[i][h3]Inn[/h3][/i]
Drosil was mostly unperturbed by all the pushing and shoving, just simply letting everyone do as they will. As he found the paladin's attention focused on him, however, the drug began to clear ever so slightly as the haze thinned. This allowed him to comprehend what the man was saying of his condition, and this prompted him to reply in kind. 

[b]"Heeeeeey, I . . . only take what helps to enhance my mind to a higher state of consciousnessssssssssssss. . . it may not work alllll the time . . . but's absolutely marvelous when it does. A feeling without rival to gain such an innnnnnnnntimate bond with the universe."[/b] Drosil continued to smile like an idiot, reaching out as if he was trying to grab the man shoulder, but missing by a good bit as his depth perception seemed to be slightly impaired as well. Falling to the floor, he only let out a soft chuckle before he picked himself backup. He stumbled over to a nearby wall, where his staff was located, and took it in hand to balance himself. [b]"I admit that it's a . . . bit of a game of . . . [sub][sub]choice, chops, chagrin, cha-[/sub][/sub] Chance, yes, chance. The odds are generally not in my favor of something . . . exquisite happening, but I feel like it's worth a few mild side effects and light addiction for the chance to get closer to my grand ambition!"[/b]

Drosil seemed to be slowly sober up as he spoke, but his actions were more than proof enough that he was still vastly under the influence. His steps were measured and slow, one after the other with a sharp melodic clank of the crystalline staff smacking against the floor. He eased himself into an empty chair, turning his attention to Cyril, his eyes shifting from a disjointed mess to a crisp star-burst, as it seemed like he was staring into the man's soul with a chaotic passion, not to mention that the white of his hair began to take a slightly more noticeable glow.

[b]"I never told you my grand ambition, did I Cyril? Heh, now's the p-p-p-[sub][sub]perceptive, punctual, pugnacious, personal, perfect, oh, there we go[/sub][/sub] perfect time to tell you, I do believe. You see, I plan to learn all there is to be known in this grand spectacle of life, but I'm nearly positive that are plane of existence is not capable of feeding my hunger I've looked into many, many, many, maaaaaaany sources, but all of my research points to one, definitive possibility. The Golden City of the Divines, the seat of the gods themselves. And one day, I shall go there, learn everything that can be learned about magic, and unlike the divines who simply watch the world, I shall act. Every villain struck down, every disaster averted, every corrupt noble given a piece of their own damn medicine. I guess one could say I plane to ascend to Godhood myself, and become a better god then the Divines themselves."[/b] Drosil voice rose to very overdramatic heights, and might've been played off as a drug-born jest made in poor taste, except for his eyes. In those burning jewels of sparkling emerald and burnished gold lay a black and dark heart that radiate desire and ambition. Every word he said, he meant to accomplish one day, no matter the cost. [b]"Hell, I'd consider myself half way there already, hehehehe."[/b]

The Prince took what Drosil was saying as what they appeared to be in that moment: the drugged ramblings of a madman. Even as Gortul moved forwards to once again try and secure the man at least mostly upright, Cyril waved him off, just giving him a shake of the head. For whatever reason, the Jasian was a little more functional than before, so at the moment it wasn't necessary... Though at the rate he was going, Cyril wasn't sure what would happen next. After all, what the man had just said could be considered the greatest of blasphemies, and though the Prince appeared calm he still glanced towards the Paladin, just in case.

[b]"You wouldn't be anything more than a tyrant thinking like that, Drosil. And I don't think the Divines would just let you... 'replace' them anyway."[/b]

The Paladin, very slowly, looked from Drosil to Ennis, and then from Ennis to Vesta. The imposing man had made no fight to keep the H'kelan ambassador from shaking his gloved hand, though he let it fall afterwards. His expression remained stoic, and his eyes couldn't be seen thanks to the glare of his glasses. To Ennis, he said simply, [b]"I remember yer family."[/b] To Vesta, he had a little more to say: [b]"It is the will of the Divines that I am here, specifically that of Ambrosia's. Praise them, so that ye might appreciate her influence. Yes, praise them, for even a cripple such as ye may find some use."[/b]

And then, quite suddenly, the Paladin's arm shot up and forwards, to Drosil. Cyril swore quietly as Dubois grabbed Drosil by the scruff of his neck, lifting him up with ease as he slowly turned his head to look into Drosil's eyes. Thanks to the addition of the glow from Drosil's hair, his glasses seemed to become two burning, white circles. With ease, he lifted Drosil from the ground entirely, holding him up into the air. Despite the sudden movement, the Paladin's expression hadn't changed in the slightest, even as villagers nearby moved back or even took cover, with fear of what might happen next.

[b]"And ye best be silent, before I take yer tongue and carve yer blasphemy into it so that ye might read it more closely. Fools such as ye have always existed, and they have always met their deserved end. I'd bring it upon ye now, and save ye the time, if it weren't for the source of the blood running through yer veins. It will not protect ye forever, though; even Divineborn shall have judgment cast upon them, and I am more than willing to be the falling axe."[/b]

With that said, the Paladin suddenly released his grip, which sent Drosil crashing back down into the chair. Cyril (and the villagers throughout the inn) relaxed slightly, more than just a little glad that the Paladin had stayed his hand.

[b]"Hmph. . . every time it's the same old drivel from those to stuck in their place in society to embrace what needs to be done to make this world better."[/b] Drosil chuckled to himself, his eyes taking on a slightly darker countenance as he looked at his two critics, rising up out of the chair to look them both in the eyes as he spoke to them, starting with Cyril. [b]"Why am I a tyrant, Cyril, when all I want to do is end the unworthy who put their own needs before those of others and cause suffering on a grand scale? I have no desire to rule or conquer, I don't even plan to 'replace the Divines' as you put it. I only seek to do what they won't, or as I hope is the case, can't do themselves. I believe in the Divine's as dearly as the next, but I've seen too much injustice and depravity just in my time in Jasi to think that they're doing everything they can for the people. Whether this is purposeful or not, I don't deem myself blasphemous enough to know what they believe and think, as much as our friend hear would like to disagree, I imagine. I simply wish to gain the knowledge and power to remove the tyrant's and filth that infect all of humanity. Have you ever been to Jasi, Cyril? Have you seen how miserable the people can be under the corrupt oligarchy that lavishes in opulence? There's a time when simply doing what's right and proper just isn't enough to institute real change, and I plan to be the man to do it. Whether I succeed or fail between me and the Divines, including the one who sired me."[/b]

As he spoke, he slowly turned his attention away from Cyril and towards the Paladin, showing no fear of retaliation as he continued to speak. [b]"If what is say is so wrong, why do they not tell me as such, why do they send me no message or sign that this is the wrong path to follow? Who are any of us to say we know what the Divines want of us or not. If anything, you're arrogance is even more astounding than mine, Damon, in believe that as long as you end those who speak ill of the divines, they shall always favor you. Face it, you're nothing more than the churches rapid hound, and if you think I'm afraid of you, than I call your attempt to frighten me pathetic. I have heard better death threats from the children in Jasian slums that were paid off by the nobles to try and kill me." As he spoke, his voice seemed to grow louder and louder, reverberating in the ears of those who heard him, yet his voice stayed the same impassioned low that he had started with. Not only that, but his eyes, now swirling vortexes of auriferous viridian, the green getting darker and dark as it became like darkness, and the gold brighter and brighter as his temper rose, reaching a burning white hot radiance as magical energy began to sark off of him with a low cracking hum. "I've faced death many times in my short lifetime for my ideals, Paladin, and let me tell you that worse than you have tried and failed. With but a word, nay, but a thought, and I could leave you roasting right here and now before you could twitch. Do not think that I shall allow myself to be so easily cowed, nor that I should allow a threat against my life slide by so easily. DO. . . NOT. . . FUCK WITH ME!”[/b]

The tension in the air was getting so thick that some could probably find it hard to breath. For those watching, it was unclear how much of Drosil's attitude were caused by the drugs he had imbibed, or where simply his true nature brought to life. Either way, everyone could notice the dark pulsation of his staff, the transparency giving way to opaque blackness, and the flowing runes along the side began turning into harsh sigils. At his feet, a dark aura could be seen gathering, slowly climbing up his form with flashes of light emanating from within, as if some form of battle was occurring inside the writhing shadows.

Whatever chance Cyril had to respond was lost as soon as Drosil turned towards the Paladin. The Prince only paled as he watched the Paladin slowly tilt his head forwards, his expression still not changed in the slightest. Though many around them showed fear, such an emotion was apparently not available to the Paladin. [b]"A fool ye continue to prove to be, throwing around yer ignorance as if it were knowledge. I follow no church, as I need none. I commune with the Divines directly, something that an idiot such as thee cannot comprehend. Ye, who need yer structure. Your words are gilded, but they show what ye are; a child who wants all the toys. Ye are nothing more. It is time for a nap, ye child, for you have a long day tomorrow."[/b]

Once again, the Paladin moved, even faster than before. In the movement his arm was a blur, shooting up and hitting Drosil in the chest with enough force to send him back off of his feet, and down into the chair. At this moment the Prince finally swore, the action having happened so fast; the Paladin's hand broke through the aura with ease to land such a blow, and it did more as a sharp pain suddenly blossomed in the Jasian's chest. From Drosil's torso two inches of a nail protruded, having pierced the sternum with ease and sunk in a full four inches. The nail appeared to be silver, with gold inscriptions inlaid that began to glow rapidly as soon as they tasted blood. From the inscriptions light sparked, before suddenly spreading out like a spider web and disappearing; in that moment, Drosil would lose all feeling and ability to move.

[b]"For fuck's sake!"[/b] Christopher exclaimed from the floor, from where he still was thanks to Vesta. [b]"Can't a bastard eat in peace around you assholes?!"[/b]

Cyril tried going forward in that moment, though he was stopped as the Paladin's arm extended out to stop him in his tracks. Even as he continued to hold that arm up, the Paladin slowly brought his other hand up to push his glasses up his nose slightly. [b]"Ye carry children with ye, Prince Serio, and ye carry them into battle. A harsh education is in yer future, if ye continue on at this rate."[/b] Things were much quieter now, seeing as Drosil was silenced; in a way, the silence was more frightening than Drosil's bellowing, simply because the Paladin was much too calm of a man.

[b]"He... means well."[/b] Cyril said, actually looking under the Paladin's arm to get a look at Drosil. [b]"Grand words notwithstanding, he means well I think."

"Just how sure are ye, Prince?"[/b]

The Prince had no answer, not in the moment. Instead, finally, Cyril looked over to Arvis, with the time to address his question. [b]"In Gurata, their politics involve a lot more... fighting than ours do. It's good to have strong people to represent our cause."[/b] That was the clearest reason, and the one the Prince would say, but there was another one that had made itself apparent thanks to Drosil's outburst; in case something like that happened again, the Paladin would be able to help Cyril keep control of the situation, no matter who or what it came from.

Whether or not the Prince knew of that reason in the moment, or if he only thought of it later, didn't really matter in the moment. His focus had already turned to plans for the next day, gaze turning to the side briefly before he came to a few quick decisions, only then looking back to the group as a hole. [b]"Alright. Everyone, finish your meals, and then I'd recommend heading on up to rest. We'll be leaving at dawn, if not earlier. Get some rest."[/b]

With his orders given, Cyril turned to head for the stairs. In a matter of moments, Sampson had scarfed down his food and Gortul's, much to the surprise (but not annoyance, surprisingly enough) of the larger man. As those two made their way up as well, with Gortul having actually picked up Drosil to carry him along, Alasa followed after a moment. Meanwhile Diane, who had been covering Ayano's ears throughout the entirety of the confrontation between Drosil and the Paladin (especially in the moment with the nail), finally released Ayano's head and stood, helping her to her feet.

[b]"Come along, Ayano, we have a long day tomorrow."

"O-Okay!"[/b]

The Paladin, meanwhile, looked down to Christopher and said, [b]"Get up off the floor."

"Is it safe to yet? Anyone else want to throw a bloody hissy fit?"[/b] With other similar grumbles, the young man lifted himself up to his feet finally, before heading up as well. The Paladin would follow after a moment, after surveying the group slowly with his glasses glinting. Everyone else would be allowed to head to their rooms at their own pace, if they even chose to.

[i][h3]The Next Day - The Road North[/h3][/i]
Night passed, and morning came early. The Prince was serious about leaving at dawn, and so he was up well before the sunrise. The various members of the party were waken up with varying levels of difficulty, and preparations to leave were made rapidly. With everything already gathered and paid for, they were able to leave just as the sun came up, each person mounting their respective horses (or not, in the case of the Wanderer and his companion) to continue on the road to the north.

Though it continued to get colder, it was surprisingly clear the moment they crossed the border from Barcea into Gurata. Almost immediately, the road became less clear, less worn, and obviously less used. The road that they had travelled on from Barcea to Gurata was one of many roads throughout the nation; in contrast, it was the only road in Gurata, and it onjly proceeded as far as their destination. The land was very flat and often very stony, and for a while there was nothing for any of them to see at all...

So when something appeared in their way, it was all the more obvious it was there, in the form of a collapsed body.

[b]"What in the world...?"[/b] Cyril asked himself quietly, before quickly picking up the pace as they approached.