Thanks for reading and to deityoftheuniverse for the review! I will try to speed up the pace a bit from now on!
He had not seen the crow since he'd arrived at Firelink Shrine. Its absence had seemed normal and irrelevant at first. Perhaps the bird had gone in search for more twigs, lint and cloth for its nest, so that its eggs would be safe and warm.
Oswald had thought so at first, calmly and rationally, as he always did; but it wasn't until he rested an ungloved hand on the smooth surface of one of the eggs and felt it cold that he realized the crow's absence was anything but trivial.
A knot began to form in the mouth of his stomach. He kept his worries at bay, and focused on trying to warm up the gelid eggs instead. His efforts were dutiful, but his results were mediocre at best.
At this rate, they'll rot and die. It seems I've got no choice but to sit on them myself.
Oswald thought, mortified at how growingly obvious it became he had no choice.
Hopefully no one will see me from up here. No, no… I'll think of something else. Where is a wayward pyromancer when you need one?
With a sigh, he removed his tunic and used it as a blanket to cover the eggs. It didn't cover them completely, but it was the best he could offer. He looked down at the shrine and caught a glance of the glowing bonfire.
It was a perfect option, but also one too risky for Oswald to choose. The least he wanted was for one of the eggs to crack on their way down to the bonfire. It was no that he doubted his agility, strength and reflexes, but he preferred not to take his chances.
He shivered as a cold blow of wind hit his chest, now clothed only with a thin chainmail and a linen shirt.
Oswald looked into the distance.
There was still no sign of the crow.
He shook his head disapprovingly and clicked his tongue.
"What a careless mother you are. Honestly, only a crow would ever be able to reduce a pardoner to a vulgar babysitter! I just hope this is more amusing for you than it is for me."
Oswald began rubbing the eggs; eventually, he did sit on them. He stayed there, his mind lost in thought and his body shivering with cold until the toll of a distant bell shook him from his duty.
Oswald sprang back to his feet and listened to the bell's song until its echoes vanished completely from Firelink Shrine.
He smiled.
Oscar and Solaire had succeeded.
Oh, Astorans. Always so committed, always so stubborn.
It took longer than he'd expected, but the primordial serpent at last emerged from the now dried up ruins just below the crow's nest.
And so very naïve.
Oswald swallowed a loud laughter, if only to keep the serpent unaware of his presence. From up the ruins, Oswald stared at the creature.
Its pungent smell spread across the shrine like a mist. It was overbearing, but also nostalgic in a way that would have brought a tear to Oswald's eye if he was a more sentimental man.
The serpent waited in silence at first. Eventually, tired of being unacknowledged, he began calling for the Undead that had awoken him, or any Undead nearby who was willing to answer to his call. When no one did, the serpent fell asleep.
Typical of Frampt.
He had always been such a lazy critter. Yet, Oswald would be lying if he said he wasn't intrigued about Oscar's and Solaire's absence.
Though they were not what Oswald would call ideal knights, with Solaire being burdened with a hindering naivety and Oscar trapped in a half-Hollowed state, they still had seemed determined and strong enough.
Why had they not returned to Firelink Shrine, then?
Did they not know that was what they were meant to do? Or had they gotten lost on their way back to the shrine?
Or perhaps, they had gone Hollow and they would never return?
What an awful fate that would be, for both of you to lose hope just when you were starting to succeed in your foolish quest.
Oswald thought. From his chest, a faint chuckle emerged.
Typical of Astorans.
His reminiscence proved to be prophetic. Slowly and with a curious pace to his gait, Oscar appeared in Firelink Shrine.
He was alone and lacked his former equipment. Even from the distance, Oswald could distinguish his attire well. He was clad only with common clothes, a bit too big for him, and a light chainmail draped over them. The sword that hung from his belt was well-crafted, but it lacked the elegance of his previous weapon.
Such attire was nothing like the sophisticated, if damaged and dirty, armor he had worn before.
More than an elite knight of Astora, he looked like an ill-equipped squire.
You lost your equipment in your battle with that Daughter of Chaos, did you not?
Oswald thought, not feeling half as amused as he he'd thought he would. Had Oscar and Solaire killed her, or had they merely escaped her and made their way to the second bell?
If they had ended Quelaag's life, it was Oswald's duty to free their sentimental hearts from any lingering guilt, for her demise was not a sin at all.
Solaire would obviously be the one most affected by it, if he was still alive and he hadn't Hollowed already, but Oswald knew Oscar would not be above sharing the baseless regrets of his friend.
"I suppose I better go to him and ease his mind before guilt consumes him." Oswald said as he removed his tunic from the eggs and put it back on. "Forgive me, little ones. I'll be back as soon as I'm done with these Astoran's confessions. Do not be afraid, I'm sure your mother will return in no time."
Oswald gazed into the distance again, and saw nothing but an endless grey sky.
Before he could process the undeniable fate of the bird, a piercing and dreadful scream reached his ears and made him gasp. It was the destroyed and abominable voice of an Undead already consumed by the curse to a great extent.
A half-Hollow.
Oswald looked down at the ruins where Frampt slept. Right at the entrance, there was Oscar.
He had fallen on his back and was covering his face with both arms. He screamed as if the mere sight of Frampt frightened him beyond belief. Peacefully, Frampt kept snoring, unaware that his presence was causing the same man who had awoken him to have a breakdown.
Oswald was baffled.
Granted, Frampt was not what he would call pleasant to the eye, but neither would he cause a knight to cower in fear like a child.
Oswald quickly began to make his way down to the ruins. He had to get there before Oscar lost his mind to fear.
You are brittle, Oscar of Astora. But you've also proven to be capable and useful in ways you don't imagine. You will not go Hollow, at least not yet. I'll make sure of that.
It was Griggs who snapped Oscar out of his trance. The sorcerer was not particularly physically strong, but the slap he gave Oscar left the not-Hollowed half of his face swollen and reddened.
It hurt, but it was that same pain that cleared Oscar's mind and senses.
"I'm sorry for hitting you." Griggs told him. He was kneeling in front of Oscar. "But I didn't know what else I could do."
Oscar, with his back resting against a destroyed stone wall, breathed heavily. His body was shaking, and his shirt was glued to his chest and back with cold sweat.
"Are you alright?" Griggs asked. His tone was aloof but not unkind.
Oscar rested a hand on his forehead and closed his eyes. He tried to regain his composure, but the image of the serpent was branded in his mind.
What was it doing in Firelink Shrine?
How had it gotten there?
Had it followed him?
All those question plagued his heart, but perhaps what he dreaded most was the potential appearance of the Chosen Undead. If that monster was there, then so were them. For all Oscar knew, the Undead could be watching him from afar at that very moment.
Perhaps they were hiding somewhere, and they would not hesitate to drag him into that creature's mouth at the first opportunity they got.
"I can't let that happen." Oscar said out loud, causing Griggs to lift an eyebrow.
"I'm sorry?"
"They can't take me back to that abyss." Oscar grabbed the sorcerer by the shoulders. "They can't!"
Griggs stared at him with a confused and worried look in his eyes.
"I'm going to say this only once." The voice of the newcomer snapped both Oscar and Griggs from their growing tension. They looked at the stranger at the same time.
Oscar recognized the man clad in black the second he laid his eyes on him.
Oswald.
The pardoner from Carim, unlike the last time, did not have the look of a defenseless old man. He wielded an unsheathed silver rapier on his hand. The blade, thin and sharp, reflected the dim sunlight like a mirror.
The weapon was aimed directly at Griggs. The sorcerer did not move, but his gaze sharpened and his muscles tensed underneath Oscar's hands.
"Step away from that man." Oswald said. He spoke with a tone so casual that, more than threat, his order sounded like a humble petition. "Now, sorcerer."
"Oswald." Oscar stuttered. "Don't! This man means no harm, he is my friend."
While it wasn't a lie, Oscar's statement wasn't completely true either. Griggs was little more than a stranger to him, and he hadn't treated him kindly back when they had first met at the Undead slums.
Lautrec had almost perished by Griggs' hands.
Oscar had been extremely suspicious of Griggs since then, even after the sorcerer had stated he had only attacked Lautrec in self-defense. Oscar had believed him, but he still had remained skeptical about the sorcerer's true intentions.
Solaire had not approved of such attitude, and Oscar could only imagine how unreasonable and threating his behavior had felt for Griggs. Thankfully, the sorcerer didn't seem to resent him too much for their less than ideal first meeting.
Griggs had dragged him away from the ruins where the serpent slept, after all, and he had stayed by his side, trying to calm him down and free him from his panic attack.
We are not friends.
Oscar thought, his heart and soul finally starting to calm down.
But neither are we enemies.
He stood up. His knees still trembled, but they managed to endure his weight; carefully, Oscar put himself between Griggs and Oswald.
"There's no need for any this, pardoner." He said, wishing that Griggs would stay behind him. "I apologize if my screams made you think this man was attacking me. That is not the case. I merely..."
Oscar swallowed and took a deep breath. The lingering stench of the serpent almost made him gag and it came close to reducing him to a trembling mess again. Oscar raised above his fear and kept it hidden as well as he could from Oswald.
"The sight of the serpent took me off guard." It was the only explanation Oscar would give to the pardoner.
What had happened between him and the Chosen Undead was not something he was willing to share with anybody.
It was more than a deeply personal experience that had left scars that hadn't healed yet; it was also an incident that could make others think he had gone completely mad.
How was he supposed to explain it without sounding like a raving lunatic?
Even now, it was difficult even to Oscar to believe all of it had happened.
But it had, and the ghost sensation of the Chosen Undead's hand pressing against his Darksign and the reopened wound they had left on his belly were proof of it.
No, what had happened in that dark pit was something he would always keep to himself. Maybe, in time, he would share it with Solaire, but not until his friend's body and heart were fully recovered.
And that, Oscar knew, could take a long time.
Solaire.
He straightened his back and steeled his spirit.
"I overreacted." Oscar admitted, his destroyed voice at last regaining some shade of confidence. "It was shameful of me."
"Indeed it was." Oswald agreed, slightly lowering his rapier but without taking his eyes off Griggs. "Such reaction was proper of a child that screams for his parents after a nightmare, not from one of Astora's supposed best! Your people have always been known for being overly sentimental, but you'd do well to remember that, as a knight, you've got to be above these undignified reactions, Oscar. Take this not as a scolding, but as a kindly reminder from a concerned pardoner."
"Of course." Oscar said, humbly vowing his head to Oswald. A part of him hated that both the pardoner and Griggs thought of him as a brittle coward.
It was a vain and senseless resentment, one Oscar had not the time to dwell on.
"Thank you for your wise words, pardoner Oswald."
"There's nothing to be thankful for. It is my duty to ease the minds of others from their burdens, after all."
"I'm aware of that. You've helped me and Solaire a lot when you gave us the chance to confess our sins to you… but I'm afraid we are in dire need of your aid again."
"Say no more! It would be an honor to offer my services to the Chosen Undead and that brave Warrior of Sunlight once more."
Oscar flinched at the sound of that title. As if sensing his shock, Oswald dedicated him a comforting smile.
"You rang the second Bell, didn't you? You are no longer only Oscar of Astora, the elite knight. You are the Chosen Undead."
"Enough." Oscar interrupted, uncaring if he sounded rude or impertinent. "None of that matters."
He looked at the pardoner, who stared at him incredulously.
"Solaire is cursed." Oscar said. He was exhausted, and every second he wasted at the shrine was a second Solaire spent in pain. "And so is another friend of mine, a knight of Catarina. They got infected by the abominations of Blighttown. I do not know how to heal them. Please, pardoner Oswald, we need your help."
"How serious are they curses?"
Oscar almost jumped when Griggs' voice came from behind him. He looked over his shoulder and saw that Griggs was back on his feet. Oscar had forgotten about him, and he had not listened to his movements at all.
The solemn and undisturbed expression of the Vinheimer had a semblance not of concern, but of curiosity.
"Very." Oscar replied.
"Interesting."
Oscar tensed his jaw, resenting Griggs for his cold fascination with the sickness of his friends.
Then, he returned his attention to Oswald, "I beg of you, … do all that you can to save them from their ailments."
Solemnly, as if he was in the presence of a king, Oscar knelt on one knee and rested a fist on the ash-covered ground of the shrine. He bowed his head until his chin touched his chest, "Please."
With the corner of his eye, Oscar caught a glance of the glowing prism stones he had buried near the bonfire, just before he and Solaire left Firelink Shrine together for the first time.
Oscar felt a sting in his chest and clenched his eyes shut.
"I understand your predicament, young knight, and my heart goes to both Solaire and Siegmeyer. Yes, I know the knight of Catarina you speak of. We came across each other as he was exploring the old church. I offered him my services for a small fee, but rather than sins, all he shared with me were Estus recipes and a few stories about his beloved daughter."
Oswald chuckled. It was the first time Oscar heard a genuine laugh from the pardoner.
"Perhaps Siegmeyer I could help, but I can't say the same about Solaire." Oswald stated. Oscar felt as if he had stabbed him in the gut with his rapier. "Though the implication that you thought I could help them with their curses just because I hail from Carim is obvious, as well as insulting, it is also accurate. However, I doubt my methods would be accepted by your loyal Warrior of Sunlight. Look at you; he didn't even let you keep your ring of illusion, did he? By the goddesses, I can only imagine the sermon he gave you once he found out about it! What makes you think Solaire would accept my healing, Oscar?"
Oscar touched the Hollowed half of his face. The corrupted skin had spread further, if only slightly.
"It was my decision not to use that ring anymore, not Solaire's."
"Of course, and I'm sure he had no influence on that decision whatsoever."
Oswald laughed. For a second, Oscar remembered Lautrec. He wondered if all the men of Carim shared the same condescending and mocking laughter.
Oscar furrowed his brow and kept a respectful silence, but his face was red and burning.
"Come, get back on your feet and hold your head high, Oscar of Astora." Oswald said, finally sheathing his rapier. "You do not need to beg for my assistance. Do not misunderstand my words; I'm not unwilling to help Solaire, I just want to make sure you know that the chances of him allowing me to heal him using my own methods are very low. I do not wish to be held accountable for his death and potential Hollowing if the worst comes to pass."
"I spoke with Solaire. He is aware of the methods your help implies." Oscar put a hand on the wound on his belly. Kneeling down had caused the pain to become sharper. "He is willing to go through with it regardless."
Again, it was a statement that was only partially true. Solaire had not explicitly agreed to accept a cursed stone or any similar methods Oswald could offer him, but neither he had expressed any complaints.
During their whole conversation, one where Oscar and Andre had tried to persuade Solaire to not confess to Oswald anything about what had happened to the fire keeper and her servants back in Blighttown, Solaire had remained quiet and sullen, and he had not dared to look at Oscar in the eye.
"I know the pain this causes you." Oscar had told him, resting a sympathetic hand above Solaire's heart. "But Oswald must not know. Do you understand, Solaire?"
Solaire had answered only by turning his head and fixing his sad and hazy eyes on a wall.
Oscar had been left with no choice than to trust in Solaire's good judgement. Yet, he was prepared to react in case things went awry, and so was Andre.
Oscar would not allow any harm to come to Solaire.
He only wished such scenario would never come to pass.
"Oh, so you managed to talk sense into a Warrior of Sunlight?" Oswald inquired with feign amazement. "That's quite a feat! Well, if that's the case, let us be on our way then. Take me to these poor souls, Chosen Undead— I mean, Oscar. Forgive me, I forgot you are not used to your rightful title yet."
Oscar clenched his fists.
"Thank you." He said to the pardoner humbly. The only thing greater than his anger was his need to leave Firelink Shrine.
Once, it had been a place of relative peace, a sanctuary of rest and comfort; but the serpent, that awful monster, had transformed it into an eternal reminder of an experience Oscar wished he could forget.
To him, Firelink Shrine was now a place no different than the Depths or the Undead Asylum.
"Let's go."
"Wait." Griggs interrupted Oscar just before he took a step forward. "I'll go with you."
"What?" Oscar turned around and faced the sorcerer. Griggs' face, always so calm and unexpressive, gave Oscar no hint of his intentions. "Why?"
"I thought the reason was obvious." Griggs answered, holding his magic staff with both hands. "I'm curious about their curses, and I would like to see for myself the effects they can have on an Undead. That's my main reason, Oscar… but I would also like to help in Solaire's and that knight of Catarina's healing in any way I can. Just because my purpose is mostly scholarly, it doesn't mean I do not care about the suffering of others. Besides, Solaire was kind to me when we first met; he healed me with a miracle, and he convinced you to allow me to retrieve my magic staff back when we met at the slums. I want to help him, it's the least I can do."
"A sorcerer from the Dragon School, willing to do something selfless just out of the kindness of his heart?" Oswald commented from behind Oscar. "Forgive my skepticism, but I find that hard to believe. Please, pay this sorcerer no mind, Oscar. The least we need is him lurking nearby while I'm trying to heal Solaire and Siegmeyer. Who knows what he'll try to do if we drop our guard."
"I also want to be there to protect you and Solaire, Oscar." Griggs said softly, without paying attention to Oswald. "You know what they say, one can never be too cautious when in the presence of a Carim-born."
"Repeating the vulgar sayings of the mob like a parrot? I must say I expected more from a pupil of the Dragon School."
"Oh dear, not at all! It is not a vulgar saying, mister pardoner." Griggs said, dedicating a polite smile to Oswald. Gently, he traced a finger on the deep scar Lautrec's dagger had left on his cheek. "It is a truth confirmed by years of evidence and experience."
Oswald's expression darkened. It was only for a second, but it was enough for Oscar to grow fearful of how the pardoner would react if Solaire confessed everything to him.
His decision of seeking out the pardoner's help no longer seemed so intelligent or prudent.
Solaire, please be mindful of your words.
Oscar thought as Oswald, now back to his care-free self, claimed that Griggs could do as he wished, but that if he tried anything, he would pay the consequences.
Griggs agreed.
Knowing well he couldn't stop Griggs from following them, Oscar accepted the sorcerer's help with a bitter silence and a frown. With that, the three men left Firelink Shrine.
Solaire, please harden your heart and silence your conscience.
The loud snoring of the sleeping serpent resonated like a blow of stormy wind behind them.
Just this once, my friend.
"This is a good mare. She knows the way to the city; she'll take you there on her own. Once you reach the house of a lord, make sure to give this letter directly to him. If you can't, then make sure his servants hand it to him, and don't forget to gift the mare to your new lord as a sign of your gratitude. Do not leave his doorstep until he has accepted you under his care. If he doesn't, then take back the letter and try again in another household. Do this as many times as it takes until someone takes you in as a page. Do you understand?"
He hadn't understood, he still didn't.
He remembered that day. It was the day when life had first given him a taste of reality.
He was riding an old mare. He was crying, but his father was unmoved by his tears.
His father then grabbed his chin. At first, he thought his father would comfort him, perhaps even ask him to stay.
The boy didn't know what he had done wrong.
How had he failed?
Why were they sending him away?
He wanted to ask his father.
Was he too loud when he spoke?
Was he not as fast as the other children when it came to learning his letters and numbers?
Did he eat too much and left little for his parents?
Did he cut the vegetables in chunks too big when he cooked with his mother?
Was he too brusque when he helped his father plough the land?
If he was, then he would be better. He would change. He would be useful and helpful. He would justify his presence in their house. He wouldn't be annoying or clumsy anymore. Whatever he had done wrong, he would make up for it.
The boy drew breath to speak, but his lungs turned tight and cold when his father's fingers roughly twisted against his skin.
"Don't think about coming back." His father stated menacingly, as if he was talking to a thief and not his son. "If you do, I'll send you on your way again. This is no longer your home. Do you understand?"
The boy's only answer was a drowned sob.
"Do you understand?" His father insisted without mercy. He was crying too. His fingers started to bruise his son. "Answer me! There's nothing we can offer you anymore. You are seven, you are a man now. You must make your own way in the world from now on. If you come back, no one here will welcome you. Not me, nor your mother. Do you understand? Answer, idiot boy. Answer!"
"I don't!" His screams stopped being senseless howls and became words. "I don't!"
"Keep him still! And bring us more water!"
"What is this? This curse… it's like none I've read about before."
"Focus, sorcerer. You can woolgather all you want once were are done here. We need to reduce the toxins and the accumulated curse as much as we can!"
"Here's the water! Solaire! It's alright, my friend, I'm here! Siegmeyer, help me keep Solaire still!"
"No, Oscar. Let Andre be the one who does it. You and Siegmeyer are not strong enough to keep Solaire under control."
"I can't just stay here and do nothing!"
"Neither can I! A knight of Catarina will never—"
"There's not time for any of that nonsense. If you are so eager to help, then stop being a nuisance and try to keep Solaire's legs on the floor. Hurry!"
The whirlwind of voices made no sense to Solaire. They were empty sounds without a meaning, just a chaotic chorus that deprived him of peace.
Who were they?
Where was he?
What were they doing to him?
It hurt. It was as if his face was being branded with red-hot irons and prickled with poisoned needles. His head pounded with a splitting migraine, his forehead and cheeks burned as if his skin had been torn asunder, leaving his crimson and bloody muscles exposed to the air.
Then—
Then he was a child again.
His father was tying his hands to the riding chair's cantle with an old rope, to prevent him from trying to get down the mare.
"Don't worry, someone at the city will help you untie this knot. If you are lucky, it'll be your new lord."
His father then slapped the mare's behind, setting the animal in motion. As the mare took him away, a woman screamed a name.
His name.
His name was—
He didn't remember. It was hazy, only a fading echo, suddenly lost, just like the faces of his parents.
Why?
Why he couldn't remember?
What had taken them away from him?
"Mother!" Solaire and the boy of his memories screamed at the same time. "Mother!"
"Solaire? Solaire!"
"Calm down, Oscar. You'll help no one if you panic now; Solaire is still alive, and it's all thanks to that cursed stone inside his body. It seems your friend was not above using the methods of Carim, after all."
"What are you talking about? Solaire never consumed a cursed stone. He—"
"Oh, but he did, even if he never told you about it. It looks like your friend isn't the saint he made you believe he was. In any case, I think he'll not be needing one of my cursed stones after all."
"Don't try to trick me, Oswald. Give that stone to Solaire! I'll find a way to repay you for it, I'll do anything! Just don't let him go Hollow. Please, I can't lose him, not him too!"
"What a low opinion you must have of me, for you to think I'd try to deceive in such manner! It seems the prejudices of this sorcerer spread faster among all of you than the infected breath of a basilisk. Yes… do not think I am not aware of your distrustful glares too, blacksmith. If that's the case, then maybe I shouldn't be here at all."
"Then leave, you are not needed here. It's obvious you've already done all you can. Farewell, pardoner. Don't worry, Oscar, I know sorceries that'll heal Solaire's wounds and curse better than some cheap trinkets of Carim could. The worst has already passed; all we need to do now is—"
"Sorceries that Vinheim surely earned with blood and deceit. Cunning arts that you must be familiar with. Am I not right, pupil of the Dragon School? Or should I call you assassin?"
The voices around him stopped and were replaced by the sound of clashing metal.
"Griggs, no!"
Solaire heard the chaos unfolding around him, but he wasn't fully aware of it.
That reality, though more tangible, felt less relevant than the world of his memories and dreams.
"Father?" Solaire asked, feeling how someone pulled him closer to him and swiftly dragged him away from the conflict.
No.
Solaire knew who was that man.
The others had pronounced his name various times.
He was not a stranger at all.
"Oscar?"
The other man replied by holding his hand.
Solaire closed his eyes. When he opened them again, his sight was clearer, as was his mind.
The first memory that broke through his delirium were two words Oscar had told him back in Blighttown.
Solaire repeated them out loud.
"My brother."
Was the Warrior of Sunlight cursed?
Anastacia stared at the Estus flask shards that knight had gifted to her. Slowly, she lay her hand on them. The soft crystals were smooth against her palm.
What a silly gift it had been, and useless too.
But she treasured it. Even if she had no use for it, the broken flask was not only the first evidence of gratitude she had received for her duty as fire keeper, it was also the first gift she had received in her life.
Bring him to me. Perhaps I could help.
Anastacia thought, dragging herself towards the metal bars at the entrance of the cave. Her legs were useless and her arms were weak.
Her movements were slow and clumsy.
I'm weak. I'm impure, but if I can do something... anything, please let me try. Please, knight of Astora.
Her voiceless mouth moved at the same pace as her thoughts, but the only sounds she produced were pathetic and meaningless whimpers.
It felt like ages before she reached the blocked entrance of her sanctuary. Her face and clothes were covered with dirt and ashes, more so than usual.
Struggling to catch her breath, Anastacia held the bars and pressed her forehead against them. She closed her eyes and focused, but the only thing she heard were the deep snores of a creature.
Of the knight and the other men there was no sign.
Anastacia opened her eyes again.
She was a fool.
What made her think she would have been able to do anything even if the knight had heard to her soundless call?
Her only duty was to keep the shrine's bonfire alive. That was the only motive that gave purpose to her existence, that was the sole reason she had been allowed to exist despite her impure nature.
Stupid.
Anastacia fiercely wiped away her foolish tears.
I'm so stupid.
Her frustration burned inside her like a strong flow of Humanity. She dwelled on it, getting drunk with her own self-pity, until the sound of metallic steps came from the nearby stairs.
Anastacia felt her heart sink to her stomach. It was not an unpleasant sensation.
Elite knight?
Had he somewhat sensed her distress?
Had he felt her call and had returned to her?
But the figure that emerged from the stairs and stood in front of her cell was not that man she thought he was.
He was a knight too. He had sat in front of her cell for a long while, just staring at her from underneath his golden helmet; but now, his helmet was gone, and the cuirass of his armor was stained with filth and broken, as if a giant maze had hit him in the chest.
It was the first time Anastacia could look at the eyes that had so intensely gazed at her from the other side of her cell. It was also then that she realized that her intuition had been correct, and that the eyes of the golden knight were not kind or gentle, but a menacing glare.
"You were waiting for me."
The knight said with a soft smile. He knelt in front of Anastacia and gently rested his armored hand on hers.
"Were you not?"
Anastacia gave the knight a silent answer.