The props used for the ceremony were quickly disassembled and taken away, leaving the servants to guide the Order members out to the city where they could partake in a final round of drink and merriment before the expedition officially departed. As fate would have it, their watering hole of choice was the charming Mary's Tavern. Lucius had frequented the business a few odd times after the whole 'city-wide mob' affair (in disguise of course). He didn't have a special reason; the good miss's drinks were simply quite refreshing—top quality and full of unique flavors. Taverns were also a fabulous locale to gather more information, so he often took a seat alone near the corner and listened to the odd conversation passing by.

This time, however, he was joined by his three plucky fellows, along with all two hundred and fifty members of Expedition Argo. The gentleman thought it unlikely they would fit inside, even with the tavern's relatively larger commons compared to others in the area, but the Franks made do and squeezed themselves in until one could hardly see a speck of the floor amidst the sprawl of bodies.

"Geez, you folks couldn't bother giving a gal a head's up?" the proprietress, Mary herself, shouted to the crowd while carrying an arm's load of drinks. "Now, I ain't opposed to more clientele, but don't go hollering at me if ya get impatient! Sit your butts down. Only so many mugs I can make at a time, gosh darn…"

Despite her apprehensive words, Mary practically flew around the tavern in a blur, weaving through the crowd deftly, quickly, and without breaking a sweat. The woman multi-tasked with the efficiency of ten people in one. She shook and muddled cocktails in one hand, tossed mugs with the other, collected empty drinks with her foot, and even used her teeth at some points to keep everything balanced.

According to the book Lucius received — 'A Dummy's Guide to Understanding the Franks' — this display was apparently an actual skill known as Hospibattlety that all competent restaurateurs had to learn. How very fitting that the Franks would turn the service industry of all things into a rigorous art form.

When she finished attending to the last of the paladins, Mary strolled behind the bar counter and greeted Lucius with a wink. "Sorry for the wait there, folks. You types looked more patient than that sorry lot over there. But hey, you must be those 'otherworldly heroes' I've heard so much about. Usually only get locals here; it's nice to see some fresh faces for a change."

He pretended not to know the lady. "Quite so. My name is Lucius Rose, and you are the illustrious Miss Mary, I take it?"

She blushed and waved him off. "I don't know about anything fancy like 'illustrious', but indeedy do that's who I am. Pleasure to meet you, Mister Rose. It's funny, you kinda remind me of one of my patrons: an elegant fella. Calls himself Satanael. Do you know him?"

He smiled. "Sadly no, but judging by your words he must be quite the gentleman."

The others introduced themselves as well. Once the four were all settled, the party placed their drinks and quickly received an ice-cold mug faster than they could blink.

Mili got a foaming, bubbling, and bright yellow margarita that apparently tasted like pineapple with a slight carbonated kick. Harper's choice was a simple red wine: a balanced mix between sweet and dry. And Marco went with a classic old fashioned, or at least this world's equivalent to it.

Lucius, on the other hand, opted for what the Franks called a 'Belikorn Smoothie', which was an iced drink that included blending an interesting flower native to this world called the Belikorn. In its unprocessed state, the petals contained a highly-potent hallucinogenic; but those certified in handling it, such as Miss Mary, often used it in drinks for its sweet and minty aftertaste. It was safe, so long that the correct ratios and dosages were maintained.

Interestingly enough, the Belikorn flower was the very same one that Lucius had plucked from Ruggiero's abode. The Peer had said that it was a popular decoration back in his homeland for its unique shape, but the people were warned never to ingest it wholly.

Lucius thought it quite interesting, and registered it with his flower skill. Now, he could summon it whenever he so wished: When the time would come to use it, however, only fate knew.

After that, the night continued on in high spirits. Lucius enjoyed talking with his party members, discussing the future and making theories over what this 'Beast Lord' possibly was. As it turned out, not even the Franks knew. The thing had kept to its territory for so long that nary a soul had ever witnessed it personally: at least not those who came back. There were only stories, tales of an age only recorded in myth. Its existence preceded even that of the first emperor, and as such, it was referred to as the Old One: the Lord of all Beasts.

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The Original Predator.

"... We're going to fight it, aren't we?" Mili groaned and slumped her head against the counter.

"Eh, maybe not," Harper replied, passing her a cup of water. "If this thing is as powerful as those paladins claim it is, then I doubt we'd be able to take it down even if all the Peers came to ambush it. Maybe we'll have to help it with something instead?"

Marco downed his drink in one go. This was his third one, and yet the man was completely sober. He didn't even seem to register the alcohol unless it was a higher proof. "Sounds about right. This system or whatever ya call it has never given us anythin' that wasn't already possible. My best guess is that we'll have to take care of one of those Great Evils hidin' in its lair."

The party shuddered at the Evils' mention. The memories of that day at Roncevaux Fortress still remained livid in their heads. If a scourge like that really did make another appearance, then they would have to think up countermeasures to deal with its madness, or else risk repeating that terrible massacre.

Unfortunately, they had no real answer. Harper at least had her composure skill, and Lucius was immune…? The others didn't quite understand how he managed to remain of sound mind, despite his persistent attempts to explain that he was simply just that unprejudiced. They didn't believe him; all humans had to have at least a scrap of something negative, or so they claimed. But Lucius wasn't an ordinary human.

Regardless, the party continued to enjoy themselves as the night went on. More drinks were consumed; more laughs were excitedly cheered.

Upon the eleventh hour, however, the paladins collectively stopped, ordered everyone to cleanse their stomachs with a round of waters, and then sat straight in their seats with a stiff discipline. There was a time for play and a time for restraint. Those here knew the importance of sobriety, especially when it could cost them their lives.

Thirty minutes before midnight. The tavern patrons paid their dues to Miss Mary and then slowly marched out onto the moonlit streets. Ordinarily, there would still be those partying despite the darkness, but this time not a soul was to be seen. They all closed their doors and covered their windows. Lanterns and hand-made decorations were hung on the outside: some shaped into crystals, into swords, shields and tassels and all that embodied the Franks' spirit of chivalry.

This was the city's way of bidding farewell. Rather than with teary eyes or pained smiles, this procession was to be hallowed under the virtuous emblems of Star and Blade and Eagle.

The paladins were blessed with sustenance. They had released themselves of any lingering regret or hesitation. Now, their hearts were clean: their souls given nourishment. It was only when they emerged as pure vessels that the divinity up high could grant its warriors a final consecration—a reminder of what awaited them back home.

As Lucius joined the paladins in crossing the lonely avenues, he too felt a warmth within. It nestled in his heart and spread across his flesh and blood, surging, rising: a boon not dissimilar to the one he received from both Karolus and the Archbishop. Only, this one felt more… grand, of a scale far larger than himself.

>[The fervent wishes of the people have manifested as a party-wide incantation! As a result, you have been imparted with the Trinity's Stigmata. For the next thirty days, your stats will be be buffed by 10%, and a divine light will shield your body from minor afflictions]<

The gentleman was surprised. He thought the blessings were made possible due to this realm's God and its support… but that wasn't the case, was it? No, it was the people all along. Their trust, their faith—the Franks believed in their doctrine with such zealotry that, somehow, they had willed these spiritual rites into existence. Its effects were clear, yet the paladins seemed none the wiser. It was simply a tradition to them, something they followed for generations.

But that left the question… where exactly was their God?

Lucius felt its presence only once. Not now, not during the Archbishop's ceremony, but even further back. Yes, he had caught a faint glimpse when the young Karolus reached out his hand to him. That was the first, and final, time.

His fellows didn't seem to realize it. Marco, Mili, and Harper assumed it was just like before. Only the gentleman was privy to this curious truth.

Lucius's revelation was of little importance at this time, however. The clock had finally struck midnight. The paladins gathered at a large gate where fields of wheat swayed beyond the dwellings of man.

There, waiting for them and cast in a sickly shadow, was the expedition's leader: Sir Renaud.

"I trust the communion went well?" he asked. The paladins nodded and saluted the Peer with a tap of their chests. "Then it is time. We will march firstly to the city of Burgundy before making way to the Beast Lord's domain. I will not tolerate those who fall behind. Should you collapse, do not bother chasing after and return with your heads bowed in shame. Only the elite deserve to be jotted in history along with my coming feats."

A rather disheartening pep talk for one who was supposed to inspire confidence, but nonetheless the Order members soon began to line up in formation. Various carts and bizarre crystal-powered carriages followed from the side, serving both as quick storage and armory, while the players gathered the very back. Dim torchlight illuminated the path ahead, but not too bright — a larger flame would only attract unwanted attention.

With that, Expedition Argo left the city's confines, and they bravely advanced toward the unknown.

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