When Raziel had started his tale from the beginning he had, based on her past behavior, assumed that she would fall asleep or postpone the entire 'confession' once he got into the uncomfortable parts of his tale. He doubted his innocent (in a way) master wanted to hear about the monsters of Lordran or the the many, many, many, many times he died when he was bludgeoned, smashed, cut apart, poisoned, cursed, drowned, and tripped.
He was wrong.
"Wait, wait. So they just...dumped people in this Asylum once they became Undead?" His master interrupted for the umpteenth time that night, "When you say everyone, did you really mean everyone? From what you've told me it seems as if that not all people don't lose their minds when they...die," She coughed. It sounded silly saying it out loud: Did people not lose themselves when they died? From childhood she was taught that all souls who followed Brimir found their way to him in Valhalla and those who didn't were either tossed to the darkness or punished for their sins in Helheim.
"Undead posed a danger," Raziel replied neutrally, "Alone, an Undead is capable of dangerous feats, but they can be defeated and killed once again. But in a group, when their numbers allow them to keep going, even a dragon might fall through attrition," He still remembered those Hollows in the church when he'd first arrived. When he'd gone up the stairs they tore through his armor and ripped him to shreds, their greater numbers ensuring that he would die before they could kill them all.
"Still, that's...cruel," She eked out hesitantly. That was the wrong word: Cruelty was being purposely malevolent, doing things that hurt others for yourself or for the sake of a greater cause. The way he described it made it sound detached. It wasn't an act of torture or killing, it was a process done with precision and accuracy - Once killed, the body would be searched for a sign and if found they were transported to a mass grave before being dumped into the Asylum's walls to slowly go mad.
As he'd found out, any attempts to rush through his story ended with her glaring at him or telling him not to leave out any details lest he wanted to sleep outside on the cold floor. He could have countered that he didn't exactly require sleep to function, but he kept his mouth shut and gave in to her demands. Agitating her for no discernible reason was pointless and he didn't exactly wish to risk seeing Siesta again before he could explain himself.
"People were scared. Everybody posed a risk; priests could turn to murderers, knights and guards might turn into the very monsters they protected people from. Some became Hollow as soon as they turned, killing others and causing more chaos to spread if they Hollowed in turn. It is not rare to hear stories about an entire village dying because a sick relative died in their sleep and started killing everyone."
Of course, this was all hypothetical. Some of the fragmented memories he'd received were of him talking to his friends about the reason Undead were hunted down. Petrus (the treacherous snake) told him that many of the smaller villages had fallen due to the curse and that it was the duty of those who wanted to protect the people to send any and all Undead either to the Asylum or to Lordran where they would be 'safe from others and from themselves'.
This didn't stop the Undead from killing each other when they'd arrived, and he had a distinct feeling the knights could care less what the 'animals' did to one another so long as they didn't bother those still living.
"So what determines who becomes an Undead?" She asked.
"Chance," He snarked, "There is choice in the matter, Master. One who fears death could end up dying in peace while the another who welcomes its embrace may remain bound to their bodies, unable to die. Whoever made or spread the curse is a mystery, but they gave no instructions or any way to determine what happens when mortality ends. It is up to fate to decide."
"Then what about a cure?" She pressed, "You have magic on you, right? That means you must come from a land with academies and research. Surely at least one person has thought of a way to stop this, um, curse from spreading."
"A beheading is often seen as a cure," He rolled his eyes, "If it does not work then it is repeated as many times as necessary until the Undead turns Hollow and dies permanently. But most are not picky: Swords, Magic, Poisons - All of these are viable ways to permanently end an Undead's 'life'. That is why we are sent to the Asylum. Most lose hope of escape and turn to killing one another in grief."
Though he said that, he wasn't truly sure about a 'cure'. How does one remedy life after death? Regardless, even though he had no memory of anything before waking up in the asylum, the fact that his first waking moments was seeing a heavily decayed corpse being dumped into his cell gave him little incentive to think that there was a search for a miracle to end all the suffering. The Undead were a problem and they were dumped into the Asylum so the people could plug their ears, cover their eyes and pretend that nothing was wrong.
"That's not what I meant," She answered, somewhat annoyed with his tone, "I meant that...nevermind," She sighed, "So if I'm remembering right you told me that you escaped from the asylum, is that correct? How did you do it?"
"By killing the guard," He replied, causing her to flinch. He held up his hands in a placating gesture, "The guard was a giant monster that killed anyone it saw," He clarified. She still looked unconvinced, "It attacked me first, so I had to defend myself. I made no attempts to start conflict before this."
"What kind of monster are you talking about?" She said.
"It is hard to describe," The stare she gave him made it clear she wasn't going to drop it. He groaned in annoyance, "It was...a giant gray lizard that smelled of rot and mud, carrying an axe that was larger than I was. It had no muscle in its arms to speak of, but his lower body was bulbous and it tried to use its larger weight to kill any of the prisoners who tried to escape. My first glimpse of it was when it ate one of the Hollows crying in his cell, before it crushed another for trying to save his friend. Does this description satisfy you?"
"Ugh..." She looked like she wanted to vomit, if the slight greenish tinge she had was any indication. Hopefully she could keep her food in her stomach and not on the floor, "And you say that this is the first monster you fought?"
"The first, yes," He nodded, "It proved...difficult to kill, and so I retreated till I could find a weapon," He pinched the bridge of his nose. He hated that Demon, "I met Oscar and he told me of the-"
"Who's Oscar?" She interrupted once again.
"Oscar was the one who dumped the body in my cell," Whoops, she looked uncomfortable again, "It contained the key that allowed me to escape. Regardless of his reasons I found him heavily injured not long after retreating and he provided me with the key to the asylum and an Estus Flask to heal me," He paused, wondering if she was going to ask him what an Estus was.
She didn't.
"He also told me of the prophecy of the Chosen Undead-"
"What prophecy?" She asked curiously. His master looked intrigued, which contrasted with Raziel's barely contained grimace. He hated the prophecy and everything it stood for. It was concocted either by Gwyn, Gwyndolin or Frampt, but in the end who could say who it truly started with? Regardless of its origins it led hundreds if not thousands of Undead to their deaths, believing that their unlife could be ended and that they could end up being seen as heroes.
But most of all, he hated the false hope it gave. He was naive once, he believed that he could take Gwyn's place and save Lordran and his friends from the plagues that cursed them. He should have known at first glance that the Gods would never allow a human, their souls mired and mixed with Darkness, to rule over their precious power and Light.
"Thou who art Undead, art chosen…In thine exodus from the Undead Asylum, maketh pilgrimage to the land of Ancient Lords…When thou ringeth the Bell of Awakening, the fate of the Undead thou shalt know," He repeated the words Oscar had told him before his mind finally left him. Truly it sounded like a ballad for heroes, but in the end it was nothing but honeyed words that held no meaning.
"..." His master was silent, a thoughtful expression etched on her face. He took it as a signal to continue.
"Killing the Demon proved difficult, but with a weapon and a height advantage it fell not too long after our fight began," He skipped the details of the fight. He wasn't exactly eager to tell her that he defeated the asylum's dreaded guard by shoving his sword so far up his buttocks that only the end of the handle was sticking out. The smell stayed there for a while.
"I escaped the Asylum on a crow-"
"You escaped on a-"
"Yes, I escaped on a giant crow," He answered before she could finish, "Master, if you interrupt me for every small thing that strikes your curiosity then you will die of age before I can finish," He stood up from his seat and walked to the window, looking at the radiant sunlight outside, "If you wish to hear what happened then I have to be able to tell you without having to stop with every sentence."
Louise puffed up her cheeks and frowned, her eyebrows shaping downwards to show her displeasure. Raziel was tempted to leave the room before she spoke once again.
"Alright, I won't interrupt again unless it's absolutely necessary," She looked away, the look of displeasure still on her face, "But once it's over you'll answer everything I have to say, no matter what it is. Is that clear?"
"As you wish, master," He closed his eyes briefly. Telling her of the asylum was slow enough as it was, but now came the difficult part.
Telling her about Lordran.
Wardes winced as pain flared up his left arm once again. He took deep, strangled breaths as he felt the skin of his arm seem to rip and tear with every slight movement he did. Blinking, he raised his undamaged hand and and pressed it against his forehead, wiping away the sweat and blocking the sunlight from blinding him once again. Newcastle had been torn asunder and the sun beat down on all its occupants now that the walls were destroyed.
"Are you alright?" His companion asked. Fouquet looked at the Viscount's bandaged arm before continuing, "That looks like it hurts. I don't know what happened to you, but you look like you can barely stand. I don't even know what you're doing here in your state," She shook her head in (what her perceived to be) disapproval before she crossed her arms over her chest.
"I was attacked by a monster," He answered flatly. Fouquet rolled her eyes at the obvious dodge, "I could say the same for you, Miss. Thief," She snorted at the impromptu nickname, "When I had seen you last you weren't exactly the most eager to join our cause. And yet now here you are, a witness to Reconquista's first step in uniting Halkeginia under one banner."
What he was referring to was, of course, the scene of looting and pillaging going on in front of them. All around them there were soldiers and mercenaries defacing the property of Newcastle, tearing down banners and paintings and searching the dead bodies in order to find valuables they could steal or keep for themselves. Those who weren't doing either of those things were picking up bodies and dropping them into piles, likely to make it more convenient when they would burn them all.
"So that was you with the mask, huh? I should've known," Not that it mattered to her much anyway since A look of displeasure crossed her features as she caught sight of a pair of mercenaries tearing a necklace from a dead woman's neck, "It's disgusting. They're fighting over that piece of jewelry like their life depends on it," Her lips twitched downward when she saw one of the arguing pair kick the woman's head without even realizing it.
"Says the thief whose stolen more than anyone here," He wasn't judging her. It mattered little to him who he worked with or what their morals and hypocrisy were, "They could sell that for a month's worth of work, maybe two if they're lucky, so it doesn't surprise me that they're adamant that they not have to share it-"
Wardes' explanation was interrupted by gunshot. The first of the arguing mercenaries fell to the ground, the hole in the middle of his forehead bleeding crimson from the bullet that pierced it. The pair watched as the second merc sheathed his pistol and wrenched the blood-stained gold necklace before pocketing it clumsily and searching another body for more valuables to loot.
"Looks like he won," He deadpanned.
None of the other soldiers cared - Mercenaries and Soldiers were always fair weather friends, eager enough to help one another in a fight when the coin was flowing but quick to ignore one another once the tension died down and the adrenaline wore off. The pair were likely from different mercenary bands and given the policy of most groups he doubted the second soldier for hire would face any consequences for his casual kill. Anyone stupid enough to get killed for a trinket wasn't worth avenging.
"They're like greedy pigs," Fouquet clicked her tongue in disgust. It had only been a couple of days since her successful assignment and she was already back here, shifting through the bodies and looters. She'd hoped to visit the orphanage, but her new employers had 'graciously' sent her another pair of idiots - though they weren't Mages this time - to watch over her and provide 'protection' so long as she wasn't with them.
She couldn't very well lead them to the solitary 'town' and while ditching them was an option she didn't want her new employers to take offense with her once again. She'd risked her life to get that damn music box and she sure as helheim wasn't going to waste all that effort and put Tiffi at risk. Still, a part of her hoped that her blue-haired partner in crime got back safely and that she could visit her little sister soon.
Well, at least she knew who exactly she was working for now. Although that brought the question as to why exactly they had to steal the music box when whoever hired them likely had enough clout to order the soldiers to leave the box alone. It wouldn't have surprised her if it was just a test to mess with the pair of them.
"You still didn't answer my question," She said, "What are you doing here? What am I doing here? Does our enigmatic benefactor wish for us to loot the dead like the rest of these soldiers?"
"Nothing as base as that, I'm sure," Wardes reassured her, "It's likely he wishes to talk to us about our missions and make our reports," He frowned slightly, "He will be disappointed when he hears what I have to tell him, however," He clenched his right hand, "She escaped and the letter is now in Tristain's hands, meaning the treaty will pull through and make our goal more difficult."
"She?"
"My fiancee," Fouquet raised an eyebrow at the unexpected answer, "For one reason or another Princess Henrietta thought it would be best to send her over another more experienced knight to retrieve the letter, so I used my connection to her as a reason to join the mission. The princess was wary at first, but after she saw that I was her fiancee she thought that she could trust me with keeping her safe."
"And you betrayed, just like that," Like Wardes, Fouquet's tone held no judgement or condemnation. It was his business what he had to do, "I'm surprised. I would've thought you would try to convince her to your side; add another spy to this group."
"I was going to," He replied, "Unfortunately she was there when I assassinated the prince and she attacked me before I had a chance to properly explain myself to her. Killing her was necessary to ensure that she wouldn't tell others of my involvement, but..." He closed his eyes and held in a gasp of pain as his arm flared once again. So close, and yet he hesitated and that damnable Familiar of hers threw her out the hole his master had created.
Of course, falling was rarely a problem for a Wind Mage, especially one who had a griffon for a Familiar.
Despite surviving, his arm had been damaged in some way. When he'd gotten his first proper look at it the appendage appeared to have rotted, the skin turning into a dark gray tinge and ripping uncomfortably whenever he moved his arms. It hadn't been cut off, but the Water Mages could do nothing to heal it beyond wrapping it in a bandage and they had suggested that he cut it off anyway, lest he wanted an arm that jolted him with pain at every slight movement.
"Didn't you love her?" She asked, more out of curiosity than empathy or pity. Arranged marriages were all too common and she hadn't seen a single one that could be truly called happy or all-loving. Even her own parents tended to be distant, although that didn't stop them from serving dutifully trying to raise her properly.
And then they died side by side when that tyrannical king butchered all his younger brother's vassals. She had to admit, she had smiled when she saw the decrepit king's body pinned to the throne with at least two dozen arrows piercing his body. The old bastard was probably too lazy to stand up and fight properly unlike the other occupants of the castle.
"Bow," Wardes suddenly told her before he fell to one knee. The thief was confused by the sudden command but she followed it all the same.
Off a slight distance away, a figure dressed in immaculate white walked towards the unlikely pair of earth and wind. He was tall, lanky and thin in physique, and wearing the white robe of the Albionese priests. His blond hair was covered in a cloth cap and his face, which already began to show signs of aging, sported a calm smile that gave the impression that all was well.
Everything about him seemed to say that he had no place in the destroyed ruins and walking amidst the dead bodies. And yet despite this he saw everyone, whether they were soldier, mercenary or even Aristocrat, bowed as soon as they caught sight of him. Seeing this, he nodded at each of them in turn and continued his walk, never sparing a second glance at all the blood and death that surrounded him.
He was Oliver Cromwell, the leader of Reconquista and, if everything went well, soon to be king of a united Halkeginia. The man who claimed to have Brimir's blessing and the one person blessed to be his successor.
"Viscount Wardes, so good to see you!" Cromwell smiled and clapped the knight's shoulder as if they were the closest of friends, "I was worried about you when I heard that you were injured during the course of your mission, but I see you're up and about with not even a day of rest."
"Yes, I thought it wise to apologize for the failure of my mission," He stood up and placed his right hand on atop his heart, curling it into a first, "I shall accept any punishment you deem necessary, but I appeal to you that I hope you do not expel me from this group. I may have failed in this task but I will not fail again and my life will be the price if it comes to pass."
"Expel you? Whatever for?" His smile turned into a cheerful grin and he spread his arms around, gesturing all around them, "Newcastle is fallen and Wales lies dead. The letter is of no consequence: I have no doubt Germania will abandon Tristain when they realize just how strong a united Albion is without the shackles that tyrant once held us under."
"You are most generous, your excellency. Albion will prosper under your rule," Wardes intoned.
"You humble me with your compliments, Viscount," His gaze shifted from the knight to the still kneeling thief, "Ah, you must be our newest member, are you not? Miss. Fouquet, if what the soldiers have told me are accurate."
"Yes, you excellency," She stood up, imitating Wardes' example.
"Hmm, a beautiful woman such as yourself has no place in such a dreary place as this," He gestured to the pile of dead bodies, "I trust Wardes wasn't too forceful in asking you to join our cause. Forgive me for saying but I had heard of your extraordinary skills and I was very much eager to hear that you accepted the task of both liberating the Staff of Destruction and the Music Box."
"Yes. I must apologize for the failure of the first task. There were...complications," Her mind drifted back to the encounter in the forest. Even now she still couldn't help but shudder at what happened to her when that creature of darkness had taken hold of her. She still felt violated in a way that she couldn't explain.
"It is a minor setback," He waved waved off the apology, "Still, I have other business here. Viscount, if you could please lead me to where Prince Wales had fallen I would very much appreciate it."
The trip to the secret passage was short, especially now that the walls dividing the rooms were broken. When they'd arrived Fouquet couldn't help but pity the prince as she saw his bloody corpse. Unlike the other subjects he had died alone, cut off from the others. She caught sight of the gun and the dried blood on his chest. Given Wardes' remarks about failing it was likely the prince shot himself to end the pain, though why he aimed for his heart rather than his head she had no idea.
"The mighty Prince Wales," A small sneer made its way to Cromwell's face before he returned to his calm smile, "In life I could never call myself his friend, a true shame since I believe we would have gotten along if we just sat down and explained," He gave a dramatic sigh, "Ah, but with my power of Void something as trivial as death is easily remedied."
Fouquet doubted that, but she held in her tongue as she watched the priest-turned-king raise his hand and point the ring on his finger towards the decaying corpse.
Wales' darkened mind lit up once again as he felt life revitalize him. He felt pain and movement was difficult, but as his nose inhaled dusted air his mind began to comprehend that he was alive.
Or at least, the spirit using his body realized it.
Consciousness returned to the being slowly. As it awoke it felt the pain lower into a dull ache before disappeared. Sitting up, it smiled at his savior and the two standing next to him. The man and the woman were shocked, their eyes wide and their mouth agape, but the one who held the ring held a calm smile and elicited no surprise as the blood from his wounds disappeared.
The spirit searched the mind of its new body for memories. The gray haired one was a traitor and had attempted to kill the corpse he inhabited while the other was a man he once held hatred for up to his dying breath. The woman was unfamiliar and his memories gave no indication that she was involved with the he who once was. His chest burned as he felt the dark circle brand into his skin.
While it appeared he had resurrected from the dead, the truth was far from that. True Undeath was impossible, at least for those who used the magic of the ring. A spirit inhabited the body, gaining access to the memories and who the person was. At the back of its new mind he could feel a shard of the prince's soul, sleeping and just waiting to be used. It wasn't the prince, but with the small shard it could assume the identity and no one would be the wiser.
It supposed that it was a small mercy that the shard was unaware of what was happening. If something had managed to jolt it out of its new home it would take over, however it doubted he would survive without the ring powering him.
"It has been a long time, Father Cromwell. I trust you are well," Words came out of its mouth, and the body followed suit.
"Have you not been keeping up with the times, Prince? I am Albion's new king now, or emperor if you prefer the Germanic term," He chided the corpse lightly, "Previously you were opposed to me taking my rightful place on the throne."
"Oh? My apologies then, King Cromwell," It kneeled on the ground, "As recompense for my past sins I beg you that you allow me as your vassal to serve you unerringly until it is your wish that I stop."
"Yes, I think I would like that," He clapped it's shoulder lightly, "Come then, my new friend, we have much to talk about."
As the priest and the abomination walked away,Fouquet continued to eye the two until they disappeared, her eyes wary. She had heard rumors about the void and its mythical properties, but to resurrect the dead and turn hated enemy to sworn ally? Something like that seemed unbelievable.
"The power of the Void, huh?" Fouquet mumbled.
She had a feeling things were going to get chaotic in the days to come.
Telling his master of the tale had taken longer than he thought. The sun outside dipped over the horizon and by the time he had neared the end of his journey he was pretty sure they were close or had already past midnight. It had gotten to the point that she had eaten in the room rather than go to the Alviss hall when she was called for dinner.
His memory was more or less intact by now, although some details still eluded him. Still, he could give her enough general details, albeit with one or two hiccups depending on how well his memory held in context to the event. He still wasn't sure what had happened to Rhea or some of the others from his journey, although he had told her that they were long dead by now.
He was sure Guiche would take her absence as his chance to start spreading rumors about what he had done in Newcastle and how he had saved the kingdom near singlehandedly while he and his master watched in awe at his reverence.
He thought that she would lose attention or fall asleep at one point, but she kept her attention through every detail. Her mouth would gape when he described the monsters, she slunk back in fear when he described Oolacile's corruption and Blighttown's decay, she seemed troubled when he discussed Gwyndolin or the idea of multiple Gods, and at times she even seem awed when he described some of the fights he had gotten to with Lordran's former rulers like Seath or Nito.
Of course she still somehow found it in her to laugh when he described in excruciating detail how he had died multiple times to The Bed of Chaos or giggle when he told her about the time Solaire assumed he wanted to be more than friends. He had to tell her that, no, he did not feel attracted to Solaire regardless of how bright he shined and how gloriously incandescent he had been.
He did make sure not to tell her about how his friends met their end, skipping over his fight with Solaire in Izalith's secret passage, his encounter with Laurentius in the swamps or even his realization of Quelaag and Kirk's true goal in trying to protect the Fair Lady. Technically she'd never asked what happened to them or his thoughts at finding out what exactly the Pisaca's were, so he omitted it.
"It sounds like a fairytale," Were the first words out of her mouth. Raziel looked up at her from his place on the ground, his expression blank. After how many hours of telling her every little detail she demanded that was all she had to say? Well, she had a point, but the comment was still rather insulting all things considered.
Louise stood up from the bed and ran over to her bookshelf. She scanned through the titles before pulling out the book she needed, "If you're telling the truth, does that mean this book's not a made up story?" She offered the thin picture book to him.
He took it from her and shifted through the pages once again, "It is the legend told in Lordran, yes," He stopped at the page showing Artorias in his prime, "The legends state that Artorias stopped the abyss and that he alone did this while entire armies were brought to heel by Manus' corruption. For this he earned the title of Abysswalker, for being the single non-corrupted being that had stemmed the tide of the abyss."
"And the truth?" She asked, already guessing what the answer would be.
"What I told you just earlier," He turned another and showed the corrupted and crippled form of the knight, "Artorias either never made it Manus or he did and was defeated. Regardless of the truth he became a shell, a monster filled with the abyss' taint capable of nothing but attacking anyone that managed to cross his path. He was...aware of this fate."
"What do you mean he was...aware?" She said warily.
"Whatever thou art, stay away. Soon...I will be consumed. By 'Them'. By the Dark. Thou art strong, human. Surely thine kind are more than pure. I beg of thee...the spread of the abyss must be stopped. All of you, forgive me. For I have availed you nothing." Raziel said it all, ignoring Louise's confused expression.
"...What was that?" That was somewhat unnerving.
"Whatever remained of him," He closed his eyes and closed the book with an audible snap, "Manus is dead now, Princess Dusk was rescued...until Seath captured her some time after," He scratched his cheek in annoyance, "My role would remain untold, as Elizabeth had told me. Artorias needed to die with his dignity and I did not come from the same time as them, so it mattered little to me."
"Not so untold given this book," She took it back from him and placed it back on the shelf, "...What about Count Mott?" He gave a barely noticeable twitch at the name, "You know what I mean. You told me about that fortress and the archives, the crystal and the...snake-men, was it?"
"The Count...somehow had Seath's notes," He looked to the window, staring at the red and blue moon, "The bodies in the cellar are...were males he had taken to turn into snake-men. Any females he had were fed Humanity in order to turn them into Firekeepers...and any that fail are turned into Pisaca's..." His master flinched as she remembered their description of them: A mix of a slug and octopus, barely reminiscent of humans. It was a good thing he hadn't told her about the crying Pisaca's he'd killed in the cells.
"How did he get them?" She pressed, "It's either this 'Lordran' is a faraway land or another world entirely, which means that it couldn't have been easy to find the notes and the spells he needed. How did he do it?"
"I am know no more than you," He shrugged, "The notes might have spread after Seath's death, but the years I spent in the kiln I had no idea of what went on in the world outside," He mimicked a yawn, "As for how he had done the experiments, it is not impossible to learn given you have the determination for it. Anyone can be a student, anyone can be a master. All it takes is time."
"Time..." She started shuffling her feet. Raziel gave her weird behavior a side-ways glance, "Say...Raziel, you said anyone could learn these magics, right? Regardless of their birth?"
"Yes."
"Then...is it also possible that...I could learn it?"
He stopped staring at the twin moons and turned back to look at her, his brows crinkling every so slightly as he registered what she'd said. She wanted to learn the magics of Lordran? That was...not what he expected.
"If...you could find someone to teach you...perhaps..." He answered hesitantly. While he had heard of self-taught cases, those required months if not years of practice to cast even a single spell if one didn't have a book or teacher to glean from. He himself had learned from the teachings of others: Laurentius and later Quelana taught him Pyromancy; Griggs and later on Seeker Logan with Sorcery; and Petrus (liar) taught him first with Rhea teaching him all she knew afterwards.
"Then...could you..." She took a deep breath and wrung her hands together, trying to calm herself. Despite the fact that she didn't finish he could tell rather easily what she was asking for - Could he teach her? She'd already seen him wield fire in his hands and use the Dark Hand as a shield. If she could do wandless elemental magic then she could prove all those who called her 'Zero' wrong.
"No...I am sorry," He turned his gaze from her again. He didn't want to see her disappointed look, "I do not know how to share the Flame I wield and the Dark Hand...would consume you," He finished lamely. Pyromancy Flames could be shared by more experienced users, but that only counted for those who learned from experience. He had brute-forced his way through the process and fed the Flame souls in order to stimulate its powers. Much quicker, but much more dangerous given the amount of souls required.
The Dark Hand would also prove useless to her. While absorbing Humanity was indeed useful for both mortal and Undead, it didn't change the fact that the process was rather difficult for first-time users and they didn't exactly have targets they could practice on. He'd learned from necessity and the choice between doing so and 'living' and not doing so and 'dying' gave him little leeway.
She sighed, "I guess I expected that," She went back to the bed and lay down again, staring up at cloth covering the roof, "You've told me everything, and I still have a hard time believing it. I mean...you're an Undead, I've already accepted that. But...you talk about lands I've never even heard of, monsters that defy even the orcs, goblins and minotaurs we have here in Halkeginia. You talk of Gods...you say you killed them, and I know you enough by now that you wouldn't lie about doing something like. It sounds...impossible, killing a deity..."
"They were weakened by the loss of the Flame of Life...and at least one had turned herself into a Demon," Raziel replied. It was likely the only reason he had been able to destroy them to begin with. Even Gwyn, for all his years spent burning and his power divided, had managed to put up a decent fight before he had finally ended his suffering.
"And then there's that...kiln you talked about..." She shuddered at his description. Fire, burning at both your body and soul for all eternity with no respite and no end in sight until the sacrifice finally lost their mind. Her mind flashed back to the day of the summoning ritual. Many had run away and those that didn't either forgot about it or already disregarded it given the fact that there had been, to their knowledge, incidents with Raziel barring the fact that he was human.
"...You should go sleep, Master," He replied. He didn't want to talk about the kiln, about the torment he'd endured in order to save that cesspool of a land Gwyndolin tried to rule over, "We shall discuss this when you wake again. You do not want to miss your studies..." He just wanted this day to end.
As he was about to sit down onto his hay bed his master had gotten one of her pillows and thrown it at him. Raziel clenched his fists and barely resisted frowning as the pillow hit his head with a dull 'whump', "What in the abyss was that for?" He asked, throwing the pillow back at the bed.
Louise stared silently at him for a minute before she started tapping the other side of her bed, "...Sl...Sleep on the bed now..." She coughed
"...What?"
"I'm...I'm saying- Ah, geez! Just shut up and get over here!" She went over to him and, before he could protest, started pushing towards the four canopy bed, "We stayed in that boat for three days straight and we didn't get any proper sleep over it, so I'd feel bad if I made you sleep on the floor. It felt...uncomfortable when i had to do it."
"Master-"
"No arguments," She interrupted. She went over to the right side of the bed and lied down forcefully, stuffing herself under the blanket, "Just shut up and sleep on the bed, at least for tonight. Maybe we can find you a mattress when I have some free time tomorrow, but for now just sleep and don't ask any more questions. Like you said I can't afford to miss studies tomorrow."
Once again he was tempted to argue that he didn't need sleep, but he held back his complaint. Hesitantly, lied down on the soft bedsheets and placed his head on the extra pillow, making sure to face away from her, "Mmmph," He grumbled uncomfortably as he seemed to sink into the mattress. This thing was too damn soft. If they were attacked how would he be able to get up quickly enough to fight back? This was why preferred sitting down whenever he was near bonfires.
Despite her words, he could feel her moving every few minutes from underneath the blanket, shifting around needlessly and mumbling words that he couldn't make out. She was anxious about something, that was for certain.
"Raziel, are you awake?" She finally asked after the third bout of mumbling.
"...Yes," A part of him wanted to stay quiet and just pretend that he was asleep. It was glaringly obvious that she wanted to ask more questions. What would she inquire about next? If she questioned him on crystal magic then he was going to leave the room. Desperate as she may have been to learn magic for herself he wasn't going to help her learn that corrupted-
He stiffened as he felt her hand grasp the back of his tunic. What in the abyss?
"How long?" She asked hesitantly.
"How long...?" He repeated.
"How long were you burning?"
As the words left her mouth Raziel's grip on the sheets tightened, a barely concealed growl escaping his lips. How long had he burned? He did his best not to think on it. Every year, every month, day, hour, minute and second he spent in that torment was a futile attempt at stemming the tide of the abyss. Like Artorias, like the many knights and adventurers who had come before him.
And for what? To ensure Gwyndolin ruled? So the depravity and destruction of the lands could continue at least for a little longer? At their core humans could be good, but Lordran and everyone around it...he'd lost faith in the idea of saving them again. Once he died they would have fought amongst one another once again, throwing each other into the pile of bodies that they would use in order to sacrifice to the Flames. Let another brave hero sacrifice themselves if they wished, but whether light or dark prevailed all of them were doomed regardless of the resolution.
"What does it matter?" Raziel finally answered.
"I'm asking, that's why," Louise continued, "I know you don't want to talk about it, but you promised to answer all my questions once you finished telling me everything. So I'll ask again: How long?"
"Time is meaningless in the kiln..."
"Raziel, look at me," Her grip shifted from his back to his shoulder and pulled, trying to force him to face towards. her
He shook off her hand and made to stand up before she grabbed his wrist.
"Damn it, would you stop!" She nearly yelled. He sighed and turned to face her as she once again pulled at him. She was glaring at him, but it lacked the intensity she usually had when she was mad at him about something.
"Why do you wish to know?" He asked again.
"I want to know because I still remember when I summoned you," She sat up as well, her hold on his wrist never loosening, "I remember fire and smoke. When I first saw you I thought I had killed someone or that I'd summoned some kind of monster."
"You did summon a monster," Louise couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not, "I do not remember how I was summoned here. I remember the pain in the kiln, I remember seeing a green gate, but after that my earliest memory is of waking up in that room and escaping. If you wish to find out more about what happened then I will not be of any aid to you."
"Raziel, when you first showed up I panicked and screamed. But after Professor Colbert tried to fend you off," The professor attacked him? That explained the wary feeling he had, "I realized you were just trying to ask for help," Her grip on him tightened, "The reason you look like that and not like a burnt corpse is because I completed the Familiar contract."
"This appearance is not my own, I know this much."
"So tell me already. How long? Before I summoned you, how long did you spend trapped in this 'kiln'?"
"I do not know, Master," He mimicked a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly before he held her gaze again, "It could have been ten, it could have been a hundred. Maybe it was much more than that, maybe it was less than that. The burning made it difficult for me to keep track of how much time has passed. And as I've told you before, time is not stable in Lordran."
She continued to hold his gaze, waiting for him to say anything else. Once it became clear he wasn't going to say more she mumbled an, "Alright..." and released her grip on him before once again laying down on the bed, pulling the blankets over her head.
Raziel looked down at the runes on his hands. It was the reason he was bound to her and the proof that he was more than just a re-animated corpse. He clenched the scarred hand before following his master's example and taking his place on the bed again. Why did she want to know about how long it had been? It wasn't as if it mattered now after everything was said and done.
"Hey...Raziel?" His master called once again.
"What is it?" By the abyss, what did she wish to know now? Couldn't she wait until after she had slept? At least then he would get some solitude.
"Tell me again about that knight, the one who always talked about the sun. What was his name...Solray?"
"Solaire," He corrected, "There is nothing much to say: He was...odd, even among the others I've met. He proclaimed to love the sun and that his turning of Undead and escape from the Asylum was all for the sake of his goal. He wished that he could be as 'gloriously incandescent' as the sun and that he wished that he would one day match its light..." He couldn't help the small smile that quirked his lips upwards, "He was always eager to help and assist anyone that came
"Do you miss him?"
The question struck him speechless before he answered, "He is dead-"
"That's not what I asked. I'm asking you if you miss him."
Again he was silent. Louise waited a minute before he answered her question once again, "...Yes...I miss him...I miss them all," He'd told her about all of them, about how they were on their own journeys, who he had considered friend and who he had considered foe, "They are dead now...but I still cherish the time we spent together...even if I cannot remember it as vividly as I once did."
"I see..." She took a deep breath before asking her next question, "Then...does that mean you want to go back? To Lordran-"
"Absolutely not," He interrupted, "My time has passed, Master. Regardless of how long I spent in the kiln, nothing awaits me back there. My friends and those I knew have either died or moved on, if they haven't been hunted down by the clerics and others who follow the Way of the White," And that wasn't even considering the fact that it might have been taken by darkness now that he had left the kiln.
"Isn't it your home? You don't to go back even a little bit?" She pressed.
"It is as much a home to me as Newcastle would be to you," She had to raise an eyebrow at the odd comparison, "Lordran is...it is no home, Master. It is a wound on the land, festering with monstrosities, miasma and decay. Let Gwyndolin and the serpents rule over what is left. I have no desire to involve myself in their affairs anymore than I wish to go back to the kiln as another sacrifice."
"So that's it then? You'll just stay here, as my Familiar?" He didn't miss the hope her voice held. Odd, he would have thought she wanted him gone.
"Until I Hollow, yes."
"Hollow?" She remembered how he'd described it: Losing yourself to madness and turning into a husk that either killed anyone not like them or prayed for salvation that never came, "Why? Do you think you'll Hollow?"
"All Undead Hollow in the end," He said, "Master...my behavior at the castle, my fall back into basic instincts...it is similar to the behavior of the Hollows. I may already be Hollowing."
"W-What? You mean you're..."
"I have no other explanation. I have not fed on Humanity and though I have not died since coming here the injuries I've received have been severe. It might be the reason I am bleeding, although why I bled blood and not the Estus Liquid I am still not sure."
"Is there a way to stop it then?"
"Not unless I feed," He bit his lower lip, "Feeding is a dangerous process and it will end with the death of whoever is being fed on," He declined mentioning about how he had nearly fed on Siesta earlier. He wished he had fed on those soldiers back in newcastle, but they didn't exactly have the luxury of time.
"So...you have to eat people? Like Vampires do?" She sounded more confused and wary than scared. Granted that was likely because it had been nearly a month and he hadn't fed on anyone at all.
"In a way, yes," He frowned, "Regardless, it is nothing more than a temporary solution. Unless I stop fighting altogether then I will always need more Humanity to keep my mind centered, and that means I will always be at risk of turning Hollow," He sucked on his tongue, "We should stop speaking on this now. I still have time left and the more I dwell on the inevitable the faster it comes. I only hope that you grant me one request once it becomes too hard to control."
"Request?"
"To kill me," He heard her gasp behind him. It was an abrupt request to be true, but necessary, "Do not worry: Without my sanity I should not prove too difficult to kill. Make sure to keep your distance and aim for my head; the heart and other organs are no more vulnerable than the rest of my body. Separating my head from my body is the quickest way to ensure I will die quickly."
"Stop talking like that!" She sat up and yelled, "Don't act like it's no big deal when you're talking about how to kill you. Just...just calm down and keep your mind, okay? You're not going to Hollow or whatever it is that happens. You said that those who Hollowed lost track of what they wanted to do or lost sight of their goals, right?"
"Yes, but-"
"Then focus on being my Familiar, focus on succeeding that so you don't lose sight of your goal," She gave him a look of determination, "I am your master and so long as you're my Familiar I won't allow you to lose your mind."
It was a desperate attempt to comfort him, but ultimately pointless. Even if he wasn't Hollowing now he would Hollow at some point. Truth be told he was surprised he had lasted so long when he'd died Gods knows how many times during his journey to Lordran. At some point he had assumed he would Hollow before he even reached Gwyn and his strange behavior at Newcastle only compounded the idea that his time was coming for him.
"Haha," Still, he found the words comforting, "I suppose my Hollowing will have to wait then, Master," He smiled and nodded, "So long as I am your Familiar I will do my best not to lose myself like the others before me." He didn't truly believe it, but he couldn't bring himself to tell her that at best she could only prolong the inevitable. And all the same he found her honesty endearing in a way; she at least didn't lie and pretend he was some destined her of prophecy meant for great things.
Maybe he would die tomorrow, or maybe the next year, but until then he would accompany her and live his remaining time here.
"Good, just remember that and you'll be fine," Her smile was replaced with a yawn as fatigue finally set in, "Ha, I guess I was more tired than I thought. I need to get some sleep. Classes start again tomorrow - or later as the case may be - and I need to catch up on the days I missed."
"Pleasant dreams, Master."
"Just call me Louise," She suggested offhandedly. Raziel raised an eyebrow; there was no special meaning behind the suggestion, but he did find it odd why she would say that after telling him to focus on being her Familiar. Calling her by name seemed to make the command lessen in impact.
"As you wish...Master Louise," He heard her release an annoyed sound at the mixing of the terms before she mumbled a "Goodnight" to him and closed her eyes.
He watched over her, waiting until her breathing calmed to show she was sleeping. As quietly as he could, he stepped off the bed and made his way to Derflinger's shaking form. His mast- Louise had placed him at the corner of the room and the entire time he was telling his tale the sheath shook. He probably wanted to interject and say his own comments.
"Keep quiet or she will wake," He raised a finger to his lips in a 'shush' gesture. The blade rattled a few more times, likely curses at the way he was being treated, before he stopped. Raziel's lips raised in another small smile as he began to untie the ropes.
"About time!" Derf whispered harshly, "What kind of partner are you, leaving your trusty blade tied up like that!?" He clanged his handle as a show of disapproval before his voice dropped even lower, "Anyway, was all that true or were you just making up stuff so Pinky would stop questioning you?"
"I did not lie to her," That was true - He hadn't lied about a single detail, but he had failed to mention the truth about some of the things he'd seen in Lordran. Hey, it wasn't his fault she never asked for those specifics. As far as his mast- Louise knew Ceaseless Discharge was a mindless monster and not a tormented son whose only solace was watching over the body of the sister...whose clothes he had stolen because he thought they looked nice. That wasn't the only thing she was in the dark about, but he'd admit more when the time came.
"Huh, that's a surprise," Derf clicked, "Still, I can't believe the nerve of that girl! Tying up a blessed sword like me! Feh, Mages these days have no respect for the magic of their betters-
"Shut up, you rusted piece of junk!" His mas- Louise's yell interrupted Derflinger's would-be rant and Raziel once again found a pillow hitting him at the back of his head, "Raziel, put him down and go to sleep already! Don't make me say it again!"
Raziel gave Derflinger an apologetic shrug, picking up the pillow she had thrown at him. Derflinger threw the two of them an annoyed "Goodnight" before he retreated to his sheath. The Undead placed the pillow on the bed before shifting down on the small mattress, pointedly ignoring the discomfort he felt as the soft material seemed to swallow him in its folds again.
"Goodnight."
That night, he dreamed of Kalameet and the many times the obsidian dragon of calamity killed him in increasingly embarrassing ways. He would later blame it on the bed being cursed and trying to eat him.
Shorter chapter than usual, but hey 15k chapters is a bit much for normal length. Anyway, read and review and yada yada yada.
The Lone Courier of XCOM - This is a problem that plagues the game world enemies, not just the Hollows. Why is it everytime you rest the enemies respawn? There have been some theories like 'resting puts you back in time before you killed them', but that theory falls flat since bosses should be revived as well. Personally I think FROM just did it to make your life harder and that there's no in-universe reason all the enemies respawn beyond making sure the game remained teeth-gnashingly difficult and you never run out of things to kill or ways to level up.
I'm also going for Hollow permadeath, mostly because any of the named NPC's who Hollow end up dying permanently. Hell, when Sieglinde kills her father his body stays right there and never returns to a bonfire. So if/when Raziel Hollows, he'd likely permanently die if he's killed by an outside source or he falls of a cliff or something.
Guest - Yeah, the last chapter in particular felt like a clusterfuck with the 'Manus' flashbacks and Julio vs Sheffield fight. I'll do my best to insert Dark Souls elements in a more controlled manner later. As of now, I apologize once again for the cut-off and messy transitioning. Also, this really isn't a unique take - From day one I made it clear this was a canon rehash and so far its followed canon to the letter with a few changes here and there. 'Misfortune' and 'The Princess and her Knight' are where canon takes a hike.
Krulla Chief - Uh...I never indicated that he thought the Queen was male, did I? The way he talked implies that he's attracted to her, much to Louise's disgust since she's the mother of her best friend and Raziel looks just as old as Julio does e.g 16-17 years old. Whether it's squicky or not depends on whether you count the years in the kiln as him aging or not. You could make an argument for and against it counting given the circumstances he was under.