Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Chosen Undead, your fate… Is to succeed the Great Lord Gwyn”

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“Bearer of the Curse… Seek more powerful souls… Seek the King… Lest this land swallow you whole…”

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"Ashen one… To be unkindled is to be a vessel for souls…"

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“Ashen one… hearest thou my voice, still?”

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…

“-ey-...

Hey…

HEY!””

“Huh?!”

“What’s the matter? Why’d you suddenly space out?”

The Unkindled Blade of the Dark Moon felt a stab in his eyes as the darkness around him was abruptly replaced with the blinding rays of midday. While he was failing to make sense of his surroundings, an unfamiliar man with a black and purple vest and green hair was impatiently waiting for a reply while holding out a strange red orb.

“I’m asking a question, here! Are you gonna buy the appa or not?”

Instinctively, the Ashen One assumed the unknown mystical-looking orb was a catalyst of some kind, and swatted it out of the man’s hand in a panic.

“Wha- WHAT THE HELL’S YOUR PROBLEM, YA FREAK?! ARE YOU GONNA PAY FOR THAT?!”

“What- what is going on? Where am I?!” In a moment, panic turned to fear, then to anger. Grabbing either side of the man’s vest, the Undead in Lothric Knight armor pulled him closer.

“What have you done to me?! Where is the firekeeper?!”

With little-to-no hesitation, the man balled up a fist and struck the Ashen One across his helmeted jaw, which sent the Knight spiraling backward. The force astounded him. The man must have been some powerful brawler to hurt the Great-Lord-slaying Champion of Ash so easily.

“What, you think I can’t defend myself just ‘cause I’m a merchant? Huhhh?! Well, let me tell you, punk, I’ve dealt with my fair share of lowlifes in my time. So you’d better run on back to whatever bandit hole you crawled out of before I sic the guards on you! Now go on! Scram!”

The Ashen One simply sat on the ground, dazed. Looking around him, he could see bizarre creatures on all sides, looking down on him as if he were some lowly hollow. They were neither human nor undead. Some reminded him of the serpent-men from archdragon peak, others seemed more like the ragged experiments made by the Pontiff, only much more refined. Rubbing the jawline of the helmet to check for dents, he slowly stood and staggered away. For the first time in longer than he could remember, he felt overwhelming embarrassment. He continued stumbling, wanting to move out of sight, so he entered a thin alleyway.

I’ve taken hits from towering demons and Gods, yet a simple salesman struck me dumb so easily…

I suppose you should never get cocky even with so many souls coalesced. Havel, Ricard, Tsorig, No matter the hero, everyone can still be killed by some hollow. I would do well to remember that before I wind up in an unending cycle of death.

Hearing the rustling noise of footsteps behind him, The Ashen One slowly turned to meet three lumbering figures. One quite sizable, one considerably smaller, and in the middle, one quite thin.

Like a Giant, a Dwarf, and a Snake… he thought.

“I suppose you’ve come to gawk, have you? To ridicule the Lord-Slayer brought so low?”

“What are you goin’ on and on about? Did you hit your head, or something?” The Dwarf mocked.

“Oh, he’ll be alright. Listen, just give us everything you have, and we’ll let you go.” The Giant continued.

What?

He was confused.

“Are you insane? Me? You’re trying to rob… me?”

“Just shut up and give us what you got!” The Snake yelled.

Without needing to think, the Ashen One produced a simple longsword. The first weapon he had when he awoke in the Cemetery of Ash. One he had quite fond feelings of nostalgia and sentimentality for. Also the first weapon he ever infused, or had reinforced with a legendary slab of titanite. Once infused with fire, it currently had said infusion swapped to heavy so as to compliment his great strength. He had also been experimenting with the many pine resins he had collected.

Even if these fools are anything like hollow soldiers, they couldn’t possibly stand a chance, and yet despite seeing my armor, they approached without fear.

Upon seeing the blade, however, and more notably, his stance, the three seemed shocked, but the Snake stepped forward nonetheless, brandishing two long daggers. The others reluctantly followed, the Giant readying his fists, the Dwarf trying not to cower.

Are they undead, as well? Or are they simply so desperate for others' souls that they would target an armored Knight?

“Gotta say…” the Snake interrupted his thoughts, “after seeing ya get decked like that, we weren’t expecting ya to fight back, but if you think you can take us all…”

Ah, I see. They thought me incompetent. And now their pride won’t allow them to correct that mistake.

“Now I understand. You thought me an easy mark, eh? I’ve fought enough hollow thieves to know your tactics. Though I do admit the fact alone that you can talk makes you smarter than the many riffraff I’ve killed.”

“Quit your bluffing! You think you could be so tough without anyone knowing who you are? Come on!”

They three charged at him at once. Taking no chances, considering the strength of the merchant, he held nothing back. First, he ran forward bringing his sword low, swinging upward into the Snake’s right leg, cutting cleanly through and sending him toppling. As he followed through, the stunned Dwarf was in the perfect height and distance for a kick to the face, pressing him into the wall. Using the momentum to spin around,  he faced the Giant. He was too distracted by his friend’s bloody form to notice the Champion of Ash’s repositioning before his sword was brought up to the thug’s throat.

The Snake laid on the ground, shock rendered him mute, though he shivered and twitched from the pain. The Dwarf sat unconscious against the wall with a twisted expression. The Giant showed utter horror in his eyes.

“I didn’t want to kill you, considering I so rarely fight actual people, but I'm not the one who started this.”

“I- I… I understand… but, please… don’t kill us… We don’t have any other means of taking care of ours-”

“Nonsense. You are strong. The Dwarf seems like he could be quite the charmer if he trained for it. And that snake… Well, he could have made for a decent sellsword given time. You all had options. You chose to risk your lives for others’ souls. And look where it got you.”

Though the Giant twitched an eyebrow in confusion at hearing the stranger refer to souls, he didn't question the dangerous man.

“Please. I know I have no right to ask this, but please let me take him to a healer. In this empty world, all we have is each other. I can’t let him die like this. It’ll be a lesson for him, and for us. Please.”

The Giant, to the Ashen One’s surprise, was fighting off tears of genuine grief. He tried to think of the last time he’d seen anyone actually cry. The closest he could think of was when Patches, of all people, had failed to save Greirat from the threats within Lothric Castle.

Patches. The man who spent his entire existence feeding off of others for his meager possessions, was distraught over a man he failed to save.

“Honor among thieves…” he mumbled.

After another few moments' hesitation, he let down his sword, turned away from the Giant, and retrieved his Sunlight Talisman.

After he found one, horribly dirtied, in the dreadful swamp of Farron, he decided to demonstrate his faith by making one for himself. It was simple, some white cloth and a small red ribbon tied together and wrapped in a ring made from some impure gold. It worked well enough, and made him feel warm whenever he looked upon it.

His faith…

He thought for a moment.

What happened to Irina? After I let the flame die... Is she okay?

Shaking off the thought, he held the talisman over the Snake and recited two prayers. First, Caressing Tears, after which, the blood from the Snake’s leg stopped oozing. The second being Great Heal.

After the long incantation, a golden light swept across the alley, stirring the Snake back into consciousness. The Dwarf did not wake, but his grimacing face seemed to relax. The Giant watched in amazement as the Snake’s missing foot seemed to fade back into existence among a fuzzy haze of glowing dust. Finally, the foot was entirely replaced, the old one still laying gracelessly on the bloody cobblestone.

With finality, the Ashen One mumbled, “May the warmth of the First Flame guide your wayward souls to the Light.”

The Giant stepped forward, speechless with shock and relief. He turned to thank the mysterious stranger for his miracle, but the armored man was already gone. On the ground where he had been kneeling was another small talisman. This one composed only of a dirty scrap of cloth gilded with what looked like tarnished brass. The Giant took the talisman in his hand and looked thoughtfully toward the entrance to the alleyway. Before long, though, he helped the Snake to his reunited feet, and shook the Dwarf awake so they could leave as soon as possible.

Chapter Text

The Ashen One walked through the city, amazed at witnessing, for the first time in his undead life, a city thriving while still intact and full of happy, living people. The scale was like Irithyll, but the level of activity was closer to the ravenous ghru of Faron Swamp, only with the relative peace offered at Firelink Shrine. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of merchants selling wares that had nothing whatsoever to do with slaying Great Lords. It was surreal. When a very small person flew past, he almost swung at them, but he remembered that many of the people running, shouting, and waving were doing so with only pure intentions. It was an odd feeling to make abrupt contact with a person not trying to kill him. As they swept by, he caught a glimpse of yellow hair, some black headdress of sorts, and a red scarf.

A child, perhaps? It didn’t seem like a small adult like Greirat or that Dwarf from earlier.

The Champion of Ash reminisces on his ancient memories. So precious little of his past beyond awaking in the Cemetery is still within his mind. Hazy images of such small humans running through grass. Of beautiful flowers. An image of a twirling woman, a lover perhaps. Thinking on how this new land functions like the ancient stories say, he reaches toward his bottomless box to look upon one of his rusty coins, but cannot find the box on his person. He turns in place, searching in a panic. Nothing.

The Ashen One is utterly devastated. Never had his corpse been pillaged after his death save for exactly one item. The twinkling dragon torso stone taken by Hawkwood. But that was an honorable duel specifically regarding the item in question. Despite being in a new land surrounded by new people, even after his attempted mugging, he never considered that anything more than his collected souls could be at stake. That one could simply steal his bottomless box from him, effectively taking nearly everything he owns in one fell swoop.

Panic set in as he sprinted forward.

That small one! It ran by my right side. When it did, I felt a jostle. That must’ve been it!

Eager to reclaim his treasure, the Ashen One continues, unaware that the perpetrator had already doubled back, laughing at his complete obliviousness.

The Blade of the Dark Moon can almost feel himself going hollow as he wanders the winding roads, asking questions, making threats, attempting bribes of souls, all met with sneers and strange looks. One thing in all his despair manages to catch his eye, however. Long, straight, silver hair. Shining like the Dark Sun. Only one image exists in his mind as he sees it.

“FIREKEEPER!”

He charges as quickly as he can, shoving aside anyone and everything in his way. Nothing matters. Nothing except this last remnant of his old existence in this bizarre new place.

“FIREKEEP-” His halting voice is met with wide eyes. Purple irises reflecting his dust-caked helm.

“Eyes…

N-No… It… Couldn’t possibly be….”

Heartbroken, he feels ready to collapse before a now-familiar flash of yellow, black, and red blurs his vision once more. In a blast of wind and sound, the commotion settles with the silver-haired woman frazzled, and the blur of colors sprinting quickly out of sight.

The silver-haired woman fumbles, feeling around herself, then turns with shock and indignation, yelling at the Ashen One.

“Was this a ploy?! Are you with her?!”

The armored man simply stares dumbly at the girl until a connection is suddenly made and without another moment, he charges onward as fast as his legs could possibly carry him. Without realizing the woman had given chase as well, believing him to be a related culprit. He had no mind for anything other than the thief with his entire life in her possession.

Their chase takes them around the city, diving through crowds and around buildings. They move in and out of alleyways, zigzagging, as the thief fails to shake him. In a particularly long alleyway, the Champion of Ash lines up a shot and hurls a lightning spear. Hearing the crackling bolt, the girl turns to look, but too late, as the spear hits her in the back, sending her stumbling forward.

"Thought you could- GAH!"

As the Ashen One closes in, the girl hurls a shortsword at him. As quick as thought, he trades his talisman for his sword and at the same time, barely manages to bring his shield up in time to block her weapon. But as he lowers the shield, a splatter of mud is squarely lodged in the eyes of his helmet, blinding him. He drops his shield and begins scrabbling at his eyes to clear them. Rage builds as he abandons the attempt in favor of using his now-free left hand and pyromancy flame to blindly scorch the area with any spell he can think of, hoping to catch her by the sheer volume of flame. He hears no cries of pain, but as he strains his ears, a crystalline whistling approaches. He swings his sword, batting apart the missile of ice.

"Stop right there!"

A soft, yet forceful voice calls.

He finally wrenches his helmet off and sees before him the woman he mistook for the Firekeeper. Her long silver hair still sending aches through his undead heart. Upon further inspection, however, it's a wonder he ever thought they were similar. Her robes were stark white with purple and gold trim, and her ears were long and pointed. He notices that her arms are strangely held stiff in front of herself, as if to stop him from approaching.

"Who are you? Why did you stop me from catching that thief?"

"Don't play dumb with me! You distracted me earlier, allowing her to steal my insignia! When I questioned you, you ran away!"

"I was confused. She had taken something from me as well."

"Not sure I buy that… A little too convenient, ya know?"

The Ashen One darted his eyes about, attempting to find the source of the second voice.

A small grey-furred cat crawled from out of the girl's silver hair and onto her shoulder.

"You better not underestimate us. If you think we're such easy marks then you clearly aren't as sharp-eyed as you think."

I should really be more unnerved by something like this, but at this rate, nothing seems real.

"Listen well, Cat. I chose no mark, as you say. I have no affiliation with that thief. And if you think for one moment that one talking rodent and some strange ice-based pyromancer is enough to put me back in the ground, then you'll find your own ashes buried like the others who stood against me."

The girl looked confused, but the cat was utterly nonplussed.

"Pyromancer? What do you-"

"Don't mock me. You are clearly casting with no catalyst. You have neither charm nor stave, so you must be casting pyromancy, though I admit in a form I've never seen, the ice-based sorceries of Irithyll weren't dissimilar. I have many methods of circumventing anything you could throw at me."

"He's just trying to confuse us, to throw us off while she gets away. Let's just take care of him quick and get after her."

"Need I remind you that you were the one who fired upon me first?"

"Oh yeah? After that firestorm you sprayed all over? Come on, we need to get away from this guy."

The Ashen One prepared to sheathe his sword.

"If leaving is your goal, then we have no need to fight. You've wasted enough of my time already. You can't begin to imagine the treasure she stole from me."

"You really think we're that stupid, huh? The moment we turn our backs, we’re roast meat. Fat chance!”

"You think I would need such underhanded tricks? If I wished it, you'd be dead already. I've fought much more powerful mages than you, including your precious Pontiff."

Having now fully sheathed his sword, the Champion of Ash turns his back, reclaims his shield, then quickly trots in the direction of the thief.

"What do you think, Puck?"

"As much as I hate to admit it, it doesn't seem like he's bluffing. Gives me the creeps, though. Even with his back turned to us he just oozes with a murderous aura."

"Murderous?" She gasped.

"Not strictly toward us, to be fair. Just the feeling that he's ready and willing to kill anyone at any moment. We can't afford to waste more time, but it feels like we can't afford to lose track of him, either."

"Something he did was able to make the thief stumble. Otherwise, he couldn't have caught up. Her sword was lodged in his shield. Did he throw something?"

"It looked like it, but how it felt was more like magic, though what kind, I couldn’t say. And the way he uses fire magic is odd, too. He called it ‘pyromancy’. He mentioned ‘sorceries’ as well. Maybe his magic is somehow just fundamentally different from ours?"

They debated for a moment while following him at a safe distance. The Ashen One was becoming irritated by the mumbling behind him. He couldn't quite make out most of their words, but he could hear enough to know what they were planning.

"I can't imagine you two suddenly realized your error and decided to help me now, have you?"

He asked as he abruptly turned halfway to look back at them.

They both grimaced in response. Neither of them liked the way he seemed to belittle them. Problem was, he was partially right.

The girl considered that the stranger may have been telling the truth. In which case, she would feel quite bad about having slowed him down.

But if he really is a victim as well, he should know full well what I’m going through, too.

Unless… Was the item stolen from him… Really more precious than what was taken from me?

“Assuming what you have said has been true thus far, we cannot afford to work separately in retrieving our respective stolen items.”

“I’ll be fine on my own. Have been for most of my time.”

The cat chimed in,

“But we can tell you aren’t from around here. You clearly don’t know your way around the place. How are you gonna manage without our help?”

“Miracles of guidance.”

He once again retrieved his sunlight talisman, knelt, and recited the Seek Guidance prayer. In a flood of golden light and sparks, the area in his vicinity remained stubbornly destitute of guiding messages.

“Was that… Some kind of… Divination?”

“It was supposed to be… Well, in essence, anyway. It seems the old Gods of Lordran don't know much of this strange new place."

"Is that where you're from? Lordran? I've never heard of it."

"No, not Lordran, as it's been long since reduced to ashes and rubble. I'm from the Kingdom of Lothric, which may very well be built on the bones of the ancient land of the Lords. After all, it is a place where many kingdoms lost to time have converged. In any case, I need no guidance. I have braced a few thief dens in my past. It couldn’t be too hard to find her.”

“You say that, but…”

The Cat smirked from the girl’s shoulder.

The Ashen One had failed to comprehend the sheer scale of the Capitol. They talked while traveling the streets in search of any clues.

"Lugunica, huh? No surprise I've never heard of it if you didn't know about Lordran. But we must surely be near Irithyll judging by your ice magic."

"We've never heard of any of the places you mentioned so far. My ice magic is, while not exactly common, pretty normal here in Lugunica."

"I've never seen ice pyromancy. In Irithyll I faced mages that used ice-based sorceries, but not pyromancy."

"You keep using that word. Here, what I use is called "the spirit arts". I utilize spirits to draw mana from the atmosphere which is used to power my spells."

"Fascinating. Pyromancy comes from within, utilizing the energy of your own body. Sorcery uses the strength of your soul, and miracles borrow strength from the Gods and use your physical energy to channel it."

"Oh, you must be talking about divine protections."

"Whatever you want to call them. They are cast with charms and talismans powered by faith. Sorceries use staves or staffs, and I've heard of, though never seen, wands be utilized. Pyromancy, on the other hand, uses no physical catalyst. The flame wielded in the hand can only be given by a master Pyromancer and is believed to be some small fragment of the First Flame, or perhaps the Profaned Flame."

“That’s…”

The cat began.

“...Different.”

The girl finished.

The group decided to head for high ground, to see where a thief might hide in the city.

As they made their way up a tall and wide set of stairs, The girl realized something.

“Ah! We never introduced ourselves! My name is Emilia, and this is Puck! What’s your name?”

“Folks have called me ‘The Ashen One’, or even ‘Champion of Ash’.”

“Ash? Why ash?”

The armored stranger turned to face her with hard eyes that she couldn’t see.

“I am Unkindled.”

“I… don’t understand. What is ‘Unkindled’?”

Further irritated, he continued.

“I bear the Dark Sign, but have failed to link the Flame in the past. Since my body had been reduced to cinders, a special ritual was required for my resurrection. The consequence being that I am no longer a typical undead. My body is made of the reconstituted ash from my previous one. I only appear to be a normal human. I even bleed like one.”

“You’re…

…

…undead?”

The stranger took a step down and confronted her.

“How can you possibly know nothing of the curse?! Do you think me such a fool?!”

A flash of white and blue light came together as a barrier of ice formed between them.

“You need to calm down, or I’ll lose my temper!”

“I will not have my patience tested again!”

Emilia stepped aside the barrier and glared at both Puck and the Ashen One.

“Both of you need to calm down! There is no need for any more disagreements between us!”

She turned to face the stranger, dropping her tone.

“It may be difficult to believe that I know nothing of what you’re talking about, but it’s true that everything you say sounds strange and impossible. We have never used magic the way you have, and people don’t just come back from the dead on a daily basis. I’m sure that you have no idea how to use the same spells we do, isn’t that right?”

The armored stranger kept his mouth closed and pondered.

Is this land really devoid of the curse? Has salvation been so easy to find all along? Just to find some far-off land? Has it all really been for nothing?

…

Is this…

...my punishment?

Solemnly, the Ashen One turned and trudged further up the stairs.

Emilia turned to face Puck and glared.

“I know, I know. I just didn’t like the way he was menacing you like that. Sorry, just take it as the usual care from your overprotective father.”

“I know you’re just looking out for me, but I really think this man is in a far worse position than he realizes. If I can make him see just how much he doesn’t know, maybe he’ll be willing to accept help.”

“You give people too much credit, Lia… But that’s one of the things I love most about you.”

They smiled and Emilia began following the Ashen One up the stairs once more.

When they arrived at the plaza at the top, they were both silently scanning the horizon for the likely hiding place of their thief.

“I’m sorry. For yelling.”

Emilia was surprised when he was the first to speak.

“Where I come from, there are many undead who had faced great hardship for being seen as disgusting vermin. I suppose I’m too used to people assuming I’m only days away from hollowing at any given moment, and it frustrated me to think that an entire community existed full of people who had no idea about the curse... I’m sorry.”

There was an awkwardly long pause as Emilia found the right words.

“I-... I’m sorry too. I had no idea that it was a taboo subject, but now that I understand a little better, I can understand something of that pain… You see… I’m... a half-elf…”

He turned to see her holding her head down in shame.

“A half-what?”

Her head shot up with confusion.

“A half-elf!”

“...”

“...”

“What is an elf?”

“...”

“...”

“Oh.”

Emilia began giggling.

“Now I see exactly why that would upset you so much.”

Despite himself, the Champion of Ash began giggling as well, until they were both heartilly laughing at each others’ symmetrical ignorance.

They sat together and began discussing the lore of their respective societies.

“...With the advent of fire came disparity; heat and cold, life and death, light and dark…”

“...The Witch of Envy devoured half of the world in her jealous fury…”

“...Gwyn, the Lord of Sunlight, immolated himself in the First Flame to rejuvenate the world, and all Lords of Cinder before me had done the same…”

“...The Holy Dragon, Volcanica made a covenant with the royal family to…”

“...The Dark Sign, the undead curse, was placed upon humans to correct this Sin…”

“...The Human-Demihuman civil war ended around 50 years ago…”

“...After I slayed the Lords, I returned to the Kiln of the First Flame, and faced the combined souls of all past Lords to claim my right to the power of the Flame…”

“...For so long, half-elves like myself have been disparaged for their shared lineage with the Witch…”

“...And so it was that I let the Flame die, so that the world would finally know the peace of natural order, but as I heard the Firekeeper speak in the darkness, I felt a sort of vertigo, and when I opened my eyes, I was here in Lugunica.”

“Wait, you didn’t travel here? You just appeared as if by magic?”

“Yes. One moment, it was oppressive darkness, and the next, I was blinded by the sun and a man was accosting me over some strange-looking wares.”

Puck peeked out from Emilia’s hair to join the conversation.

“It sounds like you’re from beyond the Waterfall!”

“Waterfall? I’ve never traveled through something like that before.”

“The legends say only a Dragon can willingly cross the Great Waterfall and see the worlds beyond.”

“Dragons? I killed a couple, but they’ve never transported me… to… Wait a moment… The tunnel behind Oceiros led to the Untended Graves. Is that what they meant?”

“You’ve… killed… Dragons?!”

“Never without provocation, I can assure you. I have no plans to repeat such feats with your Holy Dragon unless absolutely necessary. In response to this “Waterfall”, though, I have indeed traveled through time and to distant lands, but always ones connected to Lothric, and always with the option to return via Linked bonfires. Without the First Flame, however, it’s quite possible the consuming Darkness had forcibly transported me, though with no Linked Fires by which to return.”

“That’s horrible! To never be allowed to return home…”

“No. My ‘home’ as it was, is a cesspool of rot and decay. Good riddance to it, I say. The only thing I can miss is my comrades. Some of whom were filth, but nonetheless had a roguish charm that I begrudgingly came to enjoy.”

"It sounds like you miss them a lot…"

"Funny… I didn't think I would when I decided to let the Flame die, but after only a few hours without them, I feel… empty… almost…

…

…

...hollow."

"..."

"..."

Eager to change the subject, he lifted his head and pointed out to the dark settlement in the distance.

"There. I'd wager everything, which I suppose I technically am, that the thief's hideout is there. It looks just like the undead settlement at the foot of the High Wall of Lothric. There were more thieves there than anywhere else. Let's go."

"Right!"

They made their way through the slums, getting dirty looks the whole while.

I suppose they think I'm some royal Knight protecting a prissy princess from their filth. Patches was much the same way when we met. I can't quite blame them, though.

He had an idea. He took off his helmet and wiped his face, smearing dust over it.

"Are you too hot?"

"Even extreme temperatures don't bother me much. I figured if I present myself while as dingy and dirty as themselves, they'd be more inclined to offer help. You know, show them I'm not some prideful silver Knight that thinks he's above getting dirty."

"That's a good idea. Still, though, if I'm here walking with you it might not work."

"Let's try."

He waved a hand to a man walking by.

"Excuse me, we're looking for a small thief with yellow hair and some black headdress. I'm trying to retrieve something priceless she stole from me. Do you know where I could find her?"

The man looked confused.

Emilia frowned and tilted her head. With a finger on her chin, she asked,

“Headdress? You mean the bow that was in her hair?”

Now it was his turn to tilt his head.

What kind of arrow would you shoot with a bow like that?

But clearly, it was true, as the man's expression cleared with recognition.

"Oh, you must mean Felt. I don't know where she lives, but if it's as valuable as you say, she probably would've already pawned it. Your best bet is heading to Old Man Rom's loothouse just down… thataways a bit. Good luck getting your stuff back, brother. Live strong."

The man pointed down a nearby walkway and held up a hand in a gesture of solidarity.

Felt, eh? So that’s the name of our thief.

Doing the same, the Ashen One thanked him before turning away, then held up a fist in a gesture befitting Quiet Resolve.

Emilia followed along by his side.

"What… did you lose, if you don't mind me asking?"

The Ashen One smiled,

"You'll see. It's pretty astounding for how small it is."

Puck loudly failed to stifle laughter at hearing that.

"Oh, I bet it is. Reeeaaal small, huh? But oh-so precious?"

The armored man didn't seem to understand the cat's double entendre.

"You are quite small, yourself, aren't you?"

Disappointed that his joke went unnoticed, he pouted from within Emilia's hair.

Emilia looked up while shielding her eyes from the drifting star.

"The sun will be going down soon, so we better hurry."

"The sun will go down?!"

"Wha- um… Yes?! Is that… weird?"

"...Where I come from the sun seems to remain static over the sky, only shifting when you move from place to place."

"Wow. You really are from beyond the Waterfall, aren't you? The sun definitely doesn't act like that anywhere on our continent."

The Ashen One looked at the sun in wonder.

A moving sun?

Is it a new God? Is that why my miracles have still worked since my great betrayal?

Finally, as the sky began to darken, they approached the loothouse.

"This must be it. If we can't find our possessions here, then we'll have to start looking in the dark."

"If it comes to that, I would rather continue in the morning with a fresh mind."

"That would be hours wasted. What would you do for all that time?"

"...Sleep?!"

"..."

"..."

"...What's-"

"Oh, come on!"

"I'm kidding. I know what sleeping is. I tried it once. It was relaxing, but it also made me nervous to think that anyone could so easily sneak up on me for so many hours."

"You don't need to sleep?"

"Nor eat, nor drink. I also have no sexual desires, however I have made romantic connections."

"Really? That's so strange."

"Not really. I'm already dead, so it makes sense that I can't create new life. Anyway, we ought to quit stalling."

He took a step up toward the porch.

"Wait!"

Emilia pulled his arm.

"What is it?"

"I never heard your name earlier."

"You did. I'm The Ashen One."

"That's not a name."

"It certainly is. And has worked perfectly well for me so far."

Emilia held stubbornly firm.

"I'm not gonna call you that mouthful. You need to give me a name."

He sighed.

"I don't remember it…"

"What? How can you forget your own name?"

An aggravated growl creeping into his voice, he replied,

"The undead curse leeches our memories from us until nothing is left and we go hollow. I don't. Remember. It."

Emilia was silent for a moment.

"I'm sorry."

"..."

“...”

“...”

"...may I… give you one?"

“...”

“...”

"...No."

The Ashen One opened the door to the loothouse, stepped inside, and slammed it shut behind him.

With no windows, the orange light of sunset failed to reach the inside of the building. Luckily, his emberred body naturally produced a small amount of light, and since, without his bottomless box, he couldn't retrieve a torch, he held out his pyromancy flame to further lighy his way. He expected some sort of guard to watch over the place, but it was dead quiet. Following his old habits, he looked for hollow thieves clinging to walls and ceilings to ambush him. So intent on looking in these unusual places, he failed to notice a few obvious things. First was the shadow creeping around him every time he turned his back. Second was the growing pool of warm blood, and last were the two still-warm corpses in the corners of the room.

"No traps, no ambushes, no guards, nothing. It's like they don't expect to be stolen from. Yet they make their living by taking from others? Not a smart way to live… Well, I guess it's safe for Emilia to come in, too."

He turned to face the door he came from, but as he did, he felt a cold, menacing presence. Too late, however, as the cold bite of steel entered his back. Spinning to knock away the attacker, he stumbled, failing to properly roll away. He wound up on the ground, his hands behind him with his back toward the adjacent wall.

Suddenly, he realized he had not stopped bleeding. He would die much sooner than usual.

"Well. You're certainly hearty. To move around like that with a blade in your lung? Impressive."

A cold, almost seductive voice called from the darkness.

As the attacker approached, her face came into his light. She was strangely beautiful.

No time for miracles, no chance to move, not even enough time for estus with her this close...

The Ashen One did the only thing he could do and waited for her to come closer so he could spring an attack.

"And the way you shine, so! Like a beautiful Star! Ah, I can't wait to study your innards! But as we have our special guest approaching, I must finish this quickly. I'll send you to meet the angels."

She spoke as she produced a second weapon. A long, curved knife clearly meant for assassination.

There's little I could do to win this now, but I'm undead, so if she isn't, I just need to take her down with me and I win.

As she rushed inward, he leaned forward and reached a hand out, while feeling the blade enter his throat.

Too late, wretch,

He thought as his vision turned black. He felt his target clearly in his hand. He squeezed, crushing it, feeling a liquid flow over his hand.

"Wha- WHAT THE HELL’S YOUR PROBLEM, YA FREAK?! ARE YOU GONNA PAY FOR THAT?!”

"...What-?"

Chapter Text

The Ashen One looked at the crushed orb in his hand. It was not the assassin's neck, as he thought. The liquid was not blood, but a clear liquid running from what he now understood was a red fruit.

"HEY, ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?!"

The shopkeeper pulled the Knight closer.

Instinctively, he knocked the man's arm away, pinned it to the counter and pulled his sword out. He brought the weapon up menacingly but had no plans to attack.

All around him were gasps and yells. Someone was calling for guards.

"Listen to me. Tell me truthfully. Who are you, and why am I here?"

"What, are you insane?! I'm just a merchant! You're the one that walked up to me! I tried to offer you an appa and you freaked out on me!"

"I walked up to you?"

"How the hell else would you be there?! I didn't notice you at first, but when I saw you standing there, I greeted you like any other customer."

What motive would he have to lie? If he was the one who brought me here, he would have done something by now. Both times I've provoked him, he had responded with only proportional anger.

"...Very well."

He let go of the man and sheathed his sword.

"You may not believe it, but I am sincerely sorry for the trouble. I only wish I had proper currency to offer as compensation for your… appas? But as my box was stol-"

He absently reached for where his box would be as he spoke, only to find it hanging right there on his belt.

He quickly opened it and searched inside.

"It's here…"

"Well, great for you.'

The man grumbled, rubbing his sore arm.

"You gonna pay me now, or what?"

The Ashen One awkwardly realized he had none of this country's currency, so he placed an old gold coin on the counter and walked away. The shopkeeper, inspecting the coin, huffed disappointedly, but said nothing.

The Champion absently walked the streets of the capitol while taking inventory. Paranoid of losing his box again, he ducked into an alleyway.

"I suppose that, upon my death, my box was returned to me. It must have a closer connection with my soul than I realized."

He heard approaching footsteps behind him. He turned to see three familiar silhouettes.

The Giant, the Dwarf, and the Snake. What do they want now?

Upon meeting their gaze, the three became rigid.

"W-woah, is this 7th street?! M-man, I'm so lost, hah! Sorry to- to bug you… good… sir, Knight, sir."

The Snake stumbled over his words while the three slowly backed away at his lead.

"I suppose you haven't learned your lesson?"

He placed a hand on his sword.

The three panicked and ran away.

Faintly he could hear;

"I told you we shouldn't follow him!" 

And

"Didn't you see his sword? No way!"

I'm disappointed to know my good will went to waste. I won't particularly miss that talisman, though. I have plenty of better ones anyway.

Continuing to take inventory, he realized the talisman he had left behind as a show of good faith had made its way back into his possession. Unnerved by the strange occurrences, he made to leave.

Where to, though?

Suddenly, he made a startling revelation that Emilia was probably still at the loothouse. The memory of the assassin's words fluttered by.

'Our special guest'. She was targeting Emilia.

"Damnit! I need to get back there!"

He began sprinting toward the slums. On his way, a certain Firey-haired man heard a report from a concerned citizen about a crazed Knight attacking shopkeepers in the area. He would certainly have to investigate any shady characters he could find. Luckily, it seems there are three panicked hooligans here to help out…

In the slums, a Darkmoon Blade was doing his duty to help someone in dire straits. Rushing forward, he reached the loothouse and, without stopping to knock or otherwise investigate the area, he charged into the door, knocking it wide open.

“Emilia? Are you still here?”

“WHAT IN BLAZES ARE YOU DOING?!”

A Giant rose unsteadily to his feet behind a counter filled with booze.

“What kinda dumb piece of shit are you?!”

The Ashen One was utterly confused. He whirled around, looking for any signs of a struggle, and besides his having blown the door nearly off its hinges, none showed.

“You got about 5 seconds to convince me not to squash you like a bug right now!”

“Where is the girl?!”

“Who the hell are you talking about?! I deal with loot, not kidnappings!”

“There was a girl here! With silver hair and pointed ears! A… What was it… an elf! And another! With black hair and knives!”

“Whoever you’re looking for, pipsqueak, you got the wrong place, so get the hell out of my face!”

“I know they were here! You can’t lie to me!”

“I’m at my best when I got booze in me, so if I don’t know who you’re talking about, then they must not have been here! Now if you don’t walk out that door right now, you’re gonna have hell to pay!”

The Old man threateningly placed a hand on a large wooden club hanging on the wall.

“I’ve fought much larger Giants than you, old man. You can’t intimidate me so easily.”

The old man vaulted over the counter with the large club in one hand. He swung it mightily at the Champion of Ash as if it weighed little more than a knife.

Narrowly rolling away from the blow, the Ashen One readied his sword and applied gold pine resin to it.

“Ya think some sparks are gonna scare me off! Ain’t no fancy magic ever did me in on any battlefield!”

The Giant swung his club with an overhead strike, looking to crush the foe.

The Knight rolled forward, coming behind the old man, and brought his sword up on his back. He made two good slashes before the Giant swung the club once more, spinning around to knock the attacker away, much like the Champion of Ash himself had done for his own attacker earlier.

Well, he's tough, and he's seen a good number of fights. Better finish this quick.

The cuts were surprisingly shallow, but still quite painful for the old man. On top of that, an unexpected side effect of the resin's lightning properties caused the muscles in his back to spasm uncontrollably which threw off his aim and balance considerably.

“D- damnit!”

The Giant swung two more times, utterly failing to meet his target.

The Ashen One rolled into the Giant, sliding past him, and swiped his sword across the right ankle. He cut much of the muscle, but couldn’t get through to the bone. Nevertheless, the Giant toppled forward onto one knee, bracing himself with the club. The Champion of Ash turned, grabbed the Giant’s thinning hair, and brought his sword around to his neck.

“I give you one final chance. Where are the girls who were here?”

Panting and gasping from the pain in his back and leg, the giant paused for breath.

“I- I- hah. I really don’t know… Who you’re talking about. Honest.”

“...So be it.”

Before he could slice the Giant’s throat, however, a blast of blue light came searing through the open door. Kicking off against the Giant’s massive frame, he threw himself backward, narrowly missing the strike.

“It seems I was too late to prevent further chaos. For that, I am truly ashamed.”

A regal voice called from beyond the cloud of dust.

What the hell was that? Soul stream?! No, it was more like a slice.

“Show yourself!”

As the dust settled, a red-haired youth could be seen wearing a white suit.

“Reinhardt Van Astrea, at your service. Though I am sincerely sorry I could not prevent the damage to your place of business.”

“This isn’t my place. And if that were the case, why did you fire that magic at me?”

“I was not talking to you, scoundrel. My strike was, indeed, meant for you alone.”

“And by what authority? I am only here to retrieve my stolen goods and to rescue a girl from an assassin. This Giant merely stood in my way.”

“That could be true, though you very closely resemble the report I recently heard. It seems you threatened a merchant in some altercation, then met with a few lowlifes. Now I find you here in a cesspool of crime, and attempting to murder a bartender? Who should I believe in this scenario, I wonder?”

“If you’re gonna get in my way, too, I’ll just put you down as well!”

The Ashen One ran toward the seemingly unarmed man and brought his sword up for a stab.

The man simply side-stepped the attempt in the blink of an eye, bringing a closed hand down into the undead’s skull.

Lights flashed and danced in his vision as he attempted to right himself, only to stumble and crawl along the ground. He heard the echo of a voice from what sounded very far away.

“Simpleton… My dearest apologies, sir, I was too late to save you from harm. While I have no methods of healing, I can put you to sleep so you feel no pain until I can get you to a proper healer.”

“N- no… thank you… I’m... f- fine…”

“P l e a sssss   ,   sss    i rrrrr………”

The sounds around the Ashen One blurred into a continuous droning as he tried to stand up.

Whha- t… th-    eeee …….    hhhhhEEELL is wr-wr-wrooong with…… mmmmee?

“You appear to have a concussion. You should not continue your resistance.”

Hearing that same voice much clearer, and much closer, the Ashen One panicked, and used his pyromancy flame to cast great combustion in its direction. He heard a quick gasp, followed by pattering sounds that may have been footsteps. Suddenly, he couldn’t hear, see, or feel anything.

…

…

“-ey-...

Hey…

HEY!””

The Ashen One opened his eyes and jerked his head upward to face the green-haired man before him.

“...”

“What’s the matter? Why’d you suddenly space out?”

“...”

“What’s your problem, man? You alright?”

“Guh…”

The Great-Lord-slaying Champion of Ash drooled into his helmet, then collapsed, unconscious.

A quick splash of cold water woke him up.

Was I just asleep?! How, why, who, where, what?!

He heard a buzzing noise that he vaguely recognized as speech, then he looked up to find the merchant from before. He held out a clay cup and one of the red “appas”

“Look, forget about the money. Just take these, alright?”

Why? Why here, again? Why him? Why is he being so kind when I threatened him before? What’s going on?

His racing thoughts were interrupted by the flow of silver hair. Banishing all thought, he leapt to his feet, flailed his head wildly, then chased after the image he saw.

“FIREKEEPER! FIREKEEP-”

Once more, he was met with shining purple irises, now reflecting his bare face.

Where’s my helmet?

That’s not the Firekeeper.

That’s Emilia.

Why is she here?

Did I die again?

Why don’t I come back to a bonfire?

Why is she looking at me like that?

Did she die, too?

She said she isn’t undead.

Did she lie to me?

So many different lines of thought crashed into each other as he attempted to hold onto his sanity.

“Who-… Who are you?”

“I- You know me… I’m… I’m the Ashen One.”

“What is your name? I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“I don’t… remember… don’t you remember?”

“I’ve never met you before, I’m certain.”

He was in a blind rage now.

“WHY DON’T ANY OF YOU REMEMBER?! IS EVERYONE HOLLOW BUT ME? AM I GOING HOLLOW?! AM I- AM I- Am… I…”

He began sobbing for the first time he could remember. Had he ever cried like this, even when he was alive?

“Am I… going hollow?!”

He fell to his knees. The prospect of losing his sanity was so terrifying to him. There was so little that he feared, but going hollow was definitely his greatest fear of all. To lose oneself to the curse permanently. He wore the cursebite ring because he believed it may help stave off the memory-wiping effects of the undead curse. As far as he knew, there was no evidence of this, but he was so terrified of the idea that he never removed it.

As he knelt, sobbing, that same flash of yellow, black, and red swept by. Emilia began ruffling around herself, then turned to him in a rage.

“Was this a ploy?! Are you with her?!”

He only began sobbing more heavily as his mind threatened to cave inward.

Her eyes twisted slightly, showing some amount of confusion and remorse, but then hardened as she turned and ran after the thief.

Wanting to be alone, he slowly crawled to his feet and shambled into a familiar alleyway.

Only to find three, also familiar, silhouettes approaching.

In sheer, blind fury, he pulled out his sword and threw it at the Giant. It buried itself in his skull, nearly cutting it clean in half.

After a moment of shocked silence, the other two became wild with grief and charged him. He made no attempt to stop the Snake from digging his daggers directly into the Undead's eyes.

Another moment of silence until…

“-ey-...

Hey…

HEY!””

“Sir.”

“Huh?”

“May I ask you… Do you remember seeing me today?”

“What? Never seen you before. You gonna buy something or what?”

The Ashen One remained calm and walked away from the man. He began walking down the street, ignoring the merchant’s grumbles of annoyance.

He stopped at a familiar spot and waited. After some time had passed, he saw that same flash of silver hair, though this time he restrained himself.

Everything is the same. Every single time. Not just their memories, but items as well. The appas, my bottomless box, Emilia’s stolen… whatever it was… Everything. Which means…

Like clockwork, he spotted the rushing blur of yellow, black, and red. This time, however, he intercepted the thief. He caught her shoulder and yanked her backward into a nearby alley.

“H-HEY, WHAT’RE Y-”

He pressed her into the wall, knocking the wind out of her.

“You. You’re a thief, aren’t you?”

“Who are you! Let me go!”

“You were going to steal from that elf, right?”

“An elf? The girl? Is she? Well, anyways, you pulled me away from my target, so let me go!”

“I want you to do something for me.”

“Get over yourself! Like I’d do anything like THAT for you! Gross!”

He jostled her again

“LISTEN TO ME!”

She stopped struggling for a moment.

“I want information. Then I’ll let you go.”

“...”

“I want to know about an assassin. She has black hair, a spot under her eye, black and purple clothes-”

“What are you talking about?”

She looked scared

“Why would I know anyone like that?! I don’t kill people, I just steal stuff!”

“You recognize the description I gave. I can tell. Who is she?”

“None of your business!”

“IT IS THE BUSINESS OF SOMEONE SHE KIL-”

…

…

…

Darkness.

All-consuming Darkness surrounded him.

He couldn’t breathe. He never felt suffocation before.

In his ear, he heard a cold whisper.

“I love you.”

…

…

…

As the light returned around him. He felt the Darksign on his chest burn white-hot  with searing pain. Struggling not to rip off his chest plate and scrabble at it, he simply groaned from the pain.

What the hell was that?!

“Y- CHOKIN- M-”

He looked up to see the girl, blue-faced, as his vice-grip on her collar was now squeezing it around her neck, suffocating her. Vaguely understanding the discomfort she experienced, he loosened his grip and she gasped for air.

After a moment of gathering herself, she spoke up.

“Listen. I don’t care anymore. You said you’d let me go if I told you?”

“...I will.”

“She’s the one that hired me to steal the insignia from that elf girl.”

“She did? Why?”

“I don’t know, I swear! I just know it’s really valuable. She offered ten holy coins for it. I’m hoping it’ll be enough to buy my way into a better living situation.”

He let go of her collar and backed away.

“I- I don’t… like being a thief… I convinced myself that I did, because I’m so good at it… But I hate stuff like this. Being threatened by people stronger than me, and feeling guilty, knowing that I’m not the victim. I don’t have any other options. Other than selling my body…”

She looked down at her feet.

The Ashen One thought for a moment. The Giant was large and strong. The Snake was surprisingly nimble, and seemed somewhat talented with a blade, probably without any training. The Dwarf seemed to have potential as a merchant, or negotiator. This girl, however… She was small. She was fast, but not strong. She was perfectly built for life as a thief, and not much else.

Without saying a word, he pulled up his bottomless box and rummaged through it.

The girl blushed and looked shocked. She began cowering toward the wall and covering herself.

He ignored her and found what he was looking for.

“Here.”

“I TOLD YOU I WOULDN’T DO ANYTHING LIKE THAT WITH YOU!”

“What are you talking about? I’m giving this to you!”

“What?”

“Here!”

He grabbed her wrist, pulled her hand up, and placed onto her palm a golden ring engraved into the shape of a twisted serpent.

“What? What is-”

“The covetous gold serpent ring. It increases the wearer’s chances of finding fortune. With this, you may not have to steal for the things you need. You might just come across them by luck instead.”

“A good luck charm?”

She asked incredulously.

“It has served me well. With this, I found many weapons, pieces of armor, and elixirs that have saved my life. I will miss it, but I see you need it much more than I do. If you don’t believe me, it’s yours to do with as you please. Sell it as jewelry, or melt it down for the gold if you desire.”

“Are you serious? Why would you give me something like this? You don’t even know me!”

“...”

He reminisced on his time talking with Greirat.

“I-I'm only a petty thief. I've nowhere else to go. Not like there's anything calling to me out there.. Heh!"

“I-... I knew a thief… He was surprisingly honorable… Smart, too. But he had nothing. He had nowhere to go and nothing to his name besides the goods he stole from people who were already dead and insane. He got himself killed trying to rob a castle just so he would feel like he made himself useful to me… I miss him.”

“...”

She looked down at the ring, inspecting its curves.

“I guess… I can respect that…”

She gently placed it onto the middle finger of her left hand. It fit surprisingly comfortably. She used a finger to gently pet the small head of the golden snake.

“Oh. And one more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t bother stealing that insignia. I’m gonna kill that monster who hired you.”

“...”

“...”

They turned to face a rustling of cloth and saw three silhouettes.

“We’ll… just come back later…”

The Snake said as they stepped away. He was eyeing the ring on her finger and her skimpy clothing.

“Fuckin’ AWKWARD!”

Chapter Text

"You're going to kill the lady that hired me?"

"She's an assassin planning to kill that elf girl, and probably you."

She considered his words for a moment.

"Normally, I'd just blow you off as some competitor trying to butt in for a cut… but that lady really rubbed me the wrong way…"

They walked together through the city, making their way to the slums.

"Say I believe you and help out. What's the plan?"

"Not too sure. Ambush, most likely, but where she is in the meantime is hard to tell. If you meet with her, we'll know exactly  where she is and when, but that puts you at risk, and only one of us can take her by surprise."

"Well, we're planning to meet at Old Man Rom's loothouse. He's a pretty intimidating Giant, so maybe she'll think twice."

The Ashen One remembered the large, dark-skinned old man he fought prior.

He was tough, but could he match her speed?

"I don't know… maybe with Emilia's help…"

"Who's that?"

"The girl you were hired to rob."

"Gah! You want HER help?!"

He stopped walking and faced her.

"Do you want that wretch inspecting your innards?"

She covered herself again.

"Agh. No… How do you know so much about this scary lady, anyways?"

She asked suspiciously.

"Let's just say I had a run-in with her in the past. Leading to a literal knife in the back."

"Geez. No wonder you're so bitter with her… So this elf… you want her help, too?"

"It couldn't hurt."

"What say this, then. If we meet up with the assassin and I don't have the insignia, what's to keep her from running away and catching the elf by surprise later?"

"Hmm…"

"Unless you intend to spend the rest of your life protecting her, her odds aren't so good."

"'The rest of my life' is far longer than you'd think, but you make a fair point. What are you getting at?"

"Well, say I follow through on my job. I nab the insignia and lead her there. Now it's you, me, Old Man Rom, AND the elf surrounding her while she's sitting amicably at the negotiations table."

"Hmm… Not bad… Still though…"

"You don't like the idea of tricking the elf?"

"I do owe her some consideration, since she taught me so much…"

"You got a better idea?"

He thought about the red-haired hero that stopped him earlier.

He seemed so noble and pure-hearted. Powerful, too. He'd certainly help us if we asked, but I have to wonder how he'd handle finding out that this one's a thief…"

"Not necessarily."

"Then it's settled. You know how to find the loothouse on your own?"

"Yeah."

"Then see ya there!"

She jetted off without another word.

"Wha- wait! Damnit… Well, I suppose we have our plan laid out for us."

He knocked on the door to the loothouse.

“For a rat?”

“Excuse me?”

“What the hell d'ya want?!”

“I’m supposed to meet Felt here.”

“Well, she ain’t here! Come back later!”

“She told me to wait here for her. She’s going to get into some trouble, so I’ll be waiting to help her.”

A long pause, then thundering footsteps came closer. He fought the urge to roll backward and ready his weapons.

The Giant swung the door open violently.

“Who the hell're you?”

“I’m The Ashen One. As I said, Felt asked me to come here and wait for her.”

“She di'n’t tell ya the password?”

“She ran off as soon as she decided what we would be doing.”

The Giant put a hand to his chin and hummed.

“...That is exactly what she would do… Alrigh', fine. But any funny bi'ness, and you’re out in the cold.”

He slinked back into the building, leaving the door open for him.

“Of course.”

He stepped inside, closing the door, but not before scanning the area for any signs of the assassin.

“What’sa matta with you, yer balls chafin’ you, ‘r wha’?”

“I’m concerned about the one we’ll be meeting here. The one who hired Felt to steal a certain object.”

“You said she’d be in trouble. What kinda trouble’re we talkin’?”

“I owe a debt to the person she was hired to steal from, so I stopped Felt, but the employer is an assassin planning to kill both the target, and, at least I’d wager, Felt herself. Her plan is to steal the object anyway, and begin negotiations so we can all get the drop on the assassin at once. After the dust settles, we’ll apologize to the target, return the item, and everything should be fine.”

“Mmm. Easier said than done. Assassins most of all would be used to such underhanded tricks. You know what kinda killer this is?”

“Not especially, no. I only know she is particularly stealthy, but strong enough to stab through plate metal. She has at least two fairly long curved knives. She dresses very immodestly, and has long black hair. She also has a dark spot under one of her eyes. The left one, I think.”

“Mmm… I don’t like this. She sounds like the real deal. You know why this item is so important?”

“It’s a… What was it? An insignia. Come to think of it, I don’t believe she ever explained what was so vital about it. I would presume it has something to do with proving birthright to a royal family or some such. I couldn’t think of any other reason for that kind of seal to be so important.”

“Sounds about right… Or maybe…”

Heavy knocks on the door. The old man gets up, stands at the door and yells,

“For a rat?”

“Poison.”

He opens the door, quickly pulls in the small girl, checks the surroundings, and slams the door shut.

“Wha! What’s the deal, Old Man Rom? You’re messin’ up my vest!”

“Why didn’t you tell me how much trouble this client was?”

“I had no idea. This guy shows up and tells me he’s gonna kill her cause she’s an assassin or whatever. Apparently she already got one over on him once or somethin'.”

Rom turns and looks at the Ashen One.

“It wasn’t a very long confrontation. She got me in the back with one of her knives, but I managed to make it out alright.”

Rom seemed unconvinced, but turned his attention back to Felt.

“You gotta be more careful with these kindsa people. What would I do if I found out you got hurt by one-a ‘em?”

“You worry too much! I’m fine.”

She crossed her arms.

He noticed the ring.

“Wha’s that? You just swipe it or some’n?”

“Nah, this guy gave it to me after I told him my sob story. Just some good luck charm or somethin’, but he said I remind him of an old friend of his.”

Rom looked at the Knight with even more suspicion.

He sure is protective of her. Are they related, or do they just care about each other that much?

“If you’re that worried, I should tell you I’m not capable of producing children.”

That did not lessen Rom’s suspicion one iota. He turned back to Felt.

“From now on, you let me help with handlin' clients, alrigh'?”

“I told you, I’m fine!”

She walked to the counter and hopped into a seat.

“Now hurry up and pour me somethin’, alright?”

The old man grumbled to himself, but readily obeyed.

"Anythin' fer you, guy?"

He hesitated.

"I'm not sure. What do you have?"

"Booze, mostly, and milk for the li'l one."

"Never had booze. Nor milk for that matter. I'll let you decide."

"Hah! Probably just milk fer you then."

He poured two glasses and took another swig of his own mug.

Felt sipped the milk.

"Ew, you water this down, or somethin' old man? Pretty gross stuff."

"I give you somethin' outta the goodness of my heart and you go and call it gross?"

He ruffled her hair as he spoke.

She squawks in protest, but doesn’t attempt to squirm out of his grip.

The Ashen One stared at the milk for a few seconds before removing his helmet and taking a sip.

Almost immediately, the watery sensation was displeasing, but he fought the urge to spit it out and swallowed. He is unable to hide a grimace, though, leaving Rom looking a little upset that his gift was poorly received by both guests.

"Sorry, the estus I normally drink is much thicker and very warm. The cold, thin sensation felt odd."

"Estus? Wuzzat?"

He pulled his estus flask from his waist and handed it to the Giant.

"Careful, the glass is strong, but not invincible."

The Giant eyed it before knocking it back. Almost immediately, his eyes bulged and he spat it onto the counter. He took long draughts of booze and spat each one out to clear his mouth. The estus that spilled steamed and seared the wood of the counter, ruining its finish.

"YOU TRYNA POISON ME?!"

He roared.

Immediately, the Ashen One retrieved the flask and drank until none was left, showing so by turning it upside down.

"No poison, I swear!  I didn't know estus was indigestible for humans."

"I ain't even no human, fool. That would kill about anyone!"

"Not me."

"I-... Huh... Fair enough… See how you like this spicy stuff, then."

He grinned devilishly and slammed the mug of ale onto the counter in front of the Knight.

Tentatively, he took the very large mug and inspected the foamy concoction. Frankly, it looked far less appetizing than the milk.

“Wait, is Emilia on her way?”

“Awww, don’t change the subject now that yer all scared!”

Rom goaded him.

"Emilia?”

“The elf girl, remember?”

“Oh yeah, you mentioned her name.  No worries. I left a little trail for her to follow, just not all too quickly, so she doesn’t get here too soon.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“It’s not the first time I led a target around by the nose, ya know. I told you, I’m pretty great at this stuff! The client should be here within the hour, and that elf should show up about 15 minutes after.”

“Wait, shouldn’t we want Emilia to get here first so we can explain the situation?”

“If the client is tailing her, too, which if she’s as stealthy as you say, she might just be, then It’d ruin the deal and SHE would get the drop on US instead.”

“Ah, you’re right.”

Trusting her confidence, he dropped the inquiry and turned his attention back to the “booze” laid before him.

"She may brag a lot, but she really is a wiz with this stuff, kid."

The Ashen One let the Giant's comment pass uncontested.

“...Well, here goes…”

He tipped the mug backward just enough to get a mouthful of the beverage.

After gulping down the surprisingly palatable liquor, he smacked his lips a few times, feeling a wave of nostalgia wash over him.

“Siegbrau!”

“Huh?”

“That’s what this is? I’ve had this! My friend, a Knight of Catarina, gave me some. I believe his own brew had some estus mixed in, so maybe I should avoid giving any to you, but I’m certain this was the base. Or something like this, anyway.”

The Giant’s curiosity was peaked.

“Interesting… I never heard of this ‘Catarina’.”

“I’m not surprised. According to Emilia, I would be what you’d call 

‘From beyond the Waterfall’. In the distant Kingdom of Lothric.”

“Woah! No kidding?!”

“Now, now, a lot of people claim to be from beyond the Waterfall. How do we know you’re telling the truth?”

“What reason would I have to lie? I am clearly a strange foreigner in this place. Do I seem anything like any person you’ve met?”

“Mmm… Ya might remind me of some-a those intense folks from Volachia, but I get yer point…”

“So what’s your old home like? Is it cold?”

“Some parts, yes. But to answer truthfully, it was a dead and broken place. The only safe haven to be had was still infested with hollows and ravenous hounds. The most grandiose of the great halls and temples I’ve seen were scorched, littered with countless pieces of corpses, dung, ash, and bone. It was a bloody and hollow thing, Lothric. I’m glad to be rid of it.”

The three sat in silence for a moment.

Until an ominous knock came at the door.

Chapter Text

The Ashen One and the Giant reached for their weapons.

"Alright, you guys, settle down. Act natural, or she'll know something's up."

"Where could I hide in here? If she sees me, I can't surprise her."

Felt held her chin for a moment.

"You said you had a run-in with her, but has she seen you out of your armor? We can say you're a prospective buyer."

"Ah! Good idea. I can do one better, though…"

He swapped his lothric helmet for the bannerless, generic knight helmet he awoke with in the cemetery of ash. He followed suit with his chestplate, bracers, and grieves.

"Woah, what the-"

"Is there a problem? This way, she won't recognize me."

Not that I think she would anyway, since I died.

"How'd you put on all that stuff so fast? I was starin' right at ya and even still didn't see it happen. It's like it just kinda blinked off an' on or some'n. An' where're you been keepin' it 'till now, anyways?"

"In my bottomless box. But we don't have time for more questions. Let her in before she gets suspicious."

Felt reluctantly did as he asked. She slowly opened it to reveal-

A blank doorway with the bright light of the afternoon shining in. Confused, they all glanced at each other.

A slender frame suddenly stepped into view, long silver hair flowing around as she surprised them.

"Hah! I knew it! The perpetrator was right here!"

Felt almost bit her tongue then backed away.

Oh, no. Everything's about to go wrong. Maybe we can still salvage this…

"Felt, hand her the insignia now! Come inside, hurry!"

"Wha- oh, yeah, right! Here!"

Felt grabbed a surprised Emilia's wrist and slapped the insignia into her palm, then pulled the girl through the doorway, shutting it as she went.

"Did you see her out there?"

"Didn't get a good look, but no."

"Well, here's hopin'..."

The old man relaxed his shoulders.

"Uhmm… excuse me?"

They all turned to look at Emilia.

"I uh… wasn't expecting you to be so cooperative- ah, don't get me wrong, it's suuuuper appreciated, it's just… what is… going on?"

The Ashen One stepped forward.

"First of all, you've been targeted for some time now. We're trying to stop the woman who's coming after you. She-"

He gestured to Felt

"-was hired to steal that insignia. I recognized the woman who hired her and knew she was a dangerous assassin. The plan was for you to arrive later so we could all surprise her at once."

"...I see…"

In a way that no others there could tell, she consulted her Great Spirit.

[Puck?]

[As far as I can tell, he doesn't seem to be lying. I can sense a great amount of malice coming from him, but not a single drop is aimed at you or me.]

Emilia placed a finger on her chin.

"But why would an assassin do any of this? Why target me at all, and why not just attack directly?"

"Perhaps…"

The Ashen one crossed his arms and tilted his head down in thought.

"Perhaps her goal isn't explicitly to kill you, but to render you powerless. The insignia is a way to strip you of status and authority, so perhaps she never intended to kill you in the first place. Only to disrupt."

"No, that doesn't make sense."

They looked to Felt.

"The original client would've just hired a thief like me directly. And if the girl wasn't marked for death, there'd be no reason to kill me, since it'd just be another random pickpocketing. Not a big murdery conspiracy that'd need to get covered up."

They all pondered on who the greater client was, and why they had all been incidentally brought together in such a strange way.

"Hey, wait… how'd you get here so fast? I was supposed to have given you the runaround."

"I saw the trail you left, but luckily, I communed with the nearby spirits who told me of your trick."

She sounded very proud of herself when she spoke about it.

"Hmph. Shoulda known it'd be some kinda cheat or somethin'"

Felt seemed disappointed at her failed scheme.

As the Ashen One suppressed a giggle at the scene, his scanning eyes detected a flash of light. Before his mind could even process the shining image of a curved blade, he shouted,

"PUCK, BLOCK!"

The assassin's knife clattered harmlessly against the ice barricade formed behind Emilia.

"Whew! That was close. Almost missed that! I'm a little creeped out you could tell I was there, but thanks for the save!"

"Worry about that later! Regardless of who we were this morning, right now, we're brothers and sisters in arms against this wench!"

"You wound me. All I wanted to do was reveal her innermost beauty. I don't get many chances to observe the entrails of a half-devil."

Devil? Emilia said half-elf. I assumed the other half was human…

He glanced at Felt and Old Man Rom who both looked surprised, but not overly concerned of this fact.

I suppose Devils are probably something like Demons. Just another race of people. Most Demons I've met were hostile, but I'd learned they weren't always that way.

"Why should we be bothered by anything a fiendish girl like you says? My adorable Lia has nothing to be ashamed of!"

Puck began firing blasts of ice magic at the assassin.

"Dear, it's been ages since anyone has referred to me as something so gentle as 'girl'."

"Well, from my perspective, all my opponents are little more than babies!"

The Ashen One stepped toward the action, feinting to the right, sending the assassin left into an oncoming projectile. She easily knocked it away, but glared in his direction.

"She's even faster than I thought. Rom, Felt, you two stay back. I don't know if you can match her."

Rom wanted to protest, but grumbled in frustration, knowing the knight was probably correct.

Felt, even though she would prefer to stay out of danger, wouldn't stand for being sidelined.

"I'll show you fast! Don't underestimate me!"

She grabbed the shortsword behind her back and sped forward in a blur.

"Ah, divine protection of wind. You are truly loved by this world!"

She's moving so fast I can hardly see her! Wait… Sort of like...

He had an idea to keep the assassin from countering while avoiding her wrath in return. Finding his prize, he slid a ring onto one of his fingers, replacing the chloranthy ring. Rushing forward, he caught the assassin's attention before she could start keeping track of Felt's movements. As soon as their eyes locked, he grinned and rolled forward.

Her eyes shot open as her knife found no bed. Swinging wildly around, she found the irritating Knight right behind her with a longsword in mid strike. She parried it with her other knife, but received a slash from the thief against her other underarm. Growling with anger, she failed to move said arm, taking a blast of ice from the spirit.

With the obscuring nature of the Carthus milk ring, the Champion of Ash could reposition himself and make feints to great effect. Until at last, when rolling backward to gain distance, he brought his head up to find a flying knife in front of his face.

Though he managed to turn his head, the knife skewered the helmet through his cheek, coming out on the other side.

Damn. Should never have skimped on upgrade materials for my armor… 

With regret, he remembered he had drunk all the estus in his flask earlier.

I'm too used to using as much as I want. I hope I can refill it here… maybe if I die…

…

No. Unlike before, everything resets when I die here. Even my victories and allies made will disappear. I won't let any lives be wasted.

Standing up, despite the impaled skull, he reached into his bag of gold pine resin and applied it to his blade.

"Woah, woah, woah, kid! Y'oughta rest up from some'n like tha'!" The Old Man yelled from his spot behind the counter. Felt had returned to his protection after one-too-many close calls.

With a sparkling sword, the Darkmoon Blade coldly yanked the steel out from his jaw without so much as a whimper.

"No worries..."

He tilted his head to the Giant, showing the misty ash forming around his injured mouth through the helmet.

"I ain't human either."

"My… what a fascinating body you have."

The assassin licked her lips.

"Unfortunately for you, I'm already spoken for. Anri of Astora is to be my blade in life, and in death."

With his left hand, he unsheathed Anri’s Straight Sword.

The assassin only licked her lips again in response.

Faster than the others could react, they clashed in the middle of the room. His longsword caught by the groove of her blade while she dodged stabs from the straight sword. Pushing away,  he jumped back to avoid a quick slice, then stepped forward in an attempt to cleave her leg. She jumped high into the air and, swinging from the wooden rafters, dove on top of him. With his shield put away, he had little to defend with. As such, he crossed the swords together to stop her fall. Landing with her feet balanced delicately on the swords’ hilts, she brought her remaining knife past the swords and into his shoulder.

I’m losing a lot of blood… Have to get her away from me.

He pulled the hilts inward and upward, bringing her feet together. It seemed she was counting on him losing mobility after another devastating wound, so she lost her balance and tilted forward. She repositioned her feet, though as she did, he swiped the swords apart, cutting well into her legs. With a howl, she landed behind him on one hand and kicked him away, sending him flying across the room. While her right leg was more damaged, her left leg, afflicted with the lightning resin, began twitching almost uncontrollably.

Lightning wasn't useless, but is a poor match. Let’s try…

He briefly re-sheathed Anri’s sword and reapplied resin, this time using pale pine resin for a magic buff.

Her eyes blood-red, the assassin glared with pure hatred at the Knight.

“Don’t forget about us!”

The Great Spirit cried while letting loose the magical barrage he had been preparing.

The assassin dodged as ice flew in every which way, but with her battered state, she caught more hits than she would have otherwise.

As Puck laid cover fire, Emilia made her way to the Knight.

“Oh, dear, how are you still standing?! I need to heal this right away!”

She placed her hands on either side of his face.

“No need. Save your focus”

He gently brushed her hands away and used his talisman to cast bountiful light, as he had no wish to inadvertently heal his enemy, and none of his allies were hurt.

“What is-”

Emilia gasped at the light.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll tell you later. Right now we need to put her down, and fast.”

Emilia stubbornly remained and began adding her healing magic to the process. He grumbled in return but did not protest.

“I can’t stand seeing other people get hurt because of me… I have to do something.”

“It’s not just for you. I have my own reasons for taking her on.”

“Even still… There, you seem better now.”

“Right. Excuse me.”

He moved past her and next to Puck, who was still firing magic.

“How long can you keep this up?”

“Not long! I’m almost out of mana!”

“Save the rest! Fire some more if she has me dead to rights.”

“Understood! Lia, come here!”

“Right!”

The assassin looked at the Knight with frustration, though now she held something of a smirk.

Is she enjoying this?

“You again.”

“Missed you too.”

He brandished his weapons in the Etiquette of the Faron Legion.

The assassin bared her teeth and flew at him. To her shock, he hurled the straightsword at her. She avoided it, but in midstride, he sliced at her with his glowing longsword. Trying to block it, she brought her weapon up, but he sliced clean through her wrist, disarming her. Seemingly unperturbed, she brought her other hand up in an attempt to claw out his eyes, or maybe his throat, but with a pyromancy flame in his free left hand, he used firesurge and hit her face directly. As she screamed, the fire blasted a hole through the ceiling and spewed into the night sky.

The assassin fell backward, clutching her scorched face with her only hand, but with no mercy, the Ashen One stepped forward, ready to release a fire orb.

“Wait!”

Emilia cried.

He turned and glared at her.

“What?!”

“Don’t you think she’s had enough?”

“...”

“...”

“...No.”

He turned back and readied the spell, though he was met with a stiletto shoe inches away from impaling his eye. He stepped backward to see most of her body frozen by Puck.

“Geez, cuttin’ it close there, huh pal? That’s about all I got, though. I’m wiped.”

Emilia coaxed him back into the crystal while glaring at the Knight.

“You need to learn restraint when your enemy is defeated.”

“You need to learn when your enemy truly is defeated. She will never stop killing so long as there’s life in her breast.”

“Speaking of, those things are just unfair!”

Felt loudly whispered from next to Rom.

Rom did his civic duty and smacked her over the head. Gently, of course, but it still hurt with his towering frame.

The Ashen One glared at Felt for a moment, before turning back to Emilia. In a gentler voice, he said,

“I understand and admire your mercy. But know that it lays wasted with scum like this.”

He gestured at the assassin’s writhing body with his longsword.

“People who follow their sense of honor and morality too far tend to end up in one place…”

He gestured with his free hand at the sword lodged in the far wall.

“...Murdered by a cause they had no idea they were following.

He turned back to the assassin and prepared another strike, but felt a familiar hum of power nearby. Not quite understanding its source, he jumped backward and brought Emilia to the ground with him. The door to the loothouse blasted open violently, though not quite so spectacularly as he thought.

“What are you doing?!”

Emilia yelled.

“S-sorry, I thought that whatever was coming would be more… flashy…”

In from the doorway stepped Reinherdt Van Astrea.

“Reinhardt?!”

Emilia called.

“Emilia?! I didn’t expect to see you here! I saw a blast of fire in the sky and came to investigate.”

“That fast? Why were you around here?”

The Undead asked.

“I wasn’t. I was at the guards’ barracks.”

“That’s all the way on the other side of the Capitol, isn’t it?”

“I am very fast.”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“I see you people have run into some trouble with a nasty character.”

He turned to look at the assassin.

“Elsa Granhiert, the Bowel Hunter. A surprise to find you here in the Capitol of Lugunica. I am impressed you managed to hold her off, Emilia.”

“Actually, it was… ah, I never caught your name, sir.”

“I am called The Ashen One.”

“That’s not a name!”

Felt chirped.

He sighed heavily.

“So I have been told.”

“Well, Sir Ashen One, it seems you are quite the commendable fighter. I take it you specialize in fire magic?”

“I also heavily use miracles, but yes.”

“Miracles? You mean divine protections?”

He sounded somewhat excited, but nervous.

“Apparently not, but this isn’t important right now. I was about to slay this wench.”

“It seems she is incapacitated for the time being.”

“That’s not enough. She needs to die, or she’ll never stop trying to kill us.”

“That isn’t the way we do things here. I am a Knight, not an executioner. If she is a danger to others, I would slay her with no hesitation, but at the moment, she is not. Therefore, I will detain her as the law states. If the Kingdom judges her worthy of execution, then justice will be served, but not a moment sooner.”

The Ashen One thought about it for a moment.

“Well… So long as you can hold her, I suppose I have no qualms. You seem strong enough. Certainly fast enough, anyway.”

“That’s Reinhardt, the Sword Saint!”

Felt admonished.

“Sword Saint? I trust that’s a lofty title? I’m sorry I don’t recognize it, and I meant no offense.”

“None was taken, stranger. I’m very glad you were so amenable. May I ask where you are from, perchance?”

“Lothric. A place I’m told is ‘beyond the Waterfall’.”

Reinhardt and Emilia both perked up at hearing this.

“Fascinating!”

Reinhardt again looked interested, but nervous.

“Is that true?”

Emilia looked excited.

“Wait, I thought you knew this girl.”

Felt chimed in again.

“Well, technically I know her, though she doesn’t know me.”

Emilia looked confused and slightly disturbed.

“Were you following me?”

“I ran into you once or twice, though I’m wearing different armor. I don’t think you would recognize me, regardless, however. I didn’t leave much of an impression.

I’m beginning to get tangled in my lies. I should be more truthful from now on… but…

He thought back to that moment in the alley when he was seared by some unknown force after he spoke about his death.

It seems these resets have something to do with the curse. And whatever entity is involved doesn’t want me sharing too much.

Thankfully, before more questions could be asked, Reinhardt changed the subject.

“So what brings you all here?”

“I discovered this assassin’s presence, ‘Elsa’, I suppose her name is. She had hired Felt here to steal an insignia from Emilia. Realizing the danger, I made a plan with Felt to help stop Elsa, as I knew she would likely be the next target.”

“A stolen… insignia…”

Reinhardt muttered.

It seemed he was fighting his knightly nature to punish wrongdoing by recognizing the good that was done here.

“Why did you steal the insignia?”

“I don’t know why the lady wanted it, but I already gave it back!”

Felt replied arogantly.

Emilia nodded her head at Reinhardt in confirmation.

“It must be super expensive, though. It’s got a fancy jewel and it glowed when I squeezed it, so it’s gotta have some kinda magic in it, right? That would sell for loads of- Wha?!”

As she spoke, Reinhardt went rigid and stomped toward her.

“What did you just say?”

“A-about the jewel?! I figured that’s why the lady wanted it!”

“You said it glowed for you?!”

“Y-Yeah?!”

Reinhardt was lost in thought for some time.

“What is your name?!”

“F-Felt.”

“Hey, back off the girl, mister!”

Rom held her closer.

Reinhardt ignored him.

“Your family name. How old are you?”

“I don’t have anything fancy like a family name. And I’m about… 15, I think. I don’t know my birthday.”

“Sir!”

He turned to Rom

“I must take this girl into my custody!”

“Like hell, you will! Over my dead body!”

“This is a grave matter, sir, but I assure you she will be well taken care of. I’ll be taking her to my estate where she will have clean clothes, warm food, and top-of-the-line care.”

“I don’ care if yer scrubbin’ her toes with angel’s tears ev’ry night, y’ain’t takin’ her!”

“Wait, wait, Old Man Rom. What if this is what we’ve been looking for? A way out of the slums? Into better living?”

“Against yer will?!”

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be.”

She glanced at the gold ring on her finger, thinking about the unknown man who died trying to rob a castle.

I don’t wanna end up like that guy.

The Thief and the Giant stared intensely at each other. Rom’s features slowly softened, and he looked at her with such gentle eyes.

He sighed very heavily.

“Man, yer gonna lead me to an early grave, kid. Alrigh'. Let’s do things yer way. An’ seein’ as my house is currently…”

A log of wood fell from the rafters, denting the floor beneath it.

“...Not doin’ too hot… I could use a nicer place to sleep fer some time.”

Reinhardt wasted no time in detailing where they would be going, and what they would be doing.

Meanwhile, Emilia kept watch on the mysterious Knight, who, in turn, kept watch on the assassin.

“What is your name?”

“Don’t have one.”

“...”

“...”

“Well… Ashen… One…”

She sounded quite uncomfortable saying the title.

“You saved my life. I need to repay you in some way. Please tell me, and if it’s within my power, I’ll do it.”

He was lost in his head for a few moments. Thinking about how they met, how he accidentally assisted in her pickpocketing, about how they spoke at length about each others’ societies, about their conflicting explanations of magic… And he thought about what he wanted.

I still don’t really know anything about this place. I’d like to learn. Maybe I can find a way back to Lothric, and offer a place of peaceful living for all those I left behind. I’d like to keep accompanying this girl, since I don’t know anyone else.

“I think I know what I want.”

“What is it?”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...Can you…

…give me…

…a name?”

Emilia stared dumbly for a moment, then giggled into her hand.

“Hahaha! Ah, of course! I’ll have to think of one… What kind of name do you want?”

“Something that doesn’t sound too strange, but will signal that I’m not from this land. Something that will immediately inform others of who... and what... I am.”

“Well, it would help me if I knew more about you. I always keep my promises, and I want to make sure it’s a good name. Would you mind coming with me back home until I come up with a good one?”

He took his helmet off and smiled at her.

“Of course.”

He performed an exaggerated, but Dignified Bow.

They both giggled again.

Reinhardt stepped toward them

“Sorry if I am interrupting, but I’d like to see for myself if what she said was true. May I see the insignia?”

Elsa began struggling against her icy restraint as Emilia pulled it out. The Ashen One instinctively reached for his sword, but Reinhardt held up a hand to stop him. He walked to Elsa and held his hand over her face. Some invisible action was done, and Elsa appeared to fall limp.

The Ashen One was frightened.

“Did you just kill her?!”

“No, no, I merely put her to sleep.”

Suddenly, a hazy recollection of jumbled words fell into place. When he was concussed, he heard something like that.

“Ah, I see. I was going to be angry if you had just killed her after admonishing me, like that, hah.”

Reinhardt saw no humor in the thought. Now taking the offered insignia, he tested Felt’s palm and, sure enough, the gem shone somewhat. Silently, he turned back to Emilia and handed it over.

“So, what will you be doing now?”

“I need to meet back up with Ram, then we’ll be returning to the Mathers Domain.”

“With this Knight in tow?”

“It seems so. I still need to repay him, after all.”

“I see.”

Reinhardt looked somewhat concerned, but trusted Emilia’s judgment.

“Well, I wish you good luck on your journey.”

He looked somberly upward at the moon through the hole in the ceiling.

“Tonight may be our last chance to gaze peacefully at the moon, after all.”

Emilia was confused and concerned over his words, but the Ashen One simply continued staring at the beautiful orb of light.

“The Dark Moon.”

He muttered to himself.

“So much brighter here…”

Chapter Text

Emilia and the unnamed Ashen One were walking to her hotel under the moonlight. He had removed his damaged helmet to see the moon more clearly.

"Is it really so pretty?"

"Pretty doesn't begin to describe it. In Lothric, I joined the "Blades of the Dark Moon". We were an order dedicated to upholding the righteous fury of Gwyndolin, last-born of Gwyn, the first lord of Cinder. The Dark Moon that hung above Anor Londo was nowhere near this majesty. This one has no darkness…"

She furrowed her brow

"Lord… of…?"

"...Ah, right, I forgot. I'll have to fill you in on the history of my people."

"Oh, and I can do the same for you!"

"Actually, I've already learned the basics, about the Witch of Envy, the Holy Dragon Volcanica, the Civil War, and some other bits and pieces. I'd love to learn more, though."

"Certainly! Perhaps you could join me when I study."

"You're a historian, then? It seems I couldn't have picked a better friend."

She stopped short. He failed to notice for a few steps, but stopped and turned.

"Emilia? Are you alright?"

"You said… 'friend'..."

She looked confused, perhaps even inquisitive. Almost as if testing him.

"...Yes? Was that wrong of me? I-"

Suddenly, he remembered her insignia. Oh, I see. She must be some kind of royalty. I suppose it was presumptuous on my part to call her a friend.

"I'm terribly sorry if I offended you with my forwardness. I didn't-"

She was appalled.

"No, no, no! Of course not! It's just… uhm…"

"'It's just'…?"

"It's just… I didn't know… friends could be made… so quickly…"

Her cheeks and ears were turning red.

"I take it you haven't had many friends… Well, most of the friends I've made have been the same way! Greirat only had Loretta, who was dead. I had assumed she was his mother, though I never broached the subject. Either way, he had no one besides me after that... Let's see... I was Cornyx's only student. I was the only one who tolerated Karla's tendencies toward dark magics. I was the only one who would rescue Irina and keep her comfortable. And… Anri… She had Horrace, but when he went hollow…"

He trailed off.

Tears began to fall.

Emilia rushed to him

"Ah! I- uh- I'm- I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to bring back painful memories for you!"

He looked at her and, with tears still plain in his eyes, grinned widely at her.

“Nonsense! Painful memories are of the few joys we can have!”

She looked disturbed at this.

He turned his head to face the sky directly upward.

"Seigward had Yhorm… Orbeck didn't care much for me, but I gave him every scroll I could find as promised, and while I never really dedicated myself to sorceries, I spent some time as his pupil. It made him happy for a time, I think... Ludleth… I think he almost fancied himself as a sort of Father to me. Passing advice and direction, though he never scolded me when I strayed from the path he'd chosen… And… of course…"

"..."

"...The Firekeeper…"

He was facing her directly now. Still teary-eyed, but still grinning.

"You look something like her. Mostly just by your hair, though… and by your fair complexion, too, I suppose. That's… why I was following you. The only beacon I found in this strange new world."

Emilia frowned at him with pity, but said nothing.

[Puck?]

[Again, he doesn't seem to be lying. And his malice has almost disappeared.]

[Almost?]

[No worries. He just seems the type that’s so used to fighting for his life that he never loses that part of his will. None of it is directed toward us.]

[Strange…]

[Agreed. He seems kinda dangerous, so I'm worried about taking him with us, but I trust you know what you're doing. That, and even with this little mana left, he won't be able to lay a finger on my Lia!]

She smiled back at The Ashen One, whose eyes were still brimmed with tears.

[Thanks, Puck. But looking at him now, I don't think you need to worry.]

As they continued walking to the hotel, the conversation skewed toward Emilia's side.

"Oh, about earlier, I'm not a historian, per se… I just need to study the Kingdom's inner workings, its past achievements and failures, things like that."

"What for?"

She hesitated.

"Well, I wasn't exactly trying to keep this a secret, but I'm not technically supposed to talk about it until the announcement."

She started whispering.

"But I am to be one of the Royal Candidates to succeed the old Royal Family."

"Ah, Kingcraft, then. Never been an interest of mine, although..."

He turned his head and bit his lip.

"Well, I suppose that's not entirely true. I once desired power more than anything else, but I realized my power should not belong to any one ruler. I was on a path that would either make me a cruel King for all my unwilling subjects, or to become a pitiful catalyst in a long line of pawns, from which others could steal that same power for themselves. In the end, I chose to keep what I already had, and let that which I would have earned die in a long-awaited peace."

She tilted her head.

"I don't quite understand, but it sounds like you made a very admirable decision. Though, a very hard one, it seems.'

"Not as much as you would think… Ah, but enough of my rambling. Who is this 'Ram' we are meeting?"

"Right! She's one of two maids currently working at the mansion I live in. The mansion belongs to the Margrave, Roswaal L. Mathers, who is my sponsor in the Royal Selection."

"I see. So I need to earn his permission to stay, then? With currency, or with work?"

"Neither! At least…"

She put a finger on her lip.

"At least I don't think he'd make you work…"

She clenched her fists tightly in front of her.

"Maybe if I ask suuuuper hard!"

He laughed.

"No need, Emilia. If he wants me to, I will work for my stay. I may not look it, but I am very strong. Any hard labor would be a simple thing for me."

"Are you sure? The maids work suuuuper ridiculously hard every day!"

"Then I suppose someone should give them a hand."

I may as well learn new skills now that my talents for slaying Great Lords are no longer needed…

He thought about the assassin. Unable to help himself, he looked backward toward the slums, wherein that “Elsa Granhiert” still resided.

At least in theory…

Emilia noticed his worried expression.

“I’m sure Reinhardt will have no problem taking her into custody. He’s suuuuper strong!”

“Heh, you say that a lot.”

“Say what?”

“You say ‘suuuuper’ a lot.”

“I do? Hey, are you teasing me?”

She playfully smacked his armored shoulder, but eased her pout into a smile.

[Is this what it’s like to have friends?]

[I hope so.]

"You have something you say a lot, too!"

"Do I?"

"You say 'I suppose' a lot."

She giggled to herself.

"A lot like someone else I know."

__

__

“Hahhh, we’re here. This is the hotel I’m staying at. Time to rest our feet!”

They stopped in front of a large building. One almost identical to those around it, save for the sheer size.

“And that’s another thing…”

She looked at him as he slowly turned his head toward her.

“What... is a hotel, anyway? And how can you tell it apart from anything else? I’ve never seen so many intact buildings in my life!”

“Umm… A hotel is a place where people stay temporarily if they don’t already have a place to sleep wherever they're at. It’s also a place to put your things and to relax while you're traveling.”

“Do we… Have to sleep?”

A bright light shone from Emilia’s crystal as a certain grey cat appeared.

“Puck?!”

“Listen, buddy! Don’t think you can go around doin’ whatever with my daughter!”

He was all but snarling at the Champion of Ash.

“I-uh… Don’t understand. I only asked if we needed to sleep here.”

“Yeah, huh. I got my eye on you, wise guy.”

He floated away from the Knight while glaring menacingly.

“If he touches you in any way, don’t hesitate to squeeze me dry for all my Od.”

“I don’t get why you’re so worried. I’ll be fine! Plus, Ram will be there, too.”

The cat gave one last evil eye toward the man before returning to his crystal.

“What’s his problem?”

“I’m sorry about him. He’s just so protective of me. Ever since we’d met, he’s been the closest thing to a Father I’ve ever had.”

“I suppose he’s just concerned about a dangerous man like me in a closed-in space with you. Not much room to evade if a fight breaks out.”

“There won’t be any need to fight. Are you always thinking about such scary things?”

“It was normal back home. When you entered a building, it was common sense to check for hidden enemies before anything else.”

“Your home sure does sound scary…

…Are you really from beyond the Waterfall?”

“I assume so, based on what I’ve learned. Lothric doesn’t exist in any of the countries in your… I think it was… ‘continent’?”

“Right, and no, I’ve never heard of a Kingdom like that. You’ll have to tell me about your country, too!”

“Sure, but I may struggle to find much that’s pleasant to talk about.”

“Oh... What's-”

“Miss Emilia!”

They both turned toward the voice. A pink-haired girl of frail physique was running toward them. Her outfit was a bizarre mix of regal and humble. Like a servant’s garbs, but very ornate.

“Ram!”

“Miss Emilia, I’ve been looking all over the Capitol for you! Although it seems you’ve found an escort to help you back to the hotel.”

She faced him and bowed.

“Thank you, sir, for-”

To her confusion, he awkwardly imitated the gesture.

“...For… for helping my mistress. But I will be attending her from here.”

“Wait, Ram, he saved my life. I’ve agreed to take him back to the mansion with us.

Ram looked shocked, but then highly unconvinced.

“Saved… your life? How so, if I may ask?”

He stepped forward.

“There was an assassin sent to retrieve her insignia and kill her. I intercepted the thief and defeated the assassin.”

“And how did you know the whereabouts of this assassin?”

She stared at him coldly.

“That’s enough, Ram! Reinhardt was with us. If the Knight here was involved with her, then he would be able to tell.”

Ram seemed to begrudgingly accept that as truth.

I suppose they really aren’t exaggerating when they talk about that Reinhardt fellow. I suppose I could have determined that from our brief spat before.

“Very well, I shall withhold the rest of my questions, Miss Emilia. It seems I am in even greater debt to you, Mr…?”

“I am ‘The Ashen One”. Or ‘Champion of Ash’ if it pleases you.”

Ram fought the urge to scrunch her face in displeasure at failing to learn his name.

“He- uh… Doesn’t have a name… yet… But I promised to give him one.”

“So that he could stay at our mansion for free, I take it?”

“I insist that I will do what work is asked of me by the Margrave. If that includes washing his pet Basilisk, I will do as he pleases.”

“Basilisk?”

“It’s a nasty, vile creature that spits a fatal cloud of petrifying gas. It was merely a metaphor to state that I will do any unpleasant tasks if I am asked to.”

“...Very well.”

Ram still did not seem pleased, but she no longer protested.

They all made their way into the hotel. Since Emilia and Ram had separate rooms, Ram insisted that The Ashen One stay in her own room, for adequate ‘sense of propriety’. He was certain that she merely wanted to keep an eye on him, as did Puck. He didn't mind that so much. Although, as much as he disliked the thought of leaving himself vulnerable, he decided to trust that Ram would not betray her mistress by doing anything untoward against him while he slept.

If I am to be traveling with humans- er, elves and Devils, or what-have-you, I’ll learn to fit in with them.

At his insistence, Ram took the bed and he slept dressed as he was in his armor, sitting cross-armed in the cushioned chair. Unexpectedly nervous, he closed his eyes and relaxed. Instantly the tension in his muscles began to ease as he felt like his body was melting into the chair beneath him. Before very long, he was out cold.

A distant voice.

"   a   s   h   e   n       o   n   e   ,       w   h   e   r   e       h   a   v   e       y   o   u       g   o   n   e   ?   "

A frustratingly bright light leaked through the curtains as The Ashen One awoke. To his surprise, Ram was no longer in the bed and its sheets were made neat. He turned his head to look for her, but was met with a pillow thrown into his face. Reeling backward and removing it, he saw Ram standing with her clothes pristine, but with messy hair and baggy eyelids.

“You. Snore.”

She growled at him.

Uncertain of what to say or do, he tried to apologize, but didn’t know how. He had no idea what a ‘snore’ was, or why she would call him that. Nevertheless, she then seemed to completely ignore his presence and fixed her hair before splashing cold water in her face. When she decided she was now presentable, she made to leave and turned her head back at him.

"I will assist Miss Emilia with the preparations. We should be leaving in around one hour, so you have time to wash up and gather your things."

"Wash up?"

She frowned.

"Clean yourself. There is a bath in this hotel. Please use it before we leave for the mansion. Oh, and if you have something more comfortable than armor, you should wear it. Lord Roswaal dislikes attending people in more formal wear."

With that, she left the room.

He wasn't sure if he should be offended by her brusk manner, or thankful for her advice.

At least she doesn't seem to hate me…

Alright… It's time for this Lord of Cinder to learn what a 'bath' is.

After tentatively questioning the very helpful staff, he learned how to operate the water-summoning levers that fill and drain the bath.

"Don't worry, we get people from all over who've never seen plumbing before! No need to feel embarrassed!"

Nevertheless, he felt as though he was being talked down to. Though he was not so prideful as to refuse advice where he was clearly ignorant.

After undressing, rinsing his body with the warm water and 'soap', and drying off, it was time to decide how he would present himself from now on.

People here don't usually just walk around in armor at all times. Even Knights like Reinhardt. What can I wear instead?

He laid out several outfits that he had collected during his quest. After great consideration, and quickly ruling out any of the dresses, he chose the Clandestine Coat and the Mirrah Trousers. No gloves or headwear seemed necessary. He left the room to look for Emilia and Ram. He found Ram carrying a case that he presumed held Emilia's supplies.

"Shall I help you?"

He held his hands out to relieve her of the burden. She seemed to gratefully relinquish it.

"You are better dressed than I expected."

"It was surprisingly difficult to pick normal clothes. It was either this, more armor, or ragged robes."

"Where are your bags? We need to move them onto the carriage soon."

"Oh, I don't have any. No worries there."

Her eyebrows creased.

"Where did you put your armor, then? And where did you get your clothes?"

"From here."

He showed her the bottomless box he kept hanging on his belt.

She stared at him strangely. In response, he opened the box and pulled out his Lothric Knight helmet.

"See?"

Her eyes shot open.

"Ah, that is, indeed, powerful magic. Not unlike Miss Beatrice's Door Crossing. To create an item that is larger on the inside."

"I didn't create this, mind you. I have no idea how such a powerful relic is made."

She kept staring at it for a moment.

"Hmm… If anyone would, Miss Beatrice would know."

"Is this Miss Beatrice also at the mansion?"

"Yes, she oversees the Forbidden Library. Her specialized magic works very similarly so as to keep it hidden from intruders.”

Ah, a library, of course!

“I’ve been meaning to find a source of knowledge by which I could learn more about these strange lands. I don’t suppose Miss Beatrice would mind sharing, would she?”

“She rarely chooses to allow guests, but it is far from impossible... Perhaps if you made a good impression by showing your mutual appreciation for learning?"

"Understood. Thank you for all the helpful advice you've given me. It's very much appreciated."

She stared at him intensely for a very brief moment before replying,

"Of course, sir. You have saved my mistress, and for that, I must repay you."

He was a little uncomfortable with the idea of any more people feeling indebted to him.

"I really didn't do much... It was mostly for my own sake…"

"Modesty is nice, but sometimes it can be frustrating to hear. You should give yourself more credit for your actions. Just as, with failures, one should take responsibility."

"I… never thought of it that way."

"A piece of wisdom one could only learn by working as a servant."

She walked away as she spoke.

"Where are you going?"

"To fetch Miss Emilia. It is almost time to go. Please finish packing the rest."

He looked at the carriage. It had one small wooden box. He looked to his left. There were dozens of larger boxes and cases piled on the floor. He looked back at her.

Without turning around, she called out to him.

"Make use of your impressive strength to learn responsibility."

That little…

He laughed to himself.

Well, it's not like this will be hard for me.

"Good morning!"

“...Yes… I am… mourning well?”

Emilia tilted her head in her usual way as he replied with utter nonsense in his own usual way.

Ram ignored his seemingly poor-quality pun and walked around the carriage.

“I will attend to the ground dragons”

“‘Ground dragons’?”

She looked at him incredulously.

“They are beasts of burden that will pull the cart.”

He was mortified.

“You’ve domesticated dragons for something so simple as carrying you from place to place?”

Yet you were scared when I said I’ve killed some.

Emilia chimed in.

“Those are different from the Holy Dragon. They’re 'ground dragons', so they don’t have wings, and they aren’t intelligent or powerful in the same way as the Dragon. It seems I do still have much to teach you about our world.”

“Seems so. While we are on our way to the mansion it seems like the perfect time to start telling you about mine. Starting with the advent of fire and the original Lords.”

She looked excited.

“Please do!”

“The ground dragons are harnessed. We are ready to leave.”

They climbed into the carriage and made their way to the Mathers Domain.

The Ashen One had explained much of what he had during his first day in Lugunica, of which she remembered none. He told her of the Great Lord Gwyn, the first Lord of Cinder, and of the Witch Izalith who scorched the world with her Profaned Flame, and of the Paledrake who invented sorcery, and of the Deathbringer. He told her of the Dragons’ near extinction, and of the Fire’s fading over the many, many ages to come. How, when it finally came time for his turn on the pyre, he chose to let the Flame die to finally allow the world to become balanced.

She seemed especially interested in his becoming a Lord.

"Yes, I had become a Lord of Cinder, though a 'lord' named only for my great power. I had no subjects."

"But you had people who followed you into battle, did you not?"

"I did, but that's hardly the same."

"...Well, I'm sorry for interrupting, please continue."

By the time he had recounted his last moments in the Kiln of the First Flame and the Firekeeper's parting words, they passed through a small village full of curious glances.

“Are we close?”

“Yeah, this is Arlam. It’s within walking distance of the Mansion, so we’ll be there in just a few minutes.”

“Then could you tell me what to expect from the Margrave?”

“Well…”

She put a finger on her lip.

“He’s very… eccentric?”

Thus begins The Ashen One’s visit to the mansion of Roswaal L. Mathers.

Chapter Text

Chapter 1B: Lands Between

In the heart of the ancient Kingdom of Lordran, a lost legend of old was subject to pontification by an ancient serpentine being of dubious intent.

“Chosen Undead, your fate… Is to succeed the Great Lord Gwyn”

…

…

In the rare piece of respite within Drangleic known as Majula, two women converse over the fate of their Kingdom and the nature of the new-monarch-to-be.

“Bearer of the Curse… Seek more powerful souls… Seek the King… Lest this land swallow you whole…”

…

…

In the shattered remnants of the Kingdom of Lothric, a humble firekeeper speaks to a broken Failure. A husk of ash and bone.

"Ashen one… To be unkindled is to be a vessel for souls…"

…

…

In the desiccated core of existence itself, the Failure had risen above himself and claimed the title of Lord of Cinder. Though he, like Lords before him, wanted a new path for the world. In the resulting Dark, his voice of reason calls to him with but a twist of optimism.

“Ashen one… hearest thou my voice, still?”

…

…

“-ey-...

Hey…

HEY!””

“Huh?!”

“What’s the matter? Why’d you suddenly space out?”

The Unkindled Blade of the Dark Moon felt a stab in his eyes as the darkness around him was abruptly replaced with the blinding rays of midday. While he was failing to make sense of his surroundings, an unfamiliar man with a black and purple vest and green hair was impatiently waiting for a reply while holding out a strange red orb.

“I’m asking a question, here! Are you gonna buy the appa or not?”

Instinctively, the Ashen One assumed the unknown mystical-looking orb was a catalyst of some kind, and swatted it out of the man’s hand in a panic.

“Wha- WHAT THE HELL’S YOUR PROBLEM, YA FREAK?! ARE YOU GONNA PAY FOR THAT?!”

“What- what is going on? Where am I?!” In a moment, panic turned to fear, then to anger. Grabbing either side of the man’s vest, the Knight pulled him closer.

“What have you done to me?! Where is the Firekeeper?!”

With little-to-no hesitation, the man balled up a fist and struck the Ashen One across his helmeted jaw, which sent the Knight spiraling backward. The force astounded him. The man must have been some powerful brawler to hurt the Great-Lord-slaying Champion of Ash so easily.

“What, you think I can’t defend myself just ‘cause I’m a merchant? Huhhh?! Well, let me tell you, punk, I’ve dealt with my fair share of lowlifes in my time. So you’d better run on back to whatever bandit hole you crawled out of before I sic the guards on you! Now go on! Scram!”

The Ashen One simply sat on the ground, dazed. Looking around him, he could see bizarre creatures on all sides, looking down on him as if he were some lowly hollow. They were neither human nor undead. Some reminded him of the serpent-men from archdragon peak, others seemed more like the ragged experiments made by the Pontiff, only much more refined. Rubbing the jawline of the helmet to check for dents, he slowly stood and staggered away. For the first time in longer than he could remember, he felt overwhelming embarrassment. He continued stumbling, wanting to move out of sight, so he entered a thin alleyway.

I’ve taken hits from towering demons and Gods, yet a simple salesman struck me dumb so easily…

I suppose you should never get cocky even with so many souls coalesced. Even the most ancient heroes like Havel, Ricard, or Tsorig go hollow. Everyone can still be killed by unseemly foes. I would do well to remember that before I wind up in an unending cycle of death.

Hearing the rustling noise of footsteps behind him, The Ashen One slowly turned to meet three lumbering figures. One quite sizable, one considerably smaller, and in the middle, one quite thin.

Like a Giant, a Dwarf, and a Snake… he thought.

“I suppose you’ve come to gawk, have you? To ridicule the Lord-Slayer brought so low?”

“What are you goin’ on and on about? Did you hit your head, or something?” The Dwarf mocked.

“Oh, he’ll be alright. Listen, just give us everything you have, and we’ll let you go.” The Giant continued.

What?

He was confused.

“Are you insane? Me? You’re trying to rob… me?”

“Just shut up and give us what you got!” The Snake yelled.

Without needing to think, the Ashen One produced a simple longsword. The first weapon he had when he awoke in the Cemetery of Ash. One he had quite fond feelings of nostalgia and sentimentality for. Also the first weapon he ever infused, or had reinforced with a legendary slab of titanite. Once infused with fire, it currently had said infusion swapped with a heavy gem so as to compliment his great strength. He had also been experimenting with the many pine resins he had collected.

If these fools are anything like hollow soldiers, they couldn’t possibly stand a chance, and yet despite seeing my armor, they approached without fear.

Upon seeing the blade, however, and more notably, his stance, the three seemed shocked, but the Snake stepped forward nonetheless, brandishing two long daggers. The others reluctantly followed, the Giant readying his fists, the Dwarf trying not to cower.

Are they undead, as well? Or are they simply so desperate for others' souls that they would target an armored Knight?

“Gotta say…” the Snake interrupted his thoughts, “after seeing ya get decked like that, we weren’t expecting ya to fight back, but if you think you can take us all…”

Ah, I see. They thought I was incompetent. And now their pride won’t allow them to correct that mistake.

“I understand. You thought me an easy mark, eh? I’ve fought enough hollow thieves to know your tactics. Though I do admit the fact alone that you can talk makes you smarter than the many riffraff I’ve killed.”

The Dwarf did about the only thing he could do, and attempted to dig at the Knight’s morale.

“Quit your bluffing! You think you could be so tough without anyone knowing who you are?”

“Come on!”

The snake ordered.

The three charged at him at once. Taking no chances, considering the strength of the merchant, he held nothing back. First, he ran forward bringing his sword low, swinging upward into the Snake’s right leg, cutting cleanly through and sending him toppling. As he followed through, the stunned Dwarf was at the perfect height and distance for a kick to the face, pressing him into the wall. Using the momentum to spin around,  he faced the Giant who was too distracted by his friend’s bloody form to notice the Champion of Ash. He brought his sword up to the thug’s throat with no resistance.

The Snake laid on the ground, shock rendered him mute, though he shivered and twitched from the pain. The Dwarf sat unconscious against the wall with a twisted expression. The Giant showed utter horror in his eyes.

“I didn’t want to kill you, considering I so rarely fight actual people, but I'm not the one who started this.”

“I- I… I understand… but, please… don’t kill us… We don’t have any other means of taking care of ours-”

“Nonsense. You are strong. The Dwarf seems like he could be quite the charmer if he trained for it. And that snake… Well, he could have made for a decent sellsword given time. You all had options. You chose to risk your lives for others’ souls. And look where it got you.”

Though the Giant twitched an eyebrow in confusion at hearing the stranger refer to souls, he didn't question the dangerous man.

“Please. I know I have no right to ask this, but please let me take him to a healer. In this empty world, all we have is each other. I can’t let him die like this. It’ll be a lesson for him, and for us. Please.”

The Giant, to the Ashen One’s surprise, was fighting off tears of genuine grief. He tried to think of the last time he’d seen anyone actually cry. The closest he could think of was when Patches, of all people, had failed to save Greirat from the threats within Lothric Castle.

Patches. The man who spent his entire existence feeding off of others for his meager possessions, was distraught over a man he failed to save.

“Honor among thieves…” he mumbled.

After another few moments' hesitation, he let down his sword, turned away from the Giant, and retrieved his Sunlight Talisman.

After he found one, horribly dirtied, in the dreadful swamp of Faron, he decided to demonstrate his faith by making one for himself. It was simple, some white cloth and a small red ribbon tied together and wrapped in a ring made from some impure gold. It worked well enough, and made him feel warm whenever he looked upon it.

His faith…

He thought for a moment.

What happened to irina. After I let the flame die... Is she okay?

Shaking off the thought, he held the talisman over the Snake and recited two prayers. First, Caressing Tears, after which, the blood from the Snake’s leg stopped oozing. The second being Great Heal.

After the long incantation, a golden light swept across the alley, stirring the Snake back into consciousness. The Dwarf did not wake, but his grimacing face seemed to relax. The Giant watched in amazement as the Snake’s missing foot seemed to fade back into existence among a fuzzy haze of glowing dust. Finally, the foot was entirely replaced, the old one still laying gracelessly on the bloody cobblestone.

With finality, the Ashen One mumbled, “May the warmth of the First Flame guide your wayward souls to the Light.”

The Giant stepped forward, speechless with shock and relief. In his mind, there only existed one word to describe such incredible magic. A Miracle. He turned to thank the mysterious stranger, but the armored man was already gone. On the ground where he had been kneeling was another small talisman. This one composed only of a dirty scrap of cloth gilded with what looked like tarnished brass. The Giant took the talisman in his hand and looked thoughtfully toward the entrance to the alleyway. Before long, though, he helped the Snake to his reunited feet, and shook the Dwarf awake so they could leave as soon as possible.

Chapter 2B: Complications and Congregations

The Ashen One walked through the city, amazed at witnessing, for the first time in his undead life, a city thriving while still intact and full of happy, living people. The scale was like Irithyll, but the level of activity was closer to the ravenous ghru of Faron Swamp, only with the relative peace offered at Firelink Shrine. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of merchants selling wares that had nothing whatsoever to do with slaying Great Lords. It was surreal. When a very small person flew past, he almost swung at them, but he remembered that many of the people running, shouting, and waving were doing so with only pure intentions. The figure bumped into him as they went.  It was an odd feeling to make abrupt contact with a person not trying to kill him. From the darting blur, he caught a glimpse of yellow hair, some black headdress of sorts, and a red scarf.

A child, perhaps? It didn’t seem like a small adult like Greirat or that Dwarf from earlier.

The Champion of Ash reminisces on his ancient memories. So precious little of his past beyond awaking in the Cemetery is still within his mind. Hazy images of such small humans running through grass. Of beautiful flowers. An image of a twirling woman, a lover perhaps. Thinking on how this new land functions like the ancient stories say, he reaches toward his bottomless box to look upon one of his rusty coins, but cannot find the box on his person. He turns in place, searching in a panic. Nothing.

The Ashen One is utterly devastated. Never had the items on his person been at risk. Not even his corpse had ever been pillaged after his death save for exactly one item. The twinkling dragon torso stone taken by Hawkwood. But that was an honorable duel specifically regarding the item in question. Despite being in a new land surrounded by new people, even after his attempted mugging, he never considered that anything more than his collected souls could be at stake. That one could simply steal his bottomless box from him, effectively taking nearly everything he owns in one fell swoop.

Panic set in as he sprinted forward.

That small one! It ran by my right side. When it did, I felt a jostle. That must’ve been it!

Eager to reclaim his treasure, the Ashen One continues, unaware that the perpetrator had already doubled back, laughing at his complete obliviousness.

The Blade of the Dark Moon can almost feel himself going hollow as he wanders the winding roads, asking questions, making threats, attempting bribes of souls, all met with sneers or strange looks. One thing in all his despair manages to catch his eye, however. Long, straight, silver hair. Shining like the Dark Sun. Only one image exists in his mind as he sees it.

“FIREKEEPER!”

He charges as quickly as he can, shoving aside anyone and everything in his way. Nothing matters. Nothing except this last remnant of his old existence in this bizarre new place.

“FIREKEEP-” His halting voice is met with wide eyes. Purple irises reflecting his dust-caked helm.

“Eyes…”

I gave her eyes, but those…

“N-No… It… Couldn’t possibly be….”

Heartbroken, he feels ready to collapse before a now-familiar flash of yellow, black, and red blurs his vision once more. In a blast of wind and sound, the commotion settles with the silver-haired woman frazzled, and the blur of colors sprinting quickly out of sight.

The silver-haired woman fumbles, feeling around herself, then turns with shock and indignation, yelling at the Ashen One.

“Was this a ploy?! Are you with her?!”

The armored man simply stares dumbly at the girl until a connection is suddenly made and without another moment, he charges onward as fast as his legs could possibly carry him. Of course, he does so without realizing the woman had given chase as well, believing him to be a related culprit. He had no mind for anything other than the thief with his entire life in her possession.

Their chase takes them around the city, diving through crowds and around buildings. They move in and out of alleyways, zigzagging, as the thief fails to shake him. In a particularly long alleyway, the Champion of Ash lines up a shot and hurls a lightning spear. Hearing the crackling bolt, the girl turns to look, but too late, as the spear hits her in the back, sending her stumbling forward.

"Thought you could- GAH!"

As the Ashen One closes in, the girl hurls a shortsword at him. As quick as thought, he trades his talisman for his sword and at the same time, barely manages to bring his shield up in time to block her weapon. But as he lowers the shield, a splatter of mud is squarely lodged in the eyes of his helmet, blinding him. He drops his shield and begins scrabbling at his eyes to clear them. Rage builds as he abandons the attempt in favor of using his now-free left hand and pyromancy flame to blindly scorch the area with any spell he can think of, hoping to catch her by the sheer volume of flame. He hears no cries of pain, but as he strains his ears, a crystalline whistling approaches. He swings his sword, batting apart the missile of what turned out to be ice.

"Stop right there!"

A soft, yet forceful voice calls.

He finally wrenches his helmet off and sees before him the woman he mistook for the Firekeeper. Her long silver hair still sending aches through his undead heart. Upon further inspection, however, it's a wonder he ever thought they were similar. Her robes were stark white with purple and gold trim, and her ears were long and pointed. He notices that her arms are strangely held stiff in front of herself, as if to stop him from approaching.

"Who are you? Why did you stop me from catching that thief?"

"Don't play dumb with me! You distracted me earlier, allowing her to steal my insignia! When I questioned you, you ran away!"

"I was confused. She had taken something from me as well."

"Not sure I buy that… A little too convenient, ya know?"

The Ashen One darted his eyes about, attempting to find the source of the second voice.

A small grey-furred cat crawled from out of the girl's silver hair and onto her shoulder.

"You better not underestimate us. If you think we're such easy marks then you clearly aren't as sharp-eyed as you think."

I should really be more unnerved by something like this, but at this rate, nothing seems real.

"Listen well, Cat. I chose no mark, as you say. I have no affiliation with that thief. And if you think for one moment that a talking rodent and some strange ice-based pyromancer is enough to put me back in the ground, then you'll find your own ashes buried like the others who stood against me."

The girl looked confused, but the cat was utterly nonplussed.

"Pyromancer? What do you-"

"Don't mock me. You are clearly casting with no catalyst. You have neither charm nor stave, so you must be casting pyromancy. The ice-based sorceries of Irithyll weren't dissimilar, so I have many methods of circumventing anything you could throw at me."

"He's just trying to confuse us, to throw us off while she gets away. Let's just take care of him quick and get after her."

"Need I remind you that you were the one who fired upon me first?"

"Oh yeah? After that firestorm you sprayed all over? Come on, we need to get away from this guy."

The Ashen One prepared to sheathe his sword.

"If leaving is your goal, then we have no need to fight. You've wasted enough of my time already. You can't begin to imagine the treasure she stole from me."

"You really think we're that stupid, huh? The moment we turn our backs, we’re roast meat. Fat chance!”

"You think I would need such underhanded tricks? If I wished it, you'd be dead already. I've fought much more powerful mages than you, including your precious Pontiff."

Having now fully sheathed his sword, the Champion of Ash turns his back, reclaims his shield, then quickly trots in the direction of the thief.

"What do you think, Puck?"

"As much as I hate to admit it, it doesn't seem like he's bluffing. Gives me the creeps, though. Even with his back turned to us he just oozes with a murderous aura."

"Murderous?" She gasped.

"Not strictly toward us, to be fair. Just the feeling that he's ready and willing to kill anyone at any moment. We can't afford to waste more time, but it feels like we can't afford to lose track of him, either."

"Something he did was able to make the thief stumble. Otherwise, he couldn't have caught up. Her sword was lodged in his shield. Did he throw something?"

"It looked like it, but how it felt was more like magic, though what kind, I couldn’t say. The way he used that fire magic, though… Unbelievable. The way it moved… Even I couldn’t begin to think of how a spell like that is structured. Maybe we both stand to gain from learning about each other.”

They debated for a moment while following him at a safe distance. The Ashen One was becoming irritated by the mumbling behind him. He couldn't quite make out most of their words, but he could hear enough to suspect what they were planning.

"I can't imagine you two suddenly realized your error and decided to help me now, have you?"

He asked as he abruptly turned halfway to look back at them.

They both grimaced in response. Neither of them liked the way he seemed to belittle them. Problem was, he was partially right.

The girl considered that the stranger may have been telling the truth. In which case, she would feel quite bad about having slowed him down.

But if he really is a victim as well, he should know full well what I’m going through, too. Unless… Was the item stolen from him… Really more precious than what was taken from me?

“Assuming what you have said has been true thus far, we cannot afford to work separately in retrieving our respective stolen items.”

“I’ll be fine on my own. Have been for most of my time.”

The cat chimed in,

“But we can tell you aren’t from around here. You clearly don’t know your way around the place. How are you gonna manage without our help?”

“Just watch.”

He smirked and once again retrieved his sunlight talisman, knelt, and recited the Seek Guidance prayer. In a flood of golden light and sparks, the area in his vicinity remained stubbornly destitute of guiding messages.

“Ummmm… Was that some kind of… divination?”

“Hmm… It was supposed to be… Well, in essence, anyway."

"And how would that work?"

The Ashen One frowned. He didn’t like the way that Cat was trying to pry at his techniques.

“I suppose you should find yourself a tutor and learn for yourself.”

The spirit puffed his cheeks in annoyance at being deflected.

“Anyway, I need no guidance. I’ve braved enough thief dens in my time to know what I’m looking for.”

“You say that, but…”

The Cat smirked from the girl’s shoulder.

The Ashen One had failed to comprehend the sheer scale of the Capitol. They talked while traveling the streets in search of any clues.

"Lugunica, huh? Never heard of this place. But we must surely be near Irithyll judging by your ice magic."

"I don’t know that place either. My ice magic is, while not exactly common, pretty normal here in Lugunica."

"I've never seen ice pyromancy. In Irithyll I faced mages that used ice-based sorceries, but not pyromancy."

"You keep using that word. Here, what I use is called "the spirit arts". I utilize spirits to draw mana from the atmosphere which is used to power my spells."

"Fascinating. Pyromancy is very different. It comes from within."

"Could you teach me?"

The Ashen One considered his old master, Cornyx.

“I’m… Not sure it’s my place to take on a student.

Now it was Emilia’s turn to puff out her cheeks.

The group decided to head for high ground, to see where a thief might hide in the city.

As they made their way up a tall and wide set of stairs, The girl realized something.

“Ah! We never introduced ourselves! My name is Emilia, and this is Puck! What’s your name?”

“Folks have called me ‘The Ashen One’, or even ‘Champion of Ash’.”

“Ash? Why ash?”

The armored stranger turned to face her with hard eyes that she couldn’t see.

“I am… Unkindled.”

“I… don’t understand. What is ‘Unkindled’?”

Further irritated, he muttered,

“If you know nothing of it, then you need know no more.

“But…

The stranger turned and trudged further up the stairs.

Emilia and Puck exchanged bothered looks.

“He still doesn’t trust us.”

“Well that part’s obvious.”

“What can we do to make him understand?”

“I don’t think that’s really our problem. Once we get your insignia back, we never have to worry about this guy again.”

Emilia was of a very different opinion, however.

If I can make him understand me, then maybe I can reach him. Send him on a more pleasant path.

She followed after him, quickening her pace to catch up. As they both climbed the final step, however, they both stopped to stare at the skyline.

After a moment of silence, she worked up the courage to speak.

“I-uh… I don’t know what being ‘Unkindled’ means, but it seems like an uncomfortable topic. I don’t really know what you’ve been through, but I may have some idea of the hardships you have faced.

“I doubt it.”

He spoke sternly, but not with as much venom as before.

“Well, you see… I’m… a half-elf.”

He turned to see her head hung in shame.

“A half-what?”

Her head shot up with confusion.

“A half-elf!”

“...”

“...”

“What is an ‘elf’?”

“...”

“...”

“Oh.”

Emilia began giggling.

“Now I see exactly why that would upset you so much.”

Despite himself, the Champion of Ash smiled behind his helmet.

Maybe I shouldn’t be so uncharitable. She seems genuine.

 He pointed out to the dark settlement in the distance.

"There. I'd wager everything, which I suppose I technically am, that the thief's hideout is there. It looks just like the undead settlement at the foot of the High Wall of Lothric. There were more thieves there than anywhere else. Let's go."

"Huh? Oh, right!"

On their way toward the slums, The Ashen One decided to gather information.

“So… Emilia, was it? You’ve never heard of the Undead Curse?”

She tilted her head and frowned.

“Un… dead? No, definitely not.”

I can’t tell if that’s relieving or terrifying. If these people have never heard of the Curse, then they may have found a way to successfully eliminate all undead while staunching its spread. If it’s been long enough that their people don’t remember, then I might not need to hide myself, but I can’t be too careful.

“Can you explain it to me?”

Under the guise of his helmet, he bit his lip and pondered.

I suppose it’s too late to say no… But I can try to fish for more information, at least.

“The Undead Curse had swept across many kingdoms in ages long past. The unaffected humans looked down upon those who had been altered by the Curse. They would cast them away, or even go to great lengths to torment the poor souls.”

Emilia looked horrified.

“How awful! Why would they be so cruel?”

“Well, many Undead would, after such torment, go hollow. After their madness stripped them of their memories and all sense, they would attack wildly, even without provocation. Ironically, by capturing and killing every Undead they could find, the Humans inadvertently sped the process of hollowing.”

Emilia looked thoughtful as he spoke.

“It’s true that the Witch’s reign had destroyed much of our history, but to lose something like this…”

‘The Witch’?

His mind shifted to thoughts of the Witch Karla, another one of his teachers. The coat she wore was old and raggedy, and although she retained the stench of the Irithyll dungeons, her darkly jovial nature appealed to him. She was certainly not unpleasant to look at either, which helped stir some feelings of affection.

Emilia must have misinterpreted his silence, as she turned away and muttered,

“I am sorry. I know it is taboo to speak of her. I meant no offense.”

“None was taken, I assure you. I admit I am unfamiliar with this ‘Witch’. What was her name?”

She seemed shocked for a moment, then looked at him with suspicion.

“Above all else, even speaking her name is a terrible taboo. How could you know nothing of the Witch, if-...”

Suddenly, Puck swaggered from out of her hair on all fours, then laid across her shoulder.

“Anyone who speaks the name of the Witch will be branded for all eternity. Everyone knows that. You’re better off not even asking any questions about that old tale.”

[Careful, Lia. I didn’t want to bring it up ‘till now, but he smells like the Witch.]

The Ashen One saw Emilia’s eyes widen for a moment.

“Well, it seems she didn’t know that. What a strange countermeasure. Presumably such a powerful figure would want her name spread far and wide to elicit either awe or fear. Doing something like that would only stifle such a spread.”

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously as Emilia and Puck failed to react to his words for a beat longer than expected.

As if they were preoccupied…

Puck twitched his cat ears.

“The Witch is so incomprehensible. That’s one of the things that makes her so dangerous. Nobody can know what she’s thinking.”

“If no one knows what she’s thinking, then how do we know she is evil?”

There was a very uncomfortable silence between them all.

“Her actions.”

Puck said dryly, almost provokingly.

“Can we-…”

They turned to face Emilia whose face was twisted with some strong emotion neither of them could decipher.

“Can… we not… speak of… her?

…

…Please?”

After arriving in the slums, they began to get dirty looks from the passers-by

I suppose they think I'm some royal Knight protecting a prissy princess from their filth. They seem to have a similarly bitter view of the world as Patches. I can't quite blame them, though.

He had an idea. He double, then triple-checked that he was still wearing the Untrue Dark Ring. He glared at it for a moment longer.

I could have just had the Firekeeper fix me… Should have… But I needed something. Some penance for what I did…

Snapping out of it, he took off his helmet and wiped his face, smearing dust over it.

"Are you too hot?"

"Even extreme temperatures don't bother me much. I figured if I present myself while as dingy and dirty as themselves, they'd be more inclined to offer help. You know, show them I'm not some prideful Silver Knight that thinks he's above getting dirty."

"That's a good idea. Still, though, if I'm here walking with you it might not work."

"Let's try."

He waved a hand to a man walking by.

"Excuse me, we're looking for a small thief with yellow hair and some black headdress. I'm trying to retrieve something priceless she stole from me. Do you know where I could find her?"

The man looked confused.

Emilia frowned and tilted her head. With a finger on her chin, she asked,

“Headdress? You mean the bow that was in her hair?”

Now it was his turn to tilt his head.

What kind of arrow would you shoot with a bow like that?

But clearly, it was true, as the man's expression cleared with recognition.

"Oh, a black bow. You must mean Felt. I don't know where she lives, but if it's as valuable as you say, she probably would've already pawned it. Your best bet is heading to Old Man Rom's loothouse just down… thataways a bit. Good luck getting your stuff back, brother. Live strong."

The man pointed down a nearby walkway and held up a hand in a gesture of solidarity.

Felt, eh? So that’s the name of our thief.

The Ashen One thanked him before turning away, holding up a fist in a gesture befitting Quiet Resolve.

Emilia followed along by his side.

"What… did you lose, if you don't mind me asking?"

The Ashen One smiled,

"You'll see. It's pretty astounding for how small it is."

Puck loudly failed to stifle laughter at hearing that.

"Oh, I bet it is. Reeeaaal small, huh? But oh-so precious?"

The armored man didn't seem to understand the cat's double entendre.

"You are quite small, yourself, aren't you?"

Disappointed that his joke went unnoticed, he pouted from within Emilia's hair.

Emilia looked up while shielding her eyes from the drifting star.

"The sun will be going down soon, so we better hurry."

"The sun will go down?!"

"Wha- um… Yes?! Is that… weird?"

"I, uh… I… haven’t seen the sun much.”

Emilia’s eyebrows folded with concern.

“Is your homeland really so bleak? I hear the winters in the north are so horrendous you can lose sight of the sun for days at a time.”

The Ashen One remained silent. He didn’t like to lie, even at the worst of times, and he was starting to feel fond of the girl and her Cat. He decided to tell part of the truth.

“Most of the places I’ve been are so cloudy or foggy that the sun cannot be seen. And when it does, it never seems to move.”

Understanding, though not knowing why, he was upset, Emilia dropped the topic and continued walking.

After she turned away, he looked at the sun in wonder.

A moving sun?

Is it a new God? Is that why my miracles have still worked since my great betrayal?

Finally, as the sky began to darken, they approached the loothouse.

"This must be it. If we can't find our possessions here, then we'll have to start looking in the dark."

"If it comes to that, I would rather continue in the morning with a fresh mind."

"That would be hours wasted. What would you do for all that time?"

"...Sleep?!"

"..."

"..."

"...Yes… Of course…"

“Let me guess,”

Puck stretched his arms over his head and fought the urge to yawn.

“You don’t get much sleep?”

Another half-truth…

Not often, no. I hate feeling so vulnerable for so long.

“I’ve heard there were some people from Volachia that would sleep with their eyes open. Real creepy stuff. Remind me to buy you a sleep mask.”

“...Sure… Anyway, we ought to quit stalling."

He took a step up toward the porch.

"Wait!"

Emilia pulled his arm.

"What is it?"

"I never heard your name earlier."

"You did. I'm The Ashen One."

"That's not a name."

"It certainly is. And has worked perfectly well for me so far."

Emilia held stubbornly firm.

"I'm not gonna call you that mouthful. You need to give me a name."

He sighed.

"I don't remember it…"

"What? How can you forget your own name?"

An aggravated growl creeping into his voice, he replied,

"I have lived a life longer than I would like. There are only so many memories I can hold onto. I don't. Remember. It."

Emilia was silent for a moment.

"I'm sorry."

"..."

“...”

“...”

"...may I… give you one?"

“...”

“...”

"...No."

The Ashen One opened the door to the loothouse, stepped inside, and slammed it shut behind him.

With no windows, the orange light of sunset failed to reach the inside of the building. Luckily, his emberred body naturally produced a small amount of light, and since, without his bottomless box, he couldn't retrieve a torch, he held out his pyromancy flame to further light his way. He expected some sort of guard to watch over the place, but it was dead quiet. Following his old habits, he looked for hollow thieves clinging to walls and ceilings to ambush him. So intent on looking in these unusual places, he failed to notice a few obvious things. First was the shadow creeping around him every time he turned his back. Second was the growing pool of blood, and last were the two still-warm corpses in the corners of the room.

"No traps, no ambushes, no guards, nothing. It's like they don't expect to be stolen from. Yet they make their living by taking from others? Not a smart way to live… Well, I guess it's safe for Emilia to come in, too."

He turned to face the door he came from, but as he did, he felt a cold, menacing presence. Too late, however, as the cold bite of steel entered his back. Spinning to knock away the attacker, he stumbled, failing to properly roll away. He wound up on the ground, his hands behind him with his back toward the adjacent wall.

Suddenly, he realized he had not stopped bleeding. He would die much sooner than usual.

"Well. You're certainly hearty. To move around like that with a blade in your lung? Impressive."

A cold, almost seductive voice called from the darkness.

As the attacker approached, her face came into his light. She was strangely beautiful.

No time for miracles, no chance to move, not even enough time for estus with her this close...

The Ashen One did the only thing he could do and waited for her to come closer so he could spring an attack.

"And the way you shine, so! Like a beautiful Star! Ah, I can't wait to study your innards! But as we have our special guest approaching, I must finish this quickly. I'll send you to meet the angels."

She spoke as she produced a second weapon. A long, curved knife clearly meant for assassination.

There's little I could do to win this now, but I'm undead, so if she isn't, I just need to take her down with me and I win.

As she rushed inward, he leaned forward and reached a hand out while feeling the blade enter his throat.

Too late, wretch,

He thought as his vision turned black. He felt his target clearly in his hand. He squeezed, crushing it, feeling a liquid flow over his hand.

"Wha- WHAT THE HELL’S YOUR PROBLEM, YA FREAK?! ARE YOU GONNA PAY FOR THAT?!”

"...What-?"

Chapter 3B: Dead Again

The Ashen One looked at the crushed orb in his hand. It was not the assassin's neck, as he thought. The liquid was not blood, but a clear liquid running from what he now understood was a red fruit.

"HEY, ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?!"

The shopkeeper pulled the Knight closer.

Instinctively, he knocked the man's arm away, twisted, then pinned it to the counter and pulled his sword out. He brought the weapon up menacingly but had no plans to attack.

All around him were gasps and yells. Someone was calling for guards.

"Listen to me. Tell me truthfully. Who are you, and why am I here?"

"What, are you insane?! I'm just a merchant! You're the one that walked up to me! I tried to offer you an appa and you freaked out on me!"

"I walked up to you?"

"How the hell else would you be there?! I didn't notice you at first, but when I saw you standing there, I greeted you like any other customer."

What motive would he have to lie? If he was the one who brought me here, he would have done something by now. Both times I've provoked him, he had responded with only proportional anger.

"...Very well."

He let go of the man and sheathed his sword.

"You may not believe it, but I am sincerely sorry for the trouble. I only wish I had proper currency to offer as compensation for your… appas? But as my box was stol-"

He absently reached for where his box would be as he spoke, only to find it hanging on his belt.

He quickly opened it and searched inside.

"It's right here…"

"Well, great for you.'

The man grumbled, rubbing his sore arm.

"You gonna pay me now, or what?"

The Ashen One awkwardly realized he had none of this country's currency, so he placed an old gold coin on the counter and walked away. The shopkeeper, inspecting the coin, huffed disappointedly, but said nothing.

The Champion absently walked the streets of the capitol while taking inventory. Paranoid of losing his box again, he ducked into an alleyway.

"I suppose that, upon my death, my box was returned to me. It must have a closer connection with my soul than I realized."

He heard approaching footsteps behind him. He turned to see three familiar silhouettes.

The Giant, the Dwarf, and the Snake. What do they want now?

Upon meeting their gaze, the three became rigid.

"W-woah, is this 7th street?! M-man, I'm so lost, hah! Sorry to- to bug you… good… sir, Knight, sir."

The Snake stumbled over his words while the three slowly backed away at his lead.

"I suppose you haven't learned your lesson?"

He placed a hand on his sword.

The three panicked and ran away.

Faintly he could hear;

"I told you we shouldn't follow him!" 

And

"Didn't you see his sword? No way!"

I'm disappointed to know my good will went to waste. I won't particularly miss that talisman, though. I have plenty of better ones anyway.

Continuing to take inventory, he realized that that very same talisman he had left behind as a show of good faith had somehow made its way back into his possession. Unnerved by the strange occurrences, he made to leave.

Where to, though?

Suddenly, he made a startling revelation that Emilia was probably still at the loothouse. The memory of the assassin's words fluttered by.

'Our special guest'. She was targeting Emilia.

"Damnit! I need to get back there!"

He began sprinting toward the slums. On his way, a certain Firey-haired man heard a report from a concerned citizen about a crazed Knight attacking shopkeepers in the area. He would certainly have to investigate any shady characters he could find. Luckily, it seems there are three panicked hooligans here to help out…

In the slums, a Darkmoon Blade was doing his duty to help someone in dire straits. Rushing forward, he reached the loothouse and, without stopping to knock or otherwise investigate the area, he charged into the door, knocking it wide open.

“Emilia? Are you still here?”

“WHAT IN BLAZES ARE YOU DOING?!”

A Giant rose unsteadily to his feet behind a counter filled with booze.

“What kinda dumb piece of shit are you?!”

The Ashen One was utterly confused. Ignoring the unexpected stranger, he whirled around, looking for any signs of a struggle, and besides his having blown the door nearly off its hinges, none showed.

“You got about 5 seconds to convince me not to squash you like a bug right now!”

He spun to face the man.

Much more of a Giant than that thug…

The old man was almost as tall as the ceiling, even with a significant hunch. He had dark skin and bone-white hair. Only, none on his head, and bizarrely long eyebrows. His black and dark blue vest was horribly tattered, and revealed his rippling muscles.

“Where is the girl?!”

“Who the hell are you talking about?! I deal with loot, not kidnappings!”

“There was a girl here! With silver hair and pointed ears! A… What was it… an elf! And another! With black hair and knives!”

“Ain’t seen nobody like that! Whoever you’re looking for, pipsqueak, you got the wrong place, so get the hell out of my face!”

“I know they were here! You can’t lie to me!”

“I’m at my best when I got booze in me, so if I don’t know who you’re talking about, then they must not have been here! Now if you don’t walk out that door right now, you’re gonna have hell to pay!”

He pulled a large club from the wall and patted it menacingly.

“I’ve fought much larger Giants than you, old man. You can’t intimidate me so easily.”

The old man vaulted over the counter with the spiked club in one hand. He swung it mightily at the Champion of Ash as if it weighed little more than a knife.

Narrowly rolling away from the blow, the Ashen One readied his sword and applied gold pine resin to it.

“Ya think some sparks are gonna scare me off! Ain’t no fancy magic ever did me in on any battlefield!”

The Giant swung his club with an overhead strike, looking to crush the foe.

The Knight rolled forward, coming behind the old man, and brought his sword up on his back. He made two good slashes before the Giant swung the club once more, spinning around to knock the attacker away, much like the Champion of Ash himself had done for his own attacker earlier.

Well, he's tough, and he's seen a good number of fights. Better finish this quickly.

The cuts were surprisingly shallow, but still quite painful for the old man. On top of that, an unexpected side effect of the resin's lightning properties caused the muscles in his back to spasm uncontrollably which threw off his aim and balance considerably.

“D- damnit!”

The Giant swung two more times, utterly failing to meet his target.

The Ashen One rolled into the Giant, sliding past him, and swiped his sword across the right ankle. He cut much of the muscle, but couldn’t get through to the bone. The Giant toppled forward onto one knee, bracing himself with the club. The Champion of Ash turned, grabbed the Giant by his bald head, and brought his sword around to his neck.

“I give you one final chance. Where are the girls who were here?”

Panting and gasping from the pain in his back and leg, the giant paused for breath.

“I- I- hah. I really don’t know… Who you’re talking about. Hah… Honest…”

“...So be it.”

Before he could slice the Giant’s throat, however, a blast of blue light came seering through the open door. Kicking off against the Giant’s massive frame, he threw himself backward, narrowly missing the strike.

“It seems I was too late to prevent further chaos. For that, I am truly ashamed.”

A regal voice called from beyond the cloud of dust.

What the hell was that? Soul stream?! No, it was more like a slice.

“Who are you?!”

As the dust settled, a red-haired youth could be seen wearing a white suit.

“Reinhard Van Astrea, at your service. Though I am sincerely sorry I could not prevent the damage to your place of business.”

“This isn’t my place. But if that were the case, why did you fire that magic at me?”

“I was not talking to you, scoundrel. My strike was, indeed, meant for you alone.”

“And by what authority? I am only here to retrieve my stolen goods and to rescue a girl from an assassin. This Giant merely stood in my way.”

He looked around at his surroundings.

“That could very well be true, though you very closely resemble the report I recently heard. It seems you threatened a merchant in some altercation, then met with a few lowlifes. Now I find you here in a cesspool of crime, and attempting to murder a bartender? Who should I believe in this scenario, I wonder?”

“If you’re gonna get in my way, too, I’ll just put you down as well!”

The Ashen One ran toward the seemingly unarmed man and brought his sword up for a stab.

The man simply side-stepped the attempt in the blink of an eye, bringing a closed hand down into the undead’s skull.

Lights flashed and danced in his vision as he attempted to right himself, only to stumble and crawl along the ground. He heard the echo of a voice from what sounded very far away.

“Simpleton… My dearest apologies, sir, I was too late to save you from harm. While I have no methods of healing, I can put you to sleep so you feel no pain until I can get you to a proper healer.”

“N- no… thank you… I’m fine…”

“P l e a sssss   ,   sss    i rrrrr………”

The sounds around the Ashen One blurred into a continuous droning as he tried to stand up.

Whha- t… th-    eeee …….    hhhhhEEELL is wr-wr-wrooong with…… mmmmee?

“You appear to have a concussion. You should not continue your resistance.”

Hearing that same voice much clearer, and much closer, the Ashen One panicked, and used his pyromancy flame to cast great combustion in its direction. He heard a quick gasp, followed by pattering sounds that may have been footsteps. Suddenly, he couldn’t hear, see, or feel anything.

…

…

“-ey-...

Hey…

HEY!””

The Ashen One opened his eyes and jerked his head upward to face the green-haired man before him.

“...”

“What’s the matter? Why’d you suddenly space out?”

“...”

“What’s your problem, man? You alright?”

“Guh…”

The Great-Lord-slaying Champion of Ash drooled into his helmet, then collapsed, unconscious.

A quick splash of cold water woke him up.

Was I just asleep?! How, why, who, where, what?!

He heard a buzzing noise that he vaguely recognized as speech, then he looked up to find the merchant from before. He held out a clay cup and one of the red “appas”

“Look, forget about the money. Just take these, alright?”

Why? Why here, again? Why him? Why is he being so kind when I threatened him before? What’s going on?

His racing thoughts were interrupted by the flow of silver hair. Banishing all thought, he leapt to his feet, flailed his head wildly, then chased after the image he saw.

“FIREKEEPER! FIREKEEP-”

Once more, he was met with shining purple irises, now reflecting his bare face.

Where’s my helmet?

That’s not the Firekeeper.

That’s Emilia.

Why is she here?

Did I die again?

Why don’t I come back to a bonfire?

Why is she looking at me like that?

Did she die, too?

She isn’t undead.

Did she lie to me?

So many different lines of thought crashed into each other as he attempted to hold onto his sanity.

“Who-… Who are you?”

“I- You know me… I’m… I’m the Ashen One.”

“What is your name? I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“I don’t… remember… don’t you remember?”

“I’ve never met you before, I’m certain.”

He was in a blind rage now.

“WHY DON’T ANY OF YOU REMEMBER?! IS EVERYONE HOLLOW BUT ME? AM I GOING HOLLOW?! AM I- AM I- Am… I…”

He began sobbing for the first time he could remember. Had he ever cried like this, even when he was alive?

“Am I… going hollow?!”

He fell to his knees. The prospect of losing his sanity was so terrifying to him. There was so little that he feared, but going hollow was definitely his greatest fear of all. To lose oneself to the curse permanently. He always wore the cursebite ring because he believed it may help stave off the memory-wiping effects of the undead curse. As far as he knew, there was no evidence of this, but he was so terrified of the idea that he never removed it.

As he knelt, sobbing, that same flash of yellow, black, and red swept by. Emilia began ruffling around herself, then turned to him in a rage.

“Was this a ploy?! Are you with her?!”

He only began sobbing more heavily as his mind threatened to cave inward.

Her eyes twisted slightly, showing some amount of confusion and remorse, but then hardened as she turned and ran after the thief.

Wanting to be alone, he slowly crawled to his feet and shambled into a familiar alleyway.

Only to find three familiar silhouettes approaching.

In sheer, blind fury, he pulled out his sword and threw it at the Giant. It buried itself in his skull, nearly cutting it clean in half.

After a moment of shocked silence, the other two became wild with grief and charged him. He made no attempt to stop the screaming Snake from digging the daggers into his eyes.

Another moment of silence until…

...

...

“-ey-...

Hey…

HEY!””

“Sir.”

“Huh?”

“May I ask you… Do you remember seeing me today?”

“What? Never seen you before. You gonna buy something or what?”

The Ashen One remained calm and walked away from the man. He began walking down the street, ignoring the merchant’s grumbles of annoyance.

He stopped at a familiar spot and waited. After some time had passed, he saw that same flash of silver hair, though this time he restrained himself.

Everything is the same. Every single time. Not just their memories, but items as well. The appas, my bottomless box, Emilia’s stolen… whatever it was… Everything. Which means…

Like clockwork, he spotted the rushing blur of yellow, black, and red. This time, however, he intercepted the thief. He caught her shoulder and yanked her backward into a nearby alley.

“H-HEY, WHAT’RE Y-”

He pressed her into the wall, knocking the wind out of her.

“You. You’re a thief, aren’t you?”

“Who are you! Let me go!”

“You were going to steal from that elf, right?”

“An elf? The girl? Is she? Well, anyways, you pulled me away from my target, so let me go!”

“I want you to do something for me.”

“Get over yourself! Like I’d do anything like THAT for you! Gross!”

He jostled her again

“LISTEN TO ME!”

She stopped struggling for a moment.

“I want information. Then I’ll let you go.”

“...”

“I want to know about an assassin. She has black hair, a spot under her eye, black and purple clothes-”

“What are you talking about?”

She looked scared

“Why would I know anyone like that?! I don’t kill people, I just steal stuff!”

“You recognize the description I gave. I can tell. Who is she?”

“None of your business!”

“IT IS THE BUSINESS OF SOMEONE SHE KIL-”

…

…

…

Darkness.

All-consuming Darkness surrounded him.

He couldn’t breathe. He never felt suffocation before.

In his ear, he heard a cold whisper.

“I love you.”

…

…

…

As the light returned around him. He felt the darksign on his chest burn white-hot  with searing pain. Struggling not to rip off his chestplate and scrabble at his chest, he simply groaned from the pain.

What the hell was that?!

“Y- CHOKIN- M-”

He looked up to see the girl, blue-faced, as his vice-grip on her collar was now squeezing it around her neck, choking her. Vaguely understanding the discomfort she experienced, he loosened his grip and she gasped for air.

After a moment of gathering herself, she spoke up.

“Listen. I don’t care anymore. You said you’d let me go if I told you?”

“...I will.”

“She’s the one that hired me to steal the insignia from that elf girl.”

“She did? Why?”

“I don’t know, I swear! I just know it’s really valuable. She offered ten holy coins for it. I’m hoping it’ll be enough to buy my way into a better living situation.”

He let go of her collar and backed away.

“I- I don’t… like being a thief… I convinced myself that I did, because I’m so good at it… But I hate stuff like this. Being threatened by people stronger than me, and feeling guilty, knowing that I’m not the victim. I don’t have any other options. Other than selling my body…”

She looked down at her feet.

The Ashen One thought for a moment. The Giant was large and strong. The Snake was surprisingly nimble, and seemed somewhat talented with a blade, probably without any training. The Dwarf had a craftiness to his eyes that implied potential as a merchant. This girl, however… She was small. She was fast, but not strong. She was perfectly built for life as a thief, and nothing else.

Life as a thief…

Without saying a word, he pulled up his bottomless box and rummaged through it.

The girl blushed and looked shocked. She began cowering toward the wall and covering herself.

He ignored her and found what he was looking for.

“Here.”

“I TOLD YOU I WOULDN’T DO ANYTHING LIKE THAT WITH YOU!”

“What are you talking about? I’m giving this to you!”

“What?”

“Here!”

He grabbed her wrist, pulled her hand up, and placed onto her palm a golden ring engraved into the shape of a twisted serpent.

“What? What is-”

“The covetous gold serpent ring. It increases the wearer’s chances of finding fortune. With this, you may not have to steal for the things you need. You might just come across them by luck instead.”

“A good luck charm?”

She asked incredulously.

“It has served me well. With this, I found many weapons, pieces of armor, and elixirs that have saved my life. I will miss it, but I see you need it much more than I do. If you don’t believe me, it’s yours to do with as you please. Sell it as jewelry, or melt it down for the gold if you desire.”

“Are you serious? Why would you give me something like this? You don’t even know me!”

“...”

He reminisced on his time talking with Greirat.

“I-I'm only a petty thief. I've nowhere else to go. Not like there's anything calling to me out there.. Heh!"

“I-... I knew a thief… He had nothing, yet he tried to live honorably where he could… I miss him.”

“...”

She looked down at the ring, inspecting its curves.

“I suppose… I can respect that…”

She gently placed it onto the middle finger of her left hand. It fit surprisingly comfortably. She used a finger to gently pet the small head of the golden snake.

“Oh. And one more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t bother stealing that insignia. I’m gonna kill that monster who hired you.”

“...”

“...”

They turned to face a rustling of cloth and saw three silhouettes.

“We’ll… just come back later…”

The snake said as they stepped away. He was eyeing the ring on her finger and her skimpy clothing.

“Fuckin’ AWKWARD!”

Chapter 4B: Brief Respite

"You're going to kill the lady that hired me?"

"She's an assassin planning to kill that elf girl, and probably you."

She considered his words for a moment.

"Normally, I'd just blow you off as some competitor trying to butt in for a cut… but that lady really rubbed me the wrong way…"

They walked together through the city, making their way to the slums.

"Say I believe you and help out. What's the plan?"

"Not too sure. Ambush, most likely, but where she is in the meantime is hard to tell. If you meet with her, we'll know exactly when and where she is, but that puts you at risk, then only one of us can take her by surprise."

"Well, we're planning to meet at Old Man Rom's loothouse. He's a pretty intimidating Giant, so maybe she'll think twice."

The Ashen One remembered the large, dark-skinned old man he fought prior.

He was tough, but could he match her speed?

"I don't know… maybe with Emilia's help…"

"Who's that?"

"The girl you were hired to rob."

"Gah! You want HER help?!"

He stopped walking and faced her.

"Do you want that wretch inspecting your innards?"

She covered herself again.

"Agh. No… How do you know so much about this lady, anyways?"

She asked suspiciously.

"Let's just say I had a run-in with her in the past. Leading to a literal knife in the back."

"Geez. No wonder you're so bitter with her… So this elf… you want her help, too?"

"It couldn't hurt."

"...What say this, then. If we meet up with the assassin and I don't have the insignia, what's to keep her from running away and catching the elf by surprise later?"

"Hmm…"

"Unless you intend to spend the rest of your life protecting her, her odds aren't so good."

"Fair point. But what are you getting at?"

"Well, say I follow through on my job. I nab the insignia and lead her there. Now it's you, me, Old Man Rom, AND the elf surrounding her while she's sitting amicably at the negotiations table."

"Hmm… Not bad… Still though…"

"You don't like the idea of tricking the elf?"

"I do owe her some courtesy…"

I failed to save her. It may have been undone, but I still failed. I won’t fail again.

"You got a better idea?"

He thought about the red-haired hero that stopped him earlier.

He seemed so noble and pure-hearted. Powerful, too. He'd certainly help us if we asked, but I have to wonder how he'd handle finding out that this one's a thief…"

"Not necessarily."

"Then it's settled. You know how to find the loothouse on your own?"

"Yeah."

"Then see ya there!"

She jetted off without another word.

"Wha- wait! Damnit… Well, I suppose we have our plan laid out for us."

He knocked on the door to the loothouse.

“For a rat?”

“Excuse me?”

“What the hell do you want?!”

“I’m supposed to meet Felt here.”

“Well she ain’t here! Come back later!”

“She told me to wait here for her. She’s going to get into some trouble, so I’ll be waiting to help her.”

A long pause, then thundering footsteps came closer. He fought the urge to roll backward and ready his weapons.

The Giant swung the door open violently.

“Who the hell are you?”

“I’m The Ashen One. As I said, Felt asked me to come here and wait for her.”

“Ash- what- She didn’t tell you the password?”

“She ran off as soon as she decided what we would be doing.”

The Giant put a hand to his chin and hummed.

“...Well… That is exactly what she would do… Alright, fine. But any funny business, and you’re out in the cold.”

He slinked back into the building, leaving the door open for him.

“Of course.”

He stepped inside, closing the door, but not before scanning the outside area for any signs of the assassin.

“What’sa matta with you, yer balls chafin’ you, ‘r wha’?”

“I’m concerned about the one we’ll be meeting here. The one who hired Felt to steal a certain object.”

The Gaint’s expression turned serious.

“You said she’d be in trouble. What kinda trouble’re we talkin’?”

“I owe a debt to the person she was hired to steal from, so I stopped Felt, but the employer is an assassin planning to kill both the target, and, at least I’d wager, Felt herself. Her plan is to steal the object anyway, and begin negotiations so we can all get the drop on the assassin at once. After the dust settles, we’ll apologize to the target, return the item, and everything should be fine.”

“Mmm. Easier said than done. Assassins most of all would be used to such underhanded tricks. You know what kinda killer this is?”

“Not especially, no. I only know she is particularly stealthy, but strong enough to stab through plate metal. She has at least two fairly long curved knives. She dresses very immodestly, and has long black hair. She also has a dark spot under one of her eyes. The left one, I think.”

“Mmm… I don’t like this. Assassins are usually only flashy if they’re cock-sure. She sounds like the real deal. You know why this item is so important?”

“It’s a… What was it? An insignia. Come to think of it, I don’t believe she ever explained what was so vital about it. I would presume it has something to do with proving birthright to a royal family or some such. I couldn’t think of any other reason for that kind of seal to be so important.”

“Sounds about right… Or maybe…”

Heavy knocks on the door. The old man gets up, stands at the door and yells,

“For a rat?”

“Poison.”

He opens the door, quickly pulls in the small girl, checks the surroundings, and slams the door shut.

“Wha! What’s the deal, Old Man Rom? You’re messin’ up my vest!”

“Why didn’t you tell me how much trouble this client was?”

“I had no idea. This guy shows up and tells me he’s gonna kill her cause she’s an assassin or whatever. Apparently she already got one over on him once or somethin'.”

Rom turns and looks at the Ashen One.

“It wasn’t a very long confrontation. She got me in the back with one of her knives, but I managed to make it out alright.”

Rom seemed unconvinced, but turned his attention back to Felt.

“You gotta be more careful with these kinds of people. What would I do if I found out you got hurt by one-a ‘em?”

“You worry too much! I’m fine.”

She crossed her arms.

He noticed the ring.

“Wha’s that? You just swipe it or some’n?”

“Nah, this guy gave it to me after I told him my sob story. Just some good luck charm or somethin’, but he said I remind him of an old friend of his.”

Rom looked at the Knight with even more suspicion.

He sure is protective of her. Are they related, or do they just care about each other that much?

“If you’re that worried, I should tell you I’m not capable of producing children.”

That did not lessen Rom’s suspicion one iota. He turned back to Felt.

“From now on, you let me help with handling clients, alright?”

“I told you, I’m fine!”

She walked to the counter and hopped into a seat.

“Now hurry up and pour me somethin’, alright?”

The old man grumbled to himself, but readily obeyed.

"Anything for you, guy?"

He hesitated.

"I'm not sure. What do you have?"

"Booze, mostly, and milk for the little one."

"Never had booze. Nor milk for that matter. I'll let you decide."

"Hah! Probably just milk for you then."

He poured two glasses and took another swig of his own mug.

Felt sipped the milk.

"Ew, you water this down, or somethin' old man? Pretty gross stuff."

"I give you somethin' outta the goodness of my heart and you go and call it gross?"

He ruffled her hair as he spoke.

She squawks in protest, but doesn’t attempt to squirm out of his grip.

The Ashen One stared at the milk for a few seconds before removing his helmet and taking a sip.

Almost immediately, the watery sensation was displeasing, but he fought the urge to spit it out and swallowed. He is unable to hide a grimace, though, leaving Rom looking a little upset that his gift was poorly received by both guests.

"Sorry, the estus I normally drink is much thicker and very warm. The cold, thin sensation felt odd."

"Estus? Wuzzat?"

He pulled his estus flask from his waist and handed it to the Giant.

"Careful, the glass is strong, but not invincible."

The Giant eyed it before knocking it back. Almost immediately, his eyes bulged and he spat it onto the counter. He took long draughts of booze and spat each one out on the floor to clear his mouth. The estus that spilled steamed and seared the wood, ruining its finish.

"YOU TRYNA POISON ME?!"

He roared.

Immediately, the Ashen One retrieved the flask and drank until none was left, showing so by turning it upside down.

"No poison, I swear!  I didn't know estus was indigestible for humans."

"I ain't even no human, fool. That would kill about anyone!"

"...Not me."

"I-... Mmm.... Fair enough… See how you like this spicy stuff, then."

He grinned devilishly and slammed the mug of ale onto the counter in front of the Knight.

Tentatively, he took the very large mug and inspected the foamy concoction. Frankly, it looked far less appetizing than the milk.

“Wait, is Emilia on her way?”

“Awww, don’t change the subject now that yer all scared!”

Rom goaded him.

"Emilia?”

“The elf girl, remember?”

“Oh yeah, you mentioned her name.  No worries. I left a little trail for her to follow, just not all too quickly, so she doesn’t get here too soon.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“It’s not the first time I led a target around by the nose, ya know. I told you, I’m pretty great at this stuff! The client should be here within the hour, and that elf should show up about 15 minutes after.”

“Wait, shouldn’t we want Emilia to get here first so we can explain the situation?”

“If the client is tailing her, too, which if she’s as stealthy as you say, she might just be, then It’d ruin the deal and SHE would get the drop on US instead.”

“Ah, you’re right.”

Trusting her confidence, he dropped the inquiry and turned his attention back to the “booze” laid before him.

"She may brag a lot, but she really is a wiz with this stuff, kid."

The Ashen One let his comment pass uncontested.

“...Well, here goes…”

He tipped the large mug backward just enough to get a mouthful of the beverage.

After gulping down the surprisingly palatable liquor, he smacked his lips a few times, feeling a wave of nostalgia wash over him.

“Siegbrau!”

“Huh?”

“That’s what this is? I’ve had this! My friend, a Knight of Catarina, gave me some. I believe his own brew had some estus mixed in, so maybe I should avoid giving any to you, but I’m certain this was the base. Or something like this, anyway.”

The Giant’s curiosity was peaked.

“Interesting… I never heard of this ‘Catarina’.”

“I’m not surprised. It seems no one around here has heard of any cities from my homeland.”

“So what’s your old home like? Is it cold?”

His countenance turned dark.

“Some parts, yes. But to answer truthfully, it was a dead and broken place. The only safe haven to be had was still infested with madmen and ravenous hounds. The most grandiose of the great halls and temples I’ve seen were scorched, littered with countless pieces of corpses, dung, ash, and bone. It was a bloody and hollow thing, Lothric. I’m glad to be rid of it.”

The three sat in silence for a moment.

Until a knock came at the door.

Chapter 5B: Dark Blades Clash

"Alright, guys, settle down. Act natural, or she'll know something's up."

"Where could I hide in here? If she sees me, I can't surprise her."

Felt held her chin for a moment.

"You said you had a run-in with her, but has she seen you out of your armor? We can say you're a prospective buyer."

"Ah! Good idea. I can do one better, though…"

He swapped his lothric helmet for the bannerless, generic knight helmet he awoke with in the cemetery of ash. He followed suit with his chestplate, bracers, and grieves.

"Woah, what the-"

"Is there a problem? This way, she won't recognize me."

Not that I think she would anyway, since I died, but I have to keep up this ruse.

"How'd you put on all that stuff so fast? I was starin' right at ya and even still didn't see it happen. It's like it just kinda blinked off an' on or some'n. An' where're you been keepin' it 'till now, anyways?"

"In my bottomless box. But we don't have time for more questions. Let her in before she gets suspicious."

Felt was likewise curious, but reluctantly did as he asked. She slowly opened it to reveal-

A blank doorway with the orange light of evening shining in. Confused, they all glanced at each other.

A slender frame suddenly stepped into view, long silver hair flowing around as she surprised them.

"Hah! I knew it! The perpetrator was right here!"

“GLK”

Felt almost bit her tongue then backed away.

Oh, no. Everything's about to go wrong. Maybe we can still salvage this…

"Felt, hand her the insignia now! Come inside, hurry!"

"Wha- oh, yeah, right! Here!"

Felt grabbed Emilia's wrist and slapped the insignia into her palm, then pulled the girl through the doorway, shutting it as she went.

"Did you see her out there?"

"Didn't get a good look, but no."

"Well, here's hopin'..."

The old man relaxed his shoulders.

"Uhmm… excuse me?"

They all turned to look at Emilia.

"I uh… wasn't expecting you to be so cooperative- ah, don't get me wrong, it's suuuuper appreciated, it's just… what is… going on?"

The Ashen One stepped forward.

"First of all, you've been targeted for some time now. We're trying to stop the woman who's coming after you. She-"

He gestured to Felt

"-was hired to steal that insignia. I recognized the woman who hired her and knew she was a dangerous assassin. The plan was for you to arrive later so we could all surprise her at once."

"...I see…"

In a way that no others there could tell, she consulted her Great Spirit.

[Puck?]

[As far as I can tell, he doesn't seem to be lying. I can sense a great amount of malice coming from him, but not a single drop is aimed at you or me.]

Emilia placed a finger on her chin.

"But why would an assassin do any of this? Why target me at all, and why not just attack directly?"

"Perhaps…"

The Ashen one crossed his arms and tilted his head down in thought.

"Perhaps her goal isn't explicitly to kill you, but to render you powerless. The insignia is a way to strip you of status and authority, so perhaps she never intended to kill you in the first place. Only to disrupt."

"No, that doesn't make sense."

They looked to Felt.

"The original client would've just hired a thief like me directly. And if the girl wasn't marked for death, there'd be no reason to kill me, since it'd just be another random pickpocketing. Not a big murdery conspiracy that'd need to be covered up."

They all pondered on who the greater client was, and why they had all been incidentally brought together in such a strange way.

"Hey, wait… how'd you get here so fast? I was supposed to have given you the runaround."

"I saw the trail you left, but luckily, I communed with the nearby spirits who told me of your trick."

She sounded very proud of herself when she spoke about it.

"Hmph. Shoulda known it'd be some kinda cheat or somethin'"

Felt seemed disappointed at her failed scheme.

As the Ashen One suppressed a giggle at the surprisingly heart-warming scene, his scanning eyes detected a flash of light. Before his mind could even process the shining image of a curved blade, he shouted,

"PUCK, BLOCK!"

The assassin's knife clattered harmlessly against the ice barricade formed behind Emilia.

"Whew! That was close. Almost missed that! I'm a little creeped out you could tell I was there, but thanks for the save!"

"Worry about that later! Regardless of who we were this morning, right now, we're brothers and sisters in arms against this wench!"

"You wound me. All I wanted to do was reveal her innermost beauty. I don't get many chances to observe the entrails of a half-devil."

Devil? Emilia said half-elf. I assumed the other half was human…

He glanced at Felt and Old Man Rom who both looked surprised, but not overly concerned of this fact.

I suppose Devils are probably something like Demons. Just another race of people. Most Demons I've met were hostile, but I'd learned they weren't always that way.

"Why should we be bothered by anything a fiendish girl like you says? My adorable Lia has nothing to be ashamed of!"

Puck began firing blasts of ice magic at the assassin.

"Dear, it's been ages since anyone has referred to me as something so gentle as 'girl'."

"Well, from my perspective, all my opponents are little more than babies!"

The Ashen One feinted to the right, sending the assassin left into an oncoming projectile. She easily knocked it away, but glared in his direction.

"She's even faster than I thought. Rom, Felt, you two stay back. I don't know if you can match her."

Rom wanted to protest, but grumbled in frustration, knowing the knight was probably correct.

Felt, even though she would prefer to stay out of danger, wouldn't stand for being sidelined.

"I'll show you fast! Don't underestimate me!"

She grabbed the shortsword behind her back and sped forward in a blur.

"Ah, divine protection of wind. You are truly loved by this world!"

She's moving so fast I can hardly see her! Wait…

He had an idea to keep the assassin from countering while avoiding her wrath in return. Finding his prize, he slid a ring onto one of his fingers, replacing the chloranthy ring. Rushing forward, he caught the assassin's attention before she could start keeping track of Felt's movements. As soon as their eyes locked, he grinned and rolled forward.

Her eyes shot open as her extended knife found no bed. Swinging wildly around, she found the irritating Knight right behind her with a longsword in mid strike. She parried it with her other knife, but received a slash from the thief against her other underarm. Growling with anger, she failed to move said arm, taking a blast of ice from the spirit.

With the obscuring nature of the carthus milk ring, the Champion of Ash could reposition himself and make feints to great effect. Until at last, when rolling backward to gain distance, he brought his head up to find a flying knife in his face.

Though he managed to turn his head, the knife skewered the helmet through his cheek, coming out on the other side.

Damn. Should never have skimped on upgrade materials for my armor… 

With regret, he remembered he had drunk all the estus in his flask earlier.

Damn! I'm so used to using as much as I want. I hope I can refill it here… maybe if I die…

…

No. Unlike before, everything resets when I die here. Even my victories and allies made will disappear. I won't let any lives be wasted.

Standing up, despite the impaled skull, he reached into his bag of gold pine resin and applied it to his blade.

"Woah, woah, woah, kid! Y'oughta rest up from some'n like tha'!" The Old Man yelled from his spot behind the counter. Felt had returned to his protection after one-too-many close calls.

With a sparkling sword, the Darkmoon Blade coldly yanked the steel out from his jaw without so much as a whimper.

"No worries..."

He tilted his head to the Giant, showing the misty ash foaming in the blood around his injured mouth through the helmet.

"I ‘ain't no human’ either."

"My… what a fascinating body you have."

The assassin licked her lips.

"Unfortunately for you, I'm already spoken for. Anri of Astora is to be my blade in life, and in death."

With his left hand, he unsheathed Anri’s Straight Sword.

The assassin only licked her lips again in response.

Faster than the others could react, they clashed in the middle of the room. His longsword caught by the groove of her blade while she dodged stabs from the straight sword. Pushing away,  he jumped back to avoid a quick slice, then stepped forward in an attempt to cleave her leg. She jumped high into the air and, swinging from the wooden rafters, dove on top of him. With his shield put away, he had little to defend with. As such, he crossed the swords together to stop her fall. Landing with her feet balanced delicately on the swords’ hilts, she brought her remaining knife past the swords and into his shoulder.

AGH. I’m losing a lot of blood… Gotta get her away.

He pulled the hilts inward and upward, bringing her feet together. It seemed she was counting on him losing mobility after another devastating wound, so she lost her balance and tilted forward. She repositioned her feet, though as she did, he swiped the swords apart, cutting well into her legs. With a howl, she landed behind him on one hand and kicked him away, sending him flying across the room. While her right leg was more damaged, her left leg, afflicted with the lightning resin, began twitching almost uncontrollably.

Lightning is a poor match. Let’s try…

He briefly resheathed Anri’s sword and reapplied resin, this time using pale pine resin for a magic buff.

Her eyes blood-red, the assassin glared with pure hatred at the Knight.

“Don’t forget about us!”

The Great Spirit cried while letting loose the magical barrage he had prepared.

The assassin dodged as ice flew in every which way, but with her battered state, she caught more hits than she would have otherwise.

As Puck laid cover fire, Emilia made her way to the Knight.

“Oh, dear, how are you still standing?! I need to heal this right away!”

“No need. Save your focus”

He used his talisman to cast bountiful light, as he had no wish to inadvertently heal his enemy, and none of his allies were hurt.

“What is-”

Emilia gasped at the light.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll tell you later. Right now we need to put her down, and fast.”

Emilia stubbornly remained and began adding her own healing magic to the process. He grumbled in return but did not protest.

“I can’t stand seeing other people get hurt because of me… I have to do something.”

“It’s not just for you. I have my own reasons for taking her on.”

“Even still… There, you seem better now.”

“Right. Excuse me.”

He moved past her and next to Puck, who was still firing magic.

“How long can you keep this up?”

“Not long! I’m almost out of mana!”

“Save the rest! Fire some more if she has me dead to rights.”

“Understood! Lia, come here!”

“Right!”

He casually walked between the assassin and Puck.

“You again.”

“Missed you too.”

He brandished his weapons in the Etiquette of the Faron Legion.

The assassin bared her teeth and flew at him. To her shock, he hurled the straightsword at her like a spear. She avoided it, but in midstride, he sliced at her with his glowing longsword. Trying to block it, she brought her weapon up, though not soon enough as he sliced clean through her wrist, disarming her. Seemingly unperturbed, she brought her other hand up in an attempt to claw out his eyes or throat, but with a pyromancy flame in his left hand, he used firesurge and hit her face directly. As she screamed, the fire blasted a hole through the ceiling and spewed into the night sky.

The assassin fell backward, clutching her scorched face with her only hand, but with no mercy, the Ashen One stepped forward, ready to release a fire orb.

“Wait!”

Emilia cried.

He turned and glared at her.

“What?!”

“Don’t you think she’s had enough?”

“...”

“...”

“...No.”

He turned back and readied the spell, though he was met with a stiletto shoe inches away from impaling his eye, exposed from the damage to his helmet. He stepped backward to see part of her leg and most of her body frozen by Puck.

“Geez, cuttin’ it close there, huh pal? That’s about all I got, though. I’m wiped.”

Emilia coaxed him back into the crystal while glaring at the Knight.

“You need to learn restraint when your enemy is defeated.”

“You need to learn when your enemy truly is defeated. She will never stop killing so long as there’s life in her breast.”

“Speaking of, those things are just unfair!”

Felt loudly whispered from next to Rom.

Rom did his civic duty and smacked her over the head. Gently, of course, but it still hurt with his towering frame.

The Ashen One glared at Felt for a moment, before turning back to Emilia. In a gentler voice, he said,

“I understand and admire your mercy. But know that it lays wasted with scum like this.”

He gestured at the assassin’s writhing body with his longsword.

“People who follow their sense of honor and morality too far tend to end up in one place…”

He glanced longingly at Anri’s sword, lodged in the far wall.

“...Murdered by a cause they had no idea they were following.

He turned back to the assassin and prepared another strike, but felt a familiar hum of power nearby. Not quite understanding its source, he jumped backward and brought Emilia to the ground with him. The door to the loothouse blasted open violently.

“What are you doing?!”

Emilia yelled.

“S-sorry, I thought that whatever was coming would be more… flashy…”

In from the doorway stepped Reinhard Van Astrea.

“Reinhard?!”

Emilia called.

“Emilia?! I didn’t expect to see you here! I saw a blast of fire in the sky and came to investigate.”

“That fast? Why were you around here?”

The Knight asked.

“I wasn’t. I was at the guards’ barracks.”

“That’s all the way on the other side of the Capitol, isn’t it?”

“I am very fast.”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“I see you people have run into some trouble with a nasty character.”

He turned to look at the assassin.

“Elsa Granhiert, the Bowel Hunter. A surprise to find you here in the Capitol of Lugunica. I am impressed you managed to hold her off, Emilia.”

“Actually, it was… ah, I never caught your name, sir.”

“I am called The Ashen One.”

“That’s not a name!”

Felt chirped.

He sighed heavily.

“So I have been told.”

“Well, Sir Ashen One, it seems you are quite the commendable fighter. I take it you specialize in fire magic?”

“I also heavily use miracles, but yes.”

“Miracles? You mean divine protections?”

“Apparently not, but this isn’t important right now. I was about to slay this wench.”

“It seems she is incapacitated for the time being.”

“That’s not enough. She needs to die, or she’ll never stop trying to kill us.”

“That isn’t the way we do things here. I am a Knight, not an executioner. If she is a danger to others, I would slay her with no hesitation, but at the moment, she is not. Therefore, I will detain her as the law states. If the Kingdom judges her execution, then justice will be served, but not a moment sooner.”

The Ashen One thought about it for a moment.

“Well… So long as you can hold her, I suppose I have no qualms. You seem strong enough. Certainly fast enough, anyway.”

“That’s Reinhard, the Sword Saint!”

Felt admonished.

“Sword Saint? I trust that’s a lofty title? I’m sorry I don’t recognize it, and I meant no offense.”

“None was taken, stranger. I’m very glad you were so amenable. May I ask where you are from, perchance?”

“...”

He considered the wisdom of telling the truth.

Yet another half-truth, then.

“A distant Kingdom. And a small one at that. You wouldn’t recognize the name.”

“All the same, may I ask its name?”

“...Lothric.”

Reinhard searched his memories, and indeed, found no recollection of such a place. He resolved to ask his friend when they next saw each other. The purple-haired Knight, Julius Juuclius was much more well-versed in History and politics.

“So why have you come here to Lugunica?”

Emilia asked.

“Wait, I thought you knew this girl.”

Felt chimed in again.

“Well, technically I know her, though she doesn’t know me.”

Emilia looked confused and slightly disturbed.

“Were you following me?”

“I ran into you once or twice, though I’m wearing different armor. I don’t think you would recognize me, regardless, however. I didn’t leave much of an impression.

I’m beginning to get tangled in my lies. I should be more truthful from now on… but…

He thought back to that moment in the alley when he was seared by some unknown force after he spoke about his death.

It seems these resets have something to do with the curse. And whatever entity is involved doesn’t want me sharing too much.

Thankfully, before more questions could be asked, Reinhard changed the subject.

“So what brings you all here?”

“I discovered this assassin’s presence, ‘Elsa’, I suppose her name is. She had hired Felt here to steal an insignia from Emilia. Realizing the danger, I made a plan with Felt to help stop Elsa, as I knew she was likely another target.”

“A stolen… insignia…”

Reinhard muttered.

It seemed he was fighting his knightly nature to punish wrongdoing by recognizing the good that was done here. Nevertheless, he allowed some sternness to enter his voice.

“Why did you steal the insignia?”

“I don’t know why the lady wanted it, but I already gave it back!”

Emilia nodded her head at Reinhard in confirmation.

“It must be super expensive, though. It’s got a fancy jewel and it glows, so it’s gotta have some kinda magic in it, right? That would sell for loads of- Wha?!”

As she spoke, Reinhard went rigid and stomped toward her.

“What did you just say?”

“A-about the jewel?! I figured that’s why the lady wanted it!”

“You said it glowed for you?!”

“Y-Yeah?!”

Reinhard was lost in thought for a moment.

“What is your name?!”

“F-Felt.”

“Hey, back off the girl, mister!”

Rom held her closer.

Reinhard ignored him.

“Your family name. How old are you?”

“I don’t have anything fancy like a family name. And I’m about… 15, I think. I don’t know my birthday.”

“Sir!”

He turned to Rom

“I must take this girl into my custody!”

“Like hell, you will! Over my dead body!”

“This is a grave matter, sir, but I assure you she will be well taken care of. I’ll be taking her to my estate where she will have clean clothes, warm food, and top-of-the-line care.”

“I don’ care if yer scrubbin’ her toes with angel’s tears ev’ry night, y’ain’t takin’ her!”

As they argued back and forth, Felt stared daggers into the ring she was given. Twisting it around her finger, she suddenly stood up and called to The Ashen One.

“Hey, mister! What happened… to that old thief you used to know?”

The others were silent as they waited for his response.

He almost stayed silent, but decided to give something, as if in exchange for his half-truths.

“Greirat was his name. He died while trying to rob a castle. He wanted to make himself useful to me. I let him go.”

Felt seemed to have a fire in her eyes.

“Old Man Rom. What if this is what we’ve been looking for? A way out of the slums? Into better living?”

“Against yer will?!”

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be.”

She thought about the gold ring on her finger, and about the thief, Greirat.

I don’t wanna end up like that guy.

They looked intensely at each other. Rom’s features slowly softened, and he looked at her with such gentle eyes.

He sighed very heavily.

“Man, yer gonna lead me to an early grave, kid. Alright. Let’s do things yer way. An’ seein’ as my house is currently…”

A log of wood fell from the rafters, denting the floor beneath it.

“...Not doin’ too hot… I could use a nicer place to sleep for some time.”

Reinhard wasted no time in detailing where they would be going, and what they would be doing.

Meanwhile, Emilia kept watch on the mysterious Knight, who, in turn, kept watch on the assassin.

“What is your name?”

“Don’t have one.”

“...”

“...”

“Well… Ashen… One…”

She sounded quite uncomfortable saying the title.

“You saved my life. I need to repay you in some way. Please tell me, and if it’s within my power, I’ll do it.”

He was lost in his head for a few moments. Thinking about how they met, how he accidentally assisted in her pickpocketing, about the time he spent in this strange new Kingdom, and about how much he enjoyed spending time with Emilia and Puck… And he thought about what he wanted.

I still don’t really know anything about this place. I’d like to learn. Maybe I can find a way back to Lothric, and offer a place of peaceful living for all those I left behind. I’d like to keep accompanying this girl, since I don’t know anyone else.

“I think I know what I want.”

“What is it?”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...Can you…

…give me…

…a name?”

Emilia stared dumbly for a moment, then giggled into her hand.

“Hahaha! Ah, of course! I’ll have to think of one… What kind of name do you want?”

“Something that doesn’t sound too strange, but will signal that I’m not from this land. Something that will immediately inform others of who… and of what I am.”

“Well, it would help me if I knew more about you. I always keep my promises, and I want to make sure it’s a good name. Would you mind coming with me back home until I come up with a good one?”

He took his helmet off and smiled at her.

“Of course.”

He performed an exaggerated, but Dignified Bow.

They both giggled again.

Reinhard stepped toward them

“Sorry if I am interrupting, but I’d like to see for myself if what she said was true. May I see the insignia?”

Elsa began struggling against her icy restraint as Emilia pulled it out. The Ashen One instinctively reached for his sword, but Reinhard held up a hand to stop him. He walked to Elsa and held his hand over her face. Some invisible action was done, and Elsa appeared to fall limp.

The Ashen One was startled.

“Did you just kill her?!”

“No, no, I merely put her to sleep.”

Suddenly, a hazy recollection of jumbled words fell into place. When he was concussed, he heard something like that.

“Ah, I see. I was going to be angry if you had just killed her after admonishing me, like that, hah.”

Reinhard saw no humor in the thought. Now taking the offered insignia, he tested Felt’s palm and, sure enough, the gem shone somewhat. Silently, he turned back to Emilia and handed it over.

“So, what will you be doing now?”

“I need to meet back up with Ram, then we’ll be returning to the Mathers Domain.”

“With this Knight in tow?”

“It seems so. I still need to repay him, after all.”

“I see.”

Reinhard looked somewhat concerned, but trusted Emilia’s judgment.

“Well, I wish you good luck on your journey.”

He looked somberly upward at the moon through the hole in the ceiling.

“Tonight may be our last chance to gaze peacefully at the moon, after all.”

Emilia was confused and concerned over his words, but the Ashen One simply continued staring at the beautiful orb of light.

“The Dark Moon.”

He muttered to himself.

“So much brighter here…”

Arc 1 Concluded.

Arc 1.5 Interlude:

Chapter 6B: Start of a New Journey

Emilia and the unnamed Ashen One were walking to her hotel under the moonlight. He had removed his damaged helmet to see the moon more clearly.

"Is it really so pretty?"

"Pretty doesn't begin to describe it. In Lothric, I joined the "Blades of the Dark Moon". We were an order dedicated to upholding the righteous fury of Gwyndolin, last-born of Gwyn, the first lord of Cinder. The Dark Moon that hung above Anor Londo was nowhere near this majesty. This one has no darkness…"

She furrowed her brow

"Lord… of…?"

He frowned.

“You don’t even know about Gwyn? No wonder you’ve never heard of Miracles. I have much to teach, then.”

She looked excited

"Perhaps you could join me when I study!"

“Study? You’re a student? Convenient. I could join in learning about this Kingdom’s history. It seems I couldn’t have picked a better friend."

She stopped short. He failed to notice for a few steps, but stopped and turned.

"Emilia? Are you alright?"

"You said… 'friend'..."

She looked confused, perhaps even inquisitive. Almost as if testing him.

"...Yes? Was that wrong of me? I-"

Suddenly, he remembered her insignia. Oh, I see. She must be some kind of royalty. I suppose it was presumptuous on my part to call her a friend.

"I'm terribly sorry if I offended you with my forwardness. I didn't-"

She was appalled.

"No, no, no! Of course not! It's just… uhm…"

"'It's just'…?"

"It's just… I didn't know… friends could be made… so quickly…"

Her cheeks and ears were turning red.

"I take it you haven't had many friends…”

Wishing not to make her feel lonely, he continued,

“Well, most of the friends I've made have been the same way! Greirat, Cornyx, Karla, Irina. And… Anri… Well, she had Horrace, but…"

He trailed off.

Tears began to fall.

Emilia rushed to him

"Ah! I- uh- I'm- I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to bring back painful memories for you!"

He looked at her and, with tears still plain in his eyes, grinned widely at her.

“Nonsense! Painful memories are of the few joys we have!”

She looked disturbed at this.

He turned his head to face the sky directly upward.

"Seigward had Yhorm… Orbeck, Ludleth… I think he almost fancied himself as a sort of Father to me. Passing advice and direction, though he never scolded me when I strayed from the path he'd chosen… And… of course…"

"..."

"...The Firekeeper…"

He was facing her directly now. Still teary-eyed, but still grinning.

"You look something like her. Mostly just by your hair, though… and by your fair complexion, too, I suppose. That's… why I was following you. The only beacon I found in this strange new place."

Emilia frowned at him, but said nothing.

[Puck?]

[Again, he doesn't seem to be lying. And his malice has almost disappeared.]

[Almost?]

[No worries. He just seems the type that’s so used to fighting for his life that he never loses that part of his will. None of it is directed toward us.]

[Strange…]

[Agreed. He seems kinda dangerous, so I'm worried about taking him with us, but I trust you know what you're doing. That, and even in this form he won't be able to lay a finger on my Lia!]

She smiled back at The Ashen One, whose eyes were still brimmed with tears.

[Thanks, Puck. But looking at him now, I don't think you need to worry.]

As they continued walking to the hotel, the conversation skewed toward Emilia's side.

"Oh, about earlier, I'm not a full student, per se… I just need to study the Kingdom's inner workings, its past achievements and failures, major events, things like that."

"What for?"

She hesitated.

"Well, I wasn't exactly trying to keep this a secret, but I'm not technically supposed to talk about it until the announcement."

She started whispering.

"But I am to be one of the Royal Candidates to succeed the old Royal Family."

"Ah, Kingcraft, then. Never been an interest of mine, honestly."

He turned his head and bit his lip.

"Well, that's not entirely true. I once desired power more than anything else, but I realized my power should not belong to any one ruler. I was on a path that would either make me a cruel King for all my unwilling subjects, or to become a pitiful catalyst in a long line of pawns, from which others could steal that same power for themselves. In the end, I chose to keep what I already had, and let that which I would have earned die in a long-awaited peace."

She tilted her head.

"I don't… quite understand… but it sounds like you made a very admirable decision. Though, a very hard one, it seems.'

"Not as much as you would think… Ah, but enough of my rambling. Who is this 'Ram' we are meeting?"

"Right! She's one of two maids currently working at the mansion I live in. The mansion belongs to the Margrave, Roswaal Mathers, who is my sponsor in the Royal Selection."

"I see. So I need to earn his permission to stay, then? With currency, or with work?"

"Neither! At least…"

She put a finger on her lip.

"At least I don't think he'd make you work…"

She clenched her fists tightly in front of her.

"Maybe if I ask suuuuper hard!"

He laughed.

"No need, Emilia. If he wants me to, I will work for my stay. I may not look it, but I am very strong. Any hard labor would be a simple thing for me."

"Are you sure? The maids work suuuuper ridiculously hard every day!"

"Then I suppose someone should give them a hand."

I may as well learn new skills now that my talents for slaying Great Lords are no longer needed…

He thought about the assassin. Unable to help himself, he looked backward toward the slums, wherein that “Elsa Granhiert” still resided.

At least in theory…

Emilia noticed his worried expression.

“I’m sure Reinhard will have no problem taking her into custody. He’s suuuuper strong!”

“Heh, you say that a lot.”

“Say what?”

“You say ‘suuuuper’ a lot.”

“I do? Hey, are you teasing me?”

She playfully smacked his armored shoulder, but eased her pout into a smile.

[Is this what it’s like to have friends?]

[I hope so.]

Growing a devilish smile, Emilia prepared to tease him in return.

“You know… You have something you say a lot too.”

“I do?”

“Yeah. You say ‘I suppose’ a lot!”

He thought for a moment.

“I suppose I d-. Hmm… I really do.”

She stifled a laugh at that.

“Just like a certain someone I know!”

“Who’s that?”

“You’ll see when we get to the mansion.”

“Hahh, we’re here. This is the hotel I’m staying at.”

They stopped in front of a large building. Once almost identical to those around it, save for the sheer size.

“And that’s another thing…”

She looked at him as he slowly turned his head toward her.

“What is a hotel, anyway? And how can you tell it apart from anything else? I’ve never seen so many intact buildings in my life!”

“Uhm… A hotel is a place where people stay temporarily if they don’t have a place to sleep where they are. It’s also a place to put your things and relax while you travel.”

“Do we… Have to sleep?”

A bright light shone from Emilia’s crystal as a certain grey cat appeared.

“Puck?!”

“Listen, buddy! Don’t think you can go around doin’ whatever with my daughter!”

He was all but snarling at the Champion of Ash.

“I-uh… Don’t understand. I only asked if we needed to sleep here.”

“Yeah, huh. I got my eye on you, wise guy.”

He floated away from the Knight while glaring menacingly.

“If he touches you in any way, don’t hesitate to squeeze me dry for all my Od.”

“I don’t get why you’re so worried. I’ll be fine! Plus, Ram will be there, too.”

The cat gave one last evil eye toward the man before returning to his crystal.

“What’s his problem?”

“I’m sorry about him. He’s just so protective of me. Ever since we’d met, he’s been the closest thing to a Father I’ve ever had.”

“I suppose he’s just concerned about a dangerous man like me in a closed-in space with you. Not much room to evade if a fight breaks out.”

“There won’t be any need to fight. Are you always thinking about such scary things?”

“It was normal back home. When you entered a building, it was common sense to check for hidden enemies before anything else.”

“Your home sure does sound scary…”

“That it was…”

Emilia hesitated.

“Could you tell me more about your homeland sometime?

He hesitated as well.

“Sure, but I may struggle to find much that’s pleasant to talk about.”

“What-”

“Miss Emilia!”

They turned toward the voice. A pink-haired girl of frail physique was running toward them. Her outfit was a bizarre mix of regal and humble, like a servant’s garbs, but very ornate.

“Ram!”

“Miss Emilia, I’ve been looking all over the Capitol for you, but it seems you’ve found an escort to help you back to the hotel.”

She faced him and bowed.

“Thank you, sir, for-”

To her confusion, he imitated the gesture.

“...For… for helping my mistress. But I will be attending to her from here.”

“Wait, Ram, he saved my life. I’ve agreed to take him back to the mansion with us.

Ram looked shocked, then highly unconvinced.

“Saved… your life? How so, if I may ask?”

He stepped forward.

“There was an assassin sent to retrieve her insignia and kill her. I intercepted the thief and defeated the assassin.”

“And how did you know the whereabouts of this assassin?”

She stared at him coldly.

“That’s enough, Ram! Reinhard was with us. If the Knight here was involved with her, then he would be able to tell.”

Ram seemed to begrudgingly accept that as truth.

I suppose they really aren’t exaggerating when they talk about that Reinhard fellow. I suppose I should have determined that from our brief spat before.

“Very well, I shall withhold the rest of my questions, Miss Emilia. It seems I am in even greater debt to you, Mr…?”

“I am ‘The Ashen One”. Or ‘Champion of Ash’ if it pleases you.”

Ram fought the urge to scrunch her face in displeasure at failing to learn his name.

“He- uh… Doesn’t have a name… yet… But I promised to give him one.”

“So that he could stay at our mansion for free?”

“I insist that I will do what work is asked of me by the Margrave. If that includes washing his pet Basilisk, I will do as he pleases.”

“Basilisk?”

“It’s a nasty, vile creature that spits a fatal cloud of petrifying smoke. It was merely a metaphor to state that I will do any unpleasant tasks if I am asked to.”

“...Very well.”

Ram still did not seem pleased, but she no longer protested.

They all made their way into the hotel. Since Emilia and Ram had separate rooms, Ram insisted that The Ashen One stay in her own room, for adequate ‘sense of propriety’. He was certain she simply wanted to keep an eye on him, as had Puck. As much as he disliked the thought of leaving himself vulnerable, he decided to trust that Ram would not betray her mistress by doing anything against him while he slept.

If I am to be traveling with humans- er, elves and Devils, or whathaveyou, I’ll learn to fit in with them.

At his insistence, Ram took the bed and he slept dressed as he was in his armor, sitting cross-armed in the cushioned chair. Unexpectedly nervous, he closed his eyes and relaxed. Instantly the tension in his muscles began to ease as he felt like his body was melting into the chair beneath him. Before long, he was out cold.

“Ashen One. You have done well. You’ve brought a tear to the eye of this old worn-out thief. I thank you. For everything you have done. May you find peace, as I have…”

A frustratingly bright light leaked through the curtains as The Ashen One awoke. Curiously, his eyes were brimmed with moisture, but he paid it little mind. To his surprise, Ram was no longer in the bed and its sheets were made neat. He turned his head to look for her, but was met with a pillow thrown into his face. Reeling backward and removing it, he saw Ram standing with her clothes pristine, but messy hair and baggy eyelids.

“You. Snore.”

She growled at him.

Uncertain of what to say or do, he tried to apologize, but didn’t know how. He had no idea what a ‘snore’ was, or why she would call him that. Nevertheless, she then seemed to completely ignore his presence and fixed her hair before splashing cold water in her face. When she decided she was now presentable, she made to leave and turned her head back at him.

"I will assist Miss Emilia with the preparations. We should be leaving in around one hour, so you have time to wash up and gather your things."

"Wash up?"

She frowned.

"Clean yourself. There is a bath in this hotel. Please use it before we leave for the mansion. Oh, and if you have something more comfortable than armor, you should wear it. Lord Roswaal dislikes attending people in more formal wear."

With that, she left the room.

He wasn't sure if he should be offended by her brusk manner, or thankful for her advice.

At least she doesn't seem to hate me…

Alright… It's time for this Lord of Cinder to learn what a 'bath' is.

After tentatively questioning the very helpful staff, he learned how to operate the water-summoning levers to fill and drain the bath.

"Don't worry, we get people from all over who've never seen plumbing before! No need to feel embarrassed!"

Nevertheless, he felt as though he was being talked down to. Though he was not so prideful as to refuse advice where he was clearly ignorant.

After undressing, scrubbing his body with the ‘soap’ material left around, and drying off, it was time to decide how he would present himself from now on.

People here don't usually just walk around in armor at all times. Even Knights like Reinhard. What can I wear instead?

He laid out several outfits that he had collected during his quest. After great consideration, and after quickly ruling out the dresses, as they were far too fancy, he chose the Clandestine Coat and the Mirrah Trousers. No gloves or headwear seemed necessary. He left the room to look for Emilia and Ram. He found Ram carrying a case that he presumed held Emilia's supplies.

"Shall I help you?"

He held his hands out to relieve her of the burden. She seemed to gratefully relinquish it.

"You are better dressed than I expected."

"It was surprisingly difficult to pick normal clothes. It was either this, more armor, or ragged robes."

"Where are your bags? We need to move them onto the carriage soon."

"Oh, I don't have any. No worries there."

Her eyebrows creased.

"Where did you put your armor, then? And where did you get your clothes?"

"From here."

He showed her the bottomless box he kept hanging on his belt.

She stared at him strangely. In response, he opened the box and removed his chestplate.

"See?"

Her eyes shot open.

"Ah, that is, indeed, powerful magic. Not unlike Miss Beatrice's Door Crossing. To create an item that is larger on the inside."

"I didn't create this, mind you. I have no idea how such a powerful relic is made."

She kept staring at it for a moment.

"Hmm… If anyone would, Miss Beatrice would know."

"Is this Miss Beatrice also at the mansion?"

"Yes, she oversees the Forbidden Library. Her specialized magic works very similarly so as to keep it hidden from intruders.”

“Hmm… I’ve been meaning to find a source of knowledge by which I could learn more about these strange lands. I don’t suppose Miss Beatrice would mind sharing, would she?”

“She rarely chooses to allow guests, but it is far from impossible... Perhaps if you made a good impression by showing your mutual appreciation for learning?"

"Understood. Thank you for all the helpful advice you've given me. It's very much appreciated."

She stared at him intensely for a very brief moment before replying,

"Of course, sir. You have saved my mistress, and for that, I must repay you."

He was a little uncomfortable with the idea of any more people feeling indebted to him.

"I really didn't do much... It was mostly for my own sake…"

"Modesty is nice, but sometimes it can be frustrating to hear. You should give yourself more credit. Just as, with failures, you should take responsibility."

"I… never thought of it that way."

"A piece of wisdom one could only learn by working as a servant."

She walked away as she spoke.

"Where are you going?"

"To fetch Miss Emilia. It is almost time to go. Please finish packing the rest."

He looked at the carriage. It had one small box. He looked to his left. There were dozens of packed boxes and cases piled on the floor. He looked back at her.

Without turning around, she called out to him.

"Make use of your impressive strength to learn responsibility."

That little…

He laughed to himself.

Well, it's not like this will be hard for me.

"Good morning!"

“Yes… I am… mourning well?”

Emilia tilted her head in her usual way as he replied with nonsense in his own usual way.

Ram ignored what she assumed was just a terrible pun and walked around the carriage.

“I will attend to the ground dragons”

“‘Ground dragons’?”

She looked at him incredulously.

“They are beasts of burden that will pull the cart.”

He was mortified.

“You’ve domesticated dragons for something so simple as carrying you from place to place?”

Emilia chimed in.

“Those are different from the Holy Dragon. They’re ground dragons, so they don’t have wings, and they aren’t intelligent or powerful in the same way as the Dragon. It seems I also have much to teach you!”

“Seems so. Perhaps I should tell you about the Curse.”

And along the way, learn how far is too far.

He absently clutched at his chest, where the hidden Dark Sign branded him.

She looked interested.

“Indeed?”

“The ground dragons are harnessed. We are ready to leave.”

They climbed into the carriage and made their way to the Mathers Domain.

Thus begins The Ashen One’s visit to the mansion of Roswaal L. Mathers.

Chapter Text

“So…”

Emilia sat with her hands clenched and her brow furrowed as she took in the unbelievable information being presented to her.

“...The King threw himself into the fire to feed it. To keep the fire burning… And this empowered the Gods?”

“Not a King, he was- well, yes, he was a King, but not JUST a King. In the same way you are not JUST an animal, he was much more than that. Gwyn was to the other Gods as the current monarch of this Kingdom is to you or I.”

Her eyebrow twitched at this, though he failed to notice.

“He was… Something special. More than a God, but still one of them. His soul offered so much power to the Flame, even fractured as it was, that it erupted with enough force to rejuvenate the entire world. The Knights he brought with him, whose Silver armor, mind you, was strong enough to defend against Dragons’ fire, were permanently scorched black, their armor melted and twisted. With that, Gwyn became the first Lord of Cinder.”

“Right… I still don’t understand how that relates to the Undead Humans, though. How does one affect the other?”

“The First Flame is irrevocably tied to the nature of the world. As the Flame burns, the God’s retain their strength, with Humans far below them as their subjects. When the Flame fades, however, the Gods’ power wains, and humanity grows. When Gwyn artificially extended the Age of Fire, the world itself seemed to recognize this incongruity. Recognized its unnatural state. As such, even though the Gods remained powerful, the Humans were altered in such a way as to reach that same peak.”

“The Undead Curse…”

“Indeed. Not really a Curse at all, as much as a boon. Unfortunately, however, Gwyn’s ilk were all-too keen at manipulation and managed to twist the public perception. Instead of thinking that the Humans were gloriously made immortal, it was now believed that the sinful and heretical Humans were transformed into terrifying, baser creatures.”

“I see. And that was the ruse that led to the corralling? The herding of Undead into prisons?”

“Or so the stories go, anyway.”

“...I don’t want to be rude, but I must admit that this all sounds too outlandish to be true.”

“And what if-”

Here goes…

“-I told you… I am Undead?”

He froze for a span, waiting for the bizarre suffocating sensation. Thankfully, none came.

So if teaching about it isn’t enough to trigger it, and admitting my own affliction isn’t, then what did trigger it?

She eyed him intensely for a long span.

“If you want my honest opinion, I’m afraid it won’t be to your liking.”

“Please, do be honest.”

“...I would think you were mad. It just doesn’t seem possible that nobody of this era, even those that have lived for hundreds of years, would know about such things.”

A disappointing answer, to be sure, but at least she isn’t threatening to kill me.

He sat in silence for a moment, briefly considering if it might be worth resetting time by letting himself die.

No, don’t be ridiculous. She may think strangely of me now, but I couldn’t possibly expect us to perfectly understand each other anyway.

“I’m sorry… You told me to be honest-…”

“No, I’m not upset. Or rather, I suppose I am upset, just not at you. I asked your honest opinion and you gave it. Just because it isn’t the one I wanted doesn’t mean I should be angry with you. I genuinely thank you for your sincerity.”

She seemed a bit happier at that, though still melancholy.

“Honesty is incredibly important to Spirit Arts Users. The contract between me and Puck is sacred. Dishonesty harms that bond, and is evil. I don’t delude myself into thinking anyone who tells a little lie should be shunned forever, but I do believe that everyone should strive to be as honest as possible. For that, I greatly appreciate your candor.”

He smiled.

“I am very happy to say I agree. I have certainly not always been truthful, but I strive to be an honest person.”

He chuckles to himself.

“A man I once knew was almost never honest. He was a right scoundrel, and yet if it came to making jokes at your expense he would be brutal in its honesty. It was funny that, while I wanted to be angry, it had always amused me to no end that he only ever seemed to use honesty for insults.”

Emilia frowned.

“I think that’s horrible! Friends shouldn’t tease each other like that! It’s mean.”

Puck yawned loudly and floated from behind her head.

“Ah! Good morning Puck! Are you feeling better?”

“Morning Lia… I used up more mana than usual, so I’m still feelin’ a little out of it.”

He rubbed a tired eye with his paw. A smirk formed on his mouth.

“But you know, it’s real fun to tease your friends sometimes. Betty does it to Roswaal all the time! And you know how Ram gets.”

Emilia looked genuinely confused.

“Is-… Are they… friends? She and… Roswaal and… Huh?!”

“Whoops, I guess it’s too early in the morning for that little bombshell.”

He turned to face The Ashen One.

“Hey! How are you doing? Not getting into any trouble with my adorable daughter, I hope.”

“Of course not. I was just teaching her about some ancient history.”

“I caught some of that, but I don’t know if I’m just still half-asleep or what, but I couldn’t really make heads or tails of it. Something about an Undead civilization?”

“That is exactly correct.”

Puck eyed him. 

“You think that’s real? Sounds all made up to me.”

The Ashen One frowned with confusion.

“Of course it is real. Lord Gwyn wasn’t just a fairy tail. I faced a shadow of his own soul in direct combat. I met his progeny. Hell, I’ve casted miracles invoking his name.”

“Or maybe you just THINK all that was related to your little story. People have a tendency to warp reality as they see it to fit their preconceived notions, ya know.”

“I… Don’t understand. It is more than obvious that- I mean- I myself had earned the title of Lord of Cinder! I have SEEN him!”

“Or you think you did.”

The Ashen One was getting angry.

“I don’t understand. Why do you deny his existence?”

“Why do you insist upon it?”

“Because I have SEEN HIM!”

“Or you think you did.”

Puck turns back toward Emilia.

“See! It’s SUPER FUNNY!”

It took a few long moments for the realization to hit. After which, the Ashen One forced himself to calm down.

Agh. Why did I allow myself to get so worked up over a stupid rodent trying to be funny?

“That’s very much not nice, Puck! Apologize! You have upset our guest!”

“I got nothin’ to apologize for, though! I only said some facts and he got all angry. Anyone who lives their life pushing all their worries into Faith are like that. Dare to question them and instead of realizing how dumb they are for not being able to answer basic questions, they get all fuming mad!”

“It is beyond rude to belittle someone’s faith! Why would you be so mean?”

She was appalled that her own father would say such things. Hadn’t he himself raised her to be better than that?

“Didn’t I just tell you?”

She frowned, but after racking her brain, she understood.

“Oh. So… So you’re saying that you see him as a friend?”

Puck began pouting in a highly exaggerated manner.

“Tch! Geez, Lia, it ruins the whole point when you come right out and say it!”

Despite himself, The Ashen One began laughing.

“Played like a damn fiddle.”

A scratching, sliding sound came from the front of the carriage. For the briefest of moments, the Champion of Ash mistook it for a blade being unsheathed and reached for his weapon before stopping himself.

Ram opened the divider between the driver’s seat and the inside of the carriage.

“We should be arriving within the hour. Alarm village is in sight.”

Without waiting for a response, she closed the divider and drew her attention back to managing the ground dragons.

“Ah, finally. It’ll be so nice to be home again. The inn was nice, but there’s nothing like sleeping in your own bed, you know?”

I don’t remember ever actually sleeping IN a bed. Maybe I should try it that way tonight. Or take the extra time to study up in their library. Assuming Miss Beatrice allows it, of course.

“Could you tell me about this ‘Roswaal’? I’d completely forgotten to ask about him. What is he like? How should I act?”

Emilia put a finger to her lip.

“Umm… He’s…”

She and Puck turned to each other and tilted their heads.

“Eccentric?”

They spoke in unison.

Chapter Text

Emilia stepped out of the carriage and inhaled deeply.

"Haaaah! Don't the flowers smell lovely? Rem must have recently watered them!"

The Ashen One stepped out as well. He could hardly remember a time where he was anywhere that would elicit a positive smell. Nevertheless, he likewise breathed deeply.

A cacophony of twisting, churning, burning, soothing, sweet, and sour smells overwhelmed his senses. He quickly covered his nose.

"Gah!"

"What's the matter?"

"Ah. Oh, nothing. These are just so much more pungent than the flowers I usually come across. They are extraordinarily pretty, though. More vibrant and diverse than what I'm used to as well."

Emilia smiled and turned, wandering toward the fountain of spraying water.

As he made to follow, he glanced at the mansion. Now that he wasn’t looking through the cramped carriage window, the view was incredible.

Perhaps Lothric really is miniscule when compared to Lugunica. Even so far from the Capitol there are such massive buildings as these?

As he scanned across the windows, he spotted something out of place. He focused, but couldn’t quite make it out. Using his binoculars from his bottomless box, he could see the shape in one of the windows. It was a very small person. Smaller, even, than Felt. With blonde hair in such an unusual shape, and peculiar eyes that stared directly at him. Their expression seemed to be all at once emotionless, inquisitive, accusatory, disdainful, and prideful.

“What’s that?”

He brought the binoculars down and saw Emilia approaching him with a curious gaze.

“These? They are called binoculars. They allow you to clearly see things from very far away.”

“Can I try!?”

He smiled at her.

“Of course.”

He tossed them to her and she stared at the scenery around her through them. Playfully hopping from object to object.

He looked back at the mansion only to find that the person was no longer in the window.

Odd. I wonder-

“If you are done playing, Mr. Ashen One, I must inform Lord Roswaal that we have an unexpected guest. If you would please see to unharnessing the ground dragons at the stables? And make sure they are well fed, please.”

“Uh, sure, I-”

“Thank you very much. I should not take long.”

She quickly sped off toward the front door.

She really seems to enjoy putting work onto other people. Once was amusing, but now it just seems rude… Ah, well… No helping it, I suppose.

He sighed and walked around to the front of the carriage. Despite his conscious effort not to, the sight of the beasts sent the instinct to fight through his whole body. Keeping a hand gripped tightly on his sword, he sidled across their flanks and eyed them intensely. Unfortunately, they seemed to sense something of his countenance and responded with their own menacing aura.

Never get anywhere at this rate…

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He opened them and stared directly into the eyes of the nearest of the two. A half-blue, half-red dragon with a large abdomen, and four thick stumps for legs. He deliberately removed his hand from the sword and gently floated it toward the dragon’s head. It snorted at him, but as he continued unabated, it quickly relented. He placed his hand directly on the creature’s snout as it huffed in place. Gently, he drew his hand across, and around the top of its head. It seemed quite pleased with the gesture. Encouraged by this, he sidled between the two, setting his back to it and greeted the second dragon. One with a much for slim frame and bright yellow coloring, that stood on only two, much thinner, legs. It didn’t snarl as his hand approached, but it had a sinister glow in its eye that led him to believe if he wasn’t careful, he would lose his hand.

“Mmm… Maybe you aren’t ready for that, yet.”

Bringing his hand down, the dragon seemed to relax and become more comfortable. He bent down and unlatched their harness from the carriage and walked them to the small building that he assumed was the stables. Seeing large enclosures with hay, soft mats, and troughs, he figured he was correct. Ensuring the two dragons seemed comfortable, he returned to the fountain where Emilia was still staring at the treeline through the binoculars.

She heard him approach and suddenly looked embarrassed.

“Ah! I’m so sorry, here you go!”

“No, no, you seem to be having a lot of fun with them. For me, they’re little more than a novelty. Please hold on to them for now. Use them as much as you want.”

“Thank you!”

Two figures approached from nearby. One was Ram, and the other was another woman who looked startlingly identical, save for blue hair in place of Ram’s pink.

As they came near, Ram eyed the carriage with annoyance.

“I see I failed to make myself clear. The carriage was supposed to be parked next to the stables. I will have to fetch the dragons and re-harness them to move it. Please hurry inside with my beloved sister, Rem.”

She either failed, or didn’t bother trying, to hide the aggression in her voice.

“Oh, I’m sorry. But there’s no need for all of that, I can just drag it over!”

The Champion of Ash yelled back at them as he hurried to the tongue of the carriage and bent to grab it.

The blue-haired maid, apparently named “Rem” called out,

“Oh, no, sir! It wouldn’t do for you to messy yourself with dirt and sweat before attending Master Roswaal!”

“Really, I insist, it’s no trouble at all!”

Before they could protest any further, he effortlessly lifted the end of the carriage and casually strolled to the stables with the tongue in one hand.

They all seemed impressed by his strength, though a few in particular seemed far more concerned over what it may imply. Namely, in how to counter such strength.

Oblivious to this, though, the Ashen One returned, dusting his clothes with one hand and smiling at them.

“...Very well. Without further delay, we shall lead you to the dining hall. The Master is waiting for us there.”

Emilia gave him an encouraging nod as they made their way toward the mansion.

Passing through the front doors and into the wide entryway, the Ashen One marveled at the brilliant architecture. The maids tried their best to ignore his wandering eyes and continued to the dining hall. Rem and Ram stood at either side of the door and bowed, gesturing for him to enter along with Emilia. Suddenly nervous, more than he had expected to be, he followed Emilia’s lead and entered the room.

There was a very long and thin table lined with a velvety, white material. Along it were small metal tools and slabs of some glossy material decorated with paints. Across the table, at the far side, sat a very mysterious figure. A tall man with bleached white skin, save for lines of color across his face, wearing flashy purple robes, and much, much jewelry.

“Greeeeetings, dear guest. Pleeeaaaase take a seat!”

Doing as he was asked, the Ashen One sat at the closest seat along the left edge of the table. Emilia sat in the next seat to the Undead’s right.

“Hello, sir. I believe you would be the master of this mansion, Lord Roswaal?”

“That is correeeect, good sir, Knight. Might I ask for your own naaaaaame?”

Before he could reply, Emilia leaned forward and said,

“Oh, the Knight does not have a name. I have offered to come up with one for him while he stays here.”

“Oh, riiiiiiight, Ram mentioned something to that effeeeeeeect… No name… How absolutely dreeeaaaaadful… For a Knight is nothing without his name and a cause to diiiiie for, isn’t he?”

The Ashen One chuckled dryly.

“I have found much to die for, but none have been able to keep me down, yet.”

“My, myyyyyy! What a brave and strong warrior… Now tell meeeeeee, have you chosen a new cause?”

He frowned at the strange man’s question.

“New cause?”

“Why, I could never believe you wouldn’t notice the vaaaaaaaluable position you have found yourself in… In an unfamiliar place, you meet an unfamiliar giiiiiirl. You save her from utter doom, and it seeeeeeeeems she is to be the ruler of this fine Kiiiiingdom! I shudder to think of the prize such a haaaaaaaaandsome man like you would want from a beautiful maiden!”

“I… Still don’t quite understand. I have asked that she give me a new name. That was to be my only reward. I am here to request permission to stay at your mansion in the meantime. I will be willing to work for my stay.”

This seemed to strike Roswaal dumb for a moment, though his smile never faded. A smile, he noticed, that never once reached his eyes. As if his smiles were all fake…

The door opened again. He turned with Emilia to see who was entering. Rem and Ram were following behind… That same figure from before. The one in the window.

A small girl, I take it. Like Felt.

She walked along the opposite side of the table and took her seat opposite to him, adjacent to Roswaal.

Her eyes…

Now that he could see them more cleaely, the girl’s eyes had pupils in a strange shape, forming the vague image of a butterfly.

He looked at Emilia. Then at Roswaal, only now noticing his peculiarly different eye colors.

His, too.

He glanced at the maids as they took their places behind Roswaal.

Theirs match their hair… Why are eyes so significant here?

He couldn’t help but think about the eyes he gifted to the Firekeeper.

His pondering was interrupted by the strange master.

“Why, Beatrice, so nice of you to joooooooin us for a meal!”

She paid him no mind, however, and stared daggers into the Knight before her.

“Beatrice? So you are the master of the library that Ram told me about? I was hoping I could be allowed to peruse your books. There is much about this Kingdom I wish to know about.”

She continued staring for a moment.

“Betty sees no need to open her forbidden library to a stranger, I suppose.”

“Now, noooooow, Beatrice, this man is a good friend of Miss Emilia here. Surely you would not consiiiiiider him to be a mere stranger?”

Emilia joined in as he spoke with some enthusiastic uses of ‘Mhmm!’

“He helped me a lot back at the Capitol. And he’s told me great stories! I think you two would get along suuuuuuper well!”

The girl eyed Emilia for a span before reluctantly offering,

“Fine, I suppose… Betty shall allow him to enter the library. Consider this a great honor and do not be ungrateful to Betty.”

“Of course! Thank you very much!”

He bowed his head with excitement plain in his voice.

She gave a satisfied ‘Hmf!’ in return.

“Well, noooooooow, I think it’s time for our delicious meal, don’t you thiiiiiink?”

While he spoke, Rem began setting platters across the table.

“Unfortunately, due to such short noooootice, our first meal together is rather quiiiiiite bland. But I’m sure you’ll find Rem’s cooking to be a treat nontheleeeeeess.”

The Knight remained silent as a shallow container was placed onto the slab in front of him. It was an off-white liquid with bits of meat and plant floating inside. 

I suppose this is something like estus soup. Only without the estus…

He remembered the milk offered to him by Old Man Rom.

I should keep in mind it will be thinner and strange. It wouldn’t do for me to gag on their food while they're being so hospitable.

Hesitating, he didn’t act until he saw Emilia pick up the curved tool and use it to scoop the liquid into her mouth.

Easy enough… Here goes…

Following her example, he picked up the tool, successfully acquired the scoop, and balanced it all the way to his mouth. When he put the tool into his mouth…

His eyes shot open wide and he let out an involuntary grunt. Almost dropping the tool, he placed his hand over his mouth.

Several people looked quite startled at this reaction, least of which was Rem herself.

“Sir?!”

“Are you okay?!”

“What’s the matter?!”

He swallowed and, with a tear forming in his eye, he said,

“Delicious.”

“Huh?”

“DELICIOUS!”

Again, they seemed startled.

“I had no idea food could taste this magnificent! My goodness, it’s as if an entire world has been laid at my feet to explore! I have no words to describe this!”

“I-uhh- I’m… glad you enjoy it, Sir…”

Rem awkwardly backed away from him.

Emilia began bursting with laughter.

“I- I- I can’t believe… hahahaha!”

She failed to communicate before being swept into a wave of raucous guffawing.

Even Roswaal began giggling into his hand.

The others, however, that being Beatrice and the maids, seemed either displeased or annoyed.

His face became hot with embarrassment.

“I- I have… never had food like this… before…”

He tried to defend himself.

“I only remember having moss, roots, or berries to eat…”

Emilia’s joy quickly died as she realized how he had reacted.

“Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry, I- I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s alright. I realize now that my reaction was… out of proportion. Eating anything was rare enough, but for such an overwhelming sensation of intense flavor-…”

Roswaal retained his smirk and offered,

“Why, Rem’s faaaaaabulous cooking could put any man into such a stupor. It is oooooooonly to be expected, after all.”

“You said you don't sleep much, and don’t eat much, either? How are you so strong if you don’t eat or sleep as much as you should? Puck says everybody needs three good meals and a long sleep every single day, or else you won’t get strong.”

So she really doesn’t believe that I’m undead. That or she just hasn’t wrapped her mind around what it truly means. However… I can’t be so certain these others would be as kind as her if I talk about the Curse…

“I come from a desolate place. There, one learns to be heartier than all others, or simply fade away.”

“Mmm, might I ask wheeeeere this place is?”

“The Kingdom of Lothric. I’m not sure how close it is to Lugunica, nor its bearing. I found myself here quite by accident.”

“I can’t saaaaaay I’ve heard of such a Kingdom… Is it a large one?”

“Until recently, it was about the only one I had really known, but it seems that no, it isn’t. The Capitol alone might just be about the size of the entirety of Lothric.

Roswaal contemplated this.

“Indeeeeeed, that would make it quite hard to spot on any map… would it not?”

The Ashen One shifted in his seat. He felt uneasy, as if he were being tested, though in what way, he knew not. Thankfully, they relinquished their questions, and in the lull, he began glancing around. He noticed that the maids had not yet taken their seats.

“Why aren’t they eating with us? Has my unexpected visit taken the food that was meant to be theirs? If so, they can take the rest of mine. I am satisfied with what I had.”

Roswaal probed him with narrow eyes. It was as if he had somehow bested Roswaal at some game.

Now if only I knew what in the hell kind of game we were playing…

Ram spoke for him.

“It is not our place as servants to eat alongside our master.”

She gazed at him with an intensity he could not possibly ignore.

What are they after?! Why are they so baffled by everything I say?! Surely we undead cannot be that different from Humans!

He thought back to a moment he shared with his friend, Siegward of Catarina.

“Even we Undead deserve a little normalcy from time to time!”

This is what being normal is. To eat and sleep every day, to understand what servants do, to know where you come from…

“I feel… As though I don’t belong here…”

Emilia turned.

“No! No, of course not, it’s just-... I guess we don’t quite understand your homeland’s customs. Just because you act a little strangely doesn’t mean you don’t belong!”

Her comforting successfully cheered him up. The glances from everybody else did not.

"So, Lord Roswaal… Do I have your permission to stay here for the time being? As I said, I am willing to take care of some of the work around here. I don't have any experience as a servant, but I'm confident my strength will be of some use in more menial tasks."

He was silent for a moment, but then, closing his right, blue eye and leaving his left, yellow one open, he smirked once more.

"Rest assured, a spare bedroom shaaaaaaall be set aside for you by tonight. As for your possible employment, as it happens, there are thiiiiiiiiiings I must discuss with my lovely staff. Regardless, you woooooon't be doing any work tonight. You may take your time relaxing and enjooooooying our home… I'm sorry, what shall I caaaaaaall you?"

The Unkindled bowed his head in thanks and responded,

"I am known as The Ashen One, or Champion of Ash if it pleases you.”

“An interesting title, to be sure. How might one come across one such as thaaaaaat?”

As he remained silent, considering how to answer, Emilia couldn’t help but fidget.

“Miss Emilia? Do you know somethiiiiing of it?”

“Uhm… I do…”

“Aaaaaand?”

She nervously glanced at the Ashen One.

He sighed and met Roswaal’s gaze.

“Because I am what is known as ‘Unkindled’. I am Undead. A lord of Cinder who had, in times passed, failed to link the First Flame, and was thus reduced to ashes. My remains were collected and, by a secret ritual, were used to reconstitute my current body.”

Time seemed to stop as the silence between them all grew longer. For a brief moment, he was worried that he had triggered the Curse’s countermeasure, but Beatrice kept fiddling with her hair while seemingly unperturbed, which reassured him that no such thing had occurred.

“Quite a story, indeed.”

Was all that Roswaal had in reply.

The Ashen One had not considered that, despite being annoyed by the man’s strange elongation of words, he was yet more disconcerting when not doing so.

He sat, waiting to see if the Lord of the Mansion would decide to kill him.

“Well, I guess I cannot force you to tell me the truth. When you are ready, however, I would like to hear it.”

The Champion of Ash couldn’t decide whether he was irritated or relieved at not being believed. It was frustrating to be treated like a madman, but far better, he thought, than being tormented in an Undead prison.

“Miss Beatrice…”

She didn’t look up at him.

“I would like to explore your library if it is alright with you.”

Still no response.

“There is much I would like to learn. And beyond that, I believe there is much that I could teach even one such as you.”

Still without looking at him, she stopped playing with her hair and grumbled,

“Do whatever you like, I suppose. Betty won’t stop you, in fact. Just be nice to Betty’s books or she will turn you inside out.”

“I’m terribly sorry, but could you lead me there? It would take days for me to find the right room in a place as big as this.”

“Very well, I suppose.”

She hopped off her chair, having not touched her food, and began trotting toward the entryway.

He turned to face Rem, bowed deeply, then Ram, then Roswaal. He nodded to Emilia as he passed and followed the little girl.

Followed her, unwittingly, to his third Test.

Chapter Text

Beatrice glared up at the slack-jawed Knight.

"Be sure not to drool over any of Betty's books."

He managed to wrench his eyes away from the shelves and looked down at her.

"Ah, of course not. I will be very respectful of your library."

She was satisfied with his answer and sat in her chair, pulling up one of the many books from her pile.

A bit overwhelmed by the volume of preserved knowledge, the Ashen One wasn't sure where to start. So he chose by random. A tall, but thin, red, leather-bound tome with gold trim. Looking at the ornate, yet untitled cover, he tentatively flipped the book open halfway. Only to be disappointed by the odd foreign script. Carefully shutting the book and gently returning it to its place, he wandered further back. He picked a blue book and opened it. The same unreadable glyphs. He closed it as well and returned it. Crossing the floor, he tried another book. This one green. Yet again, an illegible mess of scratches.

"Agh. I am so terribly sorry to bother you once again, Miss Beatrice, but do you have any books in other languages? I cannot seem to read any of these."

"Cannot read?! Then what use is a library to you, I wonder?!"

"I'm truly sorry, but the language that I can read is not the same as this one."

She stopped.

"Read… another language? So you can read?"

"Yes, here."

He  rummaged through his bottomless box and removed a sorcery scroll.

"What… is this, I wonder?"

"A spell-scroll. Technically, I am not supposed to show these scrolls to anyone unless I take on a student, but my own teacher didn't care much for my lack of aptitude. Teaching for him was far more transactional. Less personal."

"A spell-... What kind of spell?"

"Sorcery. It is called 'Farron dart'. A very low-level sorcery, and one of the precious few I've learned from a proper master."

"...Sorcer-..."

She paused for a long moment, studying the text.

Her eyes met his, properly, for the first time since they met.

"Very well, in fact. You have earned Betty's attention. Do not bore me, or you will regret it, I suppose. Please tell Betty more about your scrolls."

"How is our guest?"

"Very unusual, Lord Roswaal. He seems… kind, in a naive way. And yet treacherous."

Ram bowed to her Master in his dark office.

Beckoning for her to come closer, he spoke,

"I haven't been able to attend to you for a whole day. How are you feeling?"

She considered his question as she climbed onto his lap.

"Not as bad as usual, actually. Of course, I had our guest help me with some heavy lifting so I could preserve my strength."

He smirked as he wrapped one arm around her shoulder, and with the other, poured mana into her broken horn.

"Clever. And his reaction?"

"Hahhhh. He was strangely amicable. Even offering to help twice."

"He is quite polite as well, isn't he?"

"Almost as if…"

"Mmm. I thought so too. As if he were trying to trick us."

"And yet, all the same, it felt genuine whenever he spoke."

"So he is either a clumsy, but sweet oaf, or a devilishly manipulative agent. Either one could be dangerous to us."

"And that's why you wanted Miss Beatrice to keep an eye on him?"

"Yes, and no. I wanted her to test his mana capabilities, but she assured me from a distance that he was severely lacking in mana."

Ram was incredulous.

"From a distance? How could she be so sure?"

He sighed.

"Quite bluntly, she said it was instinct, and I am begrudgingly inclined to trust it."

Ram wasn't so convinced, but all the same, snuggled closer to her Master.

“Will he be joining Rem and I in the housework?”

“Depending on what Beatrice reports later tonight, perhaps. If she tells me he is too dangerous, I may have to stop him myself. If not, I will probably put him to work so you two can pry some more information from him. Tell Rem to stay alert, but do not act without provocation.”

“Understood.”

Beatrice held her arm straight out, pointed at the far wall.

"What was the incantation, I suppose?"

"There is none for sorceries. And I haven't given you a catalyst yet."

She puffed her cheeks in impatience.

“Betty will admit, it has been quite some time since she’d been a student.”

He shuffled the sorcery catalysts he had removed from his bottomless box.

“And I didn’t think I would be a teacher, let alone for the magic I remain least skilled in.”

“You have other magics, as well?”

“Yes. I excel in miracles, though I am also considerably skilled in pyromancy. This should do… Here.”

He grabbed, then handed to her, the Sage’s Crystal Staff.

“The requirement to use this is very high, much higher than I can currently achieve, though I have no doubt your intelligence will suffice. So far as I have the skill to tell, it’s the best sorcery catalyst for you.”

“Do not overly flatter Betty, or she will get mad, in fact.”

Despite her warning, it was evidently clear how pleased she was to hear any amount of praise.

“Now! Watch the master of magic demonstrate her power, I suppose! HAAAAAAH!”

As she thrust the staff forward and shouted, the tip glowed a faint purple hue. Some form of light seemed to ‘leak’ out the front of it, vaguely taking the shape of the Farron Dart, but not forming the full projectile before fizzling into nothingness.

Beatrice was plainly attempting to hide her embarrassment, and failing by a large margin.

“Purple? That’s odd... It should be blue, no?”

Taking up the common Sorcerer’s Staff, he stepped forward and attempted the same spell. As usual, the blue light formed into a small projectile, and the Farron Dart was cast with no issues. It launched forward and struck the wall in front of them before dissipating.

“Hmm… I can’t imagine the reason would be a lack of skill requirement, but try this one.”

Reluctantly replacing her much prettier Crystal Sage’s Staff for the laughably simple hunk of wood that was the Sorcerer’s Staff, she attempted the spell again.

Only to achieve the same purple failure.

He pondered while she seethed, coming close to a full-on tantrum.

As he stood there, hand on his chin, Beatrice huffed.

"It is getting late. Betty will wait for you until morning while you get some sleep, I suppose."

"I don't need to sleep if you don't."

She paused.

Didn’t he say something about not being Human? Agh, if only Betty had been listening, I suppose. Roswaal will be expecting a report…

"...Stay here for a moment. Betty has something to do. She will return soon."

Without waiting for a response, the walls of the room shifted and warped in a nauseating way. After it stilled, the door flung open of its own accord, and she walked into the hall, closing it behind her.

Unsure of what to do with himself, he laid out each sorcery scroll he had, organizing them from lowest to highest intelligence requirement.

“And?"

"And, what, I suppose? Betty has given her little 'report' and would like to return to her books."

"You have so little to say about our guest. He has been spending the day with you, has he not? The bed laid out for him remains empty if I'm not mistaken."

Roswaal leaned forward in his chair, bringing his face closer to Beatrice's.

"Is he a threat?"

Beatrice kept a cold, emotionless expression.

"My assessment of his lack in magical ability was off the mark, I suppose."

Roswaal frowned.

"He seems to know nothing about magic in the way we use it, I suppose. The way he uses magic, however, is far different, in fact. He has been teaching me his method, I suppose."

Roswaal's frown deepened.

"Is he a threat?"

He repeated.

Beatrice stared blankly into his mismatched eyes.

"...Betty does not believe so, in fact."

"You seem awfully comfortable with him. Does he… answer questions... for you?"

He smirked.

Her eyebrows shot up just a bit as she grasped his meaning.

She smirked in return.

"...I wonder."

And with that, she left the room.

Chapter Text

“After you are done teaching Betty, you will go to work with the maid sisters, I suppose.”

“I see. I have organized the spell-scrolls I possess to make teaching more straightforward.”

He truly has no issue with working alongside the servants, I suppose. Even after being granted the option of teaching magic, of all things, to a Great Spirit…

Just what kind of Human- No, I suppose. What kind of being is he, I wonder?

As the hours passed, he demonstrated his technique as best he could, though considering his own skills were left wanting, Beatrice had to work hard to fill in the gaps where his knowledge and experience lacked.

“You are not a great teacher, in fact.”

Despite the playful tone of her voice, something about the sentiment stung him more than it probably should have.

“Well, you are certainly a great student, Miss Beatrice.”

“...”

“...”

“You may call me… ‘Betty’, I suppose…”

He failed to catch her eye as she turned her head. He swore he could make out a rising pink color in the sides of her plump cheeks, however. Electing not to push further, he simply accepted it.

“Very well, Betty.”

“What is your name, I wonder?”

He frowned.

“I take it you weren’t paying much attention at the dining hall.”

“Hk!”

He smiled.

“As I said before, I don’t have a name. Not anymore. In my long life, I have forgotten it. In its place, though, I was given the title of Ashen One. Others have called me the Champion of Ash. Either works for me.”

He spoke gently, not in a chastising manner.

He is very patient. Strangely so. He is unlike-

“Wait, I suppose. You… You have lived so long you’ve forgotten your own name, In fact?!”

“Yes, I have. I am not Human. I am Unkindled.”

She only gazed at him with eyebrows creased in confusion.

“I am surprised even you have no knowledge of this. I am an Undead who, in his failure to link the First Flame, was reduced to ash. The remains were collected and reconstituted into the body you see now.”

She looked horrified.

Was this a mistake? Have I ruined everything by telling her?

“The Sacrame-... No… No, it couldn’t be…

…

…Could it?”

“Sacra-what?”

“The Sacrament of the Immortal King, I suppose. A ritual intended for raising the dead via bodies made from earth, in fact. It was deemed functionally impossible...”

His eyes lit with excitement, though his eyebrows were knitted into a frown.

“That does sound considerably similar to the ritual that brought me from beyond the Deep. I know nothing of how it is performed, however.”

“Who would, I wonder?”

“...I suppose it would be the Firekeeper… I couldn’t imagine anyone else would.”

“Where might we find this ‘Keeper’?”

A look of despair crept across his features.

“I don’t know. The last time I saw her, I was in the Kiln of the First Flame. I can only assume the Kiln was built on top of Firelink- or rather, most likely vice-versa. But I don’t know if she could return to the Shrine proper, or if the encroaching Dark had trapped her there forever. It hadn’t trapped me, though. I was sent here. To Lagunica.”

Beatrice’s peculiar eyes sparkled with a brightness he had never seen in another person before. As if a whole New World of information was laid at the feet of a grand scholar.

He didn’t suppose that this is exactly what had just happened.

“Betty said get out!”

The Great Spirit was unceremoniously shoving the Ashen One out of her library.

“Betty has much to study, in fact! If you try to interrupt Betty before tonight, her concentration will be ruined and you will never be forgiven, I suppose!”

He felt a vague sensation that no matter what he did from then on, a few compliments and sweet words were all it would take to avoid such wrath, but he did as she insisted without complaint.

“You have given Betty too much to think about all at once, I suppose.”

She said while rubbing her temples.

“Betty loves learning more than most, but even she has her limits, in fact. Do come back tonight, though. Betty will want to discuss her findings with you, I suppose.”

He bowed to the girl.

“Of course, Betty.”

She violently whipped her head away from him and he saw another faint rise of pink.

“Very good…”

The door then slammed violently shut via a powerful gust of wind.

Where did- Ah, wind magic. But yet again, no catalyst… Another new form of Pyromancy? Or is that also Emelia’s ‘spirit arts’?

“Ah, Sir Ashen One.”

He heard the voice of Ram from behind him.

“I was about to search for you in your room. Lord Roswaal has requested that you assist in our chores for the day.”

She paused and peaked at the door he was staring at.

“May I inquire about your infatuation with the bathroom door?”

“I was in Bet- ah- Beatrice’s library. She wanted to study on her own for the remainder of the day.”

“I see. So she kicked you out. What a shame.”

Her monotone voice added a heavy layer of ridicule to her otherwise mundane words.

“Hah, Beatrice just wanted time to think about something we were talking about…”

“It seems you have become quite familiar with the Mistress of the Forbidden Library. To call her ‘Beatrice’ and foregoing the ‘Miss’. Quite uncouth of a servant.”

His eyebrow twitched.

I guess she’s a stickler for proper titles.

“Ah, well, what can I say? We get along well.”

“See that you make no mistake when addressing Lord Roswaal. We residents of this mansion shall not tolerate disrespect toward our Master.”

His brow hardened when he heard the silent message in what she said.

‘We residents’.

In other words, she’s saying I don’t belong here…

Silently perking himself up, he pushed the thought out of his mind.

“I’m ready to assist in any task you assign to me.”

He bowed for effect, though she seemed to pay it no mind.

“We shall begin with scrubbing the floors. I have been assured that such a simple task is unlikely for you to fail at.”

With that, she turned and walked toward the main hall. Or at least that was what he had assumed, considering he was all turned around.

Is this really where Betty- where Miss Beatrice led me yesterday? I don’t remember this hallway.

The Ashen One and Ram arrived in the grand entrance hall. From a nearby closet, Ram retrieved a deck scrubber and bucket. After she returned with said bucket filled with water, the Knight noticed a strong bubbling effect in and around the surface of the water.

Must be soap like in that bath. Or maybe something similar used specifically for floors?

“You will use this brush to scrub the floor with soapy water.”

So it was.

“How will I know when I am done?”

“The floors should shine if they are clean. I don’t expect them to be perfect, so as long as you scrub evenly across the room, it should be fine enough.”

“I see. What if I run out of water?”

“You shouldn’t. In the case that you do, or if you spill the bucket, the closest place to refill it is the kitchen, but as that is unsanitary, I would recommend you use the bathroom instead. If that causes trouble, find me or my lovely sister, Rem. We should be dusting the studies for the next hour or so.”

And while doing so, we can plan for how we shall handle you from here...

Easy enough…

“Very well. Consider it done!”

“Excellent. When you are finished, you will be assigned your next task.”

The Ashen One proceeded to scrub soap and water across the floor of the entrance hall. Even though the task was tedious and boring, there was something oddly satisfying in the work. He found his mind wandering to all the new strange sensations he had been utterly blind to for so long.

Look at me now. Once a useless dredge pulled from a grave to accomplish the Gods’ work, now a Lord of Cinder, sweating and toiling away while learning to do menial servants’ work. A funny thing, fate is. I’m eating, sleeping, working… Is this really what life is like when the world is in balance?

Suddenly, a disturbing thought came to him.

Is this the result of letting the Flame die? Was I sent to a world in which the Gods never tampered with the natural order? Is that why nobody knows of the curse?

Frowning, he continued scrubbing harder. Hands clamped tightly onto the handle.

No. No, of course not. Nobody knows of Gwyn, either. Dragons are beasts of burden, there are new races of people, so many other differences besides. It’s more like…

Like I’ve stepped into an entirely New World.

He looked up, through an open window, and into the beautiful blue skies beyond.

“And what a beautiful world it is!”

Some few hours later, Ram was scrubbing the drained bath as her breathing hitched. A jolt of pain shot through her hand. Dropping the broom, she checked her bloodied palm.

“What is-”

The inside of her hand, namely the spot of flesh between her thumb and forefinger, was splintered.

“Unbelievable. We need a new broom. Hard to believe we wouldn’t have noticed this…”

After carefully plucking out the stinging barbs, she picked up the broom once more to inspect its handle. In the spot where she held her front hand, she noticed cracking alongside the shaft. As if someone had almost squeezed it to the point of fracture. Sharp fragments of wood were lifting up in protest. Curiously, she examined the rest of the handle. Further back, where one might place their other hand, there was a brief stretch of the shaft where the wood was unusually smooth. As if someone had likewise squeezed hard enough to compact the material.

“That’s-”

Suddenly paranoid, she decided she had cleaned well enough after wiping up the blood. She quickly discarded the broom and left to check on her beloved sister.

“You are really not very skilled with knives, are you, Sir?”

Once again, the Champion of Ash had allowed his knife to slip and slice his hand instead of the fruit, or whatever kind of food this was that he was peeling.

“Damn it! No, I suppose I’m not at all…”

He laughed a bit, embarrassed with such poor performance.

“I’m used to much larger blades…”

Deciding the damage had now become severe enough to warrant casting a healing spell, he excused himself for a moment to do exactly that. Unaware of the intense eyes inspecting his every move, he simply put down the knife, pulled out his Sunlight Talisman, and recited the ever-simple Heal Aid. Almost instantly, the pain subsided, and his hand was now again immaculate. At least in that it had no currently open wounds. Rem had already noted the thick, often split, calluses formed across his hands. Such calluses, she knew, developed from training with many types of weapons. Many would be heavy, considering the patterns formed across his fingers' joints.

As she watched him perform the spell, however, her eyes widened with surprise.

“How did you do that?”

An exasperated voice called out.

The Knight and Rem both turned to see the pink-haired Ram in the doorway.

“It was a simple healing spell. The first I had learned, as a matter of fact.”

“Healing spell?”

Rem breathed.

That wasn’t an incantation… That was something else entirely. What kind of water magic emits such a bright yellow light, anyway?

Ram exchanged glances with her sister. Rem was nowhere near as powerful as Ram was in her prime, though since Ram had lost her horn, Rem had become considerably more knowledgeable when it came to water magic. Even more-so for healing spells.

“Could you… show us again, please?”

He was uncertain of how to respond. He had no more wounds to close after only one cast, as his slices were rather shallow, and made a far cry from the gut-wrenching injuries he was used to receiving. On top of that, he was wary of showing off his miracles under too much scrutiny.

Sorcery was one thing, but Irina had been a much more significant teacher. Her lessons were so much more special. They were personal. Even… Intimate.

While he deliberated, he noticed Ram’s hand.

Did Irina teach me miracles to keep their grace for myself? No. She would despise me for refusing help to anyone just to protect the special times we shared.

Without any further delay, he gestured toward Ram.

“Let me see your hand. I will show you.”

Hesitating, Ram made to give a sharp glance toward her sister but stopped. Stepping forward, she extended her hand for him to see.

Holding up his Talisman, he once more recited the prayer, and a soft golden glow emanated from the afflicted area.

Before long, the pain had disappeared, and the flesh of Ram’s hand felt as though it had never been marred.

“That is most unusual.”

“Are healing miracles really so rare? Ah, well I suppose Lagunica has never heard of any miracles.”

“We have healing magic.”

Rem countered.

“Those who are compatible with water magic can sometimes use it to heal. But that-”

She pointed at his Talisman.

“-is not water magic.”

He frowned and looked at his Talisman. Then back at her, tilting his head.

“Water… magic?”

The twins, once again, shared glances.

“What have you been discussing with Miss Beatrice for so long, if not magic?”

“We were discussing magic. I was attempting to teach her the Sorceries I had learned from my own former teacher.”

Now was their turn to tilt their heads.

Roswaal had asked them to ferret out information from him, but not only was he oddly forthcoming, the things he said were so strange.

Is he telling us the truth, or trying to trick us? I just cannot understand this man.

It couldn’t be a trick, though…

She looked at her hand.

It’s clearly real… But… The handle. He must have been the one that broke it. Rem would have told me right away, and I certainly didn’t do it, so it must have been him. He set this up. But why?

She looked up at him. No longer able to hide the intensity in her gaze.

What, he never held a broom before? Could someone really be so sheltered? A Knight, no less? One kind enough to rescue Miss Emilia? Compassionate enough to help me carry luggage? Clueless enough to bow to a maid?

The two stared into each others’ eyes.

Both had the simultaneous thought;

Just what game are you playing?! I don’t get you!

Ram was the first to break their staring contest, turning away. She huffed.

“The dusting and floor scrubbing are done. My beloved sister, Rem, can handle the rest of the food preparation. It doesn't seem that you were of much help, anyway. As today is your first day, we shall continue lightly from here.”

“Beatrice. You gave me your report already. It’s unusual for you to be visiting me again like this.”

“There is something special about this one, I suppose. He claims to be reanimated, in fact.”

Roswaal narrowed his mismatched eyes.

“Are you saying you believe him?”

“It is well known that the Sacrament of the Immortal King is not possible under normal circumstances, in fact. That being said, I suppose, it is not outside the realm of possibility that this particular Knight could be such a special case.”

“What, you think he might hold the key to immortality? A laughable notion, no?”

“If that were all, then yes.”

He leaned back in his chair. Silently challenging her with his gaze.

“He possesses no mana, I suppose.”

The Margrave’s face remained eerily blank.

“I have attempted to measure his Od’s concentration of mana. I am very certain he has none, in fact.”

“You said he could use magic. A Spirit-Arts-User, then?”

“Perhaps, I suppose. He would seem to have the capacity for it, I suppose. But when he casts spells, no mana is gathered from the atmosphere, in fact.”

“He casts magic without mana?”

He was utterly incredulous.

“His magic is not of this world, I suppose. I am becoming increasingly certain that he, himself, is not of this world either, in fact.”

“Such things could theoretically be possible of one who came from beyond the Waterfall…”

“Exactly my thoughts, I suppose.”

Roswaal’s eyes glowed with vibrant intensity at the thought.

But why has my Gospel been so stubbornly silent?!

He looked into the little Spirit’s eyes.

“Is he a threat?”

“...”

“...”

Beatrice squared her shoulders and glared back at the man.

“Betty trusts him with her life, I suppose.”

Roswaal frowned.

“So soon? You’ve only known him a day.”

Clenching her fists and shouting through teary eyes, she stepped toward him.

“And in one day, he has shown more to open Betty’s eyes than Mother has for 400 long years, I suppose!”

Roswaal reeled back at the force. He couldn’t begin to think of the last time she showed so much genuinely powerful emotion.

A long silence grew between the two.

Still glaring, he spoke in a monotone voice.

“Thank you, Beatrice. You may go.”

She stormed out of his office and back to her library before anyone could spot her in such a state.

Roswaal remained in his chair, eyes staring holes into the door in front of him.

“...Couldn’t possibly be…

…Some trick…

…My Teacher would tell me…”

He continued sulking in the dark until the time came for him to attend to Ram once again.

“Hahh. Hello, again, Betty. I’ve finished with the chores. You said you wanted me to come by tonight?”

“Yes, I suppose. I may have figured something out, in fact. Something… significant…”

He was wondering why she seemed so tense.

“What’s the matter?”

She struggled with herself for a moment. Unable to decide what to do.

“Are you tired, I wonder?”

He frowned.

“I suppose I am. But I’m ready to try teaching you more tonight.”

She shook her head.

“Going too long without sleep is damaging to one’s mind, in fact. You should get some sleep tonight, I suppose.”

I guess it was in my original plan to sleep every night like humans do, anyway. Why is she so adamant, though?

“...If you insist, Betty.”

He turned, but stopped.

“Ah… I um… don’t know where my room is…”

He turned back.

She was already walking to him.

“Betty will show you the way, in fact.”

“I’m sorry to trouble you.”

“Think nothing of it, in fact. Only spoil Betty rotten and she may forgive you eventually.”

He chuckled warmly to himself as she led the way out of her library, then through the halls to his room. Again, he could swear this wasn’t the same door he entered before…

He was about to ask about that, but Beatrice opened the door to one of the rooms and gestured inside.

Tentatively, he stepped through the doorway and inspected the room.

There were no waiting monsters or hollows, but something felt odd.

The door closed loudly behind him, causing him to twirl in surprise. The little Spirit girl was standing in his room.

“Aren’t you going to stay in your library?”

“Not tonight, I suppose. I will make sure you get some proper sleep, in fact. Betty will stay by your side and keep you comfortable, I suppose.”

“Are you sure? I would be fine-”

“Betty knows!”

He froze.

“Betty… knows you would be fine.”

She was avoiding his gaze.

“Betty… won’t be able to sleep… alone, anymore… Not there… Please…”

I hadn’t realized… I could tell she’s no ordinary child, but nonetheless… She’s so lonely…

“Alright, Betty. I have no qualms.”

He bent and patted her shoulder before turning and slipping into the bed that sat across the doorway, up against what would be the left wall when walking in. He left the curtains on the window of the adjacent wall open to let light shine through in the morning.

Beatrice walked to the side of his bed. Considered something, then went to fetch the chair by the desk across the room. Sitting next to his bed, she took his hand in her own and clasped it tight.

Like that, they both drifted into an uneasy sleep.

“Ah, Ashen One. I trust you are doing well?”

The figure shifted in his seat.

“Well, not like I haven’t been watching your progress…”

He looked down, ran a hand through his tangled hair, and sighed.

“I see you’ve... taken a student. While I can’t say I think you’re ready for it, I must admit there is a certain amount of pride in seeing someone pass on my lessons.”

A soft, white glow seemed to emanate from behind him.

“Well, best not drag this on…

…

…I... forgive you.”

The Undead Knight shot straight up in his bed, screaming. It felt as though his own panic was tearing his soul asunder. Wildly groping around in the dark, he couldn’t find Beatrice. As soon as his eyes adjusted, there was an odd, wispy tangle of glowing strands.

A substance that appeared in no other describable way as “liquid light” floated through the air, tugging without force at his closed fist.

“Wh- AHHHH!”

Screaming, he violently shook his hand, disturbing the floating strands. He backed away and kept his strained eyes trained on them. Slowly, they each began dissipating until no light was left other than the calming moonlight seeping through the window.

“Beatr- Beatr- Where- Wh-”

He gasped on his own words, unable to form coherent speech.

What is going on!? What was that?! WHERE IS BEATRICE!?

He bolted out of his room and sprinted down the mansion’s corridors.

“RAM! REM! LORD ROSWAAL! BEEAAATRIIIICCEE!!!”

A slam, followed by sharp taps came rushing toward him. Within seconds, a figure came streaking out of the darkness, hopping down the steps of a spiral staircase, and down the hall. The blue-haired maid was in front of him, eyes wild, and arms poised to strike.

“REM! Something’s happened! We’re under attack, er- or something! I don’t know! I can’t find Beatrice!”

It took next to no time whatsoever for the gears in her mind to work his ramblings into a plan.

“Understood. You go with my beloved sister and find Miss Emilia. I will inform Master Roswaal immediately.”

“Right!”

He ran to where she had come from, up the stairs, and following the sounds of thundering footfalls, he chased down the person he assumed was Ram.

Fortunately, he was correct. Once he made contact with the older sister, she led him the rest of the way to Emilia’s chambers.

Pounding on her door, Ram called to the half-elf.

“Miss Emilia! There’s an emergency! Excuse me, but I’m coming in!”

With a brief gesture for him to step further aside, he elected not to follow the maid into the room. Instead, he scrambled to get a helmet and some weapons from his bottomless box.

Before he could grab anything, Emilia, dressed in a thin white sleeping gown, rubbed her eyes as she stepped out of the room.

“Mmmmwhaassgoinon?”

She muttered.

“MISS EMILIA!”

Ram grabbed her by the shoulders, but not roughly.

“There is danger here! We need to get you to safety!”

That was enough to shake the girl into alertness.

The maid turned to the Ashen One.

“What’s the situation? Where is the enemy attacking from?”

“I- I don’t know, the windows, maybe? I was sleeping, and- and some… light… was clinging to me… Some magic attack?”

Ram’s pink eyes shook as she inspected his face.

What could that possibly be?! Is he lying? He doesn’t seem to be. Is he just good at manipulation? Lord Roswaal would know. Where is Rem? Get here already!

Suddenly, Emilia piped up while holding the green crystal she wore around her neck.

“Puck won’t come out of his crystal! He must have used up even more mana than I realized…”

More thundering footsteps approached from further down the hall.

“Miss Emilia!”

“Rem! Thank goodness!”

“My, myyyyy! Doesn’t this day just keep getting more and more iiiiiiiinteresting?”

The Knight was a bit disturbed at how nonchalant the Master of the House was in such a situation.

“I don’t supooooooooose you’ve already found the source of our consternaaaaation, hmmmm?”

“No, sir. I don’t know who is attacking, or how many there are. I only saw a flash of some kind of magic attempting to cling to my arm.”

Roswaal’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Magic? But…”

He failed to finish his thought as his eyes darted wildly.

“I cannot find Miss Beatrice, either.”

The Margrave seemed even further upset by this news. Placing a hand on his chest, where the inside of his suit had a special pocket inlaid, he stepped toward one of the doors in the hallway.

“Beatrice! Come out!”

He flung the door open, only to growl into the inside of Emilia’s bedroom.

“There?! How did-”

The Unkindled’s words were cut off when Roswaal charged past him to the next closest door.

“Beatrice! Enough!”

Once more flinging open the door, he once more growled into the doorway.

“I- I don’t…”

Suddenly, he remembered what Ram had told him when he showed her his Bottomless Box.

That’s it! That’s why I was so turned around! Her library can connect to any of these doors? Fascinating.

He watched blankly as Roswaal stomped from doorway to doorway.

But… If she can control where the entrance appears… Why is she hiding?

Yet again, Roswaal opened another door. Upon his disappointment, he slammed it shut and pressed a hand against it.

Tentatively stepping forward, the Knight asked,

“What does this mean?”

He was surprised to find that the Margrave was actually sweating from the tension.

“It means… One of two things…”

He turned away from the door, stood straight up, and faced the Champion of Ash directly.

“Either our dear Beatrice IS the perpetrator… or she is already dead.”

The words fell like lead weights from his tongue.

The Knight stepped backward in shock.

“B-but… But she was with me! In my room!”

At any other time, Ram may have been inclined to tease the man for admitting that he spent a night with a strange woman, but given the situation, Ram only felt highly disturbed at the thought.

“She- She was right there… With me…”

“And now she is missing. And only you were present with her last.”

The air surrounding them tasted like dust and copper. With every breath, they could each feel a bitterness and bile rising in their throats.

“I- I didn’t… I couldn’t…”

“And yet…”

To everyone’s surprise, it was Rem who spoke.

As he turned to face her, he was met with a disgusted scowl.

“...You reek of the Witch, just like a Cultist. I knew I shouldn’t trust you, but this…”

He was stunned. Completely unaware of what to say.

Witch... scent? What? Can they smell Karla’s scent on me? We might have spoken at length from time to time, but even if I was wearing the same armor-... I don’t understand what that has to do with anything.

Unsure of what to do, he voiced some of the very concerns raging through his mind.

“I don’t understand… Karla may have been odd, but she was kind, and-”

“A Witch Cultist?”

Roswaal reached into his suit, but left his hand inside. As if holding something for comfort.

“I- I am no cultist, I swear. I trained under Karla and learned Dark magics from her, but I-”

“So you admit to learning from the Witch directly?!”

Ram was furious. Her rageful countenance reminded him of the foaming-mouthed hounds of Lothric.

He took a step away from her.

“The only Witch I have ever known is Karla. She was kind. She was imprisoned and tormented, and so carried with her a stench of death, but I don’t understand why my unpleasant smell could implicate me in whatever evil this Cult concocts. I truly have no idea!”

“When one speaks of ‘The Witch’, there is truly only one Witch that is being referred to. And her name certainly is not ‘Karla’. Rem, please calm yourself. He may carry the Stench, but it seems he is telling the truth. On this matter, at least.”

“On what grounds, Master?”

She nearly growled.

His eyes glared with a dangerous heat.

“Because I say so.”

Ram stepped in front of Rem.

As if shielding her from Ros- No. Shielding Roswaal from her?

Roswaal set his eyes directly onto the subject of their argument.

“Sir, Knight. Perhaps you could enlighten me…”

He only gulped in response at the unusual calmness.

“Are we under attack?”

“I don’t know. I think so, I only saw a brief effect of what I assume was magic. Unlike anything I’ve seen.”

“Why were you with Beatrice?”

“She wanted to keep me company while I slept. I have a feeling I couldn’t have refused her if I wanted to.”

Pausing for a moment, Roswaal weighed something in his mind.

“How many times… Have you… died?”

The Ashen One didn’t feel the monumental weight of such a question. To him, it was a simple one. Though not with a simple answer.

“I don’t know. I hadn’t kept count. Easily at least a hundred, I’d say.”

Ignoring the confused murmurs behind him, He stared into Roswaal’s panicked eyes.

Roswaal couldn’t believe such an answer.

“This doesn’t make any sense! He cannot die! And if he can’t, then he surely can’t be allowed to say it! The Witch-... The Gospel-... My- my Teacher-...”

Ripping his arm out of his suit, he held a black book and tore through pages frantically.

“Nothing, nothing, nothing, noTHING, NOTHING, N O T H I N G ! ! ! “

He was screaming like a madman.

The Ashen One only watched in horror.

“NOTHING IS RIGHT! NONE OF IT! YOU- YOU ARE… WRONG! A LIAR!”

Sensing murderous intent, the Ashen One tried to reach into his bottomless box, but a sound like grinding chains came from behind him. Allowing his instincts to take over, he quickly rolled away. As he did, a loud crash sounded from behind him. A crater formed in the wall next to where he had been standing. In the middle of the impact had lain a ball and chain connected to the handle in Rem’s hand. Ram was likewise in a combat stance, though she held a very small weapon.

A catalyst, maybe? A chime of some kind?

“STOP!”

Roswaal roared at the two maids who stood, petrified by his anger.

While Roswaal was distracted, the Ashen One successfully retrieved his Talisman, and with it, cast a spell.

The others each jumped backward as they saw the light that emanated from his spell. A ball of bright light began to fall straight toward the ground beneath him.

When it hit the ground, the others flinched, probably expecting some kind of blast.

He stood still, gently storing the Talisman.

“A Vow of Silence.”

He calmly knelt on the ground.

“No magic.”

He unlatched the Bottomless Box from his belt and threw it against the wall.

“No swords.”

He leaned forward in Prostration.

“No tricks.”

They all stared dumbly at him.

“I just want to talk.”

A long moment of silence.

A heavy air.

Stale breath heating the hallway.

Until...

...

...

...

“ A L ,   G O A A A A A A A A ! ! ! “

Chapter Text

12 seconds… No light… No magic? His spell- did it work?

The Knight swiftly glanced upward at the people in front of him. His eyes darting so quickly the world around him almost seemed to have melted.

No light. They don’t have the ring of light with the purple runes around them.

He glanced down.

I do. My magic won’t work… Will their’s? It doesn’t seem like it. Still no light.

13 seconds… Running out of time… only lasts 15… What do I do? No magic, no magic, no magic, no magic. Swords? No swords. Don’t want to hurt them anyway. Fists? I have my fists, but I still don’t want to hurt them. SCARE THEM! Make them use magic. If it fails, they’ll be scared. No more time… What do I- A FEINT!

Drawing upon his inner power, he poured energy from his body directly into his hand, unleashing his Pyromancy Flame. Though he cast no spells, to their eyes, its appearance alone seems like an undisputable show of hostility.

Ram and Rem, already following their Master’s lead, see the light and unleash the spells they had been preparing.

14 seconds… Hurry up!

“EL HUMA!”

“FULA!”

The twins simultaneously attempted to fire magic at the down-turned man before them. They blinked as nothing happened.

And 15 seconds. They’ll be able to use magic again. I have to make them think they can’t. But how? What can I do? What do-

Interrupting his panicked thoughts, a flash of bright, silver hair flung into his view. Finally lifting his head, he saw Emilia standing in front of him, arms spread out on either side.

“ENOUGH, ALL OF YOU!”

They all stared blankly. Even Roswaal seemed almost enraptured by her, no doubt still in shock of his failed spell.

“SHAME! SHAME ON YOU ALL!”

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she seemed to fight a wave of tears.

“How- how could you? How could you try to attack a man so desperate to- he just- it doesn’t-”

“Miss Emilia, it is dangerous. Step away from him, please.”

Ram chided in a disturbingly calm and monotone voice.

“NO!”

Emilia shrieked at the maid.

They continued staring.

Roswaal had changed his expression to one of unnatural tranquility. He stepped forward.

“Emilia-”

“NO!”

“Emilia.”

He repeated, his voice only slightly stern.

“He said-... He said he just wants to talk. Why- why can’t we- can’t we talk?”

“Where is Beatrice?”

The way Roswaal stared into the distance made it seem that the question wasn’t directed specifically at him, but the Ashen One responded anyway.

“I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you stop this yourself?”

“‘Stop th-’ What? I don’t-”

Roswaal slowly swung his head toward the Knight and stared deeply into his eyes.

“Why don’t you reset?”

“...”

They stared at each other for a long time. Just how long, he couldn’t tell, as when he tried to open his mouth to speak, he found himself frozen.

Frozen? This again? Why now? Why-

Before he could process his situation, something caught his eye. Unable to move said eyes, he was forced to focus on it with only his peripheral vision.

This isn’t right. This isn’t like before. My Dark Sign… It doesn’t hurt. What’s going on?

In the fringe of his vision, a misty cloud of black smoke wandered into the room. As it entered the main frame of his eyesight, the mist twisted into a dark figure. With no clear features, it almost seemed like he was looking at a living shadow. Like seeing the outline of someone through a thin material like paper.

Or like through dirty glass, maybe.

The figure sauntered toward Roswaal. It reached toward him. Reflexively, the Ashen One tried to lunge forward and stop the figure, but was still unable to move. He had yet to notice that he also wasn’t experiencing the same suffocating sensation as before.

“Mmmm.”

The figure hummed. A very soft, weak, almost sickly, female voice. One so familiar, yet so foreign.

“You are-... No.”

She reached into Roswaal’s suit and found the book he had since returned therein.

“Ah… That’s why… Oh, dear Sister.”

The figure opened the book and flipped through pages. From the Ashen One’s vantage point, he could see only vague smudges until suddenly the remaining pages were blank.

“Ah!”

The figure looked deep into Roswaal’s eyes.

“You didn’t even-...”

It seemed to find the situation somewhat amusing.

“A gamble?”

It seemed to laugh, though the sound was so distorted that The Ashen One wasn’t too sure. It could just as well have been weeping.

The figure then turned its attention back toward the book.

“How could she learn so much, anyway? And why did she share so much? She should have left well enough alone.”

The figure snapped the book shut as if in anger, but then squeezed it tightly as if it were a precious friend that must be protected. Or to be held close with no chance to escape.

“Shouldn’t she be more Greedy than that?”

Without warning, Dark erupted outward from the figure, blanketing everything in the room with complete nothingness.

The Ashen One felt so very, very tired.

Then he knew no more.

“Huh. So it works like this, too? Convenient, though. I had more I wanted to say.”

A familiar figure with tangled hair sat fidgeting in place.

“Well, let’s hope you do better this time, then, right? So... The magic training... I think I know what the block is. She seems way too proficient to be using such weak magic. Almost like- like a-...”

The figure held his hand up, rubbing his thumb against his other fingers as he searched for the right analogy.

“Like a Giant trying to pick up a mouse without hurting it. Try something with higher requirement, she might get it, then. After she learns to focus that power, she may be able to fine-tune it to perform the weaker spells.”

The figure’s words began half-hearted, but seemed to grow more confident as he spoke.

“Just keep trying, friend. I know it didn’t turn out well between-... and-”

He lowered his head.

Then, running a hand through his greasy hair, he lifted his face.

“-And I know I could have been a better tutor, but…”

The figure- No. The Sorcerer, Orbeck of Vinheim, sat straight up, shoulders squared, and smiled, despite the pain in his eyes.

“I never hated you, you know.”

The Ashen One peeled his eyes open. He was laying in his bed again.

“What-”

“I see, I suppose.”

The interrupting voice hit him like a hammer to his skull.

“Poor thing, thrashing about in your sleep like that… Now I understand what that silly girl was saying when she mentioned that you don’t sleep much. Well, Betty will just have to dedicate herself to being your sleep partner from now on, in fact. Be grateful to Betty or she will do mean things while you sleep, in fact.”

He turned his head to see Beatrice.

“Where- where did you go?”

To her surprise, and likewise against his own expectation, he was sobbing.

Beatrice’s eyes shot wide open at the sight.

“Betty went nowhere!”

As if offended by the accusation, she squeezed his hand so much tighter and lifted their joined hands to rise between their locked eyes.

“Betty will never abandon you, in fact! Betty will-”

She was sobbing as well.

“Betty will never hurt you like that! NEVER!”

Impulsively, she reached her arms toward him.

Reacting purely on deeply-ingrained Human instinct, he reacted thusly.

They hugged.

When was the last time he hugged someone?

…

He couldn’t remember.

It-

It felt rather nice.

Despite her small frame, she had a strong grip. Though he felt scared that if he squeezed too tightly, she would break like glass. As he held onto her very softly, they sobbed into each other’s shoulders for what felt like hours, but must surely have only been a minute or two. Or perhaps only a few dozen seconds.

After they both had calmed down somewhat, Beatrice backed away and tried to return to her usual aloof state.

“Ah, well… Betty is-… She is-…”

Unable to find the words, she ended up mumbling something unintelligible.

Before he could process what she was trying to say, the Champion of Ash felt a sinking sense of dread.

“The attack.”

“Hmm? What was that, I wonder?”

“Beatrice, I think we’re under attack!”

“What, I wonder? That’s nonsense, in fact!”

I died. That’s how I’m back. That wasn’t a dream. Of course it wasn’t.

A quick flash of memory caused his mind to flutter toward an image of Orbeck of Vinheim.

That, too… I think-… I think I remember seeing him another time… And Greirat too…

He shook his head to clear his thoughts.

Not important right now.

He turned back to Beatrice.

“I felt something. Something to do with magic, but I have no idea what it really was. I think we’re in danger, but I don’t know how, or from what. Will you humor me in this?”

“You are addle-brained, I suppose. Such an attack is simply not possible at this time, in fact.”

“How are you so certain?”

“There is no being capable of such an attack in the immediate vicinity, in fact.”

He could only blink dumbly in response.

She seemed to turn self-conscious at this, so she offered,

“Why don’t you sleep in my Library, I suppose? You will be extra safe there, in fact.”

“But what about the others? They will be hurt in our place.”

She turned her head away and pouted.

“Betty thinks you worry too much, in fact. And you underestimate the other residents of this mansion, I suppose. Bubby alone would be more than sufficient to send any intruders away.”

“...”

“...”

“I’m sure you’re right…”

He thought about the wispy tendrils of light.

“...But… then what…”

What was that light? Roswaal likewise didn’t seem to think a magic attack was even possible… Something to do with his book?

Despite himself, he decided to trust in her superior knowledge. He decided that the worst-case scenario just meant another reset or two. He had no desire to rack up deaths, but it wouldn't be anything he wasn't already used to.

He took a deep breath and sighed heavily.

“Very well. I trust your judgment. Sorry to worry you.”

“Hah!”

The little Spirit tossed a bright blonde, drill-shaped curl as she smirked.

“Just put your trust into this wonderful Betty, I suppose!”

Despite promising to lay back down in bed, he spent the rest of the night awake, staring a hole into the ceiling above him. Dawn came and, thankfully, without consequence. As such, The Ashen One began mentally preparing for the new day.

That shadowy figure killed me.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the events from last night that had been undone.

I finally found something to tell me what triggers it, but I know even less than before. Roswaal knows I’m undead- er, no. He seemed distressed that I could die. But he knows I can reattempt certain events. When he spoke about it, however-

Revelation washed over him.

That’s it! When I talked to Felt that time, I was about to mention that Elsa had already killed me. That… “Freezing time” thing happened… and again last night, but only when Roswaal mentioned it out loud! I didn’t feel any pain, though. Maybe because that figure knew it wasn’t my fault? But then… Why kill me? Not as a punishment, but simply as a means to reset? To undo a mistake?

Such thoughts made the Ashen One feel scared to interact with Roswaal too much.

And Rem. She’s hated me this whole time? Ram doesn’t seem comfortable around me, either. What can I do to make them trust me?

“What is your problem, I wonder? You have been grimacing to yourself for a solid

minute now, in fact.”

“Ah, sorry, Beatr-”

Anger flashed over her face for a moment.

“Oh, right, I mean Betty.”

Once again, her cheeks turned a brilliant pink, she tucked her head to the side and avoided his gaze.

“So… What is the matter, I wonder?”

He sat in silence for a moment.

“I want-... I want the others to trust me. I want to work hard for them, to show them I’m a friend.”

Beatrice turned back to him, facing him with hard, brilliant eyes.

“As Betty said last night…”

She jammed a finger into his face.

“You worry too much, in fact.

They continued sitting wordlessly together. As he became convinced that she would remain silent indefinitely, she cleared her throat.

“If you want the blue-haired maid to trust you, I suppose… you must earn the red-haired maid’s trust. To earn the red-haired maid’s trust, you must ease her burden, in fact.”

Beatrice hopped off her seat, a sight made comical by the fact that she was even shorter when standing, and swiftly made her way to the door.

The Ashen One merely watched her go. He would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy her company, but would also be lying if he denied his desire for solitude.

Stopping short of the door, the girl turned, hair bobbing as it swayed, and focused her bizarre eyes onto him.

“Betty will have more questions, but for now, she will retire to her library, in fact. You have your quest, and I have mine, I suppose.”

Turning back toward the door, she added,

“And Betty is still not convinced of this so-called ‘attack’ you mentioned, I suppose…”

She opened the door.

“But… Do not hesitate to call upon Betty if anyone-”

Once more, she whirled her head around to point one hard eye on him.

“ANYONE. Threatens you… Good day, I suppose.”

She stepped through the door and used magic to close it behind her.

I don’t understand… Does she trust them, or not?

…

…And if not… Why does she trust me?

__

__

“So...”

The Champion of Ash stood, staring at the door in front of him.

I’m just supposed to act like none of that happened?

His mind wouldn’t stop racing through the events of last night.

Heh. Idiot. None of it did happen, after all. So there’s no need to hold a grudge. They were acting in fear, not in malice. They are still the same as they were yesterday. Nothing’s changed.

Those and other such attempts at reasoning flew by one-by-one. And yet, he still stood there, staring at the door.

Damn it. Never going to get anything done like this.

With unsteady confidence, he reached for the handle and opened the door.

“Mist- Oh!”

To his surprise, he was staring Rem in the face.

Unbidden, he made a mental note of how she might attack.

No, no. There’s no need for that.

“Hello, Rem. Sorry to startle you, but I was just about to look for you and your sister.”

“Likewise, Sir, she sent me to fetch you. We will be working in the garden today.”

“I see. Well, lead the way, then, I suppose.”

Rem looked like she wanted to say something, but must have thought better of it, as she turned and began leading him down the hall.

“When I couldn’t find Miss Beatrice, I became somewhat worried, so I’m glad I found you in your room.”

For a very brief moment, his body went cold and rigid, thinking of the rewritten events of the prior night.

No, she means-... not that. Calm down.

“Ah, yes, Miss Beatrice wanted to stay in my room last night.”

Without stopping, Rem turned her head to him. He saw only disgust in a curl of her lip and a judgmental glare.

“I, uhh…”

Uncertain of how to proceed, he spouted, perhaps a little too defensively,

“She asked!”

As the sun rose into the sky, the Ashen One and the two maid sisters tended to the bushes in the garden. The burning thoughts in his mind wouldn’t stop pestering him as they worked.

“I knew I shouldn’t trust you…”

Rem despises me. She hides it well, but under her careful teasing I can now sense the genuine malice. I can only wonder if Ram feels the same…

“But perhaps not…”

He muttered to himself.

Ram turned her head away from her work to eye him.

“What was that, Ashy One?”

He suppressed a bitter smile at the silly nickname. Obviously meant to provoke him, though whether it was playful banter or calculated manipulation was no longer clear.

“It’s ‘Ashen One’, or Champion of Ash. And… I just thought-…”

“Yes, Ashy One?”

This time he didn’t bother to hide his smile. Conceding to the proffered nickname, he carried on.

“This is a strange thing to ask, but…”

He paused in his work and looked at her.

“Do you… Hate me?”

She stared.

He stared back.

The uncomfortable silence was deathly still, and with disappointment, he could sense writhing emotions within her. He had no doubt of the nature of such emotion. It was clearly negative.

Frowning, he turned back to his work and busied himself.

“That’s a shame… I was hoping we had begun to get along.”

Her utter stillness betrayed her willingness to kill, should he prove dangerous. 

He did his best to ignore it as he used the unfamiliar tool to cut the leaves and twigs from the bush.

She, likewise, continued her work. ‘Work’, though, could only be used contingently, as she seemed only to make the bush far less neat in appearance. As was the case with the prior three bushes, it was made plain that Rem would have to come and fix it for her again.

“I do not despise you.”

She cut a particularly beautiful branch from the side of the bush and worked her way upward.

He snipped some of the excess growth from the stems that would otherwise have become strangled by the overabundance of greenery. As he did so, his mind connected the wayward parts of her speech.

“‘Do not despise’? So… So we do get along? You like me?”

“There is far bigger of a chasm between ‘do not despise’ and ‘like’ than you seem to comprehend.”

She mangled the most perfect leaf that nature had ever wrought.

“But still, I am not hated.”

He gently cut some leaves in order to de-emphasize a nearby patch of balding branches.

“That is certainly an incorrect assessment.”

She smirked as her hand slipped, accidentally removing a wretched blot from her leafy canvas.

He faltered for the briefest of moments.

Despite his effort to hide it, she had noticed his hesitation.

“There are none in this world who could claim such a statement and be speaking truth.”

He noticed her attempt to comfort him and decided to take it to heart.

‘There are none in this world who can truthfully say they are not hated’. Such wisdom. I am glad to know that she, at least, does not hate me. But… What about Rem?

Turning his head away from his work, he scanned the area, only for his eyes to fall on Rem’s own.

She was staring daggers into the very core of his being.

Stuck in place, he returned her heated gaze with his own frozen regard.

As if no such battle were place, Ram absent-mindedly intruded upon his concentration to suggest he move on to the next bush, as there is no more he could do to improve upon his current work.

Inspecting the work of art before him, he concluded that she was correct.

I have a shocking knack for this, it seems. And after handling the kitchen knife so poorly…

As his eyes wandered away, he found that Rem was no longer looking at him. She seemed only to have eyes for her sister’s mutilation project. As she stepped closer to fix it, however, the Ashen One put a hand up.

“Wait, please.”

She halted immediately.

Carefully, as she could strike at any wrong movement, he explained himself.

“I would like to keep admiring her piece for a moment longer.”

Rem was incredulous and Ram seemed unamused.

“So, you get full marks on groundskeeping to redeem your terrible cooking skill. I see no need for you to gloat.”

“No. I’m being serious.”

They looked at him strangely.

He stepped toward Ram’s bush and gently ran a hand along one tortured branch.

“Where I come from, there is no order. Only chaos. Only death, and spite, and rage, and filth. I thought what I would like is the opposite. Order, life, generosity, patience, purity. But when I look at this, I see…”

He struggled to find the words he needed to express himself.

“I see… catharsis. A satisfaction in something so disorderly holding beauty nonetheless.”

“It is not beautiful.”

Ram was still unamused.

“So says the artist. What does her sister say?”

Rem remained stubbornly silent.

“Well, I say it has beauty. I say that life, and those that have it, hold an inherent beauty that I can never truly grasp. This plant is alive. And as such, it is beautiful to me, if not to you. Rem, this plant was shaped by your beloved sister. As such, it’s shape holds beauty to you, too, does it not?”

Rem, still silent, stepped closer and inspected the bush.

Ram shifted impatiently, but betrayed nothing else of her feelings toward the happenings before her.

That very stoicism, however, could leave implications of some unwanted emotion.

Rem looked quite carefully at the carcass. She ran a delicate finger along a few bent stems and crushed leaves.

“I see. I didn’t understand before, but I see what it is you mean.”

She turned to face him directly.

“It is ugly.”

Ram fought the urge to recoil from the words as if they could physically hurt her- though as the Ashen One considered it, she did indeed appear to be in physical turmoil.

“However.”

They both gazed into Rem’s blue eyes.

“It was made by Sissy. So I love it.”

With that, the resident Lord of Cinder experienced something more precious than anything else in this strange New World.

He witnessed

Her smile.

One of genuine warmth and affection.

He decided he could fight anything to preserve that smile.

To see it again and again.

Little did he know, he just might have to.

And soon.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Ashy One, my beloved sister Rem will be fine cooking on her own. She is easily the most skilled cook in the world.”

The Ashen One smirked from the memory of his first bite.

“That isn’t difficult to believe at all.”

They continued in silence toward their next task, namely the reorganization of the storeroom.

A task where my strength is well-suited.

He looked at the rough calluses on his hand.

Ram followed his gaze, until her eyes rested on the two rings of his left hand.

“What is the significance of your rings? They are oddly intricate.”

He lifted his hand higher to showcase their designs.

“Ah. Sentimentality, mostly.”

“In some cultures, it is customary for those betrothed to exchange rings, is it not? Is it something like that?”

“Hm… Yes, I suppose it is. My betrothed is dead. I wear this ring…”

He lifted his “heart-finger”(*) to accentuate the untrue dark ring.

“...As a sort of… penance, I suppose? For my failure to protect her. The other here…

He bent and lifted his long-finger(*).

“...is little more than a charm.”

Raising his other hand,

“These, however, are much more practical. The green one here…”

He indicated the chloranthy ring.

“...Improves my energy. I feel less exertion when wearing it.”

Ram looked incredulous, yet another emotion seemed present. Perhaps hope, perhaps temptation, or perhaps jealousy. 

Ignoring her look, he indicated the fourth and final ring. While the other three rings were nearly constantly kept on, the last was often switched out for whatever was demanded by the occasion. Sometimes it was the Estus ring, sometimes the Sage ring, sometimes the Ring of the Sun’s First Born. Right now, though,

“This is called the Fleshbite ring. It offers a slight resistance toward things like poison, bleeding, curses, and the like.”

Still incredulous, Ram eyed the ring. They stopped walking.

“It has the same design as the one on your other hand.”

He lifted his left hand again.

“Ah, yes, this is the Cursebite ring. Offers far more significant resistance specifically toward curses.”

“Resistance toward curses?”

Ram muttered under her breath. Based on what she had heard from Miss Beatrice, assuming she understood, a curse is either successfully placed or avoided. Not mitigated.

And to be able to prevent something like a curse with nothing more than a trinket…

“I admit I am curious about these rings that supposedly have magical properties. May I see one? The green one, perhaps?”

Hesitating for only a moment, the Knight acquiesced.

“This is called the Chloranthy ring.”

He said while placing it into her palm.

Fiddling with the object, Ram readied her hand.

“What does the name mean?”

“Apparently, some plants can contract diseases just like animals. Chloranthy is when a diseased plant’s parts change color to match the green of its leaves. Something to do with storing more energy, I think. At least, that would make the name make more sense.”

After another short bout of hesitation, she slid the ring on. For a brief moment, there was no change at all.

“Ghaaaa-”

Gasping, she felt as though a tremendous weight was suddenly thrust from her body. She felt light as a feather. Struggling not to hyperventilate from the sensation, she looked at her trembling hand.

“I feel… Powerful…”

The Knight frowned and turned his head before she walked toward the side of the hall.

“I don’t understand. What-”

To his surprise, she placed her hands around a piece of furniture. A small table perhaps meant for a flower or lantern. She lifted it almost effortlessly and held it high in the air.

“Ha!”

She gave a quick, barking laugh, as if in disbelief.

“I- I feel-”

She returned the table to its position and turned toward him.

“I feel like I have my horn back.”

Blinking at the strange words, the Champion of Ash smiled at her.

“Well, if it makes you that happy, you can keep it.”

Ram’s face hardened and she looked back at the ring.

“Don’t worry. I really don’t need it. In fact, I’d say I’ve been relying on it a bit too much lately. Better that I swap it out for another. Keep it, I insist.”

Ram was speechless with gratitude, uncertain of what to do or say. After some time, she simply lifted the edge of her skirt and curtsied. With no twist of mockery or menace whatsoever, she softly said,

“Thank you… Ashy One.”

His smile broadened.

“Only, I’m a bit confused. All it does for me is reduce exhaustion. It doesn’t increase my strength.”

“I have always been this strong, however I have also been exhausted for longer than I can remember. Without that leaden veil, I feel as though I could crush a mountain.”

They continued to their next task, now certain that Ram would help.

After finishing their prior task earlier than expected, they reconvened in the kitchen. The twins huddled together and spoke with one another.

“Beloved sister, it seems we must restock our kitchen.”

Rem said in a loud voice.

“My lovely sister, it seems our extra resident has made things awfully inconvenient for us.”

Ram retorted even louder.

“Indeed, beloved sister, the ungrateful guest who has rejected the food set aside for him has wasted much.”

“I agree, my lovely sister, it seems the very-ungrateful and very-stupid guest-that-does-not-know-his-place has been unbearably discourteous to our generosity which has lead to our current predicament.”

“Um.”

The Ashen One spoke up.

“I’m sorry. I’m just not used to eating much. I’ll help with getting the supplies, though.”

“Sister, sister, it seems the very-rotten, no-good, awful scoundrel has offered to help fix the mess he made when scorning your delicious meals.”

“Sister, sister, it seems the ill-mannered ne’er-do-well has made a grossly naive attempt at consolation.”

“Alright, alright.”

He waved his hands through the air forestalling any further insult.

“I really am sorry, though. I didn’t know you were still making extra food on my behalf. If I had, I definitely would’ve eaten as much as I could handle. When is the most convenient time for us to get more?”

Rem double-checked her supplies as Ram answered in her place.

“Tomorrow morning ought to be the perfect time, provided the weather holds. All other chores are well-at-hand thanks to some shockingly helpful assistance as of late.”

He smiled, but something still gnawed at him inside

I suppose giving insults is there way of expressing familiarity, or some such…

Images flashed through his mind. Those of the twins’ faces when they tried to kill him. Disturbed, he turned his head elsewhere, failing to do the same with his mind.

…But how can I know how far is too far? At what point do their insults become real?

While he remained troubled by this, he carried on, trying not to think too hard about it.

“Ashy One? May you please take this platter to Master Roswaal?”

Rem asked, her eyes and voice devoid of any malice.

Warmed by this, he took the spread of food from her and followed her directions toward his study.

Reaching the study, the Undead rapped the door with his knuckles the way Ram had shown him. After a brief pause, he heard Roswaal’s voice.

“Come iiiiiiiiiin!”

Opening the door and stepping inside the study immediately led to two quick impressions: first, the musty smell that reminded him too much of Lothric after spending so much time acclimating to the fresh air of Lugunica. Second, was how dark the room was. While seeing his surroundings was not difficult, and even the glow of his emberred body was imperceptible, it was still terrible lighting for reading words that don’t glow like the bright, emblazoned messages coming from distant worlds. Clearly, the Margrave wouldn’t be doing any work at the moment in such low light.

“Ah, what a surpriiiiiiiiiiise. Thank you deeeearly, Ashen One.”

The Knight suppressed a shiver. He had been worried that he would become irritated by Ram’s consistent use of ‘Ashy One’, though hearing his Proper Title said so formally by this disturbing man convinced him he would rather be called much worse things by Ram than continue speaking to the Master of the manor. He bowed, short, but respectful, again just as Ram had shown him. He turned to leave, but Roswaal called to him.

“Wait, Sir Ashen One-”

Another strange shiver down his spine.

“-Ram has told me muuuuuuuch of your progress in the household, but I would like to hear from you direeeeeectly if you don’t mind.”

He thought for a moment.

Ram and Rem are both fine in the kitchen without my help. In fact, I’d slow them down… Betty isn’t expecting me until a bit later… Guess I have no excuse to leave...

“Certainly, sir.”

“...”

“...”

Upon Roswaal’s unyielding inspection, the Knight shifted in place.

“I’m… not sure what there is to say. I do poorly preparing food, but seem to excel in just about every other area. I can reach higher spots when dusting or wiping than either of the twins, and can more easily move the furniture when we sweep or mop. I’d say apart from the food, I’ve been doing quite well... Umm. Ram has been teaching me more proper etiquette as well. Though I’m sure she must have told you all that already.”

Roswaal only smiled and nodded.

She had, indeed.

“What I am loooooooking for is…”

He folded his hands and placed them under his chin.

“...how have you been feeling?”

Put off by the question, the Knight didn’t know how to respond.

“I’m… not sure.”

He again shifted in place.

“I have been seeing strange dreams. They aren’t necessarily upsetting, just a bit… unnerving, I suppose?”

At hearing those last words, Roswaal didn’t bother to hide a smirk.

“It seems Miss Beatrice has beeeeeeen rubbing off on you, haaaasn’t she?”

Wishing to change the subject, he decided to use his ‘dreams’ as a method of divining information.

“I had a dream where the mansion was under attack. I looked for B- for Miss Beatrice, but I couldn’t find her. In my dream, everybody in the mansion refused to trust me. You turned on me... Tried to kill me... I- I don’t know if that dream means anything. I so rarely dream, after all, so it’s all still a big mystery to me. But that was a very upsetting experience.”

As he spoke, he turned his head away, as if afraid to look Roswaal in his multi-colored eyes. Which, it would seem, he actually was.

The Margrave frowned.

“That sounds more upsetting than unnerving... It seems to me like your time here has been more stressful than I had imagined. I had arranged for your chores to be light until you were accustomed to the work…”

“Oh, no, the work isn’t the problem at all. I’ve just-... just had a hard time feeling… like I- well, belong here. Until recently, at least.”

Roswaal’s gaze seemed to raise however slightly.

“Ah, well at least that much is good then.”

He shuffled some papers on his desk absently.

“I hear you have been training Miss Beatrice in new uses of magic. Rare is the man that could hope to teach anything at all to a being so old and wise, and yet you appear even more capable in the arts of magic, of all things. Quite a feat indeed! Perhaps you could show me some of those lessons as well. I would certainly be remiss to not take the opportunity to witness such a Master. It would be a shame, considering I hold such lofty recognition for my own magical abilities.”

Hesitating once more, the Knight, as seemed to always be the case before the Margrave, was unsure of how to respond.

“Of course, though I’m really not much of a sorcerer. It’s just that I’ve been taught to use magic in a very different way. I’m sure I would stand no chance at accomplishing similar feats as you could with the magic that you wield.”

“How mooooooodest, Ashen One.”

Yet again, the Knight shifted in place.

Roswaal had noticed, of course.

“Is something the maaaaaatter? You seem quiiiiite stressed in my preeeeesence. Has something I’ve done made you neeeeeervous?”

“No, sir. Just… The dream from earlier.”

Should I-... Worth a shot, I suppose. If he gets angry and kills me, I’ll just reset. I told myself I wouldn’t waste my lives, but I’m getting nowhere fast by remaining ignorant.

“Sir…”

“Hmm?”

The clown tilted his head, a devilish smile on his lips.

“How-… How is your… book?”

At first Roswaal was only confused. Realization began to dawn as he became suspicious. He remained silent, waiting to see whether suspicion should turn to anger or to fear.

“In my dream… you had a book in your coat.”

He pointed to where he knew the inlaid pocket kept the book.

“You said something about ‘a Gospel’ and ‘all lies’... I saw the pages... They were blank.”

Fear

Roswaal thought.

Definitely fear, then.

Almost shivering in spite of the musty atmosphere, Roswaal slowly removed the Gospel from its hiding place, opened it, then flicked through the pages.

A revelation. A horrible, nightmarish realization came over him. Like the entire world collapsing inward.

“I-... I see… so… it was… wrong-… -She… was wrong.”

He closed the book and gently placed it onto the table.

“I believe I understand what your… ‘dream’ was. Though I had always thought it worked differently... The Gospel had told me-... ...If the Gospel was wrong in that-... that ‘dream’, then I must rethink a great many things.”

Roswaal lowered his head as sweat beaded on his face.

“Please, I feel that I should be alone.”

Relieved, but still utterly confused, and a bit disappointed at the lack of new information, the Ashen One simply bowed and turned away.

“Wait.”

Roswaal slowly raised his head.

Turning back, the Ashen One met his intense gaze.

“Are you… our enemy?”

The Margrave had a look akin to desperation.

Facing him directly, the Knight bowed his head slightly.

“I have no reason to harm any of you. And I certainly have no intention of changing that. I can only hope the rest of you feel the same. Though, I suspect that may not have been a satisfactory answer.”

He finished with a deeper bow as Roswaal slowly nodded to himself. The Knight then left without waiting for a response. As he closed the door behind him, however, he saw Ram.

“May I enter?”

She asked quietly.

“He… said he wanted to be alone.”

“I see…”

She stayed silent for some time.

“How much of that did you hear?”

“Only a bit. Sorry to have eavesdropped.”

“N- no worries.”

The silence grew thicker.

“I still wish to enter.”

The Knight removed his hand from the door and stepped aside with no resistance.

She opened the door and entered.

He went back to the kitchen.

Ram stepped into the dark study, closed the door behind her, and gracefully bowed to her master.

“Ram. I am sorry. I’m not so composed at the moment and had nearly forgotten you haven’t received your care today.”

She took no step forward, even as his hand outstretched in welcome.

“Master. I no longer require your care”

Roswaal’s heart sank furthermore than he ever thought possible. He lowered his arm until it rested on his lap. His posture sulked further into the crook of his chair.

“I… see…”

He brought his hand back up, wiped it across his face from top to bottom, and in doing so, removed his makeup.

Ram said nothing, and remained perfectly still, as if in the presence of a dangerous mabeast that could strike quicker than thought.

“How much did you hear?”

“Most of it, I think. When I approached, I heard him say my name then something about etiquette. Then I heard the rest of the conversation quite clearly.”

Roswaal nodded.

“Most, then. So why are you here tonight?”

He asked, already knowing the answer.

“The book. It was wrong.”

“My Gospel.”

“It is no more than a book.”

Rage filled the Margrave’s eyes as he fought the urge to unleash a spell upon his dear maid. A few things held him back, though. Not the least of which being that she was right. His Gospel, the book granted to him by his precious Teacher, had failed to read his future.

“I have not forgotten our agreement.”

He said bitterly.

“Nor have I.”

They remained silent for a few moments.

“Well? Have you decided what is to be done to me?”

“I have.”

More silence. But before Roswaal could growl out a biting response, Ram spoke again.

“I have decided. To take back my heart.”

He only stared back in response.

“I have once given my heart to you. I have come to retrieve it. It no longer belongs to you.”

The Margrave was lost for words. He expected vitriol, violence, fury, betrayal, anything but this. Why? Why was that so important to her now? Why doesn’t she kill him?

“I will continue to be your maid. You will continue to be my Master. You will continue to assist Miss Emilia in her bid for the throne. And I will continue to follow your orders...”

Roswaal only frowned in further confusion.

“...But you will not have my heart...”

…’Not until you earn it back’

She didn’t say.

With that, Ram left the study and Roswaal continued slouching in his seat.

“What?”

He asked to the air around him. To the dusty books. To the grimy waxed parchments. To the stiff curtains with no breeze to shift them.

This makes no sense. So nothing has changed? Then why-… why has my Gospel betrayed me? Is it a trick? A mistake? A manipulation?

His thoughts drifted toward the lonely spirit of the forbidden library. Living without companionship for 400 years.

No, it couldn’t-... it… couldn’t…

…

Could it?

The strange Knight arriving from who-knows-where, for who-knows-what-purpose, and suddenly his Gospel fails? It cannot be a coincidence. But was it intentional?

Certainly not.

The Margrave adjusts his position, leaning forward, elbows on his desk, as he ponders.

I suppose-

Despite himself, he allows himself a slight grin in amusement at the phrase.

I suppose nothing needs to change. It seems Ram has fallen for this Knight, but that doesn’t complicate things all too much. The Knight is dedicated to Emilia, Ram is dedicated to the Knight, and Rem, in turn, is dedicated to her sister. So long as I keep Emilia happy and productive, then the others should fall in line. Then truly nothing has changed.

His eyes hovered over an irritating report from the Capitol’s barracks on his desk.

Except…