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The first time he'd been there, Siegmeyer had other priorities in mind. It had been his duty to fetch some water for his friends; he hadn't allowed nearby monsters to distract him, not even if the challenge they offered was beyond tempting.
Everything was different now. Solaire and Oscar were no longer in danger; their wounds had healed and they had carried on with their journey.
They no longer needed Siegmeyer's protection. In return, Siegmeyer no longer had a reason to spare the lives of the enemies that lurked deep inside Darkroot's basin.
One by one, they perished by his sword.
The golems died first. Their crystal bodies were hard as stone, their movements were slow but destructive enough to leave a deep dents on Siegmeyer's armor in the few occasions he failed to dodge their attacks.
One by one, the golems fell.
Their dismembered limbs lay scattered around their corpses like pieces of broken glass. For Siegmeyer, it was an empty victory. There was no pride or honor to be found in the defeat of such unworthy opponents.
They had never been his true objective. They had merely gotten in his way to his real opponent, one that would allow him to recover the honor the knight of Carim had taken from him.
I failed not only my comrades.
Siegmeyer put his helmet back on after swallowing a small dose of Estus. His injuries were minimal, as was his exhaustion, but the monster waiting for him in the deep end of the lake would require him to be at his absolute best.
I failed myself.
A reptilian stench filled his nostrils. The soft crunch of broken crystals accompanied his every step. His Zweihander rested on his shoulder, its silver edges sharp and deadly.
Sensing Siegmeyer's intrusion into its domain, the monster emerged from its underwater sanctuary, the same way it had done the first time Siegmeyer had approached the lake.
Seven scaly heads broke the lake's surface like mountains being born from the ground after a cataclysmic earthquake.
Seven pairs of emotionless reptilian eyes fell on Siegmeyer all at once. They were yellow and sharp, just like the set of fangs that adorned the gaping maws of each head.
The roar the hydra let out rang deep in Siegmeyer's ears.
It resonated across the basin like a chorus sung by a demon.
A faint semblance of fear began to brew inside Siegmeyer's heart. He silenced it by reminding himself of what was at stake.
His pride, his worth.
His purpose.
I alone will slay this beast. Against all odds, Siegmeyer of Catarina shall come out victorious!
The hydra lunged its heads at him, eager to tear his body into pieces and fed on his minced flesh.
And thus, amidst splashing water and strikes of metal against hardened scales, their fated battle began at last.
Astorans.
The blond hair and blue eyes gave away their place of origin. Those were common features among people of Thorolund too, but these two men were knights, not clerics. Therefore, Astora was the most likely choice.
One of them, the elite knight, was half-Hollow. Logan had become aware of the knight's decayed state long before the knight approached him and begged for his help. His horribly distorted voice was too telling.
There was someone else with them.
Quiet, wary, clad in black robes, masked. A pardoner from Carim.
Logan sensed no ill intent from the man towards the knights, his apprentice or himself. If the pardoner's purpose was to harm them, he would have done it long ago. The chances the pardoner would become hostile against them now were minimal.
And if he did, the solution was simple.
Logan would dispose of him.
After his surroundings and the strangers had all been identified, Logan relaxed.
His mind was finally at ease, free to focus on helping the Astorans with their plight.
Normally, Logan would have ignored their plea by pretending to be deaf, but the knights seemed to be on good terms with his apprentice Griggs, and for all Logan knew, it was thanks to them he had been found in the first place.
A little favour was the least Logan could do for them in return.
Without bothering to answer the elite knight's questions about what was wrong with his friend, Logan knelt beside the convulsing knight.
Cursed. A basilisk, but there's something else, another curse. What other creature caused this? Those scars on his face. Related? Yes, yes.
As his mind raced with a restless train of thought that disconnected him from the world, Logan stretched a hand towards Griggs. Not once did he reveal his face to his apprentice or took his eyes off the cursed knight.
Griggs, always dutiful and perceptive, handed his catalyst to Logan.
Ah, the same I gifted to him years ago. He kept it. A needless sentimentality. He should have forged a more powerful catalyst for himself by now. I thought he'd know better. Smart but still young ; he'll grow out of it.
The elite knight had finally fallen silent. The pardoner had taken him away to prevent him from further distracting Logan with his endless questions.
Sensible and timely. This pardoner is a wise man.
The elite knight remained anguished. It was dangerous for a half-Hollow to be so distressed, even more so if he was Astoran.
Astorans. Sentimental and wistful. Camaraderie and companionship are deeply valued in their culture. They're quick to trust and become fond of blame these traits on the amount of Humanity they carry inside their souls. This connection is only a theory, not proven. Has given place to many misconceptions and prejudices.
Logan closed his eyes and channeled his magic. The ethereal force flowed from his body to the catalyst in his hands. At that moment, nothing existed for Logan other than himself and the spell he was casting.
Whether their sensitivity and their overflowing Humanity are linked to each other or not is a purposeless academic debate. Humanity in Astorans is abundant, that is a verified truth. How it can be used, the way in which Astorans or others can manipulate it…. These are the questions that matter!
The spell embedded Logan and the knight in a grey mist.
"Master!" Griggs exclaimed. He was worried for him, almost as much as the elite knight was for his cursed friend.
"Do not interfere!" Logan ordered severely. He could count with the fingers of one hand the times he had ever raised his voice at his apprentice, but Logan couldn't allow him to distract him with his concerns.
Reluctantly or willingly, Griggs obeyed without complaint.
Logan channeled his magic at the spell until it became one with the knight's Humanity. The link he created between them allowed the Astoran's dark essence to fuse with Logan's.
The union lasted only a moment, but for Logan, it felt as if he had been swallowed by the angry waves of a dark ocean.
The abundance of Humanity was intoxicating. It was only because of his own strength of will that Logan resisted the temptation of taking all that Humanity for himself.
It was not that Logan was a greedy and selfish man for him to rob others of their Humanity. The impulse wasn't a conscious thought of his mind, it was more of a natural instinct of his own soul.
I'm a sorcerer, not some lowlife Darkwraith.
Logan freed himself from his delirium and took only a small portion of Humanity from the knight, just enough for the spell to be effective. The mist surrounding them became tangible; as if mending a broken canvas, Logan used the Humanity to heal the Astoran from his curses.
The curses would remain inside him, for curses never truly departed the body of their host, but the spell would seal them away as much as possible, like a living disease that never manifested in its host.
The same effect that a purging stone from Carim would have had, but this is a stronger method. Subtler, more refined. Isn't that right, Ingward?
Logan continued the process. At one moment he couldn't pin down, he stopped doing so for the sake of the knight and continued with it only to sate his own curiosity.
Did the spell truly work?
If not, why?
If it did, then how?
So many questions, so much unexplored knowledge. After his long and idle confinement in that hanging cell, the opportunity to acquire new information became alluring in ways Logan couldn't explain.
There's so much left for me to learn from this world.
Logan collapsed on his left side. His hat fell from his head, revealing his face to the strangers. Normally, this would have upset him greatly, but the realization that he was now free to continue with his journey was too great to be spoiled by a little inconvenience.
Or perhaps, he was too drained and exhausted by the knight's healing to think correctly.
What could be? What could be?
Griggs was quickly by his side. He casted a healing spell on Logan.
You've really become such a sentimental lad.
Why was that, Logan wondered.
And who had scarred his apprentice's face?
With that enigma echoing in his mind, he fell unconscious.
"Master, that was rash."
"Perhaps, but I dare say it was also rather illuminating. Knowledge does not come without dangers and risks, Griggs. I thought I'd taught you that."
"And I have not forgotten. I just fail to understand what knowledge was gained by risking your sanity and Humanity with that spell. It could have made you go Hollow!"
"But it didn't, and I learned a very valuable thing. The spell does work!"
The old sorcerer laughed as his unamused pupil tended to his wounds by casting a healing spell on him and feeding him Estus from his flask.
Big Hat Logan.
Oswald had not met the sorcerer before, but he had always respected him. A powerful mage, a genius of its craft, and a wise man infamous for his anti-sociability.
To Oswald, the last trait was not a flaw as most people thought it to be, but a virtue. Logan's dislike for mingling with others or remaining in one place for long made him uninterested in all sorts of social and political matters, even in those that concerned his native Vinheim.
Otherwise, he would be a threat no less dangerous than the Undead curse itself.
He was Vinheim's rebellious loose cannon.
One without munition, thankfully.
To provoke him would be unwise and reckless. Oswald did not doubt his own skills, but he was not stupid enough to put his life in danger without a good reason.
Besides, Logan had shown no signs of aggression against him.
I shall not repeat my previous mistakes.
Andre's words came to Oswald's mind again, and much to his surprise, he felt ashamed and exposed by them.
His endless taunting towards the Astorands and the Vinheimer sorcerer, his claims, his preconceptions… they all seemed childish in retrospect.
If only he had been right about Solaire's actions, if that godforsaken sorcerer had been true to his treacherous nature, if only Oswald had not failed in healing the Astoran's curses, then maybe he would not feel any regrets at all.
But the hard and undeniable truth was that he had been wrong.
Oswald clenched his jaw and frowned under his mask. It had been a long time since he had failed so greatly in judging a person's true character; it had not happened since Petrus, that hateful cleric for Thorlund, had tricked Oswald into thinking he was a good man.
Subtly, Oswald looked at Oscar and Solaire.
In the same way Griggs tended to his master, Oscar diligently looked after his friend, only that, unlike Logan, Solaire wasn't in need of so much care or help.
His face had regained color. His eyes were no longer lackluster, nor his breathing was hoarse and heavy. Though Oscar insisted on keeping Solaire sitting down so he could rest and recover, Solaire didn't look exhausted at all.
He was healed. Logan had succeeded where Oswald had failed. His spell had accomplished that which his purging stones hadn't.
Humiliation boiled in Oswald's blood almost as fervently as his anger.
How long had it been since he had hated himself for his incompetence to such extent?
"That's enough, young Griggs. I appreciate your concern, but if you're making me feel like a tired and useless old man. The 'old' part may be true, but not the rest!"
Griggs sighed, but he obeyed his mentor without complaint.
Reluctantly accepting the hand his pupil offered him, Logan stood up.
He had not recovered fully, that was obvious, but Oswald could understand Logan's scorn for any display of coddling or special treatment, especially if it was given to him because of his old age.
People had condescended Oswald in the past in that same manner. While some people meant well and only worried about him, others labeled him as a defenseless old fool and an easy prey to rob or kill.
None of the members of this last batch had lived to change their ways. Oswald hadn't given them the chance.
"Well, it was nice meeting you all." Logan said from underneath his enormous hat. Only the tip of his beard was visible under the wide rim. "Thank you for getting me out of that cage. I'm not sure if that was your intention, but I appreciate it nonetheless. Farewell."
The dry and sudden goodbye, and how naturally Logan acted upon his words, left everyone in the chamber unsure of how to react. Even Griggs seemed shocked by how easily his master dismissed Oswald and the knights.
By the goddess… being around these Astorans affected him more than I'd thought.
Slowly, Oswald took a step away from Oscar and Solaire.
They are like a disease.
"Wait!" Solaire exclaimed. He got back on his feet without needing Oscar's help, but Oscar still accompanied him as Solaire rushed towards Logan, a worried expression twisting his half-Hollowed face.
Oswald rolled his eyes at them again as they passed him by.
"Yes?" Logan turned around with his arm stretched forward to indicate Solaire to keep his distance.
Oswald almost laughed when, predictably, Solaire misinterpreted the gesture and instead took Logan's hand into his own and shook it fervently. Griggs flinched at the unwilling transgression inflicted upon his master. Oscar too seemed worried about Logan's potential reaction to his friend's honest mistake.
"Thank you." Solaire said with utter respect and gratefulness.
Logan remained unresponsive, as if he hadn't yet recovered from the fact that Solaire had actually dared to shake his hand.
Oswald saw only two outcomes to the situation. Either Logan would end Solaire's life with a spell, or he would forgive the Astoran and accept his thanks in peace.
Much to Oscar and Griggs relief, Logan chose the latter.
"Don't mention it, lad." Logan replied, calmly but forcedly, as if his face was tense with a fake smile under his hat. Without being rude, he retrieved his hand from Solaire and stepped back.
This time, Griggs stopped Solaire from approaching Logan again by resting a hand on his chest. It took a moment, but Solare eventually became aware of his mistake. He blushed heavily and looked down in response.
"Ah, no. Do not feel embarrassed, knight. It is nothing personal, I assure you." Logan said. He tilted his head forward. "I am glad you are feeling better, and I wish you and your comrades the best of luck in your journey. Do try to be more careful from now on; those curses of yours are no laughing matter… it was imprudent of you to enter this place in your state. You should have been resting near a bonfire, not exploring this death trap of a fortress. Oh, the folly of youth!"
When Logan's hat turned towards Oswald's direction, the pardoner felt weighed down by the concealed stare of the sorcerer.
"Young people are impulsive, overconfident and hasty." Logan said, acting as if Griggs, Oscar and Solaire had vaporized into thin air and only he and Oswald remained in the chamber. "But experience and time has made us wiser. It is our duty to guide them down the right path and save them from their own don't know any better, but we do, don't you agree?"
"Master Logan, please." Griggs intervened. He remained calm, but the glare he dedicated at Oswald was venomous and full of the hatred he couldn't express with his voice.
If you hurt my master, I'll kill you.
Oswald answered with a neutral stare. Logan's words had been direct but not impertinent or mocking.
Oswald had no reason to get angry at him, but Griggs was a different story.
"Is something the matter?" Logan asked, no doubt sensing the tension between Oswald and his pupil. He sounded confused, but not wary.
At least not yet.
"No." Oswald replied. Oscar was looking at him, begging him in silence to not do anything they would all regret. Oswald ignored him; he didn't need the reproach of an Astoran to know how to behave. "Nothing at all, sorcerer. I think your pupil is still too shocked and stressed out by watching you casting that spell. For a Vinheimer, he is quite sensitive."
Logan laughed and directed his attention to Oscar and Solaire. "I suppose his new friends are to blame for this change in him."
Neither of the knights knew whether to take that as a compliment or an insult.
"Indeed. Who would have thought Astoran sentimentality is far more conagious than the Undead curse?" Oswald agreed in good humor. "Perhaps I should reconsider being around them for too long."
"That would be very wise." Logan said, and he and Oswald laughed in unison.
Griggs however, was not enjoying being the butt of his master's joke. He sulked like a scolded child.
It was Logan who fell silent first. Then, he spoke to Oscar and Solaire.
"Do not worry, young knights. It was all said in jest. The true character of a person cannot be judged by their homeland alone." He reassured them warmly. With a soft movement of his hidden head, he aimed his attention at Griggs, "But, if sentimentality is truly something you learned from these men, then you needn't be ashamed of it, Griggs. I'm proud your time in their company allowed you to gain some knowledge about yourself. Introspective knowledge is still knowledge, and all knowledge is valuable after all!"
"Master, really? One display of subtle emotion and suddenly I am as sentimental as an Astoran?" Griggs shook his head. "No offense, guys."
"Some taken." Oscar replied in good nature, while Solaire answered at the same time with a "None taken".
"Well, I'm glad your time with them has been enlightening so far. I hope you continue to learn more as you continue traveling with them." Logan said.
"Master, what are you saying?" Griggs gave Logan no time to move. "I'm coming with you."
A long silence that was awkward even for Oswald reigned inside the chamber.
"Oh?" the older of the sorcerers finally said. "Are you sure of that? I hardly think I'm more interesting company than two daring knights and-"
"Yes, I'm sure of it." Griggs cut his master off politely but without mercy. Immediately after, he turned around and faced Oscar and Solaire. "Forgive me, but this is where we part ways. I must be by my master's side."
Predictably, the Astorans were taken aback by the dry explanation.
Solaire even got misty-eyed.
Oh Velka, I know I was joking before, but please… Please do not let it be contagious.
"We understand." Solaire said. Oscar backed up his statement with a nod of his head. Then, Solaire stretched his hand towards Griggs, "Thank you, my friend."
"For everything." Oscar added with sincerity.
Griggs arched an eyebrow, but his expression soon mellowed and a small smile formed in his lips.
"I don't think I ever did much for either of you." He said with a chuckle just before he accepted the handshake Solaire offered him, "but if we are not to meet again, know that Griggs of Vinheim considered you allies and friends."
Griggs reflected on his words for a short moment. "No. We will meet again, I'm sure of it. Please, be careful out there. And do not forget about what I told you before. If I learned something from you, I know you can learn something from me, and I hope that whatever your conclusions are, they bring you peace of mind."
Oswald didn't understand what the sorcerer meant, but he did not like the idea that he had poisoned Solaire's and Oscar's minds during his absence.
As expected, Griggs had no words of farewell for him. He only gave him another glare, and Oswald couldn't resist answering in the same manner.
"Good luck, lads." Logan said once his pupil was back to his side, "And good luck to you too, pardoner of Carim. I know your wisdom and experience will prove most useful for these two knights."
Oswald hesitated. It was bizarre for him to be speaking so cordially to Big Hat Logan himself. Interactions between Vinheimers and people of Carim were rarely peaceful, and he knew that, if they had met in any other place and another time, one where Logan was free of the Undead curse, the most likely outcome would have been a battle to the death between him and the old sorcerer.
Logan, after all, knew too much to be left alive.
But this is Lordran. What happens here has no impact in our homelands anymore. None of it matters.
Oswald answered in the same way Logan did, with a respectful nod of his head. He doubted the sorcerer could see the gesture from underneath the rim of his big hat, but it had become obvious that, even if he couldn't see it clearly, Logan wasn't blind to his surroundings.
Perhaps, Oswald realized, the fact he was leaving and taking his apprentice with him was something they should all be glad about.
"One last thing." Griggs took something out of his pocket and threw it at Solaire, who caught it with elegance. "A ring. Wear it and your steps shall produce no sound. Who is suited best to be its wielder is something you two will have to decide on your own, my Astoran comrades. In any case, I hope it proves useful."
"A generous gift." Logan observed. "If that is all, then let's get going, Griggs. There's a tricky route waiting for us on our way back to Firelink Shrine."
"Of course, master."
The two Vinheimers left the chamber with little fanfare. Oswald noticed how Solaire had something else to say, most likely related to Griggs' last gift.
The tool of an assassin in the hands of a passionate sinner.
"Let's go." Oswald said to the Astorans as if the two sorcerers had stopped existing the moment they had left the chamber. "We too have our own mission to fulfill and time's wasting. Wipe away your tears and get yourselves ready, we are leaving now."
He began walking towards the opposite exit of the chamber, the one that led to the deeper parts of the fortress. He didn't wait for Oscar and Solaire, and he was rather glad when he heard their footsteps behind them.
If I was them, I would have made use of the Vinheimer's ring and slit my throat. Then I would dispose of the body by throwing it down the slope.
He gave a quick glance to the Astorans over his shoulder. Their faces were once again concealed by their helmets.
Oscar's coiled sword, the same Andre had found in the fire keeper's cell and repaired with the shards of a broken Estus flask, caught Oswald's attention.
You two are not innocent. You are dangerous men, you have done things that brough awful consequences upon those around you.
Oswald looked forward again.
And yet, you still cling to your honor, and you do so with a pure and open heart.
That alone made them twice the knight than the man responsible for the deaths of the fire keepers could ever be.
And it also makes my former judgment of you all the more wrong.
Pride was a sin, and Oswald was guilty of it.
He wouldn't apologize, but perhaps, there was something he could do to make it up to the Astorans. Something that would prove more useful than some assassin's ring or a plain and ridiculous spoken apology.
It will be the worthy of a wise man such as myself.
He was not versed in the use of multiple weapons.
It had never been an option for him, not when he had been only the common son of a peasant couple, and especially not after he had failed to be accepted in the household of a lord.
Since the beginning of his self-taught and rather deficient training, Solaire had to make a choice, and he had adopted the sword as his weapon of choice.
Knights always favored swords, but the truth was that respectable knights, those who had begun their training as pages from an early age under the mentorship of seasoned warriors, were versed in all kinds of weapons to a respectable degree.
Bows, hammers, axes, halberds, crossbows, spears, even less orthodox weapons like scimitars and scythes.
Knights, particularly the elite knights, were masters of all.
To say Solaire was less than proficient with any of them would be a gigantic understatement. His talents were limited to swordsmanship and miracles alone.
Such traits could make for a respectable soldier, but don't delude yourself. They are not enough to transform you into a true knight.
Solaire no longer remembered who had first told him that. An elite knight, most likely, but those words had never left his mind.
I was never a page or a squire. My knighthood was not celebrated with a religious ceremony before a royal crowd, or with a banquet in the company of my family, it was randomly given to me in the aftermath of a bloody and chaotic battlefield. Before that, I was just a common soldier.
In many ways, he still was.
Maybe that elite knight hadn't been wrong about him at all.
"Wait," Oscar said after Solaire left on the ground the spear imbued with lighting essence the Mimic enemy had dropped after being vanquished, "are you leaving it behind?"
Solaire stood up and smiled. "I have no use for a weapon I don't know how to wield. It'll only be a burden; besides, this sword Andre forged for me is reliable and sturdy. I need no other weapon at all."
"True." Oscar conceded. Solaire thought the subject would die there, instead, Oscar picked up the spear and handed it to him. "But if you are interested, I could teach you how to wield a spear. I am no expert and I'm awfully out of practice, but I still remember a few things about it. I'm sure we could at least cover the basics. What do you say?"
Solaire hesitated. He regretted having been so obvious in his interest for the spear, but he hadn't been able to help it. Having a lighting-infused spear in his hands made him feel as if his miracles were back to him.
His true miracles, those he casted with faith and hope, not with anger and bloodlust.
The null weight of his talisman tied to his belt felt heavier than an anchor. Deep down, Solaire wished Siegmeyer hadn't salvaged it from Blighttown.
The only reason he still carried it with him was because he didn't want Oscar to know how reluctant he was about using his miracles again, even if they had returned to him stronger than ever before.
They are not miracles anymore.
Solaire thought, rejecting the spear with a friendly chuckle.
I transformed them into abominations. I almost killed Oscar with them.
"You really are fond of being my mentor, aren't you Oscar?" Solaire said, "First with my parrying lessons, and now this. Who knows, perhaps if you live for more than one hundred years, you'll end up becoming just like Logan."
"Huh." Oscar thought about it carefully before shrugging. "Not the worst fate I could imagine for myself… as long as there isn't a big hat involved in it. Or what would the knight equivalent of it be? A gigantic helmet, maybe like Siegmeyer's? Lords, please don't."
Before Solaire could laugh, Oswald interrupted their conversation in the same manner Lautrec would have done.
"Preposterous. You both could live thousands of years and your appearance wouldn't change. The Darksign halts a person's time forever." The pardoner sheathed his rapier, now free of the murky fluids of the Mimic. "Were you not aware of this?"
"Yes, we were." Oscar replied dryly. He faced Oswald while still holding on the spear. "But thank you for ruining our jest, pardoner. That was obviously very necessary and timely."
"Sarcasm aside, it indeed was." Oswald looked at both Oscar and Solaire. His gray and sunken eyes held no cruelty in them. Solaire hadn't seen that expression in the pardoner since the first time he had confessed his sins to him, back when his hands were free of the blood of an innocent. "Even if you said so in jest, it worried me that a part of you could believe such a possibility could be true. It would fill your minds with hopes for something that will never be, and for men like you two, that is a dangerous thing."
"Men like us?" Oscar inquired, folding his arms and letting out a tired sigh. "This whole Astorans are too sensitive thing was fun at first, but now it's starting to get old."
Oswald joined his hands behind his back. There was a smirk on his face, but it wasn't derisive or mocking. Solaire even dared to say it looked accepting.
What was wrong with the pardoner?
Was he high with fever?
Before Solaire could voice his worries out loud, Oswald said, "I thought about it, yes. But I was talking about yours and Solaire's character and tendencies Oscar, not those of your homeland."
The pardoner walked towards them. Oscar immediately put himself between Oswald and Solaire, wielding the spear in a defensive stance; meanwhile, Solaire unsheathed his sword.
It had been an impulsive reaction, born of his need to keep his friend safe, but Solaire worried Oswald would see it as a sign of defiance and aggression.
"This." Oswald said, free of scorn or fear. "This is exactly what I meant. Paranoid, defensive, overly-protective and reactive, always expecting the worse to befall the other. You both are as prone to imagining things that can never be as you are picturing the worst of scenarios. That's why you are half-Hollow, Oscar. That's why your curses weigh so heavily on you, Solaire. Keep up this brittle and defeatist attitude and it won't be long before you end up as Hollows."
"You know nothing about us!" Oscar didn't bother to hide his anger. "Make whatever judgement you want of us in your narrow little mind, but don't think for a second that you know us, Oswald. Besides, do I need to remind you that it was you who failed to heal Solaire from his curses? Your purging stones weren't enough, and he almost paid the price of your incompetence."
"Oscar." Solaire pleaded to his friend. "That's enough."
Solaire didn't want this. As much as he resented Oswald, he couldn't blame the pardoner for what happened with his curses.
Even if the healing hadn't been completely successful, Oswald had tried his best.
He had saved his life.
Oscar trembled with fury under Solaire's hand, but eventually he calmed down and said nothing more about the subject.
But it was Oswald who was reluctant to allow the whole incident to be forgotten.
"It's true."
Solaire didn't believe at first that those words belonged to the pardoner. Oscar shared his bafflement.
"I thought I had healed him." Oswald kept his gaze fixed on the ground. Slowly, as if it took every ounce of his strength, he looked at Solaire, "but I thought wrong."
He said nothing else.
He couldn't.
Solaire understood.
His sword returned to its sheathe.
"Pardoner." he said, gently moving Oscar out of the way. Oscar, though vigilant, did not oppose. He drew breath to speak, but realized that he too knew not what to say or how to say it.
"Do not misunderstand. I am aware our resentments towards each other are not something some simple words can mend." Oswald regained his composure. "I won't ask you to forgive me for how I acted, just like I can't forgive you for what you did, Solaire. There are too many wounds on each side for us to pretend everything is fine between us. I am a pardoner and you are a sinner. Carim and Astora. Our interactions were always fated to end in conflict."
Solaire remembered Lautrec.
Had he thought the same as Oswald? Had he too believed that their homelands had cursed them to be enemies from the very start?
I have killed many men from Carim.
On the battlefield, dozens of soldiers and knights had perished by his hand.
Solaire wondered something he had never had the courage to ask himself before.
After so much bloodshed and turmoil, had he never felt hatred for Carim as a whole?
The answer eluded him, or perhaps he wasn't brave enough to face it yet.
"But even so," Oswald continued, "as a pardoner, it is also my duty to offer relief and advice to those who have sinned, not just punishment and conviction. I'm afraid I've failed in this as much as I failed in the healing of your curses."
The pardoner spread his arms to his sides, adopting the same position he had taken back in the old church. From underneath his mask, he smiled.
"That's why I now offer my wisdom to you, young Astorans, with the hopes that these humble words I will now share with you will open your mind to a new perspective, and also give you the strength you need to endure the cruelties of this curse land."
She knew that voice.
The confines of her crystal prison muffled it, making it almost unrecognizable, but her ears could never be deaf to that voice, one she'd heard all her life, perhaps since she was in her mother's womb.
Father?
She opened her eyes, and through the crystal body of the golem that kept her captive inside it, she saw the silhouette of an armored man trapped in the maws of a monster.
Her moving prison took her away from the scene, and before Sieglinde knew it, she had sunk into the darkness of unconsciousness, not to be awakened again by the voice of her father.