Author's Note: I didn't know the website wasn't processing the text characters I use to create breaks between certain paragraphs, I will experiment and edit previous chapters accordingly when I find something that works.
It is also worth noting that how characters go hollow has changed in Dark Souls II to better fit the lore. Every time you die, you lose a piece of your maximum HP, and this is cumulative with each death until one reaches half of their maximum HP. This can only be restored by returning to human form. Also, it has been inferred that one does not immediately look like a human raisin immediately after one's first death. Keep this in mind as my tale progresses. Anyway, back to the story.
The door to the Treasurer's office knocked twice. Olivia had it fashioned by one of her neighbors from planks of debris; he had furnished it in such a way that made it look seamless and pristine.
"Come in." She called out, standing over the long table, combing over maps and notes. She had taken to scribbling down items of importance with a quill and inkwell, a lucky find in her rummaging upstairs.
The mayor entered, carrying several scrolls in the crook of his left arm. "As promised, here are the topographical maps of the surrounding coastline, the ruins south of here, and the pathways through the eastern forest and quarry." He laid out the scrolls and placed stones at their corners to hold them outright. "May I sit?"
"Of course." As Olivia took a seat in the comfortable wooden chairs, she parted her coattails, something she was slowly getting used to doing. She was most certainly growing accustomed to her new attire and home. The mayor reclined slightly she began to converse with him regarding the town's progress, "After speaking to most of the townspeople, I've created a list of matters that need most dire attention."
"And they are?"
"We will need stone and metal to replace ruined buildings, and to repair the walls that are salvageable. We will need a fresh supply of lumber to effectively replace much of the town's wooden structures and tools. We will need paint and dyes to recolor clothing and banners, as well as paint for the buildings."
"Why is the last one so important?"
"I don't know, maybe it's a girl thing. Maybe it's something from my world. Would you rather run a town that was washed out and grim looking, or one brimming with eye catching vibrant colors? I've been told settlements like this are rare in this age of fire and darkness. Why not prove your defiance by not only having a living and thriving town but also a colorful one?"
"You make a good point." The Mayor stood up and flipped through the maps as Olivia observed, "We are here. The town sits on a rather tall cliff, so access to the shoreline is not easily accessible. If you follow this pathway west, you will reach an access point to the shore; there you will find large snails that secrete a substance we use for dyes and paints."
Olivia looked at her clothes and coat and shivered, "I'm wearing snail mucus?" She squirmed.
"It used to be easier to obtain plant-made dyes from the forest east of here. But then the Rock Trolls began to expand their territory."
"What?"
"I'll get to them in a moment. Worse yet for our dye issue, there is a great hydra that lurks in the waters just offshore. We will need to kill it first before we can collect the snail secretions."
"Terrific. Now tell me about the east."
"East of here is a small forest, nothing of true import in there, but it leads into a quarry which we used to mine for rock and metals, iron and steel mainly, no precious gems, but our troubles began when trolls born of the stone came to life and pushed our people out. They used to just keep to the quarry; it was only a few decades ago that they started to move in on the forest."
"How many are there?"
"Can't be more than twenty, but they're bloody unstoppable. Maybe if we had enough soldiers to take them head on, but we have enough trouble with that Darkwraith."
"I heard about him from a few of the residents, tell me more." Olivia pulled out a map of the southern ruins while the Mayor spoke.
"Darkwraiths are members of a covenant that forward the machinations of the abyss, and its architect a serpent by the name of Kaathe. Kaathe teaches every Darkwraith the art of life drain, but not all take to the power well. Failed Darkwraiths are shunned by Kaathe and his order, yet they still live to terrorize and control."
"So they are nothing but a few failed cultists that happen to be great at swordplay?"
"Precisely. To sum it all up, we are in a bind. Are you sure you are up to the tasks?"
"I won't be able to do them alone of course. Can Bertrand and his men be of service?"
"But of course. Speaking of which, aren't you going to be late for your first swordplay lesson?"
Olivia looked at the old fashioned clock with a weighted pendulum swinging below its fine gold cogs whirring in unison, "And I thought undead had no need to keep time." As she stood up the mayor did as well, he saw her to the door with the most gentlemanly etiquette.
"Good day and good luck Ms. Adrianne."
"Good day Mr. Mayor." She winked at him and spoke in a fanciful and playful tone as she passed him through the doorway and into town. He followed and shut the door behind him, but chose a different path.
The sword hammered down in a flurry of sound and light, forcing Olivia to duck and roll to evade every swift swing, but the amount of breathing room she had between her and the blade was suffocating, and was catching up with her limber form with each swing. Bertrand's lieutenant, an older gentleman clad in a knight's armor, let his sword dance across the air with lethal grace. Olivia had spent most of the sparring session evading his attacks by way of rolling and sidestepping blows. It was only after several minutes she gained enough sense to find an opening. As the knight swung his sword down, Olivia gripped the edge of the blade in her hand, protected from any injury by her gauntlets. She swiftly aligned her longsword with the center of the man's neck. Moving away would cause him to drop his sword, and any other move would have him killed. But she did not beat him.
"You are improving, a few practice swings and you can already parry and riposte." The knight said, just before he pulled his sword away, subsequently beating her weapon away from his neck and checking her with his shoulder, shoving her down to the ground, "It is a good start. You have promise."
As he walked away, Bertrand pulled Olivia to her feet, "Not bad for a first lesson. Just don't let Marcus' callous attitude get to you."
"So what do I need to do to get better?"
"Swordplay is not a business transaction. You cannot easily master it; you cannot force it to work. It is the art of dealing death to one's foe."
"What are you getting at?"
"Your attacks were too direct. As soon as you let Marcus gain the upper hand in the battle, he beat you back until you had the courage to find an opening in his attacks. Out there you will die, many times. You are cursed with the ability to take this gruesome punishment and survive. As a warrior it is your duty to use your deaths to teach you how to improve your martial skill."
"You make battle sound like a massive trial-and-error process."
"That's what I hold to be true. What fear need you have if you can outlast any enemy on this world?"
Olivia bowed to Bertrand, holding one clenched fist against her open palm, "Thank you for this insightful first lesson, I will take your advice to heart. Now if you excuse me, I have other business to attend to."
Sneaking into the gutted barracks that Bertrand and his men visited on occasion, Olivia swapped out the practice sword she once carried for a finely forged thin longsword. It shined with silver light in the gloomy air, and had a seashell shaped pommel. Not comfortable to dual-wield a sword in each hand, she grabbed for a Kris dagger instead. She then began to stroll out of town, every so often taking a gander at the map in her hand. Her intent unclear, and all but unnoticed by all save the worrisome Fire Keeper, she disappeared into the moors.
Olivia had her sights set on the haunted ruin before her. It may have been a quaint sight at one point, but time and war had eroded its walls and towers. What puzzled her further was why anyone would place a castle in the center of a windblown moor. It was too far to serve as a fortification for the main town, which already had its own walls and battlements, and it was too large to serve any minute purpose. Perhaps it was once the villa of some minor nobleman, whose only land was the lifeless grassy hills that stretched for miles in every direction save the north.
She readied her weapons and approached the main gate with caution, noting the utter blackness between her and the inner courtyard at the end of the tunnel. Storm clouds roiled above, and a thunderclap echoed across the foothills.
She took a deep breath and plunged into the tunnel. Immediately she was met by two shadowy figures with glowing red eyes. Charging into the light toward her, she could see two zombie soldiers, hollowed men by all accounts. She leaped forward and spun on an angle, cutting into one warrior's torso with the dagger, rending its already shambling armor. The follow up in her leaping spin was the bite of her longsword, which further cut into the same wound and almost split the man in two. It let out a grumble and faded into dust. The second soldier jumped at her, but she easily dodged. Swinging up and around, she cut into the hollow's arm and pinned it down, ending its existence with her knife stabbing into its bottom jaw.
Lifting herself from the ground, Olivia couldn't help but feel gratified after her successful first encounter with hollow men, thinking of her first combat experience with confidence. Marching onward with a degree of caution, she noted another thunderclap and rain began to fall just beyond the gateway. As she came to a halt at the end of the tunnel, she looked around for enemies. Suddenly, several stabbing rapier blows reached out toward her. Olivia dashed back. A hollowed knight of Balder came into view, its tattered red cape drenched by the rain. Pulling its black metal tower shield close to its body, it held the rapier up in a guarded stance towards her. Olivia analyzed the situation, and found an opening. She swooped in from underneath its guard, and used her sword to impale the knight's sword hand. Lifting the arm away from its torso, she took her knife and stabbed swiftly. Roaring in pain, it took its shield and bashed her against the wall, and proceeded to stomp on her twice, and finally took its rapier and plunged its needle-like blade into her abdomen before jumping away. Stumbling up, she charged recklessly again, forcing herself onto the knight's shield, almost hanging on the taller and weightier man. Screaming, she plunged her sword into the pruned and rotting flesh of the hollow man, watching the blade stretch all the way out of the back of its head. Letting out a silly moan, it fell to its knees and faded into dust. As she got to her feet, she spat on the pile of ash where the knight once stood, and then she began to cough painfully. Shocked, she held her armored hand to her mouth and pulled away bright red blood. It began to slide down the metal of her gauntlets. Not used to seeing such things, she almost forgot it was her own blood, and then she remembered she was stabbed clean through the stomach.
Clutching the deceptively tiny wound in agony, she leaned against the edge of the archway and held her chest, trying to contain the blood. Olivia wished she had one of those fire potions the Fire Keeper had given her when she first arrived, and cursed herself when she couldn't remember their name. The rain fell harder still. The sound of it beating against the stone around her was almost deafening. Coming to grips with the pain, Olivia found herself able to stand. Taking a few steps into the pouring rain, she could see the blood run with the water. For some reason the bleeding had stopped, despite the grievous wound.
The inner courtyard gave a great vantage point of the moors in every direction, for the floor above consisted entirely of the battlements and parapets. Traversing into the courtyard with caution and weapons at the ready, she could only find one more enemy. Perched under a ruined archway, beneath a solitary lantern, a grim man clad in the armor of bones stooped like a gargoyle. His hair was long, black, and oily. His body limber, but his true form was hidden under the sculpted black plates and bones that conformed to his body. His skull mask was transfixed on her, and Olivia was at once terrified and excited. Keeping her back to the left wall, she ascended the wide stone steps that led up to the battlements. The fiendish figure did not move, save for his head, that remained locked on Olivia. Light flashed across the moors, and more thunderclaps sounded, but these were now in the distance and not as loud. The rain lightened slightly, enough for her to converse with the man. Or rather, it addressed her first.
"You are not of the town. I expected Bertrand or one of his men, or maybe Mayor Bronn. You are a new face, one mostly unhollowed. Are you the latest toy of that Old Witch?" It asked its question with a slithering and soft tongue.
"So well acquainted with your prey, coward?" She retorted strongly.
"I used to live amongst them, in another time, in a bygone age. Undeath has done little to change any of them. They are just as bitter and distrustful as they were in life centuries ago."
"Placing blame on others is no way to justify your own diabolical actions." She drew closer, now standing across from the man on the opposite parapet. Her two weapons were brought into a guarded stance, but still the man remained a statue.
"Wise words are as ancient and forgotten as the men who once spoke them. I saw the abyss coming. I wanted to fight for the side that fights for humanity."
"So you joined the darkness, and helped it spread. But you couldn't become a proper member of the order, could you? I hear every Darkwraith has to master the art of life drain before they can truly join the covenant. What happens when they can't? Do they mope about and prey on simple folk like ordinary bandits? I'm pretty sure that's what you are. A bandit who wears the badge of an order he could never join, and all it's doing is satisfying a deluded fantasy of yours."
"You know nothing of my struggle!" The Darkwraith went from his stooped form to leaping at her in a single blurred motion. She barely dodged his sword, and had enough time to notice his blade was utterly ravaged by time and poor maintenance. The metal was corroded and severely damaged by deep clefts and cuts. Putting strength into her initial swing, Olivia brought down her blade and cut into his right arm. He stumbled, but only for a moment. He whipped his arm up, causing her to fall back momentarily. As he readied another swing, she countered and their blades met with a great clanging sound. Suddenly, the Darkwraith beat her weapons down with a sweeping motion and checked her down the steps behind her. With her whole body soaked to the bone, and already beaten and bloodied, she could barely move. The man pulled a knife and picked Olivia up, holding her uncomfortably close to him. He faced her towards the ledge and whispered into her left ear, "I haven't been with a woman in centuries, and in all my years I've never seen one as beautiful as you. I would rape you… if I didn't get off on killing you instead." He slit her throat violently with the sinister dagger, "Come back when you know how to use a sword. I do not suffer amateurs." He held her head back to open the wound as much as possible, Olivia almost immediately blacked out from the pain. She remembered a numb feeling overtaking her vision as he let her fall and land in the muddy inner courtyard, and then nothing.
She awoke at the bonfire and felt her neck frantically, only to find no wound. She crawled into a ball and began to sob. The Fire Keeper, alarmed, hurried over to her and began to comfort her. He could see how sickly she looked, she was almost hollow.