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20
Why Do You Fight?

Siegmeyer,
Undead Parish

"Well," the knight mumbled to himself. "This place certainly seems to have gotten a lot more interesting." He had returned to Andre after his first attempt braving Sen's Fortress, to no avail. The fiends within were much tougher than he anticipated. Then he returned to the smith to find a veritable army waiting for him. Four knights, each with different armor sets, a Vinheim Spook, a priestess of Thorolund, an archer, and a couple of pyromancers. "Wat ho," he called out. One of the pyromancers, a woman in black robes, turned towards him, and for a moment he swore he saw the fires of Hell in her eyes, but they softened, and she smiled.

"Welcome to our little party, Siegmeyer of Catarina."

This partially put him on guard, and he kept a grip on his zweihander as he approached. "Forgive me," he said cautiously, "But you seem to know me, and it would be very much a good thing if I knew you, in turn."

The woman's eyes flashed, and Siegmeyer realized that the count of how many eyes she had was wrong. No human had four eyes upon their heads. He gauged his options, when she laughed, throwing back her hood, revealing a pale face, catlike pupils to her four eyes, and a mixture of reddish black hair that reminded him of blackened lava. "My name is Lol'th. First Princess of the Free Lands of Fiery Izalith, Birthplace of the molten Chaos Flame. We mean you no harm, and in fact come bearin fellowship." To this end, the woman, Lol'th, pulled forth a fistful of black masses... Siegmeyer's eyes widened. Those were...

"Humanity sprites," he breathed.

"A peace offering, if you will," Lol'th offered. "You are a mighty warrior indeed, who's skill and valor precedes you, in a manner. In fact, we seem to be going the same direction. My companions and I have business ahead, and the only way is through that fortress. I see no reason we should have our blades at each others' sides, as opposed to each others' throats." Then, Lol'th thought for a moment, and then shrugged. "Or, if you wish, you can merely take the sprites, and wait. We'll be out of your way, and you'll be free to go as you will without interference from us."

Siegmeyer's senses screamed "Trap!", and so he remained especially wary. "To what end do you seek to bribe me, witch?"

The party seemed to bristle slightly, but at a raised fist from one of the knights, clad in a strange, black armor, they fell still. Come to think of it, hadn't Siegmeyer heard of that style of armor before... "My sister seeks not betrayal, sir Knight," the warrior in black responded. "Either way, you're in a no-lose scenario. Stay, and gain free sprites that some of us fought hard to gain. Come, and you gain an adventure that you can tell your family for generations to come, in addition to the sprites."

The woman tossed the sprites at Siegmeyer, who allowed them to fall to the floor as opposed to fumbling with his weapons trying to catch them. "I know your armor, Knight."

The Darkwraith chuckled to himself. "Just as your reputation precedes you, it seems mine betrays me. I suppose you wouldn't believe that I turned over a new leaf?"

"I would not," Siegmeyer said adamantly. "Once a Darkwraith, ever a Darkwraith, Knight of Thorns." Stabbing the end of his blade into the ground, Siegmeyer looked at Kirk fiercely. "I challenge you to a duel. Singular combat, so that those innocents you slew may be avenged at my hands."

The woman in black threw her hands up in the air. "We don't have time for this."

"Then go on ahead," Kirk said. "Sometimes we need to earn our trust. My path will always be harder than others in this regard." This said, Kirk drew his blade, facing down the warrior from Catarina. "There is a bonfire above. I suggest we rest there first, so as to minimize loss for either party. Sound agreeable?"

Beatrice,
The Painted World of Ariamis

After a moment of rest at the bonfire, Beatrice noticed that the self-proclaimed prophet had wandered off. "Where is that idealistic idiot off to, now?" she wondered aloud to herself. Pulling herself up, the witch grabbed her catalyst, and started walking, following the footprints in the snow, when she saw him already walking back, merry as ever as he used his sleeve to clean the soot off his sword.

"Hey Beatrice! Guess who managed to create the Carthus Flame Arc centuries before the nation even existed!" he said, before casually tossing a black, squarish object into the air before catching it. "Not to mention this Occult Ember will be great for when I start going after specific bosses. Also, my fist can become a flamethrower now. Got a new Pyromancy."

Beatrice's expression immediately soured further, and the fool noticed, tilting his head slightly. "Everything okay, B?"

Giving an exasperated sigh, Beatrice clapped her hands sarcastically, walking closer to him. "Hail," she called in a dour tone. "The wandering warlord. The thieving tyrant, bearing his stolen spoils from the fallen, fiery fragments of the forlorn."

Thomas raised an eyebrow, concerned. "I don't get it. Everyone here is either dead or mad, anyways."

"Exactly, fool. That's how it starts. By bullying those weaker than you." At this, the self-proclaimed Seer stopped, looking at her directly. "You see the truth in my words, boy."

He nodded. "Alright, fair enough. But what if I intended to use it for the greater good?"

"The methods matter just as much as the intent, if not moreso. Would you slay every last living thing in this world, just to proclaim that you have brought peace to it?"

"No, of course not," Thomas said, taken aback. "That's a horrifying idea, and I'm... actually kinda freaked you'd bring it up."

Beatrice nodded. "Exactly. You see what I mean." She raised her head slightly, allowing her eye to catch his from under the broad brim of her hat. "You are quite the fool. But at least you're not an idiot. You show promise, but only if you are willing to learn."

"Learn the importance of not just why, but how and when?"

At this, Beatrice chuckled slightly. "Amongst other things."

Thomas nodded his head thoughtfully. "How did you get here, anyways?"

"I'm a heretic, in a painting designed to house all the things the gods do not like, and yet you're surprised by my presence?"

"Well... yes."

"Explain. And I'll know if you're lying." The boy seemed taken aback, as though he had a little story all prepared for her. After fidgeting a few moments, he sat down at the bonfire.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

Taking a deep sigh, the fool seemed to gather himself. "I'm Thomas. A... false, self-proclaimed prophet from another world." Pulling out his catalyst, Thomas started to draw, albeit sloppily, a picture of a globe on the ground. His hands were shaking slightly as he drew, from either inexperience or nervousness, Beatrice couldn't entirely tell. "I claim to be a prophet from Earthrealm, under the god Ormhagoden, but the closest thing to the truth is that I'm just some kid from a planet named Earth."

Raising an eyebrow, Beatrice looked at him. "You are from an alternate planet?"

"Alternate universe, but yes, that too." At Beatrice's questioning gaze, Thomas continued. "I'll level with you. I don't know how the fuck I got here. In Lordran at all. In my universe, your world doesn't exist. It's a fiction. An interactive story, of which you're all just characters. Pixels and data."

"I see," Beatrice said, closing her eyes with certainty. "So this is why you carry yourself the way you do. Because you see us as fictitious creatures, beneath your concern. Is that it?"

Kirk,
Undead Parish

CLANG! Kirk rolled to the side, the Zweihander cracking the floor as it slammed into where he had just been standing. A duck backwards, and he avoided a horizontal cut. "This is pointless, Catarinan," Kirk admonished. "There's no way there can be a real winner to this fight."

"Silence your tongue!" Siegmeyer shouted. "As long as there is breath in my body, I will not stop until you pay for your crimes against the virtuous and the innocent!"

Kirk made a noise that sounded like a mixture of a harrumph and a chuckle. Knowing the fight had to be managed quickly (they were on a time table, after all), he examined his opponent, formulating a strategy when... Found it. Moving in close while Siegmeyer prepared another overhead swing, Kirk quickly tossed his weapons to the side, and grabbed at the blade, catching it in the blunt, secondary handle part of the blade. Bracing himself, he caught, and held, the weapon, stopping the swing in it's tracks.

"Release my weapon at once, monster! I, Siegmeyer of Catarina, will not yield to the likes of you!"

A dark chuckle emanated from the thorned chest of the former Darkwraith. "Monster," he repeated, as though tasting the word. "We are judged by our deeds. But never are we asked our motivations behind them. Yes... From my deeds, I could easily seem a monster. And yet... I am not." Arms straining to hold back the sword, Kirk continued. "I could be a monster. It would be easy." A shadowy unlight seemed to flicker around Kirk as he spoke, especially gathering into his hands as the art of Lifedrain appeared in them. "I can sense the Humanity within you. Your own fragments of a once mighty soul, more powerful than either of us. It would be easy, so easy, to reach out and take it for myself. To drain. Steal. Devour your very life, leaving you a hollow, withered husk on the ground." Moving to the side, he allowed the zweihander to slam to the ground. "But what good would that do?"

Siegmeyer looked up at him. "What do you mean?"

"You and I are both warriors. We have reasons why we fight. However, my reasons for fighting see no reason to attack you. You are not an enemy, nor would your defeat gain enough good to outweigh the bad. In all this, you are an innocent."

"And what of the innocents you've drained in the past," Siegmeyer retorted. "Where was this concern then?"

"Have you ever done something terrible, in the name of helping another? What if you had to take a life, several, even, in order to save another? Would you do it? Even if it was your family on the line?" After only silence came as a response. Kirk picked up, and sheathed, his weapons. "Until such a time, I ask you keep your judgements to yourself. Stay here, or come with me to the fortress. It makes little difference to me." Turning his back to the proud onion, Kirk walked off, when-

"Knight." Kirk stopped, turning just slightly to indicate Siegmeyer had his attention. "This person you fought to save. Did you manage it?"

Kirk shook his head. "Not without help. Nobody survives alone, in this world. This truth is the one constant." And so, he marched, paying no heed as to whether Siegmeyer followed or not.

Thomas,
The Painted World of Ariamis

"Lording it over us "false" people. You deign yourself the only one that can do anything to "fix" this world. Is that it?" Beatrice continued to beat at him verbally, as though he was the greatest evil in the world.

"No." Thomas had been sitting on the ground, letting the abuse roll over him like water. "I don't believe that."

"Really. You're telling me that you DON'T know all the answers? That your false god doesn't give you magnificient powers?" Beatrice managed a false gasp. "Imagine my shock. Explain it, then. Your pompousness. Your foolhardiness, your ever-arrogant, devils may care attitude!"

"Simple." At this, Thomas rose, looking Beatrice in the eyes. "You say you can tell whether or not I'm lying. Then pay close attention, and try and call me a liar here."

"I never had all the answers," Thomas continued. "I'm no mighty hero. No wise sage. I'm just some guy who found himself in a world that is dying. And I decided to do something about it. Not because of glory. Not because of power, or arrogance. But because evil wins when good men do nothing. And I'm not going to sit here and say I'm a good man, but I will do what I can to help others. Because if it's in my power to help others, why shouldn't I? My bravado? The unwavering confidence? It's an act. All of it." Thomas cocked a grin, shaking his head as he tossed his arms slightly. "I talk, and talk, and posture, all to mask my own fear and insecurity. I'm afraid. Afraid of dying, afraid of possibly suffering for eternity because of Linking the Flame, if I couldn't find a solution. Afraid of failure. Afraid of innocents suffering for the mistakes of others. All the fucking fucked up shit that's happened to this world? It's no surprise it's going mad."

Turning away from Beatrice, he looked into the distance. Specifically, he looked in the direction of Priscilla's bossroom. "People have been punished for shit they couldn't control, circumstances beyond them. And for the actions of others. Humanity is being punished, has been being punished, because of Gwyn's fear of the Dark. Hell, Humanity fucking helped Gwyn in the war against the dragons, and his response was to lock them the fuck up. He punished his daughter by turning into a fucking key to hide the Dark Soul. Undead, who have no choice in the matter, were either imprisoned or enslaved by Humanity, to fight their battles, their wars for them."

"Then why? Why fight for a world that is not your own? Why do you fight a world so undeserving?"

In a flare of conviction, Thomas rounded to Beatrice. "Because it's still worth saving!" he shouted, voice echoing throughout the Painted World. Closing his eyes, Thomas thought back to his own world, and yet not. Back when the worlds were still digital entertainment media. Back when he encountered an ancient Aldmer who had long been an observer. "The world," he repeated, "is always worth saving. No matter how wicked or corrupt it is. For the world is but a reflection of our own minds. And that revelation is what keeps the darkness at bay."

Beatrice smiled at him. "There you are. The bumbling fool I know of." At Thomas' puzzled expression, she laughed quietly. "We've met before. Or rather, we will meet. Depends on the perspective. I'll spoil this much. You become wiser. Still a fool. But an honest one. And you have a good heart. Go. You've passed the test. Your convictions are as pure as your heart, and-"

"Oh, please." Thomas interrupted. "Nobody has a pure heart."

Beatrice smiled more fully. "Okay, that was the last test. NOW you've passed."

At that, Thomas blinked. "I send you to myself, don't I? Make sure I refrain from becoming a selfish bastard?"

"Yep."

"Not sure whether or not to pat myself on the back for that."

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AN: Sorry for taking so long. I technically don't have days off anymore. And I was stumped on the interaction between Thomas and Beatrice, which was the primary delay factor. And I do hope this doesn't feel rushed, as I DO have work tomorrow (yay! That paycheck feels good man). Also I lied about the funhouse being next, apparently.

Anyways, to respond to reviews:

Schmokey: Possibly. Thomas isn't a complete idiot, after all.
Shadowcraft: I'd have to complete DS2 first (Only beaten 1 and 3 so far), but I'm not opposed to the idea, and in fact intend for him to visit other worlds when he's done here.
Thought: I have no idea what you're reffering to, tbh. I've slept since then.
Verdauga: Thanks! I'm glad I could make it interesting even for someone who's not been into the series!

Rate, review, and please don't beat me over the head. Remember. Merely delayable. -shrug-