The next day, Lucius told his fellow companions about his dealings with the Saracen council. It did not please Roland or the other Peers that they needed to ignore Ganelon’s involvement; but their expressions soon brightened at the mention of Lucius’s plan to bring along some Arabian figures back as a sign of shared fellowship. Arabia and Francia’s bond would grow stronger, as well as put pressure on Ganelon and prevent him from acting out of turn.

  Thus, when the twin suns rose once more, the group huddled into Astolfo’s chariot and prepared to set off. Joining them was their previous guide, Mister Ibn-al-Arabi, and Sir Medoro who represented Arabia’s military force. Angelica and he were very much thankful to spend time together.

  Though the two didn’t outright proclaim their relationship, neither did they make an attempt to hide it — holding hands and sharing brief, affectionate glances amongst each other. Most of the players understood immediately and kept their silence. They already had a suspicion after their first encounter, so it wasn’t all too much of a surprise. Sir Roland on the other hand appeared a bit flustered.

  A surge of complicated emotions flashed in his eyes. Here she was, the person he loved knowing it would never be reciprocated, now in the tender embrace of a man whose people he had once terrorized. Was it karma? Divine retribution for his sins? He knew not, but it didn’t matter. The Angelica he saw before him was truly happy, and for that he could only be thankful.

  The man of yesterday would have likely flown into a furious rage were he to see them so tender. The current Roland, however, instead wished them well with all his heart; and though the traces of his affection might still linger for many long years, in time he would come to heal, to recognize his past and move on, for that was life. Who knew? Perhaps a new love would find its way to him, eventually. For now though, there were debts he had to settle.

  Only when Ganelon was brought down would Francia escape ruin.

  >[Virtual Goddess of the Wired says that the end is approaching. Only one more Evil to slay, and the path to the Demon King will reveal itself. The Goddess warns Lucius to be careful. His next mission will be his most dangerous one yet]<

  >[Number 1 Rated Salesman 1997 snorts a line of crushed sugar candy and gleefully laughs, before telling the Goddess to stop with the melodramatic act. A go-getter like Lucius isn’t one to let some snake oil salesman bring him down. If anything, the Stars should be warning the Franks. The Salesman can’t wait to see what chaos you’ll cause next]<

  >[Sinister Interdimensional Bureaucrat is impartial. The Star’s employers are not entirely pleased with Lucius’s decisions, but they are nonetheless entertained. The Bureaucrat’s offer still stands. They hope for you to spread greater panic amongst the populace]<

  The Stars were ever the same, although Lucius did notice they had been rather quiet during his adventures in Arabia. That was to be expected. Most of the conflict stemmed from political matters, and unlike back during his expedition days, not a person had died except for the purposeful sacrifice of the late Sir Ferragut. Other than that, everything had been resolved quite cleanly.

  For most Stars, such a result was surely boring. They wanted destruction, to feel the rush of adrenaline they could no longer experience from their starry thrones. Only through the eyes of the players were they distracted from their tediously long existence.

  “Is everyone comfortable?” Lucius asked his fellows. The chariot was a bit cramped from all the people, but nonetheless they nodded. “Then let us be off. To Francia!”

  ———

  For the next few weeks, Lucius conversed with his new Saracen companions and discussed their next plan of action. They needed to catch Ganelon by surprise. To do so, however, required hiding the two delegates from the guards' watch whenever the group rested at a checkpoint. The High Tribunal’s eyes and ears were everywhere. No doubt he was already alerted of their return, but that was what the gentleman wanted.

  Whilst the old fellow was preoccupied with the matter of Roland’s survival, the sudden arrival of a Saracen delegation would disrupt the court long enough for Lucius to take advantage of his Peership and reduce Ganelon’s amassed control. If all went well, there’d be no need to come to blows, and the players could peacefully seek out the last Evil without threat of betrayal… however, people often surprised.

  Would such a prideful and stubborn man truly allow himself to be defeated so simply?

  “Hm? Hey, look over there, guys! I think I see the capital,” Mili shouted, leaning over the chariot as the mighty walls of Francia’s capital slowly emerged from the distance. “Home sweet home.”

  “You’re gettin’ real attached to this place, huh?” Marco said with a laugh.

  “Well, it’s the closest thing to home we’ve got,” the musician replied. “I dunno. Everywhere else we go has some kinda demon or trouble waiting to kick our butts. The city the only place where we can actually relax for a change.”

  “I hear that,” Harper said. “Wouldn’t mind living here if it wasn't for this damn system.”

  Astolfo raised his head, confused by the players’ solemn expressions. “Did you say something? All I heard was a weird ring.”

  Roland patted his shoulder and told him to pay them no mind. “Occasionally such sounds will leave their lips. I suspect it is our Lord’s intervention preventing us from hearing of their holy mission. Sir Lucius and I once tried to explore the depth of information that could be conveyed. It was… difficult, to say the least.”

  The system hid much from the Franks, likely to maintain the ‘otherworldly heroes’ setting for this supposed game. Such was a reminder that the players were not meant to stay for long. Even so, they made the most of their time here—dangerous though it was—and perhaps someday they shall fondly remember these people, this world so very foreign to their own, and the miracle, or curse, that led to their meeting.

  The Stars were right. The end was soon approaching.

  “Hold on, everyone! I’ll bring us near the castle,” Astolfo said, blowing into his horn as the group finally descended upon the familiar avenues of the Frankish capital. Only… something was wrong. Lucius could not hear the typical bustle of the citizens, the hawkers selling food in the square, nor any signs of life. The capital was eerily quiet.

  What awaited them upon their landing was neither fanfare nor the leering face of Ganelon. Instead, Archbishop Turpin stood there on the grass and waved, his face cast in concern.

  “Welcome back, o’ holy friends,” the old priest said. “If only our reunion were under better circumstances.”

  Roland stepped out of the chariot and greeted the Archbishop. “Turpin, whatever is the matter? I see not a single person out on the streets.”

  “Such is necessary, Roland. We could not risk exposing them to danger. For now, the citizenry are temporarily lodging within the neighboring cities, and only the paladins of the order as well as the castle officials remain.”

  Archbishop Turpin sighed and slowly turned his attention to the Saracen delegates. “But oh my, it would appear you’ve brought guests from afar! Welcome, welcome. Please do forgive our sparse hospitality.”

  Mister Arabi bowed before the Archbishop in the traditional Frankish manner. “Perish the thought. It is an honor to meet the head priest of the holy order. I am Ibn-al-Arabi, an ambassador of Arabia. We were most impressed by Sir Lucius and his fellows during their hunt. His Emirate sent me here as thanks for ridding our land of the Great Evil, that we may restore the ties once eroded by the holy war. However… it seems I’ve come at an inconvenient time.”

  “It is embarrassing to admit, but you would be correct. Know that it fills my heart with joy that Arabia is willing to meet us as kindred allies once more, and I shall utilize all in my power to ensure your stay in Francia be a comfortable one.”

  With each of the Archbishop’s words, the players grew more confused. Just what could have possibly happened that warranted this odd situation?

  “Come, let us head inside,” Turpin said, beckoning them to the castle. “Allow not this uncertain period demean our reception. Once you’ve filled your bellies with hearty food, I shall have the Peers assembled in the central courtroom.”

  “What about us?” Miss Enapay asked. “I don't see the other players. Have you taken them as well?”

  “Fret not, my dear. The heroes are currently in their normal dwellings inside the castle. Ganelon insisted they be kept here to aid with our efforts, so rest for now, and we shall return to you with further directions once our affairs have been settled.”

  The Archbishop gestured to Lucius. “Of course, Sir Lucius has full right to join our discussions as a Peer, if he so wishes.”

  The gentleman smiled and bid the old priest a dandy shake of the hand. “You have my attendance. Perhaps an outside perspective shall be of use in whatever plights this fair empire.”

  “Hoho, very good! I shall lead our Saracen guests to their accommodations, then.”

  With that, the group split apart. The players headed off to their individual rooms, whilst Mister Arabi and Sir Medoro followed the Archbishop to a separate area of the castle. The Peers meanwhile, including Lucius, waited with restless breaths by the court.

  The atmosphere inside had changed much since their last visit. A still air settled about the space, and hardly a soul passed by save for the occasional official, their faces grim and hands full of hastily-stacked documents. Not even the servants could be seen.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  After some time, they were joined by a few familiar faces. Lady Bradamante and Sir Olivier approached them, their demeanors similarly downcast, but they soon lightened up after reuniting with their fellow Peers. Ruggiero unfortunately couldn’t attend since he had to keep watch over the new fortress.

  “I’m surprised you tolerated that fool for so long,” Bradamante teased, slapping Roland’s shoulder and giving Angelica a sisterly hug. “But you all look well. Especially you, Roland. You seem more relaxed, softer. Same thing happened to Ruggiero and Renaud. Did Sir Lucius work his magic on you, too?”

  Roland broke out into a wide grin and chuckled. “Indeed, he did. My debts toward Sir Lucius seem to be never-ending.”

  Angelica nodded and, though still somewhat awkward, regarded Roland with a friendlier mood. “Our trip in Arabia was quite enlightening. It was the first time I confronted him about our… past, and I believe we have both moved forward as better people because of it.”

  Sir Olivier briefly went to Roland’s side to make sure he was truly okay. Their close bond was a sight to behold, for even after all these years a slight twinkle of their youthful days could still be seen shared between them. When Roland assured all was well, Olivier eased up, and thus the group talked for a time, delighting in their stronger bonds.

  That enthusiasm all came to an end when a certain man, at last, arrived at the court.

  “Roland, my boy! I see you are in good health. How was your time in Arabia?”

  Ganelon strode toward them with a sly smile and a mocking tone. Archbishop Turpin stood beside him but, as usual, didn’t seem to notice his old friend’s venomous remarks. The priest merely shuffled forth and opened the chamber’s door.

  “It was pleasant, uncle. I have you and our Saracen friends to thank for their warm reception.”

  The High Tribunal bid him a goading smile in response. “Good, good. And were there any problems of sort during your stay?”

  “None.”

  “Really now? Is that all you wish to say?”

  “What else do you expect? The people of Arabia were nothing but kind. In fact, I would like to visit them again in the future, if time allows. The new Emirate is a great man. He understands where his support should lay.”

  In an instant, a threatening grimace flashed across Ganelon’s face, before quickly returning to his arrogant presence of before. “I see. Well, as much as I’d like to talk of your desert adventures all day long, we have a meeting to hold, hm?” He beckoned them inside with a wide flourish. “You’ve missed much since your departure.”

  The Peers entered and swiftly shut the entrance behind them. Archbishop Turpin took to the stand first and then spoke in a somber voice, “I apologize for the sudden nature of this gathering, especially for those who have just returned, but this matter must be handled with haste. Sir Olivier, if you would?”

  The scholarly man nodded and walked up to the stand, before reaching into his robe and pulling out the Demon King’s fragment. The page was trapped in a solid cage made of crystal; and before Sir Roland’s group could question the reason for its appearance here, they noticed something quite odd.

  It moved. The page shifted downwards as if being pulled by an invisible force.

  “The priests of the order have been studying this curious fragment ever since you left for Arabia,” Olivier said, recoiling from the thing’s sinister light. “Unfortunately, we’ve made little progress, as the only ones seemingly immune to its corruption are the otherworldly heroes. But even they cannot withstand direct contact. Most fainted after only a few seconds, and when asked about its contents afterward, their memory had been seemingly erased. Sir Lucius to my knowledge is the sole individual proven able to look into its contents, thus we have waited for your group’s return before researching further.

  “One week ago, however, the fragment began to exhibit strange behaviors. It was a mere twitch at first, some slight movement, before it devolved into the sight you see now.”

  Sir Roland spoke up, saying, “It appears to be drawn toward something, either a place or a particular being.”

  “Indeed,” Olivier said, nodding. “No matter where we took the fragment, it would always point back toward the capital. We followed its movements and eventually arrived at a surprising destination: the Venerated Sanctum.”

  Astolfo stammered and shook his head. “The Order’s base? Why there?”

  To that, Olivier responded by clapping his hands, and soon a few officials entered the room with a new cage in tow.

  Inside of it… was a demon.

  Angelica gasped, covering her mouth in horror. “No, it cannot be. The demons have infiltrated the city? But there exists naught beneath they could hide within except for—”

  “The underground sepulchre, where lies the Grave of Emperors,” Roland whispered through gritted teeth. “To think these horrors would sully our holy tomb.”

  Olivier affirmed their worst fears. “With the capital compromised, we could only evacuate the people out of fear that the demons might appear elsewhere. Fortunately, their spread has been contained to the sepulchre, and we’ve assigned the paladins to keep watch over it until a more permanent solution can be found.”

  “Why can’t we just purge them all?” Astolfo asked.

  Lady Bradamante was the one to reply this time. “I’ve tried, Astolfo. Led some of my best down there and cut down as many as we could, but there’s this strange barrier preventing us from heading farther in. Can’t break it or get past it, but we can’t leave it alone either. Something inside is breeding an endless swarm of those things. Until we destroy it, the capital will never be safe.”

  Archbishop Turpin clasped his hands together in prayer, pleading for his God to give him strength. “This is a terrible, terrible affront to our beloved rulers of past. We, as the Lord’s children, cannot allow these creatures to disturb the tomb any longer, yet all our efforts to do so have resulted in failure.”

  The gathering fell silent for a time, pondering over how such a situation came to be. It was only when the gentlemanly Lucius spoke that hope dawned on their spiritless expressions once more.

  “Do pardon my intrusion, but I have encountered a similar scenario before,” he said.

  “Truly?” the Archbishop said.

  “Indeed. Back when I stood by Mister Renaud’s side during our expedition days, we encountered an odd spiral where the demons seemed to have been birthed. It was there, in fact, that I claimed the Demon King’s fragment, and only after it left its ominous pedestal did the creatures finally disappear. Additionally…”

  Lucius reached into his suit pocket and pulled out the second page he found in the Saracens’ ancient pyramid. “Sir Roland and I also came to discover a demonic gathering where we slayed the Evil of Lips. There, coincidentally, was another fragment. May I assume you’ve noticed a pattern by now?”

  No one knew exactly how the fragments came to settle in such places, but the evidence was damning. Wherever the traces of the Demon King were found, its demonic minions would propagate until disposed, and it just so happened that the next, and final, piece was located right where the players’ quest all began.

  Ganelon eyed the page in Lucius’s hand with a disgusted expression, as well as something more. Something cunning. “So another one of those fragments must be in the sepulchre, yes? Interesting. You are quite the expert in these matters, Sir Lucius. Can we count on you to solve our infestation problem?”

  Lucius replied with a dazzling smile. “Of course! However, I need time to prepare. We must also ready ourselves for a potential encounter with the last Great Evil. I suspect the fragment’s guardian shall be waiting for us the moment we try to dispel the barrier.”

  The Peers glanced amongst themselves in agreement. Here it was, the final obstacle to Francia’s freedom from the demonic generals’ grip. Five years had the empire been forced to allow their enemy to roam free. Now, in the span of only a few months, it would all come to an end.

  “The heart…” Roland whispered. “Truth be told, we know not of its power unlike the others. Sir Ferragut was the one who traced its movements, yet in his reports he noted that it was substantially more docile than its demonic brethren.”

  Ganelon let out a jolly laugh and pointed at Roland. “Then slaying it will be a simple matter! Take as much time as you need, Sir Lucius. Although… preferably soon if you can. This whole demon business is dreadful for our poor, fearful citizens. We wouldn’t want to let them down now, would we?”

  It was evident that the High Tribunal had concocted another scheme—that was to be expected. What surprised Lucius, however, was that the man seemed nervous. He tried to hide it well with a calm facade, but there was no denying the slight tremble in his eyes, his shaky brow, his restless fingers. Just what could be the cause of this? What made him so uncharacteristically bothered?

  The sepulchre, the Grave of Emperors… ah, Lucius understood it now. The reason why Ganelon hesitated was due to one reason.

  The shadow he could never escape, even now.

  “Sir Ganelon,” Lucius said, deliberately drawing out each syllable in a song-like glee. “Would you be so kind as to accompany me into the tomb?”

  Ganelon blinked, and then pointed at himself. “What—me?”

  “Yes! With your worldly knowledge and vast familiarity with the capital’s structure, I can think of none other to serve as my guard and companion.”

  The man didn’t say a word for a moment, thoroughly stunned by the gentleman’s proposal, but eventually he stammered a response and attempted to divert the responsibility onto another. “Sir Lucius, you cannot possibly, haha, want this old fellow when you already have some capable companions by your side! Roland’s flexibility, Angelica’s strength… Stars, even the young Astolfo would make for a much better choice.”

  Lucius glanced at the others and silently raised his brow. They seemed to have gotten the message and soon put on a pitiful front, acting exhausted and massaging their sore muscles.

  “I would love to, uncle,” Roland said, coughing into his fist. “But sadly, I was injured quite harshly in my battle against the Demon of Lips. Angelica and Astolfo also suffered as well and require further treatment—possibly for even the entire month.”

  Ganelon’s eye twitched, and it took all his strength to hold himself back from losing his composure. “How surprising, Roland. To think even a simple man like you could put on such a show.”

  “Whatever do you mean?” Roland stumbled back and wheezed, joining the other Peers as they pretended to descend into a weakened fit.

  “Hah, haha! Wow, I never thought I’d see the day.”

  Ganelon took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, a menacing light shone boldly, and he faced Lucius with a renewed malice.

  “Fine. I’ll come with you,” he seethed. “It’ll be best if we do so alone, however. Bradamante doesn’t need to join nor the other paladins. It’s been some time since I last fought, so I may have trouble… controlling myself.”

  Lucius ignored his threats and responded with an innocent bow. “Splendid! I’ve been meaning to have a private discussion with you anyways, Sir Ganelon. Something tells me we’ll get along just fine.”

  Ganelon's lips curled into a wry grin, and he slowly approached Lucius, before extending his hand out in fake cooperation. “Yes, I have to agree. You who bear our Lord’s mark, swayed my nephew, and even taught Roland of all fools to use dirty tricks… I look forward to seeing what kind of man you truly are.”

  “As am I, my friend. As am I.”

  With that, the two exchanged a parting shake, before calling the meeting to an end.

  It was finally time to expose it, the darkness buried underneath Ganelon’s exterior. Lucius could only smile at the thought. Yes… this man’s blooming would surely be a beautiful display.

  >[Main Quest: Rid the Frankish Capital of Its Infestation]<

  To you, who have persevered through countless trials and dangers, the Franks’ long war with the demons shall soon come to a close. Only one Evil remains. Only one fragment has yet to be claimed. Rid the underground sepulchre, the Grave of Emperors, from its demonic infestation, and witness with your own eyes the finale to the Demon King’s discarded past.

  Success: 2000 Cosmic Coins, + 10 status points, a Skill Rank-Up Card, and the opening of this world’s final dungeon: the Mountain of the Demon King.

  Failure: Destruction of the Frankish Capital and the dissolution of the paladin order.

  The Esteemed Gentlepeople of the , to whom I am forever grateful

  [The Distinguishedly Dandy Gentlemen Hall of Fame]