The rites were completed quickly. The paladins and players who had fallen to the demons flew away into the sky, fluttering as beautiful petals of gold and white. The audience bowed their heads like before, but there was no longer a darkness in their eyes; no, rather than grieve over but another weekly sacrifice, the lives here today bespoke of another, brighter, future.
The players would only grow from here - gain more experience both literal and metaphorical. The demons were no longer an intimidating, unstoppable menace. They were crudely drawn fodder by which to gain greater reward, and strength, and to release all the pain and anger the players had suffered after being brought into this game without choice.
But none were so jolly as the good Ogier. The man’s demeanor had completely changed since the day they met. His glower and fierce eye now relaxed, softened, and it was then that one could truly see how the years had affected him: his sagging, drooping cheeks; his skin gouged into deep scars; and a tired slouch. He was old. The man looked to be in his sixties, and yet still he dutifully kept his position here as fortress commander.
It was after the closing ceremonies that he announced a surprising order: to hold a feast. Apparently some of the players had gone down to the kitchens after being disappointed one too many times by the meagre, tasteless provisions supplied. It was simple things like dried stalk, bread, and more bread. For a modern soul, that was simply unacceptable.
All ingredients were personally sourced from the Starlit Shop. There, they found quality meats such as prime-grade ribeyes, lamb chops, pork and chicken and seafood - in their raw forms of course; but that was no problem to those proficient in the art of cookery. Soon, delectable platters of food were brought out to the hungry masses out on the courtyard, and the fortress lit up in merry celebration: gorging, drinking, and mingling among their otherworldly compatriots.
When the Franks were greeted with meat, however, they reacted with quite the surprise.
Lucius and his party were fortunate enough to be seated next to Ogier and some of the high-ranking paladins among the Order, as thanks for contributing the most to the defense. Marco, Mili, and Harper quickly dug in, but the Peer wasn’t as eager.
“How curious that your people can feast on beastkind,” he said.
“I did happen to notice that your banquets in the capital were deprived of such foodstuff,” Lucius replied, diligently arranging his plate until everything was neatly organized for proper consumption. “Is it perhaps out of religious reason?”
Ogier gave him a funny look. “Not quite. Beasts simply taste horrid - too much muscle and fat. We have tried tenderizing, simmering, and boiling. But none have succeeded in making them edible. That is why I am surprised. Do your people have jaws of steel?”
Lucius laughed and encouraged the bearded man to take a bite. “I doubt our mouths are any different than yours, my friend. The livestock of my home world is likely much smaller than the creatures you have here.”
“Quite.” Ogier picked up a chicken wing and cautiously inspected it. “This looks like the appendage of the man-eating Jabberwock, albeit more puny. Many a paladin have fallen before its bite. Before the demonic invasion, that is.”
“We call them chickens on earth. I assure you they do not eat men or women there.”
Ogier glanced at Lucius one last time before hesitantly taking a bite.
“Hm… it is good.” The man took another, and another, until his plate was piled high in meat. The other paladins seemed assured by his enthusiasm and began to partake in the dishes themselves. “I will have another.”
This time he carved himself a piece of steak. “Ah, this one resembles the Adler Flower.”
“Adler?” Lucius questioned. “Does that not mean eagle in your language?”
“Yes. The Adler Flowers are the sprouted remains of the Imperial Eagle. She fed the first emperor Her flesh and blood, but Her child could not swallow it; and thus She buried Her meat below the earth so that it might sprout into flowers upon which to dine.”
“That is fascinating. I am a florist myself, so it delights me greatly to learn more about otherworldly flora,” Lucius said, speaking from the heart. “Where can you find these flowers, if I may ask? I would love to study their natural form one day should I have the chance.”
Ogier let loose a “Hoh-hoh” and patted his belly. “They do not grow in barren lands such as these. The Adler Flower thrives in luscious regions, near the flowing brooks and fields of wheat. My hometown was surrounded by them.”If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
The Peer turned his head down, melancholic. “It has been many years since I have returned. I wonder if the flowers have bloomed? The season is right, but I know not. I do not know many things.”
Lucius paused, and waited a second before speaking again. The man needed some time to reminisce. “What is your town like, Sir Ogier?”
“Simple,” he replied, his lips curved into a rare smile. “Simple but beautiful. We were a homestead of but a thousand, living amidst a grassland of bright sun and rolling hills. Our days passed loftily. We wanted nothing more than to coexist with the natural world.”
“You speak as if that was in the past.”
His smile dropped, and for a moment, Lucius saw something glint in his eyes: a deep, festering grudge. But it soon disappeared.
“We were… occupied,” he said, lingering over his words. “I am not a native-born Frank myself. My people called themselves Danes, and we settled in the northeast beyond a body of water. It was only when his late Holiness, Pepin the Reviled Reveler of Ruin, sought to conquer our lands that my name was changed. Holger Danske was no more. Now, I am Ogier.”
“Do you despise Francia?”
The man replied without hesitation. “No. I have only ever despised one man, but he is gone. My time as Holger was short—a boy in his growing years with only memories. I have been Ogier for far longer; and I served in the wars waged by that vile cur. The paladins were good to me, then. I hold no bitterness, for they were allies I shed blood with.”
Ogier swirled his cup of wine, looking into the dark red liquid. “Time dulls all wounds. Now, I merely seek to protect my own. I do not care for the politics of the court. Strength is all I wield, and so I shall exhaust it until the day comes when I am to be given rest, fluttering away into the night sky.”
After that, the good Ogier bid away his gloom and indulged in the happy atmosphere along with his fellows. The feast went on without a fault, and all departed to their beds that evening with stuffed stomachs and faces red with drink.
The next few weeks passed by in similar spirits. The demons came again at the dawn of their third week, and so the fortress’s occupants repeated their stalwart defense—stronger, more united. Lucius’s fellows continued to strike down their demented foes, and they grew in power even more. Experience, contribution, even relationships: Everything progressed at a rapid rate.
Lucius was level twenty-three by then. He had played a thumb war against himself. He won, so the stats were put into agility: thirty-six, quite speedy! One of his skills also 'ranked up' or so the system called it.
Skill [Flowers' Best Friend] has ranked up to [F+]
*[Rank F+] Flowers' Best Friend (Passive, Growth Type): Whenever you encounter a new species of flora, you will feel greater affinity towards it, as well as receive a warning if it possesses a dangerous attribute. The specific effect will not be revealed unless you study it further.
Now this was an interesting upgrade. Lucius already had all the poisonous species of flowers memorized in his head, so he knew the telltale signs to look out for when encountering a new genus: glossy leaves, speckled dots, and the sort. But that didn't mean the blossoms of other worlds would follow the same rules. In that regard, having a skill such as this would be quite useful.
And thus the players' days passed by without much incident. However, one person was still missing amongst them all.
It was only on the eve of their fourth, and final, week that Ruggiero returned to the fortress at last. His friendly demeanor was gone; the man looked deeply disturbed.
Lucius went out to greet him as the Hippogriff Express descended. The warrior from the Moors hopped out with a dark look on his face, and although he tried to put up a casual front, the gentleman could see something buried in him: something hurt, betrayed.
“... Lucius, you are a welcome sight, indeed,” Ruggiero said, donning a sad smile.
Lucius patted his shoulder. “My friend, what has happened to you?”
Ruggiero gritted his teeth and did his best to stay calm. “I was imprisoned.”
“What?”
“Upon the moment of my return, the conservatives of the court decried me a traitor: claimed that I abandoned you heroes out of fear. It was only in due thanks to Bradamante and Sir Roland’s faction that I was set free from my manacles and allowed to return to you.”
It was as Lucius thought: Whoever was responsible for Ogier and the fortress’s plight knew that Ruggiero would fly back to demand answers. The poor man was caught in a trap from the very beginning.
“What would they gain from such an act?” Lucius said. “Did the Franks not welcome us with open arms?”
Ruggiero sighed and paced back and forth. “Not everyone wishes for your presence here, I am afraid. Most of all the court’s representative, Sir Ganelon…”
He shook his head. “Now is not the time. I was ordered to bring you heroes back as proof of my innocence.”
“Must we do so immediately? The demonic tide will arrive by the morrow. Let us first lend Ogier aid. We have become quite the fellows, I’ll have you know!”
“Truly?” Ruggiero laughed, and the weariness in his eyes softened just a bit. “You’re an affable man, Lucius. I’m not surprised. Hm… very well, those old relics can wait another day. I owe much to Sir Ogier for protecting your kind anyways.”
Ruggiero stretched his body and let out a groan as he made his way to get some rest in the barracks. The news he brought was certainly interesting; it appeared the demons weren’t the players’ only enemy.
But that matter would have to wait. Soon, the final wave of the demons would descend. All the players had to do was what they had always done.
However, Lucius felt a prick in his gut.
This next assault… would it truly be so ordinary?