DARK SOULS
Champion of Fire
Author's Note: Hello, thanks for checking out my story! Please leave a review and a follow if you like it, as this is my first time writing fanfiction and with it being Dark Souls the lore is quite expansive and ambiguous so there may be things that happen that confuses you or you don't agree with. I'm open for discussing why in private messages. I've studied what feels like hundreds of hours of lore videos from Vaatividya, The Ashen Hollow, Silvermont, etc. as well as put over a thousand hours in all of the souls games so I feel like I'm pretty well versed in the lore but thinking you know it all is a fatal mistake I don't want to commit, so if you think I made a mistake, please tell me.
This story is meant to be my love letter to the souls series because of how much it means to me personally. The first Dark Souls engrossed me in a world where I fell in love with its rich cast of characters and seemingly endless supply of lore to speculate on. I wouldn't write this if I didn't respect the source material, and it's my goal to make this story feel like it could be canon, as I attempt to explain certain aspects of the lore that is still, to this day, unanswered.
That's enough of me rambling. I hope you enjoy. Again, please leave a review, even if you hate it, so I can learn and grow and hopefully make this story even better. Thank you.
Long Ago, in the Age of Fire, there was a grand tournament held by Lord Gwyn and his family. Every Lord from across the world, from Astora to Zena, gathered in the golden city of Oolacile where a great colosseum awaited the world's bravest warriors. For every Lord that arrived they brought with them an entourage of decorated knights and gluttonous nobles, adept sorcerers and weary scholars, and even desperate thieves and deadly assassins, all to compete for the title of Champion of Fire. One brave young man decides to enter this tournament in hopes of proving his worth to Lord Gwyn, and to himself.
1. Jolly Cooperation
The sun was shining bright today, casting golden rays down upon Darkroot valley, making it all seem less threatening and dangerous than it really was. A good sign, or so Solaire hoped as he walked down the dirt path between tall trees that whisper in the wind. He walks alone, sun shield strapped to his back and his sunlight straight sword resting in a simple sheath, yet despite being alone he hums a soft hymn under his breath, an Astoran favorite, it was a song sung whenever soldiers marched for battle. It was a lighthearted tune, full of hope and encouragement, though Solaire hardly remembered the lyrics, just the tune itself, and he hummed it with cheerful enthusiasm on this golden sunny morning.
He'd be arriving in Oolacile soon. The journey from Astora was long, with treacherous slopes up and down rocky mountains, a desert riddled with mighty wyrms, and a poisonous swamp that stretched on for miles, but with his sword and shield (and a little bit of luck) Solaire managed his way well enough. After-all, what sort of warrior would he be if the journey alone to this tournament upheld him? Surely not one worthy of the title Champion of Fire.
Upon the path Solaire finds footprints in the mud. Whoever they belonged to had much larger feet than him, and judging by the indents in the earth, they must be wearing some heavy, steel boots. Another warrior, mayhaps? Solaire chuckles at the thought. Perhaps he'd come across the owner of these footsteps up ahead and find out.
The Darkroot Garden held many dark mysteries hidden beneath the underbrush of its towering trees. Solaire couldn't see much in his vicinity, so he kept his ears sharp for the sound of approaching danger while his fingers danced along the hilt of his blade, poised to yank it out of its sheath at a moment's notice. Still, he hummed the wordless tune under his breath, his eyes darting left to right between the slit in his heaume, ever watchful for he'd heard tales of this wicked place. A forest enchanted, some say. Darkroot surrounds and protects Oolacile, and its inhabits are renown for having no mercy on tired travelers.
Then it happens, a raucous scream carried by the wind up ahead. This was the scream of a man in the throws of battle, a scream full of rage and apprehension. Solaire knew that scream all too well, having released his fair share of battle-cries throughout his life. Without hesitating, Solaire slides his sunlight straight sword from its rest and grips it between both hands tightly, charging forward up the winding path, craning his neck to try and see what might be waiting around the next bend of trees. He doesn't know what to expect.
Standing in the middle of the path is an onion knight. Solaire had heard of these warriors, but never before had he seen one for himself. Hailing from Catarina, these knights were well known for their obtuse, white, onion-shaped armor. This one wielded a mighty greatsword and a piercing shield. Whatever the onion knight was fighting, Solaire couldn't guess, for all he saw was the onion knight. When his rotund helm turns and the slit faces Solaire, the onion knight calls out, "Stop right there! It's not safe!"
Solaire listens and comes to a halt. He can hear branches snapping and leaves stirring somewhere in the forest around him. The onion knight lifts his greatsword with one hand alone and rests it on his shoulders, slowly edging his way closer to Solaire, muttering something under his breath that Solaire can't quite make out. "What is out there?" asks Solaire.
The onion knight answers, "The trees. They move as if with a spirit of their own. They may look innocent now, but I tell you, they nearly lopped off my head a moment ago. Best keep your wits about you." and even as he describes this, Solaire witnesses a grassy bush stir as if something was hiding amidst its brambles. "Ents, I think they call them. No matter. Now that there's two of us it would appear they've lost their nerve—"
No sooner do these words leave the onion knight's lips before the rustling intensifies and out from the earth springs three of them; their lanky bodies made of splintered branches that creak and groan with every movement, and they swing what appears to be thorned vines around like whips. Solaire and the onion knight step back, shields raised, and narrowly block their swift attacks.
"They're quick!" shouts Solaire with a burst of adrenaline and exhilaration. Behind his helm there was a bright smile on his face as he charged into the attacking ents, thrusting his sword, which catches the light of the sun on the edge of its blade before sinking into the brambles of the ent's torso. It screeches something inhuman in his face before collapsing to the ground, writhing and clutching the gaping wound in its trunk.
But it's not over, the other two had flanked his sides, attempting to grab him. Solaire would only be able to fend off one, so he swung his shield up left and clenched his jaw, bracing for impact. The ent on his left collides with his shield, thrashing behind it like a wild animal. He expects the other one to grab him, for he was unguarded on his right side—but the creature never made it to him, felled instead by one heavy swing of the onion knight's Zweihander.
The fight lasted less than a minute, and when it's over the three ents lay dead at the two men's feet, their prickled, leafy heads no longer attached to their trunk-like bodies. The onion knight lets out a sigh of relief, resting the giant greatsword atop his shoulder again. Solaire sheathes his own blade and nods to the knight. "Well done, sir... and I must say, praise the sun! That was quite something!"
"A good fight." nods the onion knight in agreement, "Though I fear they may have been too spry for me on my own. I thank you."
"Nonsense." chuckles Solaire, "You fought with the strength of ten men!"
"Hahahaha! Ah... You humble me, kind sir..."
"I'd certainly have your name, if it pleases you?" asks Solaire.
"I am Siegmeyer of Catarina."
"Solaire of Astora, a pleasure to meet your acquaintance!"
"The same to you! Hahaha!" The onion knight tilts his head back when he laughs, his deep voice muffled behind his round helm. When he lowers it to look Solaire in the eye, he asks, "Where does your journey take you, Solaire of Astora?"
"I suspect we share the same destination," Solaire answers honestly, "I've been following your footprints for a time now. We both seem to be heading for Oolacile, are we not? Why not travel together the rest of the way?"
"Mmm... Hmmm..." Siegmeyer considers the proposition for a few moments, much to Solaire's amusement, before answering thoughtfully, "That seems to be the best course of action under these circumstances. Why not? Tell me, I've never been to the land of Astora. What's it like?"
Solaire shares his memories of his homeland with the onion knight, recalling fondly on his childhood and all the different sweets and pastries found there, of the heralded brave knights and the vast school of craftsmanship where Solaire once thought he might attend to better his smithing skills, until the great dark beast that once threatened Astora, the Evil Eye, came to be, and how there was a great Warrior of Sunlight who felled the creature. "It was so inspiring, watching this knight, who came from nowhere to fell the Evil Eye and save Astora, that I just had to follow in his footsteps. The life of a knight is much more enthralling than one of a blacksmith, no? My, my, I'm sharing more than I thought I would. You're an easy man to talk to, Siegmeyer! Hahaha!"
The two men laugh together and continue their journey on foot through the Darkroot Garden, the winding forest path eventually giving way to an open valley overlooking a deep canyon, and built around the walls of this canyon is a city unlike any Solaire had ever seen.