She could see it now.
The empty grave from which her lord's chosen would rise from their ashes. She hurried frantically along the steep ground of the graveyard.
The bundle in her arms was damp and light, and it smelled like her lord.
It smelled like Kaathe.
My lord.
She fought the tears that threatened to escape her Hollowed eyes. If she made haste, she could still return to his side before he passed.
It had not been her wish to leave her lord behind, but she had a duty to fulfill, and sentiment and feelings had no role to play in it.
She hugged the ashes of Kaathe's chosen tighter to her breast, as if she wanted them to melt inside her body and become one with her.
She reached the open coffin, her masked face sweating in a way only Hollows could. She took a small moment to find peace of mind and body, but the weight of the moment was not so easily ignored.
A part of her wished for her to drop on her knees and weep, but she resisted, unwilling to waste her tears on someone else other than Kaathe.
While he still lives, he shall be my lord.
Yuria slowly came apart of the bundled ashes she carried. She looked at them with a hidden maternal gaze.
But once he is gone, it will be you I serve.
She allowed a moment to pass in silence, then, she put the ashes inside the abandoned coffin. It wasn't as abandoned or forgotten as Yuria had expected, for she found a small ring carefully placed on the right side. She took it and inspected it carefully.
An Ashen ring, perhaps gifted to the empty grave long ago by Lothric's merciful queen. It was an unexpected present, and also unwelcome.
Her future lord needed not the help of the royals.
They would have her to tend to their needs and guide them on their path.
That was her responsibility alone.
That was the duty Kaathe had entrusted to her, and she would not fail him, no matter the cost.
"Bloody hell! Have you become a grave robber, luv? That's low, even for me. If you've gotta steal, steal from fresh corpses, not from piles of rotten dust and bones. Even among thieves there's a code of pride and honor."
The Hyena, another unwelcome presence that intruded the moment of privacy Yuria had not wished to share with anyone. She tensed her shoulders and straightened her back.
The Hyena may have surprised her, but she wouldn't let him see the tenderness that had taken over her soul. She walled her emotions from him, and when he was by her side, grinning mockingly at her like he always did, she acknowledged his existence with an uncaring nod.
"Always so ignorant, always so blind to your own faults. Your attitude would be infuriating if it wasn't so predictable and boring."
"Huh? Where did that come from? And here I thought we could start a friendly conversation, but you ruined the moment. Seriously Yuria, you need to relax."
His dancing fingers touched her shoulder.
"And I would be more than glad to help you with that. I think we both need a moment of rest and joy, don't you agree, luv?"
"How amusing." Yuria replied by shrugging off his hand. "I think your last death destroyed your mind more than I'd thought. You sad little man, mistaking your delusions for possibilities."
"It did destroy my mind, but more in the literal sense. That bloody cleric. He'll pay for what he did... but that's something I'll tend to later. So, since you have rejected my proposition of jolly cooperation, would you at least tell me what are you doing here, luv? And by the lords! What's that foul smell?
The Hyena gagged, and though Yuria at first thought he was exaggerating to purposefully enrage her, she had to accept his reaction was real when he fell on his knees and cough and drooled like a sick dog.
"Weak." She scowled at him, ashamed of the Hyena's poor capacity to endure Kaathe's smell that emanated from the soaked ashes. "But also expected. Your nostrils are unworthy of being the receptors of our lord's scent. Leave, you pitiful fool, but before you do, tell me of the youth I sent you after. Are they now clad in the Astoran armor, wielding the sword and shield we retrieved for them? Not completely, thanks to your incompetence, of course."
"Yes, yes." The Hyena slowly stood up. He stepped away from the coffin and Yuria, his mouth and nose covered with both arms. "Them and the brute they have for a friend are now prancing around somewhere, looking very charming, very attractive, very Astoran... but let me tell you, no one will come close to this poor devil if they raise from the ashes smelling like a pile of manure that has been left under the sun since Gwyn's age of fire! Couldn't you have given their ashes a quick rinse with plain water at least? You are an awful keeper, Yuria."
"Enough." Yuria demanded, more incensed than she was willing to show. As much as she hated to admit it, there was sense and truth in the Hyena's complaint.
Kaathe's scent was strong, but to her it had never been foul. It was just how her lord smelled, and she accepted it.
But it was true it would gain her future lord no sympathy, for even the Unkindled were vain and shallow creatures.
"I'll see that this small setback is resolved as soon as they rise from the grave." She looked back at the ashes, and after some thought, she returned the Estus ring to the coffin and placed it on top of the dusty pile. "For now, we must leave them as they are and let the bell turn their body to what it once was."
"Who is this fellow anyway?" The Hyena inquired, showing so little respect to his future lord that Yuria felt tempted to stab his blasphemous tongue with a dagger. With his arms still shielding him from Kaathe's scent, he approached the coffin and looked inside, as if he was gazing at a newly opened treasure chest. "Why are they so important? Look at these old and deprived ashes. So vulgar, so unremarkable. Nothing of value can be born from this worthless bunch of dust."
"One's true value is seldom visible to the naked eye. It is not our role to doubt Kaathe's will, but to act accordingly to it."
"That's your role, luv." The Hyena said as he helped Yuria seal the coffin until not a single ray of light could touch the ashes. "Not mine."
"Hello there."
Gentle and considerate.
Solaire's greeting embodied those qualities perfectly, but he still felt he had been too harsh in his approach. It was too late for regrets. He had already spoken the words, and all that was left was to wait for the fire keeper's reaction.
He froze his smile and hoped his face was not overly red. Perhaps it had not been wise of him to remove his helmet, but he had considered rude and improper to meet the lady that had done so much for him and Oscar with his face concealed behind metal.
Oscar.
He frowned at the memory of his friend, but he did not let it distract him for long. He didn't want the fire keeper to see him scowling.
He waited, but the woman behind the bars gave him no signs of being aware of his presence. Her chin was glued to her chest, her face completely escaping Solaire's eyes.
Her hair, as blond as Solaire's but covered with a thick layer of ash, was the only feature she exposed to the Warrior of Sunlight.
"My lady?" Solaire tried again, but his efforts were in vain.
She was completely undisturbed.
It was almost as if she was deaf.
Oh dear.
Solaire felt a twinge of shame travel from the center of his chest to the rest of his body. No doubt his face was now crimson.
"I am sorry for disturbing you." He said, continuing to speak only to make the silence more endurable for himself. "I do not wish to intrude. I merely wanted to let you know that my friend and I deeply appreciate your efforts. Without the Estus your bonfire provides, we both would have gone Hollow long ago. Thank you, my lady, from the bottom of our hearts."
Solaire put an arm across his chest and bowed his head. The fire keeper remained indifferent to him, her slender hands resting on her lap, her slow breathing being the only proof she was still alive.
A deep sadness cut through Solaire.
He had always known the duty of the fire keepers was a burden few maidens wished for themselves, as it was a ruthless responsibility that seldom gained them the gratitude of others.
But he had never witnessed it as crudely as he was doing now.
Oscar's words rang truer and more sensible than ever.
Solaire's childish gesture of gratitude really seemed like a mockery of the poor woman.
He turned his back on that thought and steeled his resolve.
What did Oscar know anyway?
Solaire knew what he was doing, and even if it wasn't turning out as he had expected, he knew Oscar's alternative wouldn't have been much better.
With his confidence boosted, he set on the ground before the fire keeper's cell the gift he had prepared for her. He thought of trying to get it through the bars, but stopped, afraid it could be considered an intrusion.
"Estus flasks shards. I want you to have them." Solaire announced to the fire keeper joyfully, unwrapping the handkerchief where the remnants of his broken flask now laid. He took one small glassy flake and moved it so that its glitter became more evident. "They are quite pretty, don't you think? And they have a shine natural to them, even when the sun rays do not touch them. They could make good adornments, or maybe you could try to assemble the pieces back, as if it was a puzzle. A rather difficult puzzle, but one very entertaining indeed."
He laughed and hoped the fire keeper would look at him at least once.
She didn't.
Feeling he had overstayed his welcome, Solaire gently put the shard back with the rest and folded the handkerchief. He pushed it a little closer to the bars and left it there.
"I must go now, my lady." Solaire bowed his head. "My friend and I must continue our journey. We are going back to the Undead burg, to the lower parts of it. Lautrec says that's where the entrance to the Depths could be... and he is the best lead we've got. If he is right, then we'll be closer to the second bell, if what the crestfallen told me was true. Oscar does not trust Lautrec, but I do. Besides, after what he has done, he has no right to judge him."
Solaire bit his tongue.
Speaking ill of Oscar behind his back did not make his resentment towards him lessen and it certainly was doing nothing to heal their fractured friendship.
He sighed and hid his eyes behind a hand.
He and Oscar had not dwelled on the matter, not even after Lautrec had given them room to talk things out.
All they had done after he had left them behind was staring at the bonfire, like a couple of children witnessing the flames of a hearth for the first time.
Solaire had wondered what Oscar had been thinking, but his friend was hard to read, and sometimes it was impossible to decipher whether his silence was born from thoughtful meditation or just apathy.
It hurt him to think Oscar was capable of so much indifference, but if he was willing to use a cursed ring, should Solaire really expect any different from him?
He had not worn the ring again since their argument, but neither had he gotten rid of it. For Solaire, it made little difference. If Oscar was so set on keeping that damned thing, it was because he planned on using it later at some point, and for Solaire, that was as unacceptable as if he decided to use it all the time.
If Oscar thought Solaire viewed his sacrifice of a normal appearance as a noble gesture to gain his approval, he couldn't have been more wrong.
Solaire had wanted to tell Oscar all of it, but he hadn't had the heart to do so. Instead, he had remained as silent as his friend.
Eventually, Lautrec had returned to them and asked them what conclusion they had reached.
When both Oscar and Solaire gave him no answer, he had suggested them to settle their differences once and for all with a battle to the death.
Solaire had immediately refused.
Oscar had looked down but said nothing, and his silence had been like a stab for Solaire.
Lautrec's presence had not been negative in its totality, as it had also brought a forced but relieving sense of truce between the two Astorans.
They had rested for a long while afterwards, and their lack of a definite answer had led Solaire to think he and Oscar had reach an agreement.
They would continue to travel together, at least for the time being.
But things between them would not be the same.
Gone with their argument was Solaire's fervent wish for Oscar to become a Warrior of Sunlight.
Their parrying lessons had also been put into a long, perhaps permanent hiatus.
Their banter, their trust, their moments of comfortable silence... all gone, replaced with a brittle and cold regard for each other more proper among soldiers than friends.
Solaire took his hand off his eyes.
He wished he was strong enough to forgive Oscar. There was nothing else he wanted more than to go back to what they'd had before that cursed ring had entered their lives.
But he was a Warrior of Sunlight. A defender of all that was good in the world, no matter how corrupted it was. He had a duty to his covenant, to his morals, and above all, to himself.
And yet, righteous as I am, I can't bring myself to forgive my friend.
His own rebuke staggered him. He did not like to think about it, just as he did not like to think about Lautrec's suggestion that he was being narrow-minded and naïve.
He hated to dwell on any of that, so he stopped and got back on his feet. He said one more farewell to the fire keeper and went back to the bonfire, hoping to escape the thoughts he was trying to evade, but they were like his shadow.
Always following him nearby.
"I'm going to Andre's."
It had been the first words Oscar had spoken to Solaire since their unresolved moment of silence by the bonfire.
His shield and whetted sword hung from his back and waist respectively, as did the broken coiled sword.
His Hollowed face remained hidden behind his helmet, as it should be.
Even then, he had not enough courage to look at Solaire as he spoke.
Oscar had pretended to be too busy adjusting the buckles of his belt as he waited for Solaire to say something in return.
"I won't take long."
He had tried again, his broken and destroyed voice perfectly concealing his despair.
Had he taken Solaire for granted again?
Had he assumed Solaire would continue to travel with him despite all that had happened?
Oscar began to fear he had, and he hated himself for his cowardice, but he was too trapped in the webs of his own fears and regrets to look at Solaire in the eye and ask him directly if he even considered him a friend anymore.
He knew he didn't, but as long as Solaire didn't say it out loud, as long as he remained by his side, Oscar had the chance to believe things could go back to what they were, before he had succumbed to his need to keep the ring.
As long as Solaire was there, he was still part of his life.
Solaire, you don't deserve this.
Oscar stopped fiddling with his belt and confronted his selfish wishes.
You must be free to follow your own path... even if I'm not part of it anymore. I shouldn't weigh you down.
He had to let him go.
It was the only good thing left he could do for Solaire.
"Just go and be done with it."
The unexpected answer shattered Oscar's resolve.
It had not come from Solaire, but from Lautrec.
The knight of Carim was now a constant presence in their lives. Oscar was grateful to him for the kindness he had showed to him and Solaire, but he couldn't wait to leave Firelink Shrine behind and be free of him.
There was something about Lautrec that filled the air with poison, as if he sowed the seeds of discord with his mere presence.
Oscar had become more aware of it after Lautrec had suggested a battle to the death between him and Solaire.
Oscar had been so appalled by the idea that he had wanted nothing more than to burst Lautrec's lip open, but Solaire had reacted first.
He had refused, and he had done so with so much loyalty towards Oscar that he could only sink where he sat and look down, and wonder what he had ever done to be worthy of a friend like Solaire.
"I'd come with you, but I don't feel like it. And Solaire will be too busy presenting his gift to the fire keeper, so I'm afraid you are on your own in this, Oscar. Don't worry, you can take care of yourself, you are an elite knight after all. But hey, if things get too complicated, put that ring on and conquer the hearts of Hollows with your Astoran charm."
Lautrec had laughed. Oscar allowed him to have his moment of amusement.
Solaire had not intervened in his defense.
He hates me.
Oscar took a deep breath and feigned indifference and composure. It was so natural for him to do so, no doubt a consequence of his past life as an elite knight.
Always a mask, the eternal façade of undisturbed strength.
An illusion, like the rest of aspects about himself.
Like Solaire himself had told him.
"We'll be waiting here for you."
Oscar had to muster all his strength to keep himself from looking over his shoulder and gaze at Solaire.
He spoke not with friendliness, but with politeness.
The change in his tone stung Oscar, but he was grateful too.
Grateful that Solaire had replied at all.
"Be careful." Solaire added before going to the stairs of the shrine, the handkerchief in his hands tinkling in harmony with his steps.
"I will." Oscar had replied with the last reserve of courage inside him, and then he had parted to the shrine's elevator.
He could feel Lautrec's eyes on him as he left, but his sneer could not take away the comfort Solaire's reply had left Oscar with.
Their silent agreement had not been an imagination of Oscar's selfish mind, it had been real.
It is. Right, Solaire?
A braver man would have asked the question.
The elite knight Oscar had once been would have done so without shame, and he would have expected an immediate answer.
For he was an elite knight, and he would not have accepted a disdainful or indifferent treatment from anyone, even less from a low-rank knight. And if he was not given the respect he deserved, he would have—
Stop.
Oscar quickened his steps towards the elevator, as if the elite knight had come to life and was chasing after him.
I am not you anymore.
He reached the elevator and slammed the gate closed with so much forced that the hinges creaked and almost snapped from their places.
The elevator went up.
Oscar took off his helmet, desperate for fresh air. He held his forehead and forced his breathing to slow down. His anxious heart slowly calmed down, but the elite knight remained by his side.
He hated him.
He despised him for all he represented.
His past self, his worst self.
And yet—
Oscar's hand involuntarily traveled to the bag where the ring of illusion rested.
When I become him again, I feel nothing but pride and fulfillment.
His fingers departed from the ring as if it had burned him through the leather of his gauntlet. He didn't know what disgusted him more, his awful thoughts or his reluctance to get rid of that cursed thing.
He wished he could say he didn't know where his need to keep the ring steamed from.
It would have been so easy to blame it all on Oswald, or even on the ring itself, and to claim the trinket was enchanted and manipulated the minds of its users to feel an unyielding sense of affection for it.
But to do so would be a lie.
Oswald had tried to persuade Oscar to keep it, and his reasoning had been the perfect excuse to quell Oscar's guilt, but the pardoner had not been deceitful or manipulative in his speech, and to blame him would be unfair.
And the ring, cursed as it was, did not force Oscar to be its wielder. It did not fill his mind with orders or empty promises. It was just a thing, without a mind or will of its own.
In the end, no matter how Oscar saw it, the only one he could blame was himself and his petty need to remember how it had felt to be a true elite knight of Astora.
Respected, trusted, praised.
Why? Why does any of that matter so much to me?
The elevator reached the old church. The gate slid open, slower than usual with an awful creak coming from the hinges.
Oscar stepped out the platform, and he felt as if he had entered his reality again. One where he was only a half-Hollow attempting to fulfill an ancient prophecy, the same way a child dreams of defeating a dragon with a toy sword and becoming his king's favorite knight.
Petrus' words began to rise from the back of his mind, but Oscar silenced them before they became too clear and deafening.
He cleared his mind and put his helmet back on. It did not work completely, but the task he had at hand helped him concentrate and ignore the rush of doubts that plagued his mind like a whirlwind.
He had to go to Andre and buy the supplies he needed.
At that moment, that was the only objective he should concern himself with. Oscar sighed one last time and then went on his way.
The echo of his steps reached the top floor from the cathedral.
A pardoner feeding a murder of crows looked at where the sound came. He wondered if he soon would have another poor soul in his presence, eager to confess their sins and find redemption.
"He's been gone for a long while."
"Tell me about it. Maybe it was all an excuse and he's already somewhere else. Perhaps he is now at Darkroot Garden, trying to find his way inside the grave of sir Artorias or— Are you listening to me, Solaire?"
Lautrec watched as the Warrior of Sunlight stood up, his round shield on his back and his sunlight sword sheathed and hanging from his belt.
"Solaire? What are you doing?"
"I'm going to look for Oscar." Solaire replied dryly, setting the helmet on his head. "I never should have let him go all by himself. The old church is a dangerous place. He could have gotten hurt or—"
"Died?" Lautrec snorted, rolling his eyes. Solaire winced at the suggestion, like the sensitive fool that he was. "So what if he did? If he did die, then he'll be reborn from this bonfire any moment now, and if he doesn't... well, such is the fate of a half-Hollow."
Rather than bringing peace to Solaire, Lautrec's scenario only exalted his nerves and pushed him closer to leaving Firelink Shrine. He would have escaped the place had Lautrec not grabbed him by one of his metal bracelets as he passed him by.
"It was a joke." Lautrec told the distressed Warrior of Sunlight. "Oscar will be fine. If you go looking for him and he returns and doesn't find you, he'll set out on his own again. The two of you will lose track of each other, and then you could become separated from good."
"But what if—"
"He's an elite knight." Lautrec said firmly, and Solaire remained still as if he had slapped him. "He doesn't need your coddling. Besides, why are you so worried about him? I thought you two were on bad terms."
"We are." Solaire said, managing to free his wrist from Lautrec's grasp.
"Then why are you so concerned about him? By the lords, have some dignity. It is not very knightly to show so much worry about a fellow knight."
"Perhaps that's how things are in Carim, but in Astora—"
"No, don't give me that crap. Even in Astora knights have their dignity. Oscar didn't seem that concerned about you, did he? It seems only fair to me that you give him that same treatment. Think about it. Why should you show him kindness when he has seldom showed you any? It is not fair for you, Solaire."
Lautrec suppressed a smile. He couldn't see Solaire's face, but his silence told him his words were having an effect on him.
He had done so partially to amuse himself, but his statement had not been without sense or pertinence. A part of him was also intrigued to witness Solaire's reaction once Oscar returned, if he did at all.
Had Lautrec stirred Solaire enough towards doubt to make him realize he owed nothing to Oscar, and that maybe a duel to the death was the correct choice after all?
He sure hoped so. It had been a long while since he had witnessed rightful bloodshed between knights, and the many poor bastards he had killed before did not count.
For once, Lautrec wished to be a mere spectator rather than a participant. Oscar and Solaire were skilled knights. A fight between them was bound to be savagely entertaining.
Lady Fina hugged Lautrec's chest. She too was interested in witnessing the encounter.
Lautrec would not allow her curiosity to remain unsatisfied.
Solaire was already in his hands. All Lautrec needed was to give a small push more and—
"He has been kind to me." Solaire said to Lautrec, softly, almost like a whisper.
"I'm sorry?"
"Oscar." Solaire lifted his head and took off his helmet. His hair, now tied into a tidy ponytail, gave him the appearance of a court knight. "He has showed me kindness... and I should not forget it, no matter how angry I am at him. But it is difficult for me, you know? I have been angry at many people before in my life. The commoners that always took me for a fool, the elite knights that mocked me and even endangered my life just for their amusement, my own family that never had any hopes for me; all of them I have forgiven. But I cannot do the same for Oscar. And I don't know why."
Lautrec remained with his mouth agape. He was not used to being the receptor of heartfelt confessions, and not once in his life he had been expected or asked to offer advice or comfort to a fellow knight.
Stunned momentarily by the position Solaire had put him in, Lautrec decided to refuse to play the role.
"Why are you telling me all this?" Lautrec shrugged, folding his arms on his chest. "I'm not a pardoner, Solaire. If you want answers, then talk to Oscar. Ah, and speaking of the devil."
Lautrec nodded, and Solaire promptly turned around to meet the freshly arrived Oscar.
For a moment, Lautrec thought Solaire would welcome Oscar with a bone-crushing embrace, but to his surprise, Solaire simply acknowledged him with a cold 'There you are'.
Oscar replied in the same manner by uttering a dry 'Sorry I took so long'.
After that exchange, they both remained silent, leaving Lautrec trapped again in the middle of their unresolved conflict.
He was about to break the tension again with another of his suggestions of how they could resolve their differences for good when Oscar spoke first.
"We can be on our way now, but just give me a moment. I want to talk to the fire keeper first."
"Why are you two so obsessed with the fire keeper?" Lautrec asked with an arched eyebrow. "I know Astorans always fancy each other, but this is ridiculous."
"The fire keeper is Astoran?" Solaire asked, his eyes wide with incredulity.
"As far as her appearance tells me, she is. Then again, what do I know? I'm just a knight of Carim."
"Regardless, I would want a moment to speak with her." Oscar said, already on his way to the stairs. "I won't be long."
"You will, but still, we'll wait for you here." Lautrec replied with a sneer and a dismissive wave of his hand. "Go on, we wouldn't want to waste the precious time of an elite knight as yourself."
Oscar had visibly winced at the comment, but it was only for a second, and he continued his way before Solaire or Lautrec could say anything more.
"There's no need for any of that, Lautrec." Solaire said as soon as Oscar was out of sight. "Oscar does not deserve your disdain."
"Not disdain, just some knightly mocking, to relieve the stress and ease the tension. It's not as if this treatment was new to him. From my experience, Astoran elite knights are masters of this art. You know it as well as I, don't you Solaire? After all, you said so yourself."
Solaire opened his mouth, but he couldn't reply.
Not at first.
"But Oscar—"
"Is he different? Really? Are you sure of that?"
Those three questions finally shut him up for good.
Lautrec pretend to close his eyes as he rested his back against a stone column, but he peeked at Solaire from the slit of his eyelids.
A distressed elite knight and a resentful Warrior of Sunlight. Such fight would be one worthy of songs and poems! That's definitely a duel I would not want to miss, and it would also be so worthy of you, don't you agree, my lady?
Fina showed her approval by sending him a wave of warmth that made him feel alive.
Of course, the fight would be only the prologue. Your real gift shall be their souls and Humanities, freshly ripped from their corpses. Would that satisfy you, my dear lady? I know how fond you are of Astorans and their dark essences.
Fina pressed her lips on his ear, and with a whisper, she gave him her answer.
Oscar knelt in front of the fire keeper's cell. A small smile formed on his lips as he glanced at Solaire's gift.
A broken Estus flask was hardly a practical gift, but for an Undead to give away one of the most important items they could own gave the gesture a special worth.
His mind traveled back to the Asylum, at the moment where he had gifted his own Estus flask to the Chosen Undead.
He had been so broken, both of body and mind.
The memory, while precious to him, was difficult to endure for too long, and so Oscar dispersed it from his mind.
"My—"
He halted.
The fire keeper did not deserve to listen to his awful voice. And in case she lifted her head and looked at him, she did not deserve to gaze at his corrupted face.
Oscar made sure neither Lautrec or Solaire were nearby, and with great effort, he took off his gauntlet and put the ring of illusion on his finger.
Then, he crossed an arm across his chest and bowed his head.
"My lady."
His normal voice sickened him, but it was the only way to keep the fire keeper unafraid of him.
The woman did not respond at all.
Oscar hadn't expected her to.
He continued, with as much respect and tact as he could offer her.
"I know my words are of little comfort, but please, be assured that Solaire and I are not ignorant of the sacrifices you make to keep the bonfire's flame burning strong. "
A small pause filled with silence.
"When I first arrived here, I was closer to the doors of death than the gates of life. Solaire took care of me, he helped me heal my wounds. It was thanks to him and the Estus you provide that I'm still alive. Yet, we were not kind to you. We've extracted so much Estus from the bonfire, and not once did we think of you. We... I was so focused on my own pain and misery, that I never considered thanking you. Solaire did, for he is a better man than me; but now, I am here before you to make up for my selfishness."
The fire keeper still said nothing.
Oscar lifted his eyes and looked at her. He looked away almost instantly, unable to endure the painful image of the trapped and unresponsive woman.
"Thank you."
There was nothing else he could say.
He stared at Solaire's gift again and thought of taking it with him before the fire keeper saw it, but his body froze just as he was about to reach it.
Had it been too harsh of him to think the fire keeper would be offended by such an innocent and well-intentioned present?
Didn't she deserve small glimpses of kindness as well?
Oscar kept on pondering, his hand retreating to the floor, away from the gift. Gently, it traveled to the coiled sword on his belt.
He removed the broken weapon and stared at it.
Then, he softly laid it down next to the handkerchief.
He felt like a tactless fool.
What kind of knight presented a weapon to a woman?
Perhaps if it had been well kept, adorned with precious gems and shining bright with recent polishing, it could have passed for a decent gift, but the coiled sword was a scorched and broken piece of metal, unpleasant and unimpressive to the eye.
Still, it was mystical in origin, and for any Undead, it was a symbol of hope and rest. Together with the bonfires, it represented the closest thing they had for a home in Lordran.
Oscar put his hand above the weapon one last time, and for a moment, he regretted even considering giving it away.
Chosen Undead.
They had caused him great damage with the weapon, leaving him with a wound that had tormented him for too long and a scar that had never truly healed.
But they had also saved his life with it, and the sword had proved to be a faithful weapon to its wielder, always keeping Oscar alive during his battles.
It was not a shabby or meaningless present.
Not at all.
"I must be on my way now. But when we get back, we'll make sure to come see you again." Oscar said softly. "Be well, my lady. And thank you, for everything."
Oscar put on his helmet and removed the ring. Then, he returned to the bonfire, feeling a soothing comfort in his chest, not strong enough to make him believe everything would be alright, but it was bright enough to make him smile.
She waited until the knights were gone from Firelink Shrine before she dared to raise her eyes.
The gifts they had left for her were so close and so far away.
She bit her lower lip.
Had they found it amusing?
To treat her as if she was some lady of the court?
To leave gifts for her when she couldn't move to seize them?
To talk to her when she couldn't speak?
She was no stranger to the derision and indifference of the travelers that passed through Firelink Shrine.
Some openly mocked her with vulgar insinuations and gestures, others foolishly asked her for directions, others avoided her as if she was plagued with mortal disease, and a few more simply acted as if she was not there at the shrine at all.
But how long had it been since someone had truly spoken to her, even less make her gifts?
How cruel those knights had been.
To act towards her as if she was still a normal woman, as if her existence was not bound to a cursed fate.
They were heartless, evil, monstrous.
They—
Made me gifts.
Two slim threads of water streamed down her face, cleaning the skin of her cheeks from the dust and ash that always covered her.
They thanked me.
She let out a soundless whimper.
Before another manifested, she locked down her emotion before it overcome her.
She had no right to be moved.
She had no right to cry or to be the receiver of gratitude.
I am impure.
She had not the right or time to be victim of such sentiment.
The tears stopped, and she promised herself never again to let them flow.
With that, she continued her duty as a keeper of the fire.
But the memory of the knights never left, and the gifts they had left for her remained untouched outside her cell.