The mood onboard the train was rather down, unsurprisingly. But the players were thankful that they could finally leave the withering land that was Roncevaux Fortress. Goodbye, vomit green skies, and hello beautiful countryside! The farther they traveled, the more life returned to the soil. The bustling townspeople and the swaying fields were a sight for sore eyes—oh how innocent the Frankishmen were, unknowing they would soon need to abandon it all.

It was Ruggiero who had the unfortunate task of delivering the news to them. Their voyage took longer than usual, for he swooped near every village and dropped off a squadron of paladins to help assist with the evacuation. There was confusion, at first: disbelief and horror over their guardian's passing. How could such a thing be possible?

Ten long years had he protected the outer territories. In that time, the people never once worried, and continued to sow the land as they had always done. This region was supposed to be safe; they had lived here for generations.

Now, here came a man in darker skin to foretell a coming disaster. He told them to spread the word to every house and every street, to your neighbors and those beyond the wheat: Roncevaux fortress was lost. The demons were soon to arrive.

Thus did they flee in droves, leaving behind buildings filled with fond memories and the gardens ever so thriving in flowers. All of it would soon be trampled under the demonic surge.

The players viewed the depressing spectacle from within their airborne seats. It was here that they were reminded just how real Francia was. There were real people outside of the main scenarios, bystanders and innocents simply wishing to live their lives; and so it was that the consequences of the players' actions were also real. Well, only one player. Lucius to be exact. Everyone else fought their hardest, and how commemorable that effort was!

Before the gentleman knew it, a few days had already come to pass. By the time they reached the midlands where the next bastion was to be built, a long line of refugees had formed, stretching far out of sight full of downtrodden souls wishing to be let past the checkpoint. Fortunately the Hippogriff was able to fly over the walls still in the midst of construction, but it certainly wasn't a pleasant sight.

"Yep, this is depressing," Harper said at the time. "Seeing all this go down… makes you realize just how important Ogier was. He was a rough guy, but one full of tough love. Still hard to believe he suddenly went insane."

"Right?" Mili replied, scrunching her face. "Something's fishy about all this. Sure, he was all frowns most of the time, but you'd need to go through something real shocking to start rampaging like that. I might've believed it if he went crazy right after we killed that eye demon thing. But he didn't. It was only after we all went to sleep that something must've happened."

Marco shifted in his seat and spoke in a low hush. "Ya think someone caused it, then? Did something to him to sabotage the fortress?"

Now that was quite rude. Lucius had no such intentions! Sabotage, such a vulgar word. All he did was encourage Ogier to become his most beautiful. Surely there wasn't anything wrong with that now, was there?

>[Sinister Interdimensional Bureaucrat applauds your shamelessness]<

>[Virtual Goddess of the Wired tells the Bureaucrat to stop misunderstanding Lucius's good intentions]<

>[Top 1 Rated Salesman 1997 grabs some popcorn]<

"Maybe, did you see how grouchy Ruggiero was when he came back after three weeks?" Mili said. "Guy looked like he was about to kill someone. There's definitely something going on in the castle; I can smell dirty politics from a mile away."

Despite coming up with an amusing assortment of theories, Lucius's fellows were a far cry from reaching the truth. He listened to them with great interest as the hours passed by.

Eventually, their destination was finally within sight. The Frankish castle jutted proudly in the horizon, its giant walls surrounded by a sprawling city, and many more people roamed about busy with their daily routines. Some set up stalls in the square and beckoned for those passing by to try their roasted flower skewers; while others set up business within their homes, selling pottery, clothes, jewels, and of course alcohol for the taverns.

The layout was more densely packed than of the villages out toward the borders, but it still retained a sense of harmony: a respectful balance between development and nature. Lucius would love to take a walk and simply stroll through the charming avenues some time.

The peaceful ambience, however, would soon disappear. As the Hippogriff began to land on the castle courtyard, a gathering of paladins suddenly marched out and surrounded the train from all sides. Their weapons were sheathed—at least for now. But it was apparent they beheld the vessel cautiously, or rather the one piloting it.

"Uh, I think we're in trouble guys," Mili said, poking her head out of the window.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

Soon, the paladins parted way, and a procession of important-looking individuals strode into view. There was the leader of the Peers, Roland, as well as Archbishop Turpin, Bradamante, the chief of administration Olivier, and a group of old priests dressed in extravagantly decorated robes. Their demeanors were quite unlike their knightly fellows: the elders were dry in attitude, haughty with their staffs of gold, and looked down upon all those near.

But it was the one who led them that drew Lucius's interest. He was of much younger age, perhaps in his late fifties, and carried himself in a rather aloof manner. The best way to describe him was that of a dashing rogue: with a prickly stubble, scruffy brown hair, a broad jaw, and a wide grin that failed to reach his eyes. He was a muscular man unlike the priest, and likely broke many a maiden's heart in his younger days; but one shouldn't be fooled. Underneath his carefree expression was a predator lying in wait.

The dandy man stepped forth, and welcomed the wary players with a wink. "Good tidings to you all! I apologize for the intimidating show, really I was against raising this much fuss, a bit dramatic if you ask me, but fear not! You are not in trouble. The one we seek is a different sort."

He pointed at the front and spoke again as if he were luring out a disobedient pet. "Come out, Ruggiero. You know full well the reason for this assembly."

The players watched on as Ruggiero hesitantly departed the train and greeted the man through clenched teeth. "Sir Ganelon…"

So this was the High Tribunal Lucius heard so much about. He certainly had a presence to him: suffocating, yet with a subtle intoxicating allure. He was if nothing else a man who knew how to utilize his charm.

>[Sinister Interdimensional Bureaucrat likes this one. They suggest that you two should work together]<

Ganelon slowly walked up beside Ruggiero, and then placed a hand on his shoulder. "Ruggiero, oh Ruggiero… what am I to do with you? Barely a week has passed since we allowed your leave, and yet what's this? I received word that my good friend Ogier was slain. By your own hand, no less. And not only that, but half of the holy warriors sent by our Lord have perished as well. How am I to interpret this, hm? What do you think I should do to you?"

Ruggiero lowered his head. "I will not shy away from what I have done, but I have explained my circumstances well enough in the advance letter."

"Yes, well, do forgive me for being skeptical. It is admittedly a bit difficult to trust your words at the moment."

The elders behind Ganelon spoke out in agreement. "Sinner!" they cried. "You would have us believe a hero like Ogier would slay his own? Lies, no doubt! He deceives us with his forked tongue!"

Ruggiero angrily raised his voice. "Slander me all you wish, but let the otherworlders be my witness: I have done only what I must to protect them."

It was Archbishop Turpin who moved to address him next. The man's usual gentleness had disappeared, replaced by an expression of hurt and betrayal. "I gave you a chance, Ruggiero. You pledged to bring the heroes back safe and in good health. Their coming here is the Lord's gift to us, and yet you have squandered it—allowed them to become victims of the demons."

Perhaps it was the disappointment of the once-caring Archbishop that ached Ruggiero the most. The foreign Peer's face dropped, and he turned away. "There was naught I could do; no one had anticipated the Evil of Eyes to make an appearance. Was Sir Astolfo not the one responsible for its tracking?"

"His hand was forced. The Evil of Lips had changed course and attacked the northern settlements. Though he and Lady Angelica succeeded in repelling its assault, the two were deeply injured and now require a month's rest."

"Then you know that my hand was forced as well."

To that, Ganelon clicked his tongue and lightly flicked Ruggiero's forehead. "Your priorities are all wrong, my foolish little friend. You were there, and there only, to ensure the well-being of the heroes. Why were they on the battlefield to begin with?"

Ruggiero had no reply. It was true—they weren't supposed to take part in the defense. Ogier had only allowed the players to join after Lucius convinced him over a nice cup of tea.

"Exactly," Ganelon continued. "If it were truly so dangerous, you should have taken them and fled, regardless of what would befall Ogier. He was a Peer like us; he knew his responsibilities."

Ruggiero trembled in place and clenched his fist. The very thought of abandoning Ogier like a coward had never once entered his mind. Fortunately, it was that very selflessness that gave the others justification to come to his aid.

Roland and Bradamante quickly flocked to his side and glared at Ganelon, who now backed away with an innocent smile.

"It is true Ruggiero had his duties," Roland began, eyeing the audience and pushing down on them with a great pressure. "But he also swore upon his appointment as Peer to forever hold the values of Chivalry. To abandon a comrade in need would desecrate the very oaths our God inscribed in stone. There is no sinner here, merely a man devout in his faith."

Bradamante joined him and barked at the priests with a scathing fury. "Besides, wasn't it you lot who ordered the otherworlders to visit the fortress in the first place? I told you time and time again they weren't ready, yet you ignored me and went ahead anyways. Seems like to me that you're the ones who truly wished the heroes harm."

Tensions between the two factions began to reach their breaking point. Olivier did his best to mediate between them, but at this rate it wouldn't be a surprise if the courtyard came to blows. The air was filled with angry shouts, hasty accusations, hate and vitriol and scorn.

In the end, one man alone was responsible for shifting the debate: the High Tribunal, the leader of the conservatives, Ganelon of the Peers. That very man made his way over to Ruggiero, and beheld him with an inscrutable look.

The others expected Ganelon to rebuke him, to insist that Ruggiero be hanged on the gallows.

But instead, the dandy fellow broke out into a laugh and locked shoulders with him.

"Now, now, let's all calm ourselves here," Ganelon said. "Roland, my boy! You have convinced me. From now on, I will lend Ruggiero my full support."

Everyone, from the elders, to the other Peers, to even the players: they all gasped out in utter disbelief.

"What?"

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