of loyalty.’ You walked with me seven years ago, and I see you walk with me still.

How on earth is he still so attached to that!, thinks Renard. Fairly, Renard hasn’t forgotten that day either, but…

The King continues heedlessly. As though peering into Renard’s heart, he asserts what stoked Renard into such violent passion was his devoted conviction for the Iron King. Those are sentiments the King can only reciprocate, with joy, that one would wish so to be at his side.

Renard’s mouth twists. Even if the King was happy to know someone cared, Renard’s behaviour was wrong. It was wrong. It shouldn’t be rewarded. Much less with something as momentous as a knighthood! The King surely ought know that this… sentiment doesn’t justify bastardising one of the world’s most esteemed noble titles, and before that, know that Renard simply doesn’t deserve it. Unsure how to express these thoughts, Renard stays quiet.

As they come to the Iron King’s throne, Renard realises something. All during this walk, he has not seen any of the knights that joined the Iron King in his first campaign, at least one of whom would typically attend the King as a bodyguard.

Where are the knights?, Renard questions.

They left, explains the Iron King. Their codes of moral chivalry conflicted with their service to the King. Every single one of those knights, year by year over time, opted to leave for other kingdoms rather than forfeit that chivalry. The Iron King smiles wanly as he stokes a claw down his lapel.

Renard hesitates. For the knights to unanimously disavow the Iron King suggests—

Speak!, barks the Iron King, seeing Renard’s timid refusal to voice his doubts.

—Renard speaks. For all the knights to have left him, it sounds like the Iron King did something bad. And for him to pass the title of knight to Renard for doing something so awful is solidifying that impression. It’s plainly not right.

The Iron King relaxes and explains. Does Renard think he’s governed this nation poorly?

Renard concedes no. Things in Lacren, and Pilamine too, have been good with the King in power.

So the Iron King continues. The reason why the knights left him is fundamentally because he is a ghoul. Foreign orders mocked his knights as servants of a ghoul, an insult that consistently landed, because it was true. Even his closest loyalists and most ardent defenders came to find that, by treating the King as a special exception, they lost that social support whereby others would look upon them and automatically know they were good people. Without that assurance, doubts spread among the knights whether they truly were doing the right thing. Nevermind the nation’s peace and safety under his rule, the conflict that preoccupied the knights operated entirely on the philosophical level. Navigating these greys disturbed them. The shunning and shaming they endured for it overwhelmed them. A spotless white mantle was what they preferred, and ultimately returned to.

Though Renard resonates with the principle of the King’s explanation, barking out in anger towards the hypocrisy of the knights, it doesn’t exactly change that Renard’s behaviour was awful. He remains on edge, unsure of how to voice these critical thoughts.

The Iron King continues again, massaging his temple. His devotion to Lacren has been ironclad. All the same, the desertion of his knights has made it clear that the righteous reject this kingdom.

Something about this statement twigs Renard as deeply sympathetic. His reservations ease despite himself. Though he confesses that the Iron King has been an excellent ruler, he still hesitates to accept a promotion for what he’s done — and it may be betraying the Iron King’s own ethic, in this moment of weakness, for him to offer it. Renard will earn the right to stand—

“Renard," the Iron King interrupts. “You have that right."

Renard chokes silent.

A lever clicks in his head. Maybe it’s okay to be a little bit awful? With the Iron King watching sombrely on his throne, Renard puffs out his chest and boldly asserts that he would never defy the King’s desires. He understands now why what he said was wrong. Of course he could not stand to be the same as those so-pious knights.

The Iron King tilts his head and smiles. He reveals a key from his pocket and divulges that his parents are still locked in the tower. While Renard struggles to grasp the implications of this reveal, the Iron King stashes the key away again and leans forward conspiratorially. We ought assert the principles we as a kingdom embrace, going forward.

Though on edge, Renard unhesitatingly agrees.

Then let us see the valour of those twelve defectors pit against you, the King says. We shall stage a competition by which you sequentially face these twelve knights — should they prevail, I abdicate. Should you prevail, I stay upon this throne.

Even as he automatically goes to agree, Renard can’t help but pause. Such odds dramatically favour the knights, so much the whole premise sounds frivolous as to be anticlima—

The Iron King squeezes Renard’s shoulder, grinning horribly: of course, I do mean to the death.

With a tingle of fear and expectation strangling out his doubts, Renard’s back straightens and his arm thumps to his chest in salute.