(?)
Ludleth looked at the sky with fearful eyes. There they were, silent and stoic like an immovable mountain versus the implacable winter wind. The knight had no name, or at least didn't want to share. Their armor was badly damaged, the cloth torn and burnt and the metal bent and exhausted. And yet there they stood defying every wound and every pain. It wasn't a pleasant sight, but a necessary one. The First Flame had to be linked, but this time there wasn't a proper heir to the divine flame. No hero in shining armor, no wise sorcerer, no steadfast paladin or resourceful pyromancer.
The knight crouched and grabbed the pygmy's left hand, they stood up and dragged the smaller human like a heavy mundane bag, certainly not the treatment worthy of a lord, but they didn't care. What drove this person to stand in this ash-covered mountain? Why did they endure so much pain in other's behalf? Ludleth hadn't the answers for these questions, but he knew his own. Worthy or not, he had the necessary power to save the world; a curse turned gift in the form of a magical ring, which contained dozens of thousands of souls. But the pygmy's courage weren't as splendid as the raw power he possessed, instead it matched his size quite nicely. Regardless, necessity and want were complete different concepts, and so he accepted the arduous task at hand.
The mysterious knight stopped their short walk, they looked down at the pygmy by his side as if asking a silent question. Ludleth was afraid of this moment, the moment they would both link the First Flame and reignite hope, even if for a short while. Ludleth filled his lungs with air and then released it in a long and heavy stream. His muscles tensed and his eyes closed, but his mouth dared to betray his intentions. The knight kept staring as the bonfire in front of them dwindled and faltered. Time was short, but their patience remained unaffected.
"Do it, I'm...I'm ready." the pygmy stated but the knight remained still. "Why thou hesitate? This...the world needs this, together we will be able to paint a new vision, and erase this horrendous darkness." he told the knight.
The silent warrior turned their gaze forward and extended their hand to begin the process of linking the flame. A frail flame enveloped their hand like a fiery mantle over the flesh. Soon it spread to their shoulder, and then their torso, legs and left arm. Ludleth widened his eyes when the fire reached his hand, the sensation was much worse than simply touching a flame, for the First Flame not only burned the flesh, but the very soul of a being.
"Ahh, it singeth, to the bone, it hurts... Please, help me. Be done with me... No, gods! no, I cannot bear it... It burns, burns, help me!" the pygmy screamed.
"Pathetic." a male voice spoke, the sound echoing through the air like a trumpet in the void.
Ludleth opened his eyes with haste as he lifted his head. He was back at Firelink Shrine, back to his throne, to the present. A warrior with a pointed metal helm stood in front of his throne, his head standing far above the pygmy's own.
"Ah, beg me pardon, honorable Watcher, I must have dozed..." Ludleth told his fellow lord of cinder.
"Yes, we can see that..." the Abyss Watcher looked at his arm as if contemplating a relic. "Who were they? The one who bested us?" he asked.
The pygmy looked away, "Unfortunately they didn't share it, and I don't recognize their armor from any place I know. A shame, really." Ludleth looked back at the brave knight.
"Wouldn't be the first time." Arthur of Farron shook his head to the sides disappointed at the lack of information.
These last words picked the pygmy's interested. "Dost thou knowest of something, perhaps?" he inquired.
"No, and that bothers us. No Lord of Cinder should be forgotten, not even someone like yourself. But, perhaps, this one wanted this way, if they were not into the idea of sharing their story." Arthur explained.
"I'm sure they have their reasons." the pygmy told the knight.
"We all do." the watcher looked at the bonfire at the center of the shrine. "And we have our reasons to not share with you the revelation we got from our trip to the outskirts of the shrine." they thought turning around before jumping down to the ash-covered floor of the shrine. "What is yours, Marcus of Astora?" they thought as they went back to the their throne.
(Path to the Cathedral of the Deep)
Marcus walked through an old road built deep into the forest, with dozens of graves on both sides with an occasional tree amid the old tombstones. The Sun's orange rays penetrated the sky and illuminated the old bricks, almost as if showing the way to the Lord of Cinder. Marcus spotted a person wearing robes and a hood at the other side of the path, a few steps away from a building. They looked like the hollows he fought in the past, but a burning dagger on their right hand caught his attention.
"Hey! You!" the knight called to make sure the person was sane.
Suddenly the person shrieked towards the sky and then plunged the dagger on their own belly. An explosion of fire came from the wound, covering their entire body with an orange fiery aura. The hollow charged forward as the flames burned them, flailing their arms around in an attempt to grab the undead. The Lord of Cinder simply walked backwards as he raised his Dragon Crest Shield. The hollow was almost upon the warrior but they decided to jump far too soon, which ended with them on the ground right in front of their target. The knight was about to drop his shield when the hollow's entire body combusted in a relatively small explosion, sending cinders over the fire-resistant shield.
"Huh, so that's what Heysel was talking about. Hm...why did they jump so soon? Is it the pain? Or the explosion triggered because it burned something on their body?" the knight thought crouching down to inspect. He touched the hollow's back and then sniffed his finger. "Charcoal pine resin, as I suspected. Hm, maybe I can recover some resin if I kill them before they set themselves on fire. It would be useful against the Abyss." he thought as he stood up.
"AAAAAAH!" a male voice screamed from not far away, quickly fading away until silence returned to the forest.
Marcus looked around hastily, where did the sound come from? He checked his back but there was no one to be seen. No shades on the sides or the sky, which left the path forward as the only option. The knight sprinted forward with shield and Partizan in hand until the path widened considerably and he reached the entrance of a building.
The place looked fairly well kept, with bricks still intact and in their proper place. A small pillar with a bowel on top acted as a small bonfire, which brought some light to the dark blocks. An archway on the middle of the wall led to the inside, but a person was blocking the view. The man wore black leather clothes with a light brown fabric over the right shoulder and a steel pauldron on the left. He wielded a considerably long but fairly normal spear on his right hand and a rectangular wooden greatshield on his left hand. Last but not least the man was bald, without a single strand of hair left on the surface. He was giggling alone, as if he had heard a good joke.
"You…!" Marcus thought surprised and furious at the same time as he stepped forward.
The sound of clanking metal warned the bald man of Marcus's approach, and he turned to the left to meet the newcomer.
"Good day! You look reasonably sane!" the bald man waved his right hand as he smiled at Marcus.
"Where is he?" Marcus thought but kept looking forward. "Well, I can definitively talk. I'm Marcus of Astora, undead, and you..." he said with an neutral tone.
"I'm Patches, Unbreakable Patches!" the bald man trusted the spear upwards as if he was a king commanding an army. "You seem to be an Unkindled. You should know, I'm a kind of a traveling merchant. If you're as Unkindled as you look, you'll find plenty of good stuff." he said.
"I'M NOT UNKINDLED AND YOU KNOW IT!" Marcus thought, his mind and soul full of rage but his body remained stoic. "Merchant, you say? What kind of items do you sell?" he asked with a snicker.
"Oh, many things, my friend. And you came at the perfect time!" Patches looked at his right.
There was an old well on the left corner, with a wall of stone behind it and the building's wall on the adjacent side. There were some equipment on the base of the structure; a helm, a chest plate, two gauntlets and leggings and finally a round shield with a sharp spike on the middle. All these items were white in color with a round design, making them look like pieces of onions. Patches went to the well and grabbed the chest plate before returning to his client.
"Here, a nice set of armor from the Catarina Kingdom. Very sturdy and kept in good shape! You won't find many of these lying around, I tell you!" the bald man said, his voice persuasive and joyful.
"May I take a look at the rest, too?" Marcus asked rubbing his chin. "I need to secure the armor first." he thought.
"Sure!" Patches exclaimed, going twice to the well to bring back all the requested items. "Here, take a good look!" he said pointing to the equipment by Marcus's feet.
"Hm...how much for the entire set?" the knight asked inspecting one of the gauntlets.
"These are some rare armor..." the merchant crossed his arms as he looked down."...but for you I can make it 18,000 souls, not too expensive, I say!" he smiled.
"No, not very expensive..." Marcus said quietly as he put down the gauntlet. "...but are they replicas?" he asked.
"No, no, friend. I only work with the real deal, you know?" Patches answered.
"Really? Well, I'm going to trust you, Patches." he said calmly but raised his spear slightly. "I didn't trust you before, BUT I WILL TRUST YOU NOW!" the knight trusted his spear forward, aiming at the murderer's exposed armpit.
Patches was caught off guard, but years of experience allowed him to quickly move his greatshield just in time to deflect the spear. However, Marcus released the spear and grabbed the Gold Tracer from his belt. He went for a stab from above, forcing the thief to raise his shield to intercept the attack, but the knight pulled his arm back and spun to the left before bashing his shield on Patches's exposed right arm. The bald man lost balance and took a few steps back, the Lord of Cinder stepped forward and quickly sidestepped a trust from his adversary before grabbing and pulling away the spear. Seeing himself weaponless Patches gulped and raised his greatshield in front of him.
"Oi, calm down, please!" the murderer pleaded. "What has gotten into you?! I did nothing to you!" he exclaimed.
"Nothing? NOTHING?!" Marcus screamed at the top of his lungs as he put the curved sword on his belt and retrieved a large wooden club from his soul. He wielded the giant trunk with both hands and slammed it on the bald man's shield.
Patches was thrown back by the sheer force of the impact, sending him to the ground with a thud. He lowered his shield for a moment and was met with the imposing figure of the knight, his body casting an unusually large shadow over him.
"I gave you a second chance, a chance to redeem yourself and help others. But you…!" the Lord of Cinder lifted his giant club over his head. "...you wasted it!" he brought down the massive weapon upon Patches's shield, and the cracking of wood could be heard.
"Wait, Wait! You must be confusing me with someone!" the bald man pleaded, truly terrified of death.
"You're the so called Trusty Patches, the one who kicked a trio of clerics in the Tomb of Giants during the Second Age of Fire. The one who KICKED ME into the same pit, so you can steal from my corpse!" Marcus shouted at the top of his lungs as he brought the club down a third time.
Patches quivered, despite all the reinforcement he did in his old shield through the ages the impact of the attacks were making his arm go numb. He endured one more strike before rolling to the side to escape the relentless assault. Marcus quickly stepped to the same direction and made a swing from one side to another, hitting his opponent's back with the might of a barbarian hollow. Patches was thrown again, an agonizing cracking sound coming from his back as he landed on the ground.
"You need to recognize a problem to solve it, but you also need to act on it to erase it." Marcus snarled as he stopped in front of the helpless thief. "You failed to do both of them." the knight stored the club inside his soul.
"I...I can't move…!" Patches whispered as he tried to stand up but his legs refused to respond.
Marcus kicked the bald man in the face, throwing him back to the ground. The Lord of Cinder sat over the sinner and punched him in the face with his right hand.
"Unbreakable?! You're a joke!" Marcus stated landing a second punch. "Your body, soul and mind are more fragile than a porcelain vase!" he punched again.
"Please! Spare me! Forgive me, please!" the thief begged.
"Why?! HOW MANY PEOPLE did you kill through these years?! HOW MANY?!" the astorian shouted as he grabbed Patches's collar and brought his face closer.
"I...I don't know!" Patches responded with blood leaking from his mouth. "I don't know!" he insisted.
"Dozens? No, hundreds, no, THOUSANDS?!" Marcus shouted infuriated, not noticing the thin thread of black liquid escaping his helm. "Sane people, with their dreams, hopes and promises. ALL BROKEN because of you!" another punch and more blood was spilled. "Just because I spared you!" the knight reared his arm for another punch.
(Flashback)
Marcus sat on a small square room composed of ivory blocks. There were only three small pillars on each side of the room, leaving plenty of space in the middle. A bonfire burned in the center, the ashes and bone dust carefully arranged on a small circle around the flame, unlike most bonfires which were long abandoned or left in disrepair. An unusual pattern of tiles surrounded the bonfire in a square formation: some were black while others a more faded white; perhaps made just as an aesthetic, but only the builders knew for sure, and they had long since perished.
The knight hung his head down, his arms were laid over his legs, helpless and devoid of will.
"What is the matter?" a mature female voice spoke.
Marcus lifted his head, a person was resting their back on the white wall at the opposite side, their arms crossed and their posture rigid. They wore a set of brass armor, but the flame of the bonfire made the metal shine with an unusual brightness. The tasset was particularly long, being able to reach the knees, while a chain mail protected the front. A silver belt adorned the waist, and small chains hung on the shoulders and back of the head. The metal was engraved with white symbols on the chest and helm, the lines and patterns resembling scars or burn marks. But perhaps the most peculiar piece was the helm; it was a fully-closed with a visor and an unusual piece of brass on the back of the head, the form similar to a waning crescent moon.
"I killed Lautrec of Carim, he had the Fire Keeper's soul." Marcus stated, but there was no joy in his voice.
"Hm...so you were right, after all. Congratulations." the woman clad in brass armor spoke, although her voice was unusually calm.
The knight looked at the flames of the bonfire. "If only I had killed him sooner...she would still be alive." he said clenching his fist full of guilt. "He was imprisoned in a cell, and I believed him! I released a MURDERER from his cell. In fact, I'm starting to believe he is the one who killed the fire keeper of the church!" the knight looked away in shame. "Maybe Oscar shouldn't have released me..." he whispered sad.
"Why did you release him?" the armored woman asked, her tone still as serene as a peaceful night.
"There was no one around, Andre didn't have a clue either. I thought he was like me, locked away because of the curse and nothing more. He said he had duties to fulfill, but refrained from specifying. I should have known better, I should have insisted, but I didn't. I knew nothing, and acted without knowledge, I'm guilty of her death." the warrior looked upwards to see the woman's response.
"You are not guilty." the woman simply said.
"How can you say that?! Had I not released him, he would still be locked away!" the Chosen Undead retorted.
"You are responsible for her death, Lautrec of Carim is the one guilty of the sin. You allowed him to escape, but it was ultimately his decision to perform the crime." the stoic woman answered. "There is some weight on your choice, but it is far heavier on Lautrec's side. After all, you did repent for your mistake and acted to lessen the consequences." she stated.
"But still..." Marcus whispered. "...even his death won't bring people back to life." he finished.
"No, it won't..." the brass-armored woman replied shaking her head. "...It is the main reason why punishment comes to those who are wicked. A sentence, for a crime, such is the nature of justice." she explained. "Even so, one must not fall to their emotions, lest they become the same thing they despise." she finished.
(End of Flashback)
Patches shook in fear, his voice nothing more than scared hiccups and his tears indistinguishable from the blood trails that ran across his face. His nose was contorted in an unnatural manner, his teeth tiny pieces of white over brown cloth and his left eye a purple bubble. He braced himself for another punch, but when retribution failed to connect with his head he dared to open his remaining good eye to see what was transpiring in front of him.
Marcus was breathing heavily, his fist still clenched for another punch with the other still holding the murderer's collar.
"I...hate you!" Marcus shouted, bringing Patches's face closer. "I want to rip your arms, your legs, stab you for EVERY single soul you doomed! To heal you, only to pierce you again with the sharpest of daggers! So you feel the pain of a thousand men! So you know their suffering, their misery, EVERYTHING!" the knight pulled the thief away. "But this won't bring them back, and nothing I or you do will revert it either." Marcus shook his head, the trail of black blood dried and stopped leaking from his helm.
Patches's hand slowly moved towards his belt; this was the chance he was looking for, an opening, a distraction. The baldy flipped the leather pocket and grasped the hilt of a small dagger. Marcus felt a sting on his left side followed by a warm but unpleasantly feeling, but instead of faltering and releasing the thief he punched him again on the nose, knocking out Patches. The knight grunted as he stood up and then casually drank a sip of estus.
"Did you really expect me to flinch, release you and die? That trio of hollow assassins in the Undead Burg taught me some things, and this was one of them." he said putting the flask on his belt.
The warrior approached the unconscious murderer with the Gold Tracer in hand and knelt by his side. The orange and faded sunlight bathed the metal with life as the knight lifted it with the blade pointed down at Patches's head.
"If you ever come back..." Marcus hesitated, "...I still want you to suffer, maybe you will hollow, maybe not, but that's up to you. You told me you had these temptations; I have abyssal urges too, but I won't end up like you." he brought down the curved sword, easily piercing the thief's skull.
Patches twitched for a moment but then movement ceased after a final spasm.
"I wanted to torture him more! He deserves it! Why did I stop?!" a thought crossed his mind as he stood up. "Because that will make me someone like the darkwraiths." he thought. "...I hate myself" the inner voice spoke, "You're not the only one." Marcus thought looking at the sky. "I wish there were a covenant devoted to the protection of the innocent, to stop all these deaths..." he thought.
(Outskirts of the Cathedral of the Deep)
Horace gritted his teeth, he was pinned to a wall on the shoulder by the sharp claw of the invader. The white robbed murderer pulled back their arm for the finishing blow but a faint sound from behind warned them from a surprise attack, forcing them to release the black haired astorian to deflect the attack with their right claw. Anri lost balance when his sword was parried to the side and almost fell before stomping the ground to get support. Horace tried to move his legs but blood leaked from the back of his left knee and he fell to the ground. The blonde astorian recovered their breath as they held their sword with their right hand, while the other was left useless and limp.
"If you want him...you will have to...kill me first!" Anri exclaimed.
The invader grabbed a small object from their pocket. It was a round white orb surround by a brown metal ring with a chain preventing the sphere from falling to the sides. The red phantom threw the talisman over their shoulder and directly at Horace. The black-haired astorian was about to drink from his flask when a white mist once again surrounded his body, and prevented the golden substance from leaving the container.
The blonde astorian pointed his straight sword at the invader, but his strength faltered and his arm fell. The pain was unbearable, too much for the inexperienced warrior.
"You...won't hurt him!" the blonde said breathing heavily. "I...I will, I will!" he fell to his knees, the blue vest turning red from bleeding.
The assassin stepped forward as they raised their right claw above their head for a final blow. Anri looked into the hollow invader's eyes and saw no empathy on them, no mercy or remorse. It was the end for the duo, and there was nothing the astorian could do to prevent it. The red phantom pulled back their arm, but then a purple light appeared on the middle of the phantom's chest, spilling dark red blood over the astorian's vest. The assaulter coughed blood as their hands instinctively went to grab the abnormal light on their chest, but then the light disappeared, leaving a clean hole behind. The invader knelt on the ground and then fell to the side, their form faltering and dissolving into a red mist, which was dissipated by the wind until nothing remained.
Another phantom stood in the invader's place, their form covered by a dark blue aura, which contrasted with the murderer's form. They wore a short silky veil over their head, a set of armor which gave a feminine feel, for the shoulders were covered by a thin layer of silver cloth and the legs were adorned by a blue cloth, the appearance resembling a dress. The blue phantom knelt in front of the blonde astorian and holding a talisman made of pure white fabric began repeating an ancient prayer for the gods. Before the astorian could say anything a golden circle of light surrounded the ground around the phantom, reaching the injured undead and healing him with divine power.
Anri felt his wounds promptly close in the blink of an eye, the bloodstained equipment and pierced mail being the only remaining traces of his previous battle. The blue phantom stood up and offered their hand to the reinvigorated astorian, who gladly accepted the offer.
"Thank you for your assistance, I...I don't know what I would do had you not saved us." the astorian thanked with a small bow.
"You don't have to thank me, I'm just doing my duty." the phantom said in a female voice.
The blue savior turned their back to the blonde astorian and turned towards Horace, but the astorian finally managed to drink from the golden flask, recuperating his former strength.
"Horace!" Anri exclaimed going after his childhood friend.
The black-haired astorian grunted as he forced his body to stand on both feet. The blonde warrior hug his friend, holding him firmly with profound fear of losing him.
"It seems my job is done." the blue phantom stated indifferent.
"Wait!" Anri released his friend. "Who are you? I mean, your name." the astorian asked with haste.
"I'm Sirris, of the Sunless Realms." the phantom answered, her form losing consistency and substance.
The duo watched their savior fade from their world, bowing in respect for her noble act.
(Road to the Cathedral of the Deep)
Marcus stood by the side of an abandoned well by the building's front entrance. He saw Patches retrieving a Catarina set of armor from it, and judging by the scream he heard before arriving to the scene there was a good chance that the victim was stuck on the bottom of the dark pit.
"Hello! Hello! Anyone there? Anyone at all?" a male voice spoke from below.
Marcus's eyes widened, "Siegward?! Is that you?" he asked leaning forward, but he could barely see a meter due to the lack of sunlight.
"Oh! I know that voice. Just how long has it been? Yes! It's me, Siegward of Catarina. I'm loathe to admit it, but I've been had. Be careful!" the voice spoke admitting his mistake.
"Don't worry, I took care of him, hopefully he won't come back anytime soon." Marcus replied, relief filling his heart and soul.
"Oh, that's good news. I'm ashamed to say… but he swiped my armour. Did you happen to see it anywhere?" the Catarina knight asked.
"How in Gwyn's name Patches convinced him to remove his armor? Maybe he told there was treasure inside? Siegward doesn't feel like the type to seek profit, maybe he was told it was a secret narrow passage? It isn't important now." Marcus thought. "Yes, he tried to sell it to me, but I got it right here." he answered.
"Fantastic!" Siegward said happily. "Would you mind giving it to me?" he asked.
"You should get out of this hole first." Marcus told the Catarina Knight.
"I do indeed need to get out of here to resume my journey, but I need my suit of armor for this task. Just throw it down the well." Siegward stated nonchalant.
"But Siegward…!" Marcus tried to explain but was interrupted by his friend.
"No need to worry about me. With my trusty suit of armour, I'll be out of here in a jiffy." Siegward said quite proud of himself.
"How is the armor going to help you get out of his hole? Maybe the gauntlets and boots will give a better grip over the ledges, but why the entire armor? Won't that weight you down?" the Lord of Cinder thought. "Very well, just wait a moment." he said crouching to grab the leggings.
The knight from Astora threw the pair of leggings down the well, followed by the gauntlets, cuirass and finally the onion-shaped helm. Each piece of metal produced loud banging sounds as they collided with the old walls of the well, until each piece finally landed at the bottom of the hole.
"Ouch! Gah! Ouch! Oh! My armor!" the Catarina Knight exclaimed as he was hit by each piece of metal.
"This is so stupid, you could have used a Homeward Bone or the Darksign if you really needed to get out. Sure, you would lose your souls if you used the later, but you would stay sane, and return to the bonfire. That's why I always keep at least 3 homeward bones with me. However, I'm curious if you can actually climb this well using your armor." Marcus thought.
"Thank you, my comrade!" Siegward said as the sound metal echoed through the pit. "May the Gods watch over your journey." he added not long after.
Marcus smiled, "Thanks. Huh, by the way, have you seen a pair of undead going through here? One of them wears a suit of armor like mine and the other is using black armor." the knight asked. "Oh! Have you seen my father? You wouldn't miss him. A suit of armour, just like mine?"a young female voice echoed in the knight's mind, a memory from Seath's garden.
The Catarina knight murmurs could be heard as he thought about the subject. "No, I don't think so, sorry." he said with remorse. "I can't do much from here, but I know there is a bonfire inside the building next to the well. Perhaps you could put a message near it?" he suggested.
"Hm..." the astorian rubbed his chin. "By the way, please tell the Fire Keeper from Firelink Shrine when you come back, so I know you're fine." Marcus asked.
"Very well, my friend. It won't take long until we're toasting again, hahaha!" the onion kinght laughed.
The astorian smiled, "Because if you don't come back, I will." he thought before leaning back.
The Lord of Cinder turned his back to the well, only to be plagued by memories from centuries ago. "Oh, father…dear father…"the voice of a young teenager echoed in his mind, forcing him to glance back at the well. "I won't-I won't help him so I can save him."he thought to himself.
Marcus entered the building through an archway. The room was a small rectangular one, with small shrines on the sides with burning candles over them, which brought a small degree of light to the otherwise dark interior. A great wooden door stood in front of him, with a red carpet on the ground leading to it. The knight was about to grab the door's knobs when he heard a grunt from the other side. He stepped back and lifted his Dragon Crest Shield, but dropped it once he saw the newcomer's face. It was Sirris of the Sunless Realms.
"Oh, Sirris. I thought you were an enemy." Marcus said relieved.
"Hm, it is you. I have heard a good deal since our last meeting, that you brought back one of the Lords. Congratulations on your success." the silver maiden told the knight with sympathy. She stepped aside, revealing the interior of the room.
It was a long hall with rolls of chairs on both sides, a red carpet between then and a wooden altar with idols at the other side. An undead bonfire burned brightly at the other side, calling the undead for a much needed rest.
"Thanks, it is my goal to help others." Marcus said happily as he walked towards the bonfire.
"I assume it is the reason you're here." the knightess's cold demeanor returned as she followed the knight.
"Yes, but first I must find my friends. They decided to track down Aldrich by themselves, but I don't think they're ready." Marcus sat on the bonfire. "Have you seen them? Anri and Horace, one of them wears an armor like mine and the other a black set." he told the woman.
Sirris sat on the bonfire at the opposite side. "Yes, I have." she answered.
"Really?! Where? Are they okay? Did you see a woman with a giant sword with them?" the Lord of Cinder leaned forward.
Sirris was taken back by the knight's burst of emotions, but recovered a second later. "I met your friends minutes ago, they were ambushed by a pale shade of Londor at the outskirts of the Church. Fortunately I was able to save them in time. As for the woman, I didn't see anyone like her." she revealed.
"So they're fine, for now, but Mildred isn't with them yet, and this worries me. But, the most important thing..." Marcus thought. "Pale shade?" Marcus asked.
"An assassin from the Sable Church of Londor. Fearsome and honorless invaders who fight for their profane and sinful cause." Sirris revealed. "Whatever your friends may have done to invoke their wrath it must had been a good deed." she added.
"Hm...could it be the sigils?" the knight thought. "How likely is it for them to find this bonfire?" he asked.
Before the silver woman could answer the shades of the young astorians appeared sitting by the bonfire, although it seemed they were clueless to the presence of Marcus or Sirris. The knight of Astora tapped his knees and then stood up.
"Which door leads to Aldrich? Left or right?" Marcus pointed to both sides of the room, each having a wooden door that lead to outside.
Sirris looked up at the knight, "The right one. However, before you go I must warn you: the hollow priests are proficient with pyromancy, and dark slimes roam around. Piercing and slashes have little effect on the later." she said.
"Fire works on living slimes, as far as I'm concerned." the knight replied as he stored the Golden Tracer in his soul and then summoned another curved sword from his soul.
The sword was slightly shorter than a regular longsword, but possessed a thick and sharp blade which could easily rip through flesh. The metal had red scars running across the blade, revealing the inner fiery power of the weapon. Marcus lifted the blade over his head and observed the red marks over the enchanted metal.
"Vamos, you would probably scold me for using this against slimes, but I have no other choice." he thought. "Are there hollow knights inside the church?" he asked Sirris.
"Certainly, the original purpose of the Deep Church was to contain the horrors of the Deep." she answered.
"Damn it, this means I might have to change weapons during combat. But I still have to move quickly, so no heavy weapons. I could use a mace, but if I were to guess these knights will have big weapons, which means I have the range disadvantage, and lack of crossguard for that matter." the Lord of Cinder thought. Then the knight spotted the long scabbard on Sirris's belt, which gave him the solution.
The astorian summoned a similar scabbard and another sword from his soul, this one had a narrow blade with a particularly thin and sharp tip, which was made specifically to pierce armor and tough scales. The crossguard extended to both sides and served as protection for the hands. The warrior stabbed the air in front of him a few times to test the weight and then put it on the scabbard, tying the later on his belt.
"An Estoc?" Sirris said quietly when she recognized the type of sword.
"Yep. Good against armor, decent against flesh, not too heavy and decent reach." Marcus explained. "Now if you excuse me, I have to go, maybe I can meet my friends or reach Aldrich first, whatever comes first." he said said turning his back to the silver knightess,
"I'm aware of your hastiness, but I'm not ready to join in your quest." Sirris spoke before the knight left.
Marcus remained still, he sighed and took a deep breath. "I know, you have your duty and I have mine. You saved my friends, that's good enough for me." he told the woman.
"It is true that I am bound by duty, but can offer you my sign." the knightess offered. "I hear that cordial intrusion lays the path to embers. If I can be of help, by all means, do call upon me.
Blessing of the moon upon your journey." Sirris said, her tone solemn when giving the Moon's blessing.
"...and engage in jolly cooperation!" Solaire's words echoed in the Lord of Cinder's head. The astorian lowered his head and then smiled to himself. "Blessing of the Sun upon your journey." he told Sirris before passing through the right door.
Sirris lifted a brow at the blessing but remained quiet as she watched the knight exit the room.
(Meanwhile)
In a dark and hidden chamber a figure stepped inside with absolute resolve. The place was illuminated by three pairs of steel pillars spread at regular intervals, their tip ending on a wide "U" shape that sustained several red burning candles. Instead of benches or chairs the room was filled with adult-sized wooden cradles, some of which were arranged in rows across the room while others were hang by steel chains close to the roof. The middle section was covered by a red carpet, which led from the entrance to the end with an undead bonfire burning three quarters away from the entrance. Not long after the bonfire a steel grid blocked most of the way, with only an archway at the middle functioning as the sole entrance to the other side. Behind the grid a large and exquisite bed was placed, a tall humanoid female figure clad in dark clothes and veil being its owner.
The newcomer walked through the room in a steady pace, his eyes never leaving the figure at the other side. They stopped in front of the bed, and its unusual large owner, who seemed to be caressing a human-sized yellowish maggot, which laid around her. The person knelt in front of the owner of the room and produced a fresh human tongue from their soul, which they offered to the abnormally large woman. She recognized the offering and grabbed the swollen tongue with her delicate fingers. The person watched in silence as the woman brought the ripped piece of meat closer to her face, the eyes obstructed by the black veil. She inspected the dry piece of flesh for a moment but then transformed it into a soul, which was quickly absorbed into her palm.
The person that offered the tongue lowered their head in defeat, "Not the one?" a male voice spoke. It was coarse, intimidating and yet carried no anger towards their mistress.
The person wore black armor, which covered their body feet to head. The dark metal was unusual in shape, for it contained dozens of spikes that covered the entirety of the equipment. Even the round helm possessed such sharp adornments, having only small openings in the front to allow the wearer to see their opponents. The warrior stood up from his position and bowed to his mistress.
"I shall resume my search immediately." the man turned his back to the woman and walked back to the entrance.
The servant approached the open giant door at the other side of the room, but another human stood by its side, resting their back on the cold brick wall. The other person wore dark leather clothes with a dark cape which covered only their back and right side up to the ankle. Their neck was covered by black fabric and their head was hidden by a rather large leather hat and a silver mask which only allowed the dark eyes to be seen.
"You're making quite the effort out there, Longfinger. I'm sure my lady is pleased with your contributions." the other person spoke with a deep male voice.
Longfinger stopped by the man's side and turned his head to face him. "She's not YOUR lady, Leonhard, she's above any of us." he said harshly. "I won't stop until I find The Tongue." the thorn servant said with conviction.
"Still searching for it, I see..." Leonhard said with a sigh.
"Anything against it?" Longfinger asked while grabbing the hilt of his thorn-filled straight sword on his belt.
"None, as long as you continue bringing tongues to the Goddess." Leonhard said indifferent to the not so subtle menace.
Longfinger locked eyes with Leonhard, but ultimately released his sword. "One mistake." he told the other servant, "One mistake and you're nothing but useless ash." he warned.
"Do you really believe that I, Ringfinder Leonhard, would raise my blade against Goddess Rosaria?" the masked man inquired with disbelief.
Longfinger stared at Leonhard once more, but turned to the entrance and exited the room without trading any more words.
Notes:
Why did this take so long? Real life stress and Patches. I had to decide if Marcus was going to kill him on the spot, just torture him, spare him or something else.
About Ludleth. His interaction with who would later become "Soul of Cinder" is based on the intro where the cinder knight drags a corpse by the hand. Considering that they were the last one to link the Fire and that Ludleth is clearly not capable of defeating the defender of the First Flame, I came with this solution.
I bet some of you didn't expect Patches to be introduced in this specific area. But it was the only way I could think of Marcus finding Siegward, because it is very easy to miss him in a normal playthrough.
Another reason why I took so long to finish this was due to the Fire Keeper of Anor Londo. It took a lot of thinking and discussion with a friend of mine to come up with her response to Marcus's mistakes, while also keeping her in line with the official character.
Marcus could resist Patches's dagger because he has poise, which is kinda of a joke because poise was highly overpowered in DS1 but weaker in DS3 due to working mostly like hyper armor during some moves. The "Did you really expect me to flinch, release you and die?" is also poking fun at PVP tactics that rely on stunlock to kill players,
For those still confused, the Pale Shade used an Undead Hunter Charm/Lloyd's Talisman to block estus recovery.
The purple light that killed the Pale Shade was Sirris's Estoc covered by the miracle Darkmoon Blade.
Horace knew that a Blue Sentinel would come, and that's why he thought "Anri should still be wearing it...we just need...to survive!" in the last chapter. He knew Anri was wearing the Way of Blue parchment, and was hoping that a Blue Sentinel would come to their aid.
I always wondered how Siegward could escape the well with his armor, and Marcus's precautions of getting stuck by always having Homeward bones is certainly a tactic employed by players.
Marcus was remembering Sieglinde of Catarina, Siegmeyer's daughter, when he said "armor just like mine".
I believe it is obvious who is Longfinger, and I'm sure that his encounter with Marcus will be interesting, to say the least. It also makes sense that he's distrustful of other members of his covenant, considering everything that happened in the past.
I guess that's it.