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The toll of the bell snuffed out the dream.

He awoke and was welcomed by the heat of the fire.

There would have been happiness and hope too, had he not long forgotten how to feel either.

His mind was slipping away from him.

Soon, it would abandon him completely, and neither the toll of the bells nor Frampt's comforting whisperings would suffice.

He looked at his hands.

Destroyed, shrunken, rotten, just like the rest of his body.

It was a miracle his dreams had remained with him in his broken state.

He would miss them once they were gone.

The lucidity the toll of the bell had offered him began to dwindle.

How he wished it wasn't so ephemeral.

How he wished it could last forever.

He clung to sanity like a beast holds its prey, but it continued to escape from him as if it was made of smoke.

The numbing lethargy covered his mind with its dense mists.

Before his senses became lost, he spent his fading moments of clarity remembering the dream he'd had.

Dragons flying above him, showering the earth with deathly firestorms; and in his hand, lighting spears that pierced through scales of stone and brought death to the winged creatures.

The Astorans finally came to the bonfire.

Lautrec watched them in silence, his arms resting behind his head, his back leaning against the shrine's old tree.

He stretched and yawned. A few seconds more of uninterrupted silence and he would have dozed off, lulled into sleep by the bonfire's warmth and the peaceful atmosphere of Firelink Shrine.

"Look who's here." He said as Oscar and Solaire sat down next to the pots full of water he had prepared for them. "I was starting to think you would leave me waiting here forever. Glad you decided to show up. Oh, and no complaints if the water is now cold, understood? That's your fault for taking so long."

Neither replied.

In absolute silence, they started to wash off the blood and grime from their faces, necks and hair.

They said not a word, not even between themselves.

Lautrec wondered if he had offended them somehow.

Astorans are so sensitive.

He rolled his eyes and shrugged the matter off.

If he had, he would not apologize.

He had already showed them more kindness and consideration than any Carim-born had ever showed to an Astoran. If they had been expecting hugs and coddling, they should have run back to their mothers instead.

"I know what you're thinking."

Lautrec said, in a vague attempt to get them to speak.

"'Lautrec lied to us! We were expecting tubs full of warm water, but all we got were some small old pots of lukewarm water and some tattered rags to scrub with!' Well, this is not a bloody bathhouse. And do you know how hard it is to find clean water in this place? All we have is that room upstairs full of stagnant water... oh, but don't think me a fool! I boiled it first to cleanse and purify it, of course."

Nothing.

Eventually, Solaire rewarded him with a simple 'thank you'.

Much to Lautrec dismay, his gratitude was not sarcastic or patronizing. It was honest and simple, and it added no spice to their boring interaction.

Lautrec accepted the acknowledgement with a nod.

When he had first met Solaire and Oscar after the former had freed him from his cell, they had been a lively and pleasant pair. Oscar not so much, especially not when compared to Solaire, but he had not been half as sullen as he was now.

What had exactly happened between them?

They had spent a very long time talking in the same spot where that hateful cleric had almost killed them. Lautrec had heard the soft murmurs of their voices, but he had not been able to understand their conversation.

Oscar's voice had been the most prevalent. At some point, it had stopped being normal and had gone back to its monstrous form.

Solaire had spoken too, and at some moment, he had wept, but not loudly. Lautrec had only been able to distinguish it because of the long pauses he made in between his speech and the sniffling sounds of his nose.

Lautrec had snickered mockingly under his breath at Solaire's behavior, but it had also been interesting in a strange manner.

It had been a long time since Lautrec had heard someone cry, and it had been even longer since he had heard or seen a knight shedding tears.

When he thought about it, Lautrec couldn't remember having ever seen a knight from his native Carim cry. Surely they did, but never in front of their respective ladies, even less in front of their fellow knights.

Solaire's behavior was both refreshing and pathetic, but Lautrec felt no need to be overly judging of him. Perhaps he would comment on it later, if the atmosphere between them ever became more casual, but for now he would try to hold his tongue.

The silence looming over them grew thicker, and it was only broken by the tingling sounds of Oscar's and Solaire's upper armors and chainmail as they put them back on once they were finished with their cleaning.

Oscar had done so quickly, perhaps too ashamed of the corruption spread all over his torso to expose it for too long.

Lautrec was no stranger to the sight of the Hollowing, and he felt no particular disgust for those heavily touched by it, but there was something unnerving about witnessing a body both Hollowed and healthy in equal proportions.

It felt incomplete and unnatural, and it made Oscar repulsive in a way Hollows weren't, even if his mind remained sane.

And his demonic voice did him no favors.

Why Oscar had decided to remove whatever illusion he had casted upon himself and go back to this dreadful state was beyond Lautrec's understanding.

And he would not let his curiosity remain unsatisfied any longer.

"It was a joke, Oscar." Lautrec ventured, resting the back of his head on the palms of his joined hands. "The fire keeper will not die of a swooning heart if you show her your normal and handsome face. There was no need to make yourself look so hideous again. Now you'll kill her of a heart attack if you dare to meet her like this! And if your appearance doesn't do it, your voice will definitely finish the work."

Oscar stared numbly at him, with his shield and helmet carefully placed next to him. He had been about to unsheathe his sword with one hand as he held a whetstone he had taken out of a small toolbox in the other, but Lautrec's interruption had brought that process to an abrupt end.

Solaire reacted too, and he firmly slammed the water pot on the ground. Lautrec's body tensed at his aggressive movements, but Oscar made sure to ease the tension with an amiable smile.

"That won't be a problem." He said, staring at the bonfire with a poorly concealed sad look on his eyes as he returned his sword into its sheath and put it on the ground. "I wouldn't dare to show myself before her or any other lady, not even if my face was not half Hollowed."

"Why is that?" Lautrec insisted, ignoring Solaire's threatening stare. "You weren't shy at all with that cleric woman. I swear I heard you addressing her by her name, and by her looks, she was a noble-born. Why then would you be shy with the fire keeper when you weren't shy with her?"

Oscar closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. Solaire's glare towards Lautrec intensified, but Oscar once again made sure to mellow things behind a casual façade.

"Knights of Carim dedicate their entire lives to protecting one lady, don't you?" Oscar commented. "I'm sure you more than anyone can understand why a knight cannot allow himself to show his face in the presence of a lady after having acted with so much disrespect and dishonor."

"Your first statement is true and accurate; the second one, not so much." Lautrec replied. "We knights of Carim do not understand chivalry and knighthood as Astorans do. For us, keeping our respective ladies safe is our only priority. A knight of Carim that fails in keeping his lady alive becomes an outcast, a badge of shame for knighthood itself. Most of them prefer to take their lives than to live with the humiliation of their failure; in fact, it is expected for them to do so. They are not mourned afterwards. Their bodies, if they leave any behind, are not given a proper burial, and are left to the crows and dogs to devour."

The two Astoran knights remained quiet. Their looks became appalled, as if Lautrec had made them forget about their troubles with his retelling of Carim traditions.

"That's a brutal way to treat your knights." Oscar said after finally finding his breath again.

"It's merely Carim's way." Lautrec shrugged. "As I said, no kingdom understands knighthood the same way. Look at Catarina, for example. They couldn't give less of a damn about protecting ladies or being servile to a lord. Their worth as knights is only proportional to the danger of their adventures and with how much bravery they face them. Sure, they might help those in trouble if they feel like it, but if they choose to turn a blind eye to the suffering of others, they wouldn't be betraying their code of honor."

Lautrec changed his position and rested an arm on his knee.

"We knights of Carim are not so different from them in this regard. Helping others is irrelevant to us when it comes to our value as knights; all that matters is keeping our ladies safe... but that's not to say we are bound to the same code of chivalry from Astora and Thorolund."

Solaire listened to Lautrec with earnest interest, as did Oscar. Lautrec understood their reactions; he doubted they had ever met a Carim-born outside the battlefield, even less talked to one under such peaceful circumstances.

For him, the experience was new too.

The only Astorans he had met before had only spoken to him to beg for their lives.

"We keep our ladies out of harm's way by any means necessary, and we do not waste our breaths or time with needless courtly manners. Is your lady unable to continue her journey, yet she is still far from being dead? Lock her up in a cell and guard the entrance until she heals or passes away from natural causes."

Lautrec almost became offended at how Oscar and Solaire looked at him. He continued without mellowing his voice.

"She may resent you for it, even curse your name, but that's irrelevant. You have kept her safe, you have done all you could to preserve her life; and to us, that's all that matters. So no, Oscar... I do not understand why exactly you wouldn't dare to face the fire keeper or any other lady, or why you feel you have dishonored yourself. You were chivalrous to the cleric woman, as expected from a knight to Astora, and you tried to keep her from harm's way, as a knight of Carim would have done. I do not see how you failed her or how you were dishonorable in your actions."

Lautrec smiled at Oscar's change of expression. Solaire, who had become relaxed to the point of crossing his legs and smiling at Lautrec, immediately returned to his defensive mannerisms. Lautrec ignored him and kept his attention solely on Oscar.

"Tell me, Oscar." Lautrec inquired again, quite enjoying the game of provoking Solaire's anger while also trying to get Oscar to confess. "What did you do that shames you so, little elite knight?"

"That's enough, Lautrec." Solaire intervened firmly.

It was the first time he spoke to Lautrec in any other tone that wasn't his usual and friendly voice.

Its threatening edge took Lautrec by surprise.

He gazed at Solaire again. His now clean blond hair remained untied, free to hang on Solaire's shoulders and back as it slowly dried.

It gave him a more savage and threatening appearance, and for a moment, Lautrec felt in the presence of an imposing knight, not an innocent fool he could treat lightly.

"I'm merely curious, Solaire."

He quickly replied.

"And concerned too. You were such an energetic and determined pair when I met you, but now, you both look as if you were about to go Hollow. It baffles me, really. You rang the bell, didn't you Oscar? You are following your path with success... but then some clerics throw some insults at you and you are reduced to this pitiful state? Is it that easy to break you? And the same goes to you, Solaire. You are no less brittle than Oscar. I know you are Astoran, but even a Carim-born like me knows there's a big difference between being sentimental and being weak, and right now, all you are showing me is weakness and a complete lack of determination. You are knights; behave as such!"

Lautrec didn't know what exactly had driven him to speak in such manner. He did not care about Oscar's or Solaire's fates, and they both could renounce to knighthood and return to Astora as defeated vagabonds for all he cared.

But the sight of two fellow knights, regardless of their origin, looking so utterly sullen and defeated, had sparked something within him, as if the echoes of his own education about what knighthood stood for had forced him to speak out his thoughts.

He felt proud of himself for his confidence and authority, but the satisfaction did not last.

He recoiled at the mere thought of his lady Fina disapproving his attitude.

His beloved lady was not fond of her knight being overly proud of his actions without her permission. She deemed it as a personal offense for him to think his judgement was more pertinent than hers.

He glanced at the metal arms always hugging the chest plate of his armor and felt the soft embrace of his lady.

She was not displeased with him.

She loved him too much to get angry at him over petty matters, and as long as the offense didn't repeat itself, no harm had been done.

Lautrec apologized to her for his shameful impudence and reassured his devotion by promising her a tribute worthy of her beauty and splendor.

Satisfied, Fina planted a kiss on his cheek with her invisible lips and granted him her permission to feel pride on his behavior.

Fina's ring on his finger, the prove of her love for Lautrec, sent comfort to his entire body, and he silently thanked his lady for all the love and tenderness she showed him.

Oh, how he would have enjoyed to lose himself in the flow of his lady's love, but Solaire was there to ruin the moment.

"Why do you do this, Lautrec?" Solaire's sword, which had never left his hand, tilted its tip across the grassy floor covered in ash. "What are you trying to prove? That you are a more honorable knight than us? That Carim's vision of knighthood is better than Astora's? You are free to think whatever you wish, but Oscar and I won't play along. We thank you for the water, but I'm going to ask you to remain quiet, unless you've got something else to say other than your immature taunts."

Lautrec blinked, incredulous that Solaire had been so blunt towards him.

So the Warrior of Sunlight did have fangs, and he seemed to be prone to bare them for the sake of his sullen friend.

Even now, he continued to defend him, as upset and angry as he obviously was with Oscar.

Lautrec had noticed the tension between the two Astorans since the beginning, but he had not considered it to be the true reason behind their sour moods.

For a knight of Carim, an argument with a fellow knight would mean nothing. They held respect for each other, but it was seldom any sense of camaraderie was ever shared in their interactions. A knight's only true bond was that which he shared with his lady; everything else was trivial and expendable.

Then again, Oscar and Solaire were Astorans.

Of course. I should have known... How stupid of me.

"I apologize. Sincerely."

Lautrec said without any mocking intention behind his words. It was all that it took to appease Solaire. Oscar, more reserved than his friend, was harder to read, and remained with his eyes lost in the bonfire.

"I was trying to be amusing, but it's obvious I came off as spiteful instead. It was not my intention to upset you, my friends. You are right, Solaire. I shouldn't be causing you more unnecessary grief than the cleric already thrusted upon both of you with his cruelty. I shall say nothing more."

"Lautrec, that's not what I meant. I—" Solaire started, so obviously regretful of his previous firmness that Lautrec felt a twinge of pity for the bastard.

Gullible and too kind of heart.

He would go Hollow sooner than Oscar, that was for sure.

"You are right, Lautrec." Oscar added, earning himself the attention of Lautrec and Solaire. He met their gazes with a gentle smile. "But only about me, not about Solaire. I am the only one here who hasn't acted like a true knight."

Solaire looked down, and Lautrec didn't know what to make of his expression.

"I did fail Reah by not being able to keep her safe from Petrus, but I have truly failed as a knight for having succumbed to temptation; for keeping a cursed artifact created from the pain of innocents... and using it to deceive others."

Oscar immediately looked at Solaire, but the Warrior of Sunlight looked away.

Oscar did not insist.

He took out a ring from one of the many bags on his belt and looked at with so much hatred that Lautrec thought he would break it into pieces with his fingers.

A ring of illusion? But... I've never heard of one able to conceal the marks of the Hollowing. Was that his trick all along?

Lautrec had no chance to voice his questions. Oscar raised his trembling arm, decided to feed the ring to the bonfire.

Solaire stared at the scene, but his hopeful expression became somber again when Oscar could never bring himself to dispose of the trinket.

"Forgive me, Solaire." Oscar muttered in a soft whisper as he pressed the fist with the ring against his forehead. "I can't."

"And you shouldn't." Lautrec added.

Startled by the unwanted comment, Oscar looked at Lautrec.

Solaire did too.

"I don't know the whole story, and correct me if I'm wrong, but if that ring is responsible for the hiding of your Hollowed appearance, then I see no reason why you think you should dispose of it. You said it was created from the pain of innocents? Well, even more reason for you to keep it! Unless you want to make the sacrifices of those poor lambs amount to nothing. That would be a true waste."

"How can you say such a thing, Lautrec?" Solaire snapped at him. "No knight... no human being with a heart and a conscience should ever be the wearer of a thing so vile and wicked! It's monstrous, and I won't stand for it!"

Oscar hunched his head, enduring the stabs Solaire indirectly threw at him in silence.

"Such a narrow-minded point of view."

Lautrec sighed with a reproachful nod of his head.

"Proper of a cleric, but not of a knight, especially not an Undead one, Solaire. You want to be a righteous hero that never commits sin? Fine, but do not force Oscar to be the same as you. He is not yours to shape as you wish. And if his decision clashes with your morality, then you two should part ways. It is clear this partnership of yours has met a dead end, so save yourselves the trouble and end this ill-fated friendship before it consumes you. That would the best thing to do, for both of you."

The reasoning made complete sense for Lautrec, but judging by the despair that distorted Oscar's and Solaire's faces, the idea was not something either had considered seriously.

Perhaps it had been floating in the back of their minds, but they had not dared to grab it firmly and put it against each other and say 'this is an option we could take, this is a path we could choose', not until Lautrec had done the work for them.

I will never understand them.

Lautrec thought, disappointed that the reason behind their conflict was so boring and foreign to him.

Not as invested in their predicament anymore, Lautrec stood up and walked towards the shrine's stairs. He had gotten all the amusement possible from their situation, at least for the time being.

Before he could squeeze some more fun out of it, he needed Oscar and Solaire to talk more about their situation in private.

Talk, talk, talk and more talk.

Talk like the Astorans they were, talk like Astorans always did.

Were they of Carim origin, the could have saved themselves the trouble and just put an end to their differences with a fight to the death.

At least he had offered them an interesting potential outcome, and Lautrec was sure it would brew some interesting reactions from them, and he would return later and witness the results.

But for that to happen, he needed to leave them alone for a moment.

He stopped briefly by their side.

"Think of your own interests. That's not selfish, it's smart. That's how a knight, regardless of his homeland, should always act; otherwise, you are reduced to this condition you are in. Is that what you want? If that's so... you have a tiring, awful journey before you."

With that said, he left them behind, hoping that when he returned, one of them had been slain at the hands of the other.

It was a wishful outcome he knew wouldn't come true, but he still could hope. He felt intrigued by what would become of Oscar and Solaire, and judging by the soft squeeze of the metal arms on his chest, so did his lady Fina.

Betrayal and disappointment.

That's all Solaire felt for Oscar.

Solaire had promised him that he would do his best to understand his actions, and at first, he had kept his word.

He had forgiven Oscar for the deceit without hesitation. Solaire knew his friend had never intended to hurt him, and he could understand why Oscar had tried to keep his incomplete Hollowing a secret from Reah and her bodyguards.

Clerics were completely distrustful of anyone showing visible marks of the curse, and Petrus had made things worse by completely lying about what had happened among them during his stay in Firelink Shrine.

Solaire had reassured Oscar by telling he understood everything and that he forgave him.

Oscar's second confession had been a bigger challenge, but not because Solaire openly resented his friend for his past and disdainful indifference against him. It simply had reopened a wound Solaire had long considered, if not healed, at least closed.

It wasn't, not at all, and from it, a flow of painful memories had come sprouting out like blood from a bad wound.

Memories of the relentless humiliation he had received at the hands of his fellow Astorans throughout all his life, be them commoners or elite knights.

It had loosened his tears, and he had not tried to stop them.

Yet, regardless of the pain of his memories, Solaire found himself forgiving Oscar as quickly as the anecdote was over.

It was strange for Solaire too, but regardless of what Oscar had thought of him in the past, or of all the times he had ignored him as if he was a mangy street dog, Solaire forgave him

He forgave his friend with all his heart.

Oscar had sighed heavily, as if nothing but Solaire's forgiveness could have freed the pent-up air trapped inside his lungs. He thanked him humbly, and Solaire only replied by confirming his words.

They had spent a moment of relieved and comfortable silence together, with Solaire's arm still resting reassuringly on Oscar's shoulders.

How Solaire wished the whole thing had ended there, but fate had not been so kind.

And neither had Oscar.

He had taken off his glove and revealed to Solaire the ring responsible for concealing his Hollowing. Solaire had hated the artifact the moment he had fixed his eyes on it, and he felt no less repulsion for those responsible for its creation.

Arstor, the earl of Carim, was a man infamous for his ruthlessness. Solaire had never understood how a man could fall so low, and all for what? For the creation of a ring of illusion and some stones that supposedly healed Undeads of their curses?

It was not worth it. Nothing born from the suffering of others was ever worth it. Solaire knew it, and he was sure so did Oscar; he had merely been convinced otherwise by pardoner Oswald.

Though far from approving his usage of the ring, Solaire understood why Oscar had been tempted. His Hollowed face and voice hurt him much more than dared to admit, and it was only natural he had tried to return his appearance back to normal.

All this Solaire could understand and forgive.

What he couldn't forgive was Oscar's insistence in keeping the ring.

No matter what argument Solaire gave to him, Oscar had refused fervently to give up the ring.

"I can't, Solaire."

Oscar had said, his naked, corrupted hand trembling as it longed to be normal again.

"It is the only way I can keep my Hollowing hidden. Humanity keeps me sane, but it does nothing to heal my appearance... you saw it yourself, back at the old church. Solaire, I don't want to give this up. I don't want to be a treacherous half-Hollow that inspires nothing but distrust in others. I'm tired of it; I'm tired of all the trouble it causes us. I don't want to be this creature anymore. I want to be Oscar."

"You are Oscar, regardless of your appearance. I'm sure other Undeads will be able to see it too, no matter how you Hollow may look, and if they don't, then I'll be there with you to help them see who you really are." Solaire had said, doing his best to keep his temper from showing.

How could Oscar think any of that?

It was one thing he had used the ring in his effort to save Reah, but to use it just for his selfish means was not something Solaire had thought him capable of.

But he had confirmed to Solaire he was not above that sort of behaviour, and Solaire had almost hated him for it.

Solaire had given his absolute devotion to Oscar; he had thought of him as a man and knight wiser and better than him in all aspects. He was flawed, but so were all human beings.

Solaire had admired him, and for Oscar to disappoint him in this awful manner hurt more than any humiliation he had received at the hands of the elite knights.

If Oscar chose to keep the ring, he would be destroying not only the pedestal Solaire had put him in, but also Solaire's dream of him becoming his fellow Warrior of Sunlight.

The Lord of Sunlight would not accept into his covenant a man willing to use that sort of evil artifacts.

If Oscar didn't get rid of that cursed thing, he would be shattering all the hopes Solaire had invested in this possibility.

How Oscar dared do this to him?

"No, Solaire. I don't want you to be my voice on my journey... It would not be fair for you to bear that burden, and I don't want to hide myself from others, always afraid of what their reactions could be, always silent behind my helmet. I'm sick of it, Solaire. This..."

Oscar had caressed the Hollowed half of his face with his Hollowed hand.

"This is not the real me. This is not who I want to be."

"Then who are you, Oscar?" Solaire had snapped at him. He had removed his arm from his shoulders coldly, making Oscar changed his solemn expression into one of shock. "Who do you want to be? The elite knight you were back in Astora?"

Solaire had expected an immediate denial, but Oscar had not given it to him. Instead, he had wavered. Then, he had said.

"When Reah, Nico and Vince looked at me with so much respect and trust... I felt like myself again, for the first time in so long."

"Don't do this to me, Oscar." Solaire had pleaded, moving away from him and getting back on his feet. "Don't go where I can't follow."

"It's not about you, Solaire. I'm not doing this to hurt you!" Oscar had answered with despair, also standing up, and still holding that damn ring on his fingers. "Please, try to understand why I'm doing this. Try to understand how I feel."

"Do you think I don't? Me? The man that has been the laughingstock of everyone he's met in his life?"

Solaire had declared, his fury unleashed.

"I know what rejection and mistrust feels like, Oscar, especially when it is thrown at you without any reason... but I don't get why you think that would make me agree with you about keeping that godforsaken ring! There's no excuse for it! The man you were back in Astora is dead, gone together with most of your memories. That ring and its illusions won't ever bring him back. All you can do is be the man you are now, no matter how half-Hollowed you are."

"Is that what you suggest? That I retain this awful appearance that has caused us nothing but grief? How would that be beneficial for our journey, Solaire? You've seen how hated those marked by the Hollowing are, even here in Lordran. I had hoped things would be different, but they aren't. The merchant woman in the bridge, the merchant man at the burg... they did not seclude themselves by their own wills, they did so to be safe from other Undeads! Solaire, please think about it. My Hollowing is a setback, it could make enemies out of potential allies before we even have the chance to approach them."

"That would be preferable!" Solaire had said by impulse, willingly ignoring the logic of Oscar's arguments. "Any scenario would be better than you being the wielder of that ring, Oscar."

"You're being unreasonable." Oscar had stated with gelid anger. "And what's worse, you're doing it on purpose. You're not even listening to what I'm saying anymore. You are so married with the idea of getting rid of the ring that you won't even consider keeping it as an option."

"You are right, Oscar." Solaire had taken a step closer to him. Oscar did not back away, and they both had glared at each other for a long while. "I'm not changing my mind about this, no matter how you try to justify it. To me, this will never be right. Benefiting from the suffering of others is never an option, Oscar. It pains me to see you've forgotten this. It pains me to see this is who you really are."

A punch on his belly's wound wouldn't have left Oscar more startled.

Solaire had to look away, and he had to bite his tongue to keep his tears away from his eyes.

He had gone too far.

He too was being selfish, for as repulsed as he was at the mere thought of Oscar using a cursed ring, what really made his heart bleed was that his friend, perhaps the only true friend he'd had, had betrayed his expectations.

"I feel lost. None of this should have happened."

Solaire lamented, more to himself than to Oscar.

"Solaire, I—"

"You were supposed to be better than this, Oscar. I guess that was all an illusion too."

He gave Oscar no time to reply.

"Let's go back to Lautrec. He's waited long enough for us."

Drained of all his energy and feeling numb of body and mind, Solare dragged his feet to the bonfire.

Oscar followed him, but said nothing.

Solaire didn't blame him.

He didn't know if there was anything left to say between them.

The toll of the bell parted the sea of his madness.

How long had it been since he had been free of those turbulent waves?

He couldn't remember, and he had no time to dwell inside his brilliant mind and look for an answer.

The stormy sea of his paranoia and obsessions became whole again and drowned him in its waters.

There had been so many things he could have thought about in his fleeting lucidity, but he had only imagined an old king that slayed his kin with his spears of lighthing.

Seath smiled, thought he no longer remembered the reason behind his nostalgic joy.

Soon, it was all forgotten, and the memory of the king was replaced by his urgent need of Undead maidens. He sent the order to his Channelers, infecting them with irrational fear.

It was the perfect motivation to make those fools tend to his necessities at once.

As an immortal dragon, he deserved nothing less.