So, to make sure everyone knows (and though I know it might be a bit annoying to have it always present) I'm sticky-ing this post with...pretty much all the info. If the sticky-situation annoys folks, I'll get around to removing it after a week circa. By that time, everyone who might have missed any of the 'info' will have been filled in, and the new recruits-ahem, cultist-ahem, readers will eventually learn it through osmosis.
Did somebody say "More Vampire Ventrue Prince Shade"? Cause I heard "More Vampire Ventrue Prince Shade".
(did another 'episode' of Vampire Larping. It was just last week. Heat was a lot, so no jacket on the Prince.)
Link stared at the old man seated next to a broken, rusted Guardian that had been covered in moss, a rusty spear stabbed straight through its mechanical eye. He stopped his horse, and looked at him. He definitely felt familiar, but where had he seen him before?
"It's dangerous to go alone," he lifted up the handle of a broken sword in his direction, "Take this."
Link frowned; the blade was broken. Still, it would be rude to refuse. He dismounted, and neared the man. As he grabbed the hilt, he stared into the face that was so familiar, he felt his head pound. The man smiled.
"I'm proud of you, Link."
Tears spilled freely from Link's face. As the memories came back, so too did the grief and the sorrow he had mercifully forgotten about.
"Your path seems to mirror your father's. You've dedicated yourself to becoming a knight, as well."
"What name did you decide for?" I asked. She was positively aglow, and close to the due date.
"If it's a girl, Aryll, after my grandmother. If it's a boy...I don't know yet." She looked at me. I averted my sight. "You're wearing the armor-are you heading out?"
"It's an order from the king," I admitted. "Bokoblins, moblins-the same stuff."
She gave me a smile, a small one because it held bitterness in it, and I knew what she wanted to say, but didn't. "I don't really want a necklace made of fangs like last year," she jokingly said instead.
"Excuse me, princess," I stressed the first two words, and finished the last one with a click of my tongue, "when have I ever gifted you something you didn't like?"
"It would take me a while to make a long list of it all, my knight," she said, sounding resolute and firm. The poise of a royal, though neither us were any of it. But it was quite all right in my mind; I didn't need a noble title to be a good man. Nor to be happy. "Your parents were Knights of Hyrule...neither nobility nor royalty."
"Are you sure you're fit to return to work so soon?" I asked for the umpteenth time.
"You fuss too much, dear," she replied with a pearly laugh. Then she sighed. "Are you worried about me, or about Link?"
My mood sobered further. The name had been a surprise. The realization had sunk in deeper. I had thought it would be a few generations further down the line; something not to worry about, to leave to others to handle, maybe with an anonymous letter...but no, it had to be my son's generation.
It had to be me. A colleague passed us by, and I switched to a firmer tone until they were out of earshot.
"I worry for everyone, Knight Medilia Banzetta. You should know that."
"Everyone knows we're married, you silly oaf," she rolled her eyes. "You had to ask the king's permission for the honeymoon, remember?"
"I do remember," I said. "I also remember being quite clear that work and private life were to be firmly separated. So, Knight Medilia Banzetta, if you're fit for active duty, then I commend your prompt return and-"
"So help me, if you think you can get away with assigning me to the kitchen oversight, I will stab you."
I chuckled, and did not assign my lovely wife to kitchen oversight.
I did, however, assign her to stable duty.
It was a stable enough job for a knight freshly returned into service, after all.
"One of them was a Hylian child of only about four years of age. His name was Link.
He made quite a first impression. He was curious and full of energy, with a ready smile. Are all Hylian children that way?
One thing that surely sets him apart is his swordsmanship, which I hear is exceptional. He has even bested adults."
I looked at my son. How old was he? Three? And already, he had a wooden dagger in hand. What kind of monster would teach a three year old how to wield a dagger? What kind of demon? No, this was for his own good.
"Fight," I said. He lunged and swung wildly, thinking it a game. I swatted the blade away and struck him in the back. He yelped and went limp, rolling forward. He had bruises on his knees and dirt on his hands by the time the lesson finally stuck that this wasn't a game. He looked up at me with hurt in his eyes, big fat tears threatening to spill.
"Take that pain," I said, "And make it a part of you. There will come a time where you'll have to fight on through it."
He kept sobbing, the heart-wrenching sound of sniffles and tears breaking through my composure as I ended up kneeling in front of him. I extended my arms, bringing him into a hug until he stopped. "Listen to me, Link," I whispered. "Tears will not save you from those who wish you harm. Pain is a harsh teacher, but it is a teacher. Do not refuse it; do not fear it. Accept and learn from it, and then, learn how to avoid it." I gingerly gave him a kiss on the top of his blond hair; even though mine was black, his mother's had triumphed.
"But you're stronger than me," Link mumbled, eyes puffy and red.
"A lot of foes are stronger than me, and yet I defeat them," I whispered back. "When in a fight, dictate how it begins. Use subterfuge, guile, skills-use weapons, but also your brain. Cheat, lie, backstab, hide, drink that which makes you stronger or tougher, use all that you have at your disposal, and find out new ways, better ways, to be even better...because, Link, in a real fight you need to put your life on the line. Your enemy will do the same. And in that moment, only by keeping your head with you will you be able to triumph."
"But it's scary," he said. "Fighting is scary."
"Clutch on to your fear, but do not let it conquer you," I whispered. "No one is born brave, Link. We become brave. Moment by moment, step by step," I stood up, and rubbed his hair affectionately, "One day, you'll become so strong, you'll defeat everyone that stands in your way. When you do, you'll also need a big heart, so that everyone will cherish you, rather than fear you. A sword wields no strength unless the hand that holds it has courage."
He looked up at me, "Is that how one becomes a knight like you, dad?" he asked. I smiled. It was a bitter smile.
"Yes. But I want you to become even better than me. Because I know you'll be a great knight, Link. Greater than I. A real hero of legends..."
He giggled at that, "That's silly, dad."
I knew it would be anything but that.
"It is said that the legendary Master Sword can only be wielded by a hero chosen by the sword itself, and its whereabouts had long been a mystery. The details of how Link obtained the sword a hundred years ago have been lost to the mists of time, but since he was in possession of it for a number of years prior to becoming a Champion, he was likely around twelve or thirteen years old when it happened."
"Dad, are you sure we haven't lost the way again!?" Link asked, annoyed. He huffed and puffed and tried to look like he knew what he was doing, but the torch in front of him kept flickering against the white fog. The creepy laughing had echoed for quite a while each time we had gotten lost in the woods.
"Trust me on this, son," I said with a smile. "I know the way. It's just...taking some time to get back to me, that's all."
"But do you? And are you sure this is gonna be necessary to pass the squire exam? Wood trekking doesn't look like a great way to prepare..." he hesitated. "I should be studying more. Mom's busy with Aryll now, so I can't risk being lazy, I need to show I'm a dependable big brother!"
"Well, if that's what you want to show to your kid sister, my boy, you should be studying less, since those poor books can't take many more heart-drawings on their pages...and I don't know how much knowledge on Zora physiology is gonna be helpful as a big brother..."
"DAD!" he yelled, red on his face. "I'M NOT DRAWING HEARTS! It's-well, they're enemy hearts! Yes! As a proud and noble squire-to-be, I'm readying myself mentally for when I'll have to take my enemies lives!" he avoided the second aspect of my discussion, and being the merciful man that I was, I chose not to persist.
"Yell a bit more, and they'll hear you all the way to the castle," I mused. Meanwhile, the wind picked up gently, and the torches' flames changed abruptly in a differing direction. As I looked at it, my eyes widened. "AH-HA! So that was how it worked..."
"Dad?"
"Come on son, time to meet your destiny. Don't worry too much, I'm pretty sure the one we're meant to meet is all bark and no bite." I laughed at that, but Link didn't understand.
It took him a few more hours, spent in somber silence as we made our trek back out of that place, for him to finally break the silence. "Dad," he said. The Master Sword, the 'Sword that seals the darkness', was strapped to his back. "What do I do now?"
"You do what you were always meant to do, and become what I have always sincerely wished you would never have to be," I whispered back. "You become the Hero Hyrule needs."
He kept silent for a bit longer. "How long have you known?"
"Always, son," I turned to look at him, "And I am sorry. For this curse which you have, I knew...I could not shield you from it, thus...I did my best to make you embrace it." I shook my head. "I do not ask your forgiveness. I do not deserve it. Know that all that I did, I did so you would have a future. If I could have taken your place, know that I would have."
"How?" he asked.
To that, I answered as honestly as I could. "He is now an accomplished knight and keeper of the sword that seals the darkness. I am so proud. However...
He hardly speaks anymore, and smiles even more rarely. He is still the kind soul I knew, but something has changed.
I asked him if something had happened, if something was wrong. He merely shook his head.
Perhaps it is his newly acquired height, but I feel he is ever looking past me, into the distance beyond..."
"So," I mused, "It has come to this."
"Close your eyes father," Link replied, serious and stone-faced, "Now that mine have opened."
I looked at the pot in front of him.
Then, I looked at the pot in front of me.
"You forget yourself, young one," I retorted. "It's not just in the quality of the ingredients, the correct seasonings, or the sweat and effort that goes in the meticulous preparation-"
"Mom, what are dad and Link going on about?" Aryll asked.
"They're being idiots, Aryll. But they're our idiots, so it's okay to cheer them up," my wife remarked.
They both sat on a nearby picnic cloth, enjoying a lemonade drink, while Link and I were proceeding to the cook-off of the century.
"-It's also burning passion and love! Take this, hot chili Goron spiced meat balls with cheese filling in tomato sauce!"
As I finished throwing the meat balls on their respective plates, Link finished his own side of the picnic.
"Foolish father, don't you know Aryll can't stand spices!? You'll never win! Witness my Risotto with herbs and mushroom cream!" and as he whipped out his own plates with the meals, we both proceeded to hand them over to the judges of this impromptu cook-off.
"They're both really good," Medilia, my sweet half, said. "But I have to say, the meatballs were the best."
"Uh-huh, sorry big bro, I like the rice, but dad's dish is better."
Link's crestfallen expression had me chuckle at his misery, like all proper fathers would. "B-But you don't like spices!"
"It's not spicy," Aryll said.
Link took a hesitant taste of my dish, and then his eyes widened. "H-How!?"
"Sweetness of cheese and some sugar in the tomato sauce makes the spice milder, balances the dish out, delivers a fuller taste...and also love, Link, lots of love!" I laughed.
"I'm so glad you're retiring from active duty," Link muttered. "So, so glad..."
"What? You don't want to do the rounds with me, boy? I'm a great patrolman! I snagged lots of enemies of the King during my patrols, and also your mother. Snagged her too."
"...he did make some good sandwiches."
"...does this mean dad will be home more?" Aryll's face lit up.
"No, just that I'll be moved from active patrols to keeping a guard on the King itself. It's an extremely important role," I said with a small smile. "A Royal guard, took me a bit to become one, not like your brother here," I smiled, "But that's why you've got to be careful Link, I might just make Captain before you know it!"
"...Dad, please don't."
"Can I become a knight too?" Aryll asked.
"Sure!" "Absolutely not!" "Let fate be your guide."
My sweet half blinked. My son blinked. I simply shrugged. "Free will is inherent in all of us, let her be the arbiter of her own fate. Also, stable duty."
Both Link and my wife nodded wisely. Aryll, sweet young daughter of mine, didn't understand. "What's stable duty?"
"It's a duty that's stable!" we all cheerfully said, before breaking out in chuckles.
One last moment of levity...was that not allowed, after all?
"One blessed by the Goddess, or helped by a devil?"
"This is the fifth time! A new batch of activated guardians ambushed and destroyed by the Yiga clan! How do those devils know when to strike us!?" the King was agitated. It made sense. Someone had been delivering information on the enemies of the Sheikah and Hyrule, and by consequence much of the automated defenses known as the 'Guardians' had been rendered inoperable.
There were still a lot operational, and more were coming online each day. Yet my words on trusting automation over humans and Hylians fell on deaf ears. I hadn't pushed the argument too much; to be a distrusting voice on such topic would make me a prime suspect. However the Yiga were trifling easy to find.
Honestly, I just hooked a Mighty Banana to a fishing pole and waited for a random Hylian to bite on to it.
Then, once I reeled in the Yiga, I explained how I was dissatisfied with the 'Guardians' taking over and overshadowing the Royal Guard. It had worked surprisingly well.
Most of the Yiga clan had to be morons due to a lack of a varied fruit diet. It had to either be that, or a sheer inconceivable level of stupidity permeating their existence.
"My liege, we have been trying to increase security at the warehouses, but the Yiga might have access to some technology we lack-" Impa spoke plainly, though it pained her to admit as much, "We can station more Sheikah-"
"We've excavated a few Skywatchers that seem serviceable enough," the King said. "Have those patrol the skies...I want to see if the Yiga will be able to handle them!"
...It was trivial to explain how the rotors tended to gulf and break if something heavy or sticky was launched atop them. Also, arrows to the eyes worked wonders.
Truly, what a terrible loss of Guardians.
It was a sad day when Princess Zelda embarked on her voyages to the Springs of Power, Courage and Wisdom with my son and the 'Heroes' in tow. For I knew the clock was ticking, and soon it would tick its last.
"Hateno Fort," I said offhandedly to the royal quartermaster. "Could use some cannons and some extra patrols. I've received a report of increased attacks on travelers and merchants from Hinox during the day and Stalnox at night...Akkala fortress has a surplus and they're more defensible than Hateno village."
"I'll take that into account, see what I can do-"
"Shadow and light are two sides of the same coin, one cannot exist without the other."
"Sir! SIR!" the boy was bleeding. He had been hit by a metallic claw. His right hand was broken. "Sir!" people screamed. The militia was in disarray. Laser beams were hard to ready against. One needed a shield and good timing. Good timing.
Good timing was always essential.
Had I been too slow? Could I have been more hasty in the preparations? Medelia was leading the very last line of defense before the children and the defenseless ones at the very back of the fort, Aryll with her.
"There's a breach on the eastern wall!" someone screamed. "Where's the Captain!?"
"DEAD!" another yelled. "What do we do!?"
"HOLD THE FUCKING LINE! REINFORCE THE EASTERN WALLS! CLOSE THAT BREACH! WITH OUR COURAGE, OR OUR BODIES!" someone roared over the falling rain, in the chaos of shattering dirt and drowning men, Guardians collapsed into the mud under their own weight. Men bravely rushed to reinforce the broken area, to keep the Guardians out from their frenzied, homicidal rampage.
Many died. Many exploded, metal shrapnel everywhere. "Aim for their eyes! Break their limbs! HOLD THE LINE! IT IS THE LAST LINE YOU'LL EVER HOLD! SO HOLD IT! YOUR FAMILIES, OURS-WE DIE, SO THEY MAY LIVE!"
It had been my voice, carried through the wind even as my royal blade smashed into steel and iron, chipped and blunted it shattered and fell in the mud. Some heard my voice. Others spread my words.
There would be no retreat.
As my shield broke under the strain of laser beam, and my hands clutched nothing, my knees fell on the soft,wet ground.
"Ah," I whispered. "Guess this is the end."
A cannon shot struck the side of a nearing Guardian, denting armor and taking it off balance for the strike that would have otherwise smashed me into bits. We had some cannons yet; and as a young man who had joined the militia just the day before neared me, he handed me a spare spear from the stockpile.
It wasn't going to do much, but as I clutched it, I bitterly smiled. The militia was poorly trained. They were meant as the second-to-last ditch defense. But still, shaking in their legs, with arms frail and spirits frayed, they marched forward to reinforce the first line.
"Yes, we are humans. We have neither the power of spirits nor demons. But when we combine our strength... No one can defeat us!"
"Let's show these machines just what it means," I said, a new wave of Guardians peering over the horizon headed towards us, "To be human!"
...
"Dad...I'm sorry...I couldn't be here." Link broke the silence, his voice a quiet whisper.
"Oh, it's okay," I said. "You couldn't be someone named 'here' after all, you're named Link." I grinned at hearing him groan, even through the tears in his eyes. "You know, your mother chose that name because, and this is quite soppy, she believed you to be a link between us, something that would keep us close. But I never quite liked that reasoning. I'd have been close to her even without you; but, on the other hand, I'd have called you Gift, because you have been, and are, the greatest gift she could have ever possibly given me."
His arms engulfed me in a tight hug, which I gingerly returned. "Now don't worry too much about the past," I whispered. "You can't really change it...or well, you can, but it takes some stuff you don't really have available on hand."
"Dad?"
"No worries, Link," I winked. "I know you'll manage. Take it at your own pace, one step after the other...and you'll defeat the undefeatable, break the unbreakable."
I snickered to a joke only I would ever know about.
"And we'll wait patiently on the other side, Link," I continued. "So don't be in a hurry." I winked. "I promise you, we'll have plenty of time to catch up."
Then, Link took a few steps back and waited.
I stared at him and waited in turn.
"You're...not going?" Link asked.
"...Link, I'm not dead. This is Purah's youth-tonic Mark 2. Your sister and mother are all waiting for you at Hateno Village. I told them you'd be coming around a hundred years later or something, so they decided to wait around too. Aryll's all grown up and is probably your big sister now, but-"
"...Dad."
"Yes, son?"
"I'm glad you're here."
"Hello Glad, sorry but I'm not here."
"Dad?"
"Yes?"
"...Can I stab you?"
With a bout of laughter and tears, we both began our trek back to Hateno village...
...because there's always a need for something sweet, when life's all bitter and sad.
When all is said and done, the brightest lights cast the greatest shadows.
"Power, for power's sake, what worthless ideal." Godwyn the Golden, my older brother, would shake his head from which curled golden locks of hair and smile. His smile would melt the hatred of others away; his kindness would inspire others to take upon them the mantle of martyrs and devout followers. He would lift an arm, and more would kneel and prostrate themselves to the Golden Order.
Mother's divinity was assured by virtue of power; but her Faith endured by kindness and magnificence that only the firstborn could ever wield.
In comparison, I was but a wretched thing; a tarnished gold that clung like scraps to the pristine silk tablecloth of Order.
Godwyn knew not the cruelty it perpetrated. He had no idea of the consequences of his actions. He would befriend the Dragons, casting yokes of gold around their once proud necks, and they'd accept it, without question. He called 'friends' those who would become, without a shred of doubt, naught but slaves to his ideals and cause.
I did not hate Godwyn, even though I should have. I was not born to inherit anything; though in immortal eternity, what can one even wish to inherit? Nothing dies, nothing grows, nothing new is born, that is stagnation and thus, that is eternity.
"The Moon watches over us all, both its light and dark side," Ranni mentioned it, her hair flowing red like her father's, her eyes casting a look of weary doubt into my own shadowed face. She could not sense why or where my thoughts were lingering, but she sensed the unease. She was good at that; she was surrounded by those who would seek her out for her knowledge or blood, power and skills. She wasn't yet Demigod or Empyreal, she was but a young woman, thrust into the snow fields to learn from an elder witch and toughened up by the cruelty of nature's uncaring existence to return wizened beyond her years, and yet still childishly innocent in some aspects.
She knew I was not to be trusted; she knew that I could be a great asset or a terrifying enemy, but she could not place me. Was I an ally or a foe? Did I strike chords of friendship only to then sing a staccato of betrayal? Was I a monster in the guise of a Tarnished, or a Demigod cast down into exile by an uncaring Godly Mother?
We fear what we do not know; and I could see that Ranni attempted to know me, only to cast her in further doubts. What Demigod casts away his real self for a guise that feels realer than realer? What mighty creature shrinks and shreds his divinity to appear the last of the least? What purpose could I have, if not infiltration, for being empathetic to the pleads of the Albinauric, naught but tools and golems crafted to aid the 'true ones' in pursuit of their academic goals?
Why would my golden hands steady a tray of a terrified maid, and smile gently? Why would I forgive trespasses, and arrogant accusations? Was I imitating my older brother, whose might and golden self shined through the lands? Or was I casting shadows of my own making, to prove a point that only those who knew could understand?
She was anxious to find the truth, crafting tests and ruses, speaking words and then backtracking on them, but each I saw for their inherent simplicity, for I knew her plans before she could even come close to starting them, and I knew her questions and the answers she would have wished to hear, and those she'd have wished never to think of.
I didn't deny answers, but I didn't waste time with just one possibility.
"The moon ebbs and flows, and with her passing the tides shift," I replied, "Thus there must be moments of great strength and weakness; yet the strength remains the same throughout the weeks and months. Are you sure that what you claim is the moon is not, in truth, merely a representation of something far greater and ever-present?"
"Everything hides in imagery that is easy to grasp," Ranni replied. "The moon was thought to only have a side of light; I found its darkness. There may be a third or fourth side yet unknown to us, but still, it would explain much."
I chuckled. "Seek darkness in light, and light in darkness, is a troubling concept is it not? Find the Gold in the Tarnish, and the Tarnish in the Gold..." I mused.
"What is golden can never tarnish," Ranni said, fretfully. I knew the tell of her nervousness in the way a lock of red hair would be moved, her fingers attempting the delicate act of fiddling and yet trying not to, for she knew it was a tell; or maybe, she wished to make it a tell so that I would not understand her true ones.
"All that exists can rot," I said. "I hear of a God of such things, somewhere far from here. My mother has sent against him a hero, and yet I have to hear of his victory or defeat."
"If a hero is sent by the Golden Goddess, then victory is assured."
"Is it? Is the toil and sweat of the hero meaningless then? Could a peasant, if sent by her Godly self, defeat a rival god?"
Ranni didn't answer. She looked at one of her many tomes, which laid strewn upon a table that easily dwarfed her size. To learn of the Moon's sorceries required knowledge that was vast and wildly split across different scrolls and tomes. To condense it all in a single book would be foolish, for it would require no effort and thus be considered meaningless.
That was her way of stating her laziness at rewriting things she had already written once, and 'she knew where everything was just fine, so why bother making it clearer for those who'd come after?'.
The silence stretched briefly, "We have more to study," she said. "And you are far behind."
"Blessed is the last," I mused, "For he sees the traps and falls of all who went first, if he has keen sight."
"And is your sight so keen? Cast in shadows as you are?" Ranni retorted.
I laughed, and it was a laughter that tinkled of chiming bells. "Those in the light seldom see those in shadows, but the opposite is not true. We see all, Lunar Princess... we see all." I smiled and she huffed.
--
"My father," Radahn said, "has yet to return. My brother Rykard is too busy to show you the proper things of life, so I hope you'll accept myself as a substitute."
"Why would you consider yourself a mere substitute?" I remarked. "I am honored to have you show me around."
Radahn smiled. He stretched a hand and with his arm drew a vast semi-circle in front of him. "Ahead of us," he said, and gestured to the tranquil lakes and well-cured and maintained marble gazebos that dotted the landscapes, "Stand placid lakes filled with gentle beasts."
A path made of glittering glintstones stretched on pristine cobblestones bathed by the clear and crystal waters, and we trudged upon said path on our horses. "There are many things to see in our lands; shores where sand is pure gold, or gentle hills where fresh flowers bring forth pleasant smells." Radahn turned thoughtful, "There are also temples to the Golden Order, and observatories of stars, should you wish to visit them?"
I shook my head, "I enjoy merely the pleasantness of a breeze of fresh air with good company, young Radahn."
Radahn chuckled. "I admit," he said. "I am not much of a guide."
"It is quite all right," I said. "Sometimes both guide and follower can discover new things together; all it takes is fresh perspective, to alter what one sees and has always seen."
"If you say so," Radahn admitted. My words flew over his head, flying off in the air as not a single cell of his brain worried about them. He was so different from Ranni, as if cut from an altogether different cloth. "I wished to ask about Gravity magic, if possible-I am told you are an expert of it?"
"Not an expert, never one," I said with a dry smile, "But I know things, and tricks, and if you so wish, I'll teach you."
"I don't really want to know much," Radahn said. "Just enough to make life easier on Leonard, you see?" he patted his horse, "He never complains, but I know that walking long stretches in the water must be hard on his joints. I'm light enough myself, but sometimes I carry some gear and..."
"No reason is needed for why one does things, Radahn," I mused. "At least, not to me who can divine them so easily." I smiled. "Your horse is blessed to have such a caring owner."
"...I'd rather be his friend than his owner," Radahn said. "I hope he feels the same."
"I am sure he does," I mused. "But never forget, Radahn, that friends stand as equals...and you, right now, are sitting upon his back."
"That's why-if I didn't weight at all, then it would be the same," Radahn answered. "I thought about it. If only he could talk-maybe I'm getting this all wrong, but-but still." He faltered, and grew quiet. "Maybe I should just walk?"
"You could," I mused. "Or you could be kind and carry him in turn for a bit?" I chuckled.
"...that would be the right thing to do, wouldn't it?" Radahn mused. "If-no, when I'm stronger, maybe one day I'll do that. Put him over my shoulder, protect him in turn."
An image flashed, of a might warrior so big and tall he could rival hills, clutching on his shoulder a worried and frightened horse wondering what had gone wrong with its life. The image glowed ever so briefly in my head, condensing and solidifying, before starting to chip and break as crimson rot took it over.
I glanced away, and smiled. "Hold on to that thought, Radahn. The greatness of your spirit shall be your strongest shield, even when all hope...seems lost," I whispered the last part, and he did not hear it. He simply patted the side of his horse, and grinned.
Truly placid and kind, were these Lakes of Liurnia.
---
Rykard asked questions once we found a moment to ourselves, on a tranquil evening that soon turned into the depths of the night and then the early hours of the next morning. Lots of questions. He delved deep into the Golden Order, querying and breaking apart each line and tenet. He had been to the Capital before, and his mind had been addled by revelations upon revelations that only the Two Fingers had spoken of, twisting his mind with knowledge that had turned his thoughts around in convulsing patterns of fanaticism and religious fervor.
And then, my words had cut knots and unraveled truths. They had poured shadows within golden lights, whispered realities where before had been but facades, and now there Rykard was, grasping at the spiked chains of his disillusionment, his breathing ragged and his emotions wild, grasping at the papers of the Vows of Gold, of the Tenets of Order, and finding no succor into them.
For once a lie is revealed in its glory, always it will show the chips and cracks.
"Before, there were other Gods," he whispered. "Their echoes linger in the land. I-But the Golden Order-It is eternity itself! I have tortured many to find their heretical lies, and-and they were not lies at all!"
"They did exist, and some still do," I agreed. "And to cast your doubts upon the flesh of others, Rykard, shows not your strength or faith, but your doubt and weakness. The mind too small to doubt isn't blessed, but cursed! If something does not work, then seek out alternatives, but know them too before embarking upon such paths! Too easily, would one be cursed by the alternatives."
"But my whole life, I have dedicated to-"
"Your whole life is a speck of dust, Rykard!" I snapped at him. "You have youth, and time aplenty. Stare at your reflection, do you see wrinkles or white hair? Does the strength of your arms falter? Gaze into the lies of Order and be chained again if that is your wish, stare into the Abyss of truth and be bound by heresy if thou seek rebellion, or merely witness it, Rykard! Witness it all and understand it! To understand, yet never touch, to acknowledge, yet never act-there is strength even in apathy...for it is easy to do what must be done...but how difficult is it, to still your hand?"
"No, no!" Rykard shook his head wildly. "You are but a test! A test crafted to examine my faith! An envoy of the Two Fingers, sent to be my tribulation! I will not cede my thoughts or falter in my faith!"
"Rage against the truth, Rykard, if that is what you wish...but know that the Truth will never falter, never cede, and never disappear. Even if no one will ever know of it...it will forever remain," I said, softly still.
"I sought answers," Rykard said. "Not doubts."
"All answers bring doubt, Rykard. For all who believe the sky blue shall one day face someone who sees it red. Who is wrong then? Who is right? Doubt wriggles like a worm, it coils like a snake around the mind-and then it tightens the hold and casts one in paranoia. Embrace the doubt, and you will be free from the false dogmas."
Rykard's teeth were biting down upon his lips, drawing fresh blood as his hands tightened into fists. "To embrace doubt is to lack faith," he said.
"To be a slave to a dogma is to lack faith," I mused right back. "Doubt your own faith, Rykard. If you return to it, even after casting aspersions and seeking out all of its faults, then it will be true. If you abandon it, having discovered deceit and lies, then it will be righteous to do so."
"You speak as if there could be multiple faiths, but there is only One! There is One Truth! One Order! The Golden One!"
"Ah, Rykard, I forget you are young and misguided," I chuckled. "There are countless Orders. Countless ways of Life. Some steeped in righteous justice, others in wrathful rage, some embrace death and life as one, others claim merely a deluge a blood-there is so much variety in things, Rykard. What is right and just for the fly, why-imagine the poor spiders! And what is a triumph for the carrion birds, why, isn't it a misery for the living?"
Rykard hung his head low, and his voice cracked, "What then, should I feel or think or do? I had certainties, and tightly they kept my soul from sinning. What now?"
"If you need to be certain in something," I mused, "Be certain in Death. Be certain in Life. Be certain that all that begins must one day end, and that all that ends once began. Gaze upon the growth of a tree from a sapling youth to an elder husk of a trunk...and then witness it be reborn again in its acorns-life is a cycle, and an end and a beginning aren't necessarily a bad thing."
"Life as a cycle," Rykard muttered. "Existence as a cycle..." he shook his head, then a yawn escaped his lips. "I will have nightmares today."
"You will," I agreed. "You asked questions your mind was not ready for, and I obliged in answering you, for I believe that deceit would not be kind to a mind thirsty for truths and knowledge...but do not mistake reality, for Truth and Order and Reality seldom are kind."
He laughed, bitterly. "Now I know," he acquiesced. "How dreadful it is, to know."
I bid him goodnight, even though the day had begun.
The next day, good news came from the capital. Well, truly not good at all for some, but marvelous for others.
Radagon had accepted to wed the Golden Goddess herself and become Elden Lord, and his children were called to the palace where they'd be blessed and their new destinies written upon the Golden Order itself. It was to be a wonderful boon; a massive triumph, a beautiful, amazing thing...
And yet, in the vast depths of a library filled with books, a woman's tears fell freely and her cries echoed for nights and days without end.
"You were sent here to observe me," Renala whispered. Her hair was in disarray as she stood amidst books and flickering candles. Two Carian knights had been guarding the doors outside the library, but I had entered all the same through my own means.
I spoke not, even though she had, correctly, deduced my arrival.
"Did you think me blind?" she continued. "You broke Rykard's faith, so he would not rival your brother's. You befriended the kind soul of Radahn, so he would not raise his sword against you," she slowly stood and turned, facing me with her full height, glimmering staff in one hand. "You distracted my daughter, so she would not realize your plans."
I remained silent still.
"But I will not stay silent as my family is broken!" she snarled. "You face Rennala of the Full Moon, shadow of the Erdtree! The moon's light shall cast you and your kind to-"
"I would command you to be silent," I muttered. "For if I had wanted you dead, you would have died already."
She gasped, her body tense as a kick drove into the back of her knee and a dagger passed an inch away from her taut neck, while her staff tumbled on the ground, a hand firmly gripping her wrist with enough strength to shatter it, if that had been my intention.
I crossed my arms as I emerged from the shadows, myself staring back at me with eyes filled with purpose.
"T...Two of you?" she hissed.
"No," I shook my head. "What terror would it be, if there were two or more of us," I chuckled.
Mercurial-like liquids seeped through books and from the ceiling dripped down, as soon the mimics coalesced into shape and forms. "I am the Shadow of the Erdtree, Rennala. I am my mother's faithful watchdog, and her worst enemy." I sighed, and drew closer. Myself-My clone self, that was- held her still. "Your knights think you weak, Rennala. Your students think you unwise. They will revolt and abandon you the moment you display weakness. And you know that, deep in your heart, you know that all that you have, you owe to Radagon himself." I whispered.
My voice was light.
My voice was dark.
My voice was truth.
"My children..." Rennala whispered. "Marika will take them from me, like she has my husband."
"Oh no, Rennala," I said with a shake of my head. "She won't. Rykard will blaspheme the Order, and become something else. Ranni will betray her, and commit the unspeakable-" the shadows hissed around us and tensed. "And Radahn, kind Radahn...he will become something you won't ever believe." The shadows grew from between us, latching on to us both. "Let me show you, Rennala. The Truth you so desperately will wish never to have seen."
"...why-"
"Because I need you to play your part, Rennala," I said with a dry chuckle. "Like all of the puppets in my majestic play."
And with a twitch of my fingers, we were both cast in the darkness of the empty void.
To me, the memories that soon assaulted us both felt like home.
To Rennala, they showed the truth of the future to come, and the destiny of her children. How broken would she become, afterwards? Would she cry and clutch on to her amber egg, her mind eternally cast away, whisked into a realm where she dreamed of a better reality?
A wedding required attendance. It required guests. A wedding required a priest to marry two at the sight of God and make them One. Yet Queen Marika the Eternal was already a God, and needed no one to intercede on her Behalf. Thus, Radagon married her, and the bells of Leyndell rang true and joyous.
As they did, and crowds gathered to sing praises and rush for rewards and privileges, Grace and merits, I took a different route. Blood soaked my hands as my fingers dug into the flesh of monsters hiding their guise beneath the flesh of the downtrodden and the cursed. Twisted horns clung to armor and were shattered into fragments; until I reached a turn of the pipes and knocked on a nearby wall thrice, letting the sound reverberate.
In silence, I knocked again.
There was a rattling noise, the metal side of the pipe clinking downwards and detached as a teen, no older than fifteen, but marred with twisted horns and filth, looked at me with wide eyes beyond the false-wall. "Yer majesty," he whispered. By his side, more Omen-borns stood, some taller, some smaller, all twisted and deformed by the curse of growing horns.
"Send word ahead to Morgott and Mohg that I have returned," I said, gently stepping through. "And why haven't you bathed yet?"
"The water pipes, they broke," he muttered. "Too much shaking on our heads. Is the sky falling?" he asked. I stepped through, pulled the lever that would put the wall back into place, and then chuckled.
"No," I said. "The sky is not falling."
Word of my arrival had meanwhile spread. More heads peeked out; the oldest of them barely reached the thirties, which to a Demigod that could live thousands and more, meant they were but children. Some stood bent or twisted like the horns they sprouted, but all attempted to catch a glimpse of me.
"AND I SAY WE CAN RIP THEIR GUTS OUT AND HANG THEM BY THEIR ENTRAILS, SEE HOW THEY LIKE IT THEN!" Mohg's voice was unmistakable. His was always the loudest one. I overheard it even as I descended through a makeshift elevator to the depths of the hidden sewers, carved out from the 'officially known' ones.
"Mohg, calm yourself," Morgott's voice was always the voice of reason. "They've sent patrols to check where the pipes went-we cannot act without thinking-" his voice stopped as he heard my footsteps, "Brother," he spoke, before I even stepped into the room, "You are covered in blood."
"None is mine," I said.
"Ah!" Mohg said, cheerfully. "Brother! You killed them, didn't you? Those murderers from above! Tell me they suffered." He cackled, grasping his fingers together and swooning in his dark, crimson robes.
"I made sure to teach them a lesson before their final deaths," I acquiesced. Mohg smiled, even though Morgott's exhales told me he didn't agree.
"They'll send more, and they'll be stronger expecting resistance," Morgott muttered. "And the pipes will remain broken." He shook his head, clad in dark, somber golden robes. The two were twins, but the curse of the Omen made them look so different due to the way their horns chose to twist.
The worst I had managed to grind off, though the pain had been a terrifying necessity; it was either that, or Mohg would have lost an eye. Gouged out by one of its own, slow-growing horns, it would have lead someone to madness without doubt.
"No, they won't send more," I said. "They grew bold seeing me gone; I educated their masters on their mistakes."
"How much blood will need to be spilled, before we can finally gaze at the day sky?" Morgott muttered.
"As much as necessary, brother, and perhaps even more!" Mohg enthusiastically declared. "I tell you, the Mother of Truth cares not for the shape of our forms, for she is formless and blood-filled. If only you attended one of my blood-masses-"
"I would rather you kept those sparse through time, Mohg," Morgott retorted, "We have precious little, and those that end up wounded at your masses cannot work."
"Work, bah," Mohg spat to the side. "We mine tirelessly to increase our living space, but Basilisks encroach-"
"Basilisks?" I interrupted him, "Where? How many?"
"Worry not, worry not," Morgott fretted with his arms raised, "They are sealed in their tunnels, and will starve to death eventually. No need to risk yourself, or anyone else, for what it matters."
"A pest not handled is a pest overgrown," I retorted.
"You're always too passive, Morgott," Mohg said, "You need to act for once."
"But not on the basilisks, those I'll handle myself," I said.
"Now do not be foolish, brother," Mohg retorted next, "We'll handle it. We are grown and strong; we don't need a wet nurse."
"You never needed one," I poignantly said, "But still, I will not let you risk yourselves unnecessarily."
"It appears that three heads will have to handle what none wish the others to do by themselves," Morgott remarked, a flicker of a smile on his face.
We grew quiet, all three of us, and then we all chuckled together. "Perhaps first the water pipes," I said. "Gather a dozen, I'll keep them safe. If we're lucky, there are some fountains that are meant to spill wine and we could hit the right pipe-"
"Wine is a folly I won't need," Morgott shook his head. "Water will do. Cool, clean and refreshing, it will be the greatest gift. We do...we do need a few more pots, though, brother."
I smiled. "I'll see what I can do, has...has the trade with the Perfumers gone well?"
"Some are sympathetic," Morgott said enthusiastically. "Amidst them, Tricia has been most helpful with the young ones-those who aren't yet used to the nightmares."
"The formless mother-"
"If I have to choose between a nightmare that starts as a dream, and then ends with a hunt from a masked and horned demon, and a pool of boiling blood, brother, you know my choice," Morgott retorted. "At least I can dream of the sky before the nightmare takes over."
"I fear not the hunter," Morgott scoffed. "The Formless Mother is there."
"If I could hunt that thing in your dreams," I grumbled under my breath, clenching my fists.
"If you could, brother, I am sure you would rid us of it," Morgott said. "But tell me, how is mother? And father, has he returned at last? I overhead of a marriage-has he conquered her heart again?"
"Morgott..." I muttered. "You know there's no heart left in mother's chest. She is but a puppet-"
"I won't hear of that," Morgott snapped curtly. "I know what you say, but I won't believe it. Mother has always been strong-willed and determined."
"He'd know, so long he spent above wouldn't he?" Mohg snorted. "As if he hadn't been stuck in shackles, bound to the walls, deep beneath the sewers from the moment of his birth. At least have the decency to believe in our brother-he broke our chains even when mother and father would not, and he gave us a home when they wouldn't even allow us to grace their cellars."
"I can believe that he believes that," Morgott said. "But I won't. Mother may have chained us, but she still came by...sometimes. When she could. It was...She was kind then. I have faith-"
"How ludicrous to have faith in something as intangible as mother's love," Mohg snapped, angrily.
"Better than to find purpose in a shrieking pool of b-"
"Enough, you two!" I raised my arms high, "Enough!" I exhaled. "I love that we can all squabble like children, safe in the knowledge that we act from a position of care and understanding," I chuckled, "But if we keep squabbling, we won't get anything done today."
Both snorted at my words, "Big brother," Mohg said, "I can tolerate my twin because you make him bearable."
"Likewise," Morgott huffed.
"You terrible twins," I snickered. "Go on, gather the men. I'll see that the coast is clear."
I stalked through the pipes and past yet another secret exit, letting the silence of the sewers guide me where it was broken, for nothing should be breaking it; nothing but cruel monsters in the guise of men. Clad in masks meant to be horror given flesh from the nightmares of the Omen, and which all too easily shattered once the sharp tip of my daggers stuck through the back of their skulls.
Altering the flow of a few water pipes took a while; and while it did Morgott, Mohg and I kept careful watch. Omenkillers were normally dangerous in groups, but alone they could easily be swarmed and handled.
"Do you think," Morgott whispered under his breath, away from Mohg's ears. "Mother would like a gift for her wedding?"
"...I doubt she'd care," I answered.
"Could you deliver it, all the same?" Morgott remarked, filching from within a pocket of his robes a medallion of viridian amber, "It is my greatest treasure, a trifle to a Goddess, but I wish for her to have it. Mayhaps she might remember we exist."
"Morgott..." I hesitated, then, I grimaced and extended my hand. "I'll do it, for you. But know that I doubt it will end as you expect it."
"I know, brother," Morgott muttered. "I know that I should put my foolish dreams to rest, but still-if a man, no, an omen cannot have nice dreams in his sleep, let him dream of pleasant things while awake."
"A man," I said, "Can dream," I continued. "And as your older brother, I'll make sure it is received. I will not guarantee she won't escape unharmed depending on how she reacts to it."
"Brother," Morgott sighed. "Some days I wonder if our roles should not be reversed."
"Some aspire to things they do not know, while those who know of them hate them dearly," I said with a faint smile on my lips.
Then, he moved away. Minutes later, Mohg took his place. "Lie to him, will you?" he whispered.
"Mohg?"
"We know that whore won't care about that filthy bauble," Mohg muttered, "But he is a fool. So, lie to him. It will make him happy."
"Even if it hurts, you know I won't ever lie to either of you," I pointed out.
"Sometimes, people are weak," Mohg mused. "They need lies in order to stay strong."
"Mohg-"
"If you think I am believing in a lie of blood, then you truly need to attend at least one of my masses, brother. The Formless Mother-I won't tell you that she is kind, or understanding, or gentle-but she is fair. A tithe of blood for power; no more and no less than what is due. And one day, brother will understand why I do what I do; to give us all a place to call home, above, where the air is fresh and doesn't reek."
"Be careful not to get too lost in your dreams of blood, Mohg," I said.
"If I start drowning," he replied, "I know at least two hands that will bring me to shore. Remember my words, brother-lie to him, he doesn't need more heartaches."
"More?"
"He fell in love, the fool," Mohg snickered. "With that kind perfumer-he has no chances, none at all! Ah, foolish brother of ours, we have to be wise for him."
"I have to be wise for you both often enough, you know, oh pot?"
"Then you are a grime-covered kettle as we both, brother," Mohg scoffed, and then moved away.
There was warmth in the sewers; though the smell could be improved drastically, kindness was indeed present.
It just took a bit to find it.
--
"Congratulations on your marriage, mother," I had amiably written on a fine piece of parchment with golden filigree, before folding the paper into a wonderful envelope, within which I had then placed a pristine medallion of viridian amber washed, cleansed and perfumed in essential oils. Said letter now rested on her office's desk.
Better she not see me hand the gift over, or the whispers might gleam things not meant to be known. Still, the voices in Leyndell were ravaging themselves in an effort to discover more, and were being denied with the same intensity that made me regret this brief act of brotherly kindness.
It was as I stepped past the window's sill that the office door opened, but by then my body was in full fall, the shadows at the bottom welcoming me as the impact with gravity took the form of a plunge in murky darkness.
In the silence that now encompassed me, I swam through dirt and roots, seeking the point where the dirt became a star-filled sky.
In the city of Nokron, where things lay asleep and dead, I always found myself enjoying the serenity of ancestral spirits.
I'd need to head to the misbegotten soon, see how their feelings of revolt and rebellion flowed now...
...and one day, who knew, perhaps craft a kingdom of those deemed lesser, so that never again they'd be oppressed.
Does Shade actually know about Marika's plans on betraying the Golden Order? It's a pretty blatant thing said in the game, although it didn't actually go well because a certain moon princess fucked everything up before all the pieces were in the right place.
Remembrance of Horah Loux said:
"In Marika's own words. My Lord, and thy warriors. I divest each of thee of thy grace. With thine eyes dimmed, ye will be driven from the Lands Between. Ye will wage war in a land afar, where ye will live, and die.
Then, after thy death, I will give back what I once claimed. Return to the Lands Between, wage war, and brandish the Elden Ring. Grow strong in the face of death. Warriors of my lord. Lord Godfrey."
"I declare mine intent to search the depths of the Golden Order. Through understanding of the proper way, our faith, our grace, is increased. Those blissful early days of blind belief are long past. My comrades; why must ye falter?"
I think she basically invested all her cards into her husband to grow strong enough to actually kill the Elden Beast after she shattered the Elden Ring. Got imprisoned and all that jazz after doing the deed.
Fun fact too, Hewg talked about how he was tasked by Queen Marika to forge a weapon that can kill a god towards the endgame. Does SI-Shade know about Marika's plans of forging the God-Slaying blade to kill the Elden Beast?
Smithing Master Hewg said:
[Prayer]
"Your divinity, have mercy, and grant me forgiveness. The road is yet long. A God is not easily felled. But one day, without fail, you will have your wish. So please, grant me forgiveness, Queen Marika..."
[About the god-slaying weapon]
"Use my masterpiece to slay a god. That is all that I have lived for. And my promise to Q-queen Marika."
Notice to all:
I will be undergoing surgery on Monday the 4th and be out of it till Wednesday the 6th.
The surgery is supposed to be 'routine' (gallbladder removal) but one never knows.
I should be able to update my condition on the 5th or the 6th.
...
If you do not hear from me ever again, do not worry, I might just be fighting my way through an Isekai to get back (though, seriously, it's supposed to be just a routine surgery...but you never know with surgeries!)
Smashwords.
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Draft2Digital (multiple book libraries)
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