Later that morning, the players gradually began to wake up and made their way out of the barracks. The somber memorial of before still hung fresh in their mind, but there was very little a good night's sleep couldn't fix. It was the dawn of a new day; their life in the fortress had begun.

One problem, though—they weren't entirely sure what to do.

The mission notice required them to help the paladins, yet just the previous day the players were ignored as if they didn't exist. Perhaps they could pick up a broom and start sweeping; however, even that might provoke annoyance if done unprompted. They would just get in the way.

Such were their worries, but as they gathered onto the courtyard and prepared themselves for an awkward encounter, they were met with something quite surprising.

Tolerance.

Of course, the paladins weren't going to become all jolly and welcoming over the course of a single night, but there was a clear difference in the way the players were treated now. The people passing by tipped their heads, greeted them cordially, and even took a moment to answer the occasional question. They were no longer so blatantly hostile.

The players were taken aback and scratched their heads, curious over what could have caused such a change. They would continue to wonder as a certain gentleman stepped forth, stretched his limbs, and faced the two shining suns with a pleasant grin and a happy little whistle.

>[Congratulations! You have convinced the leading commander, Ogier of the Twelve Peers, that the players hold great promise in the demonic war to come. As a result, reputation within Roncevaux Fortress will increase, and new facilities and supplies will be made available to your people]<

>[1000 points have been added to your contribution total: You are currently in first place!]<

Indeed, Lucius's conversation with the good Ogier was very beneficial. It was a shame the gentleman couldn't get his usual sleep, but that was just fine. He could go for a week without shutting his eyes if needed—like that time he had to trudge through the Antarctic while being chased by the European Union. Apparently a fellow couldn't go on a journey of wanderlust without obtaining something called 'permission' or 'clearance'. He never understood why.

"Morning, Lucius…" Mili walked up beside him and let out a wide yawn. "Huh, looks like they aren't treating us like dirt anymore. Wonder what happened?"

The rest of his party came out as well. Harper looked like she just dragged herself out of bed, hair disheveled and firefighting uniform wrinkled, while Marco looked as dapper as usual.

"Can't say I'm against it," the old mobster said, looking around him. "Maybe they're less on edge now that the battle's over."

Harper crossed her arms and didn't seem as convinced. "I don't know, Marco. You don't rebound after something like that so quickly. Looks more to me that they were ordered to treat us better."

"By that bearded guy?" Mili said. "That's crazy. Dude looked like he was going to strangle us when we first got here."

Lucius watched idly by as they discussed new and increasingly more outlandish theories amongst each other, when suddenly the sound of a familiar horn rang from above.

There, the Hippogriff Express descended, and Ruggiero rushed out from the barracks with a stern expression.

"Sir Ruggiero, whatever is the matter?" the gentleman asked him. The commotion began to draw attention from both player and paladin alike, but the Peer reassured them that nothing was wrong and wore a composed front. When he turned toward Lucius, however, he was anything but.

"Forgive me, Sir Lucius, but I must ask you to watch over the others for a spell," Ruggiero said, leaning in and whispering in his ear. "Something quite troubling was regaled to me the prior night. I must make my way back to the capital and demand answers with haste."

Ah, yes. The matter over the clergy's supposed fraud. Lucius didn't blame the man for wishing to discover the truth for himself, but if there truly was corruption in the holy empire, then the good Ruggiero might just find himself in a very precarious situation.

"Do not worry, I shall be back in a few days," he continued. "Should the demonic tide arrive during my absence, seek Sir Ogier's aid. The man is softer than he appears—he will not abandon your people."

Lucius already knew that, but he appreciated the thought.

"But of course, my friend. Safe travels be with you."

Ruggiero put on one, final show of assurance, before boarding the train and flying off into the distance.

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"What was that about?" Mili asked, along with the others.

"... We shall see in due time," he replied. "But first, let us familiarize ourselves with the work here, hm? Wouldn't want to leave a poor impression on our hosts."

After that, they asked around for tasks that needed accomplishing. The paladins already seemed prepared for this, and soon, the players were spread all about the fortress: cleaning, polishing, and even cooking for those of culinary inclination. This wasn't mere hazing either - everyone, from warrior to priest, was busy with the same duties. It was the only thing they could do when not fending back the demons.

* + 10 contribution points!

A few hours passed, and it turned midday. The suns blazed fierce on the busy souls. Right when the players were starting to become accustomed to the labor, Sir Ogier's voice bellowed for them all to gather onto the courtyard.

What awaited them was beyond anything they could have expected.

"You are not lazy. That is good," Ogier said, addressing them while dragging a giant cart filled with strange sacks. What was strange about them? Well, they moved—or rather something inside them writhed and struggled to escape. "But the battlefield is different. Cowards will only suffer a meaningless death. If you wish to stand among my ranks, then prove it now with blade."

Ogier unraveled one of the sacks and threw it in front of them. The players were calm at first, but their faces soon twisted in horror.

A demon crawled out, giggling with the same unsettling jolly they had witnessed the day before. This one was covered in photos resembling a hyper-realistic doll.

Ogier pinned the demon down with a grip of his gargantuan hand. "Captured them near the mountain's border. These things are the weakest of the runts—if you cannot slay one alone, then stay behind the walls."

They had seen the vile creatures from afar, but to be in such close proximity to it now sent an unsettling chill throughout the players. Pressure froze their bodies. They swallowed dry gulps and hesitantly stepped back.

"Who will go first?" Ogier rumbled. "Do not disappoint me."

A hand shot up, and the first challenger strode out toward the field.

"Let's get this here rodeo started, buckaroo." Mili fearlessly took out her guitar and whipped her hair back, posing like the punk-rock star she was.

Ogier regarded her with a curious look for a moment, as if he were staring at some sort of exotic creature, but he quickly snapped out of it and let out a cough. "Very well. Fight freely—I will interfere should your life be endangered."

He let go of the demon and watched carefully as it lunged forth, eager to rip apart all that stood in its way.

Not a single second had passed before it was obliterated into a steaming pile of charcoal.

At this point, the players already knew full well how terrifying the musician was. But Ogier didn't. He lumbered back in shock, eyes practically bulging out of his sockets.

"Is that all?" Mili said, cocking a finger gun and blowing on it like a hard-boiled cowboy.

"Oh. Yes. That is all." Ogier straightened and composed himself. "You command greater power than I thought."

"What can I say? I aim to surprise."

"Surprise, indeed. How interesting… I did not expect much, but perhaps it is not so foolish to harbor expectations."

Ogier sent her back and then grabbed the next demon to use as fodder. "Next."

From then on, the rest of Lucius's party easily completed the test. Marco pulverized his foe with a swift bash from his gauntlet, and Harper hacked hers to pieces with her fire axe. Neither demon required any serious effort from the two.

The players began to grow more confident after witnessing their fights. Eventually, more began to participate—slaying the demons in their own unique ways—until the suns began to set once again, and the only ones who hadn't gone forth were those who leaned more towards production.

And Lucius. He was the final one to step forth.

"You have kept me waiting, Sir Lucius," Ogier said, his lips raised into a subtle smile. "I am interested to see how you fight."

"I must apologize to you beforehand, my good sir," he replied, pulling out his gentlemanly cane sword. "I am not so proficient in the art of combat as my fellows."

"Why be humble, when you are the most powerful one among them all?"

He grinned. "Dear me, whatever would lead you to believe that?"

Ogier raised his brow, but said nothing further. Lucius appreciated it—a gentleman was one who propped up others, rather than drew attention themself.

As such, he finished the demon's dispatchment quickly. It took the form of a scribbled, cartoonish man, so he cut off its head: severed the limbs, the throat, and chopped up its torso like one would a watermelon.

* + 2 contribution points!

*EXP + 5!

"Hm. Simple, yet refined." Ogier ordered a few nearby paladins to clean up the mess and spoke out to the players with a new, respectful tone. Well, as respectful as one could be with the bearded man's temperament. "The test has ended. Those who passed will attend daily training in formations. Ready yourself - I am not a kind teacher."

With that, he departed, and the players celebrated in finally gaining acknowledgement as warriors in their own right. The culture of the paladins had started to resonate with them, and even those of mild-temperament began to delight in the thrill of growth. They were no longer powerless like in the tutorial. Perhaps, one day, they could even break free from this game entirely.

And so, with hearts aflutter and bodies filled with cheer, the players diligently attended to their tasks in the following days. They mingled among the Frankish people, endured Ogier's wrathful pursuit of perfection, and continued on with their new lives. This fortress, once so harsh and filled with woe, had buzzed anew with hope.

But, peace only lasted for so long. The bells rang out in warning; paladins rushed to their positions. The demonic wave had arrived, trampling down from the mountains as they always had.

Ruggiero never did return, even after a week had come to pass. Now, the players would have to fight without him.

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