Chapter Two - Exodus
Freomund was the kind of man whose physical appearance didn't live up to the strength imparted by his name, at least as far as the present was concerned anyway. Currently the muscle-bound Draconian stood huddled beneath several layers of fur, looking for all the world like a talking carpet instead of the seasoned adventurer he truly was, with his reptilian eye's golden glow the only part of his face that remained visible beneath it all. Well, visible in the loosest sense of the word, what with the non-stop barrage of hail and snow that raged around them.
Yes there was the power imparted to him by the Ring, but he wasn't very keen on making use of it at the moment, since doing so would draw the attention of those oh-so-loathsome gods. That and it governed the natural laws of the Lands Between, and thus wasn't something he intended on using in such a frivolous manner any time soon, if ever. So, he elected to simply make due and soldier on while Malenia trudged along at his side, albeit with some distance left between them for obvious reasons.
The unlikely duo had made their way through the Haligtree easily enough, as the foes that would have struck Freomund down backed off upon seeing him in the company of their commander, and from there it had been a relatively simple matter to travel through the snowfields that lay beyond. At least until the storm had blown in and their journey had been slowed significantly, as they were forced to navigate an almost impenetrable ocean of white. It was so bad, in fact, that Freomund hadn't even bothered to make use of Torrent - not wanting to subject him to the same miserable conditions.
"I think we should find a place to make camp for the night," Malenia said at last, her voice carrying over the howling wind with unnatural ease. "We will make very little progress in a mess such as this."
Despite his desire to carry on, and minor shock at the fact that the Empyrean standing beside him would so much as pause in her pursuit of Miquella, he couldn't help but find himself agreeing with her wisdom. Scanning their environs - a challenge if ever there was one - Freomund eventually spied the entrance to a small cave. Motioning for Malenia to follow he made his way over, practically fighting the buffeting winds for every inch of ground until the two of them were safely ensconced within its shadowed interior. Once they'd gotten situated, however, Freomund laid out some of the kindling he'd packed for the journey up here and set it ablaze with a brief incantation.
"Ahh, that's much better," he said when the spark had grown into a roaring flame.
A beat passed before Freomund began to remove the furs that obscured his armored form. Once he had finished, however, he heaved a deep sigh of relief.
"There! Now I won't end up as red as a boiled prawn!"
Although Miquella still occupied the majority of her thoughts at the moment, Malenia couldn't help but smile somewhat at the joviality present in her companion's voice. It was quite nice honestly, what with things being the way they were, to find someone who hadn't fallen entirely into despair. To find someone who, dare she say, still had a sense of humor - regardless of how bad said humor might have been.
Granted, now that she was on the subject of her current companion, Malenia suddenly realized that he had yet to mention his name.
"Freomund," he said when she asked. "Afraid there's no last name to speak of on account of me being an orphan. I never knew my parents, but I felt the call of Grace regardless, so I guess blood isn't all that important when it comes to us Tarnished."
She raised an eyebrow at that.
"Tarnished eh? Are you a descendent of the warriors that followed the first Elden Lord perhaps?"
Freomund shrugged.
"I suppose so, though I must be a very distant descendent at that. Either way I answered the call and, well-"
He gestured to himself as though pointing out the obvious, though this was more of a force of habit than anything else.
"Here I am, more or less."
"I take it Godfrey is dead then?"
Freomund's expression fell a bit, as though he were recalling an altogether unpleasant memory, yet he offered her a nod of affirmation nonetheless.
"He is. Only one of us could walk away that day, and fortune favored me it seems…"
Freomund let his thoughts trail off for a bit before snapping back to reality, a faint look of worry lining his face.
"I-if it's any consolation, I did my best to ensure he met a warrior's death. It was quick, clean, and-"
"Peace friend," Malenia said, cutting him off with a wave of her hand. "You did what any warrior would, given the circumstances, and I bear no ill will towards you for that. Although I suppose this means Radahn, too, has been felled by your hand… then again, he and I were never on the best of terms."
Her expression soured for a moment, but she swiftly schooled it back into neutrality as another question wormed its way into her head.
"I take it you had one of the Finger Maidens aiding you during your journey then?"
Freomund didn't reply immediately. In truth, he was so quiet for so long that Malenia worried she'd offended him in some way, and was already moving to apologize when the sound of his voice gave her pause.
"I don't wish to discuss it further," he said coldly. "It's nothing to do with you, and I understand your curiosity, but the question forces me to revisit some things I'd prefer to forget."
He averted his gaze with a slow exhale.
"I'm sorry if I sound harsh. It's just a very… sensitive subject for me."
"I understand," Malenia said, before fidgeting for a bit, seemingly unsure of whether or not there was more she should add.
Then, in a very uncharacteristic display of tenderness, she reached across the fire with her prosthetic to give Freomund's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. She let her hand linger there for a while as the blizzard continued to rage outside, before ultimately withdrawing to stoke the flame that lay between them.
So fixated was the Blade of Miquella on this task, that she completely missed the words her companion whispered next.
"Was I truly worth burning for, Melina…"
I-X-I
The storm had cleared some time during the night while they slept, and by the dawn of the next day the weather was calm enough for them to make some significant headway. It was around late afternoon when they finally arrived at the Grand Lift of Rold, the final divide separating the frigid expanse of the Forbidden Lands to the north from the gold and bronze strewn Altus Plateau to the south. Freomund stepped onto the platform first and Malenia followed him shortly after. Once they were both onboard he lifted the medallion on high, causing the statues to creak and groan as they rotated into place. No more than a minute later and the lift had already begun its ascent - causing ash, dirt, and snow to fall from it in a mighty plume as it soared into the crimson sky…
"Why is the ground here so unstable?" Malenia asked after they'd entered the capital proper. "It feels like we're wading through sand."
"It's ash," Freomund explained. "The Erdtree had to burn so I could gain entry and claim the title of Lord. Of course doing so meant burying almost the entirety of Leyndell in the stuff."
Malenia felt a tinge of panic course through her just then.
"If the capital is buried, then how will we-"
"There's a tunnel leading to the sewers that I stumbled across the last time I was here," he said. "We still have the means to reach your brother, don't worry."
Malenia sighed, but she did her best to put her fears to rest for the time being. Freomund had been true to his word thus far, so it stood to reason that this tunnel he spoke of existed also. Indeed, the more she thought about it, the more assured she became. Standing just a hair straighter, she picked up her pace to keep stride with her Tarnished companion, who pushed onward with an almost frightening level of determination.
A few minutes of hiking later and Freomund had finally located the tunnel in question. Jumping down he called out the positions of the platforms as best he could, and Malenia made her way down a moment later, leaping from outcropping to beam only to land beside him in a crouch. Rising to her full height, she spared the darkness before them naught but a passing glance.
"Now…" she began, bringing her blade to bear in one fluid motion. "Let's go slay an Omen."
Author's Note: What's this? Chapter two early?! Why it's almost as inconceivable as going against a Sicilian! In all seriousness, I cranked this chapter out literally within the same day because I am starting to genuinely enjoy writing this story. Chapter three will cover everyone's favorite level design, sewers, and hopefully the fight against Mohg. If not then I plan for it to at least cover the journey leading up to him, with the chapter after that being the one in which the actual beatdown happens.
What? You thought he was just going to Nihil his way out of getting his ass kicked?
Not this time I'm afraid.