Thanks for reading and to Dud-chan for the review!
"Well, look at you! It fits you perfectly."
"Do you really think so?"
"Of course I do! What? Do you think I'm flattering you just so you feel persuaded to buy my goods so I can make profit out of my trade? Dear me, how ridiculous!"
The Hollow chuckled as they kept inspecting how the armor looked on their body.
Their silent and bulky companion was no less fascinated by the Astoran executioner armor he had chosen for himself.
They were like a couple of children eagerly playing with their first gifts.
Given these two Hollows' backgrounds, Patches knew this scenario was most likely true for them both.
It was a pitiful situation, but all too common for Patches to waste any of his sympathy on them.
"It's one hundred percent original, you know." He told the Hollow that went by the name of Anri. "A true relic! It belonged to an honorable and brave elite knight of Astora, one I had the pleasure of meeting personally."
Patches stretched his smile wide to keep it from twitching at the disgust he felt at the memory of Oscar.
He and that idiot Solaire had proven to be more trouble than Patches had signed up for, but now, he had to put his true feelings underneath an amicable facade.
He didn't want this Anri kid to be scared or put off by an ugly grimace.
If Patches scared them away, Yuria would never let him hear the end of it.
"You met a real elite knight of Astora?" Anri said, removing the helmet and staring at Patches with their mouth agape. Horace, their quiet comrade, only gave out a soft grunt of acknowledgement. "You must be thousands of years old!"
"I'm going to pretend that didn't offend me, kid... but yes. I come from an age when Astora was not a tragic memory but a living kingdom."
"By the lords. Horace, can you believe our luck? We are wearing real Astoran armor! Just like we always pretended to do when we were children."
Anri said while holding his companion's arm. The smaller of the Hollows was so excited that Patches was surprised they didn't start jumping around like a puppy.
Suddenly too self-aware of how ridiculous their childish enthusiasm was making them look, Anri composed themselves. They gave Patches an embarrassed and apologetic smile as they scratched the back of their head.
"Forgive me. I got carried away; I just never thought I'd come across an authentic set of armor from Astora. Horace and I have always admired that kingdom of old. The stories of its elite knights always gave us and the rest of the children of the Undead settlement hope, and—"
Anri's face, though heavily touched by the Hollowing, still managed to convey a deep expression of longing and sadness. Horace said nothing, but his silence was all Patches needed to know he was in no less pain that his friend.
"I thank you for allowing us to try out these sets of armor, mister Patches." Anri said, trying to hand over the helmet. "But I'm afraid we cannot buy them from you. Horace and I have nothing we can give you in exchange. It's just recently that we both raised from our graves, both of which were pillaged during our slumber. We've got nothing of value."
"Hmm, that is indeed a problem." Patches sighed as he shrugged his shoulders. "Or it would be a great problem... if I wasn't gifting them to you."
"I'm really sorry we made you waste your—what?" Anri was so in awe that the helmet almost slipped from their trembling fingers. "No, how silly of me. I must have heard wrong."
"You did not, my young costumer." Patches gave Anri an affectionate pat on the cheek. Horace's expected menacing growl came immediately after, and Patches made sure to calm him down by resting a hand on his chest. "They are all yours. Free of charge. The swords and the shield too!"
Anri took a step back.
Horace put a hand on their back just in case they were about to pass out. Anri looked at the helmet; they then looked at Patches.
Then, they looked at Horace.
Then, they looked at the helmet again.
Finally, their gaze returned to Patches.
Such an airhead. Oh Yuria, why would you choose this little fool?
"What's the catch?" Anri asked, a small edge of distrust and caution present in their words.
Patches was taken aback by the sudden confrontation, but he did not allow his surprise to show. He kept his face peaceful and his smile wide.
"You know it's a sad world," he lamented solemnly, "when even small gestures of kindness are seen with suspicious eyes."
Anri changed their attitude in a heartbeat; Horace remained somewhat adamant, but Patches did not care about him at all.
"I did not mean to sound ungrateful or aggressive." Anri apologized with a small bow of their head. "It's just that this sort of generosity is rare to come by. And to tell you the truth, that's not the only reason I would not feel comfortable accepting this armor... Horace, you should keep yours, but I'm afraid I'll still have to refuse the offer."
"Now, now, this clearly is a subject that needs to be expressed and talked about." Patches said with convincing empathy. He grabbed one of Anri's hands and patted it comfortingly, much to the dislike of Horace. "Come on, you can tell old Patches all about it."
Anri looked uncomfortable at first, but they quickly succumbed to the offer. They did so naively and naturally, and Patches came close to feeling genuinely bad for them.
Bloody Hollows.
"I'm not worthy of it." Anri confessed, and Patches suspected that a tear or two would have escaped their eyes if they were not so rotten and dried up by the Hollowing. "If this armor, helmet, sword, and shield were really the property of an elite knight of Astora, then I have no right to own them. It would be an unforgiveable offense for the memory of this brave knight... to have a Hollow such as me to be the successor of his belongings."
Horace instantly put a hand on Anri's shoulder and pulled them closer to them, succeeding in both providing comfort to his friend and getting them away from Patches.
"Oh, no. Horace, I'm alright." Anri soothed the bulky man, as if they could see the nonexistent tears he was shedding behind the helmet. "This does not hurt me at all. I'm merely being honest. I'm not sad, I promise. Cheer up. I may not have earned a new set of armor, but you have! Aren't we fortunate to have come across such a selfless and kind man?"
And who the hell said anything about giving this brute the armor for free? It's either both sets or nothing at all, you small palooka!
"My dear and confused costumer," Patches said, pretending to be moved almost to tears, "your judgement about yourself couldn't be any more inaccurate. Young Anri, in my long existence, I've had the privilege of meeting many Astoran knights, and I can assure you that you show many of the qualities they once possessed."
"Now you're just being flattering." Anri replied in an awkward attempt to make Patches stop.
"I've known you for a very short time, but even this small moment we have shared together has been enough for me to see in you the virtues and traits that once were so proper of Astorans, especially among the elite knights."
Patches added more flavor to his discourse with calculated movements of his arms, as if he was a travelling minstrel telling an epic tale.
"You care about your friend with all your heart; you are noble and try to always follow the righteous path. You are honest in your speech, you are brave in your duty as an Unkindled, and you're honorable too, for you would rather refuse my gift than to disrespect the memory of a knight long dead; and you are sentimental as well. You are no different from the Astoran knights you so admire from the tales of your childhood. In fact, if I didn't know better, I would think you are Astoran yourself. Anri of Astora! It sounds perfect, it sounds natural, it sounds fitting! That's what your name should be!"
Patches gently took the helmet from Anri's hand and settled it on their head, and for a moment, Patches felt as if the Hollow in front of him was no one else than Oscar.
Oh, Yuria. What exactly are you planning to do with this kid? You are a cruel woman... but hey, that's not my problem!
"You are worthy, Anri." Patches told the Hollow, and when he heard a soft and emotional gasp filtering through the helmet, he knew they would resist no more. "Take it all, it's yours now. I'm sure the elite knight that once wore this armor and wielded this sword and crest shield would think the same."
"Have you not any more sins to confess?"
"I've already told you no."
"There's no need to be so rude, knight. I'm only trying to help you find absolution."
"Well, so far the only thing you've helped me find is my common sense."
Oscar stopped kneeling before the pardoner.
He had knwon it wouldn't work.
Pardoners were all charlatans, though he would be lying if a part of him had not hoped that a confession of his sins would have helped him heal his Hollowed face. This particular pardoner, Oswald, had seemed honest enough, and he had successfully brought some peace to Solaire's soul.
Solaire had confessed his sins to him in private first. Oscar couldn't stop wondering what kind of sins a man like Solaire could possibly commit, but he had kept this thought private in order to not rest any value to his friend's confession.
Solaire had remerged from the session with a clearer mind, and he was now able to slightly cast a weak version of his healing miracle. It was a faint light that was barely powerful enough to heal a flesh wound, but it still was an improvement.
After witnessing the benefits, Oscar had decided to give the confession and the pardoner a chance, despite his many doubts and his unyielding skepticism.
Oswald had been respectful to Oscar even after he had removed his helmet and exposed his Hollowed face to him; in exchange, Oscar had shown utter respect to the ritual, and he had tried to be honest in the confession of his sins.
But after three attempts without any results, Oscar had lost all his patience.
It infuriated him that he had fallen for the obvious scam, even more so when he had known of the treachery behind the whole thing from the beginning.
Above all, he felt foolish for having shared his faults and his past with the Chosen Undead with a stranger, whether he was a pardoner or not.
Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.
Oscar scolded himself as he got up and forcefully grabbed his helmet form the floor, firmly decided to go back to Solaire and tell him they were going back to Andre at once, and that he was not to speak or even look at Oswald again.
"These pitiful displays of childish anger are below an elite knight such as you, wouldn't you agree?" Oswald said, his spread arms retreating to his chest. "Patience, lad. Sins are seldom easily forgiven, either by the goddess or the offender. Velka is merciful, but her kindness will not reach you if you are so settled on making a victim out of yourself. I suggest you calm down and try once more. Remember, my services are always free for you and your friend, ringer of the bell."
Oscar had to take a deep breath to keep himself from telling Oswald what he really thought of his sermons and his beloved goddess. He waited for his blood to flow at a gentler rhythm before he turned around and faced the deceitful pardoner.
"I appreciate the offer, but I don't think I will be in need of your services ever again. Farewell."
"Confessing one's sins is meaningless if you are not open to forgive yourself first, Oscar." Oswald said without fear, his fingers joined together in a pretentious gesture that made him look like a wise mentor imparting a lesson. "Don't you think it's strange that Solaire found solace in his confession while you find none? Do you really think his sins are any less grave and serious than yours?"
"Yes, I do."
"Well." Oswald tried to continue with his speech, but he rewarded Oscar with an accepting shrug instead. "You are correct. To be honest, I don't know if his faults can be called sins in the first place... but I digress. What I'm trying to say is that he was more than willing to open himself to redemption and forgiveness, whether his faults were small or not. You are the opposite, Oscar. You have closed off your heart to Velka and those around you. Keep this up, and the Hollowing inside you will rot your flesh and soul until nothing but a mindless shell remains."
"Old men around here sure love to give sermons, don't they?"
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing, just a thought that escaped me." Oscar, no longer as angry at the old pardoner, decided it was best to part in peaceful and respectful terms.
Oswald may have tricked him, but he had helped Solaire.
That alone was reason enough for Oscar to forgive him.
"It is obvious my services did not meet your expectations." Oswald said after a heavy sigh. "I sincerely apologize. If you would be so kind to allow me one last chance, I could try and heal your face from the corruption that causes you so much grief."
I can live with it.
Oscar thought as Oswald searched inside one of the many hidden pockets in the inner side of his tunic.
It is my sins what I wish you could take away.
"Here it is!" Oswald announced, holding a small stone with his thumb and index finger. "A gift from none other that Arstor, the earl of Carim. How did it end up in my possession, you ask? Does it matter? It's not as if he would come all the way to this cursed land to get it back."
Oswald gave out one of his chilling cackles. Oscar didn't know if the pardoner was conscious of how sinister he sounded.
"A purging stone." Oswald proceeded. "It will work as a surrogate and receive the influence of any curse building up inside your body. If the Hollowing is the worst curse of all, then it should help you fight against it. To be perfectly honest, this is nothing more than a theory of mine, but I see no reason why it shouldn't work, or at the very least, why you shouldn't give it a try."
Oscar hesitated, but he ended up accepting the stone.
He inspected it, and his liking for it diminished when the small skull engraved on the surface stared at him with its empty eyeholes.
Skulls were among the most cursed of runes, no matter how powerful and effective the magic they created was.
"What was the main ingredient for its creation?" Oscar asked, though his question was only rhetorical. "A human being?"
Oswald closed his eyes and nodded at the assertion.
"Greatness is not born without great sacrifices. No land knows this better than Carim... but don't let the traditions of our homelands get in the way of our discussion. Swallow the stone, Oscar, and if my theory is correct, not only will your face and voice return to normal, your very soul could be healed from the Hollowing that afflicts you. And if I'm wrong, nothing bad should happen; you shall remain the same as you are now. You've got nothing to lose and so much to gain, if only you are willing to take the chance."
Oscar hated himself for it, but he considered the offer.
He knew that the stone had been created with unspeakably cruel methods, and that any being that had been sacrificed for its creation had left the world in agony and despair.
Yet, he continued to consider it.
When his heart and mind finally snapped free from the temptation, his fingers shivering at the mere contact of the square stone.
It slipped from his shuddering fingers and hit the floor with an unceremonious thump, breaking into tiny pieces.
The little skull transformed into scattered ash, and soon there was no trace left of it other than small and useless crumbles.
Both Oscar and Oswald stared at the small mess in silence and lifted their heads at the same time.
"I... I didn't mean to." Oscar did not know what he could possibly say to make himself look like any less of a fool. "I'm sorry."
"So am I." Oswald said, his smile not wavering in the slightest. "Alas, there goes one of the greatest treasures of Arstor, the earl of Carim. Were I not a pardoner, I would be furious out of my mind right now, but I am a master of forgiveness, absolution and confession."
Oswald spread his arms and looked up at the roof, as if Velka herself had come down from heavens to listen to her devoted follower.
"As such, I forgive you! I forgive you, sir Oscar of Astora! Brave and righteous elite knight! Ringer of the bell! I forgive you! Let us embrace so that any resentment between us may fade into the wind and be always forgotten! Come to this pardoner's arms, child!"
"I think I've got a better idea." Oscar replied hastily before the pardoner could even think of coming any closer to him. He searched inside his bag, looking for something to give to the pardoner that could be equal in worth to the stone he had just broken.
There was his Estus flask, of course, but he was not so desperate to repay his offense to the pardoner to give up something so important. Besides, for all he knew, Oswald himself could be not Undead at all, and what use would a living man have for such flask?
He searched with growing impatience in the other bags on his belt, but he found nothing of true worth.
Until he rediscovered it.
Shivers traveled down his spine when his fingers remerged with the ring, the same the thief had given to him in one of his failed attempts to earn his trust.
Oscar had not thought about it since the thief's death at the hands of Petrus.
"Is something the matter?" Oswald inquired after it became clear the embrace he had demanded would never come. "Oh, what a curious ring you have there. It's like none I've ever seen... but its essence."
The pardoner approached Oscar, lured by the ring.
"Do you know anything at all about it?" Oscar said, becoming increasingly nervous at Oswald's bewitched expression.
"Give it to me." Oswald ordered.
Oscar complied, more than relieved to get rid of the cursed artifact he had carried with him for so long.
After a long moment of inspecting the curious artifact, Oswald removed one of his black and long gloves.
Before Oscar could try to stop him, Oswald fitted the ring in his index finger.
"No!" Oscar exclaimed; a half of his scream drowned in his throat.
Oswald eyes went blank, but he continued grinning, as if caught in an euphoric ecstasy.
"Oswald!" Oscar wasted not a second and he lunged his entire body at the pardoner, desperately trying to remove the ring from his finger before more damage was inflicted on the pardoner, but none of his attempts were successful.
The arms and hands of the pardoner were rigid and completely immobile, as if they were made of stone and not of flesh and bone.
"Yes, it's just as I suspected!" Oswald announced, almost succeeding in killing Oscar from a heart attack. His arms moved again with complete liberty. "This ring is no different than the cursing stones!"
Oscar fell to the floor, too shocked and confused to think about anything else other than the pardoner's state of mind.
Had the ring made him go insane?
His suspicions grew stronger when Oswald looked at him with a deranged grin that made him look like an executioner instead of a pardoner. With an agility that Oscar thought impossible from a man of his age, Oswald seized his arm and freed it from its glove.
Oscar tried to break free, but the pardoner was not only nimble, he was also abnormally strong.
Was he truly a pardoner at all, or some demented criminal that liked to play with his victims?
With one single swing of his hand, Oswald put the ringon Oscar's finger, skinning his knuckle in the process. Oscar grunted in pain, but he managed to push the pardoner away with a kick directed at his belly.
Oswald gave no signs of feeling the impact, and he kept on smiling even as his body was forced to pull back.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Oscar snapped at the crazy old man.
His mouth dried up and his heart sunk to the floor at the sound of his voice.
The ugliness and monstrous undertone that had plagued him since his awakening at the Asylum was gone.
Oscar no longer sounded like a demon shaped in the form of a man.
His voice was his own again.
Deep, smooth.
Normal.
One of his hands sprung to his throat, and his disbelief multiplied when he felt only soft skin, both from his fingers and neck.
Trembling and feeling weak with disbelief, Oscar removed the hand with the ring from his throat and lifted it in front of his eyes.
A normal hand, with no traces of Hollowing on it.
Does this mean—
He touched the corrupted half of his face, and discovered it was corrupted no more.
He fell to his knees, his mind still unable to accept the changes that had happened in him.
"It's gone." Oscar whispered; his voice broken with happiness. "My Hollowing... it's gone!"
"Not exactly." Oswald shattered his hopes mercilessly. The pardoner, no longer overtaken with excitement, had returned to his neutral and solemn mannerisms.
He looked at Oscar with curiosity.
"A ring of illusion may conceal your curse, but it has done nothing to cure it. Still, you should be grateful to have this rare trinket with you, Oscar. I do not know how it could be fabricated without my knowledge, as its essence and effects are the result of magic methods known only by Carim's pardoners... and it's even more of a mystery how someone could transpose the power of a curse stone into the shape of a ring. Where did you find it, Oscar?"
It was cruel of Oswald to demand information of him after shattering his hopes of being healed from the Hollowing so coldly.
"It was a thief's." Oscar answered, removing the ring and watching with overwhelming disappointment how his flesh and voice returned to their previous state the moment the accessory departed from his body. "His name was Patches. He gave it to me."
"A thief gave something away for free? How ridiculous!"
"It's true."
"Then this man you talk about is as skilled as he is unpredictable. I'll be sure to remember his name, and should I ever meet him, I'll let him know I am fully aware of his wickedness." Oswald laughed once more. "For now, you should keep the ring, Oscar. It was my duty as a pardoner to offer you some comfort from your Hollowing, and though the methods used in your confession were rather unorthodox, I believe we can call it a success. What's this? Why are you not wearing it?"
"I will not wear a cursed artifact created out of the pain and torture of innocents, no matter what benefits it brings to me." Oscar explained, staring at the ring, and thinking of how he could destroy it, but also too adamant to get rid of it at all. "You said so yourself, Oswald. If this ring is really the same as your curse stone, I do not want it. To wear it would be an insult for the those who suffered and died for its creation."
"And to throw it away or destroy it would be a better way to make their suffering and sacrifices worthwhile?" Oswald countered. "Oscar, the men and women that died for this ring to come into existence are gone. Your intentions are noble, but they are foolish. If you wish to really give some sort of meaning to their deaths, then use the ring. Gain some benefit from its effects, allow yourself some normalcy into this Undead life you have been cursed with."
Oswald knelt before of Oscar and gently took the ring from him and grabbed his hand.
He slid the ring back into his index finger, and much to his own chagrin, Oscar offered little resistance.
"You are a good man, Oscar of Astora." Oswald said to him. "And if by wearing this ring you feel as if you were committing sin, then rest your heart assured and know you are not. Yet, if these dark feelings remain, then come to me any time and I'll do my best to put your doubts to rest. This pardoner will always be here for you. That is my duty, after all."
For the first time, Oswald's smile caused Oscar something other than fear or dread.
He believed him, he trusted him, but his stubborn mind would not allow him to go through with the deception, no matter how persuading the pardoner's words had been.
"I'm sorry, Oswald." Oscar said, grabbing the ring with two of his fingers. "But I—"
"Oscar? Is everything alright?"
Solaire's intrusion had two major effects.
The first and most notable was the jump with which Oswald got back on his feet.
The other was the departure of Oscar's fingers from the ring.
"It's just that a long time has passed and I was worried that something—By the gods! Oscar!"
Oswald elegantly moved out of the way so that Solaire could take his place by Oscar's side. The sunlight warrior dropped so abruptly to his knees that Oscar feared he had sprained a muscle, but Solaire's whole attention was fixed on his face.
"Oscar." Solaire said with a faint thread of voice as he traced his fingers along Oscar's temple and cheek. "Oscar... your face."
"Solaire, I'm—"
"Your voice!" Solaire gasped and covered his mouth with both his hands. His eyes filled with tears. He gave Oscar no opportunity to say a word and trapped him in a strong embrace that left Oscar out of breath. "Your Hollowing... it's gone! You're healed! Oh, my friend, this is a true miracle! Thank you, pardoner Oswald. Thank you!"
"There is nothing to thank me for, Warrior of Sunlight." Oswald replied.
Oscar watched him from Solaire's shoulder.
The pardoner had returned to his usual stance, with his arms widely spread in what looked like a welcoming embrace for his invisible goddess.
"You are welcome any time, for it is only human to commit sin."
His eyes, overshadowed by the edges of his mask, met with Oscar's, just as the knight remained trapped in Solaire's overjoyed arms.
"Just as it is human to repent and allow ourselves to change."
The echo of his sinister cackle resonated across the old church, with the same potency the tolling of the bell had done.
"Oh."
Some of the paint slipped past the line.
Perhaps the stroke of the brush had been too forceful.
It was alright.
There where no mistakes that could be made while paiting, only new possibilities to discover and explore.