Chapter 4 - Bells in the Woods

They didn't go much further on that day, for only after Edvin had left did they notice that evening was drawing near. The permanent light of the Erdtree made it increasingly difficult to tell day and night apart. Nevertheless, they both felt the tiredness in their bones. But they couldn't stay in the Stranded Graveyard. Too great was the risk of further undead rising. They and Edvin had destroyed all they could find, but one never knew what yet lurked beneath the cold earth.

After a brief period of pondering, they decided to head for the village ruins in the nearby forest. Even though there weren't too many trees, they were still dense enough to provide cover from unfriendly eyes.

Cenric's thoughts lingered back to Edvin. A strange voice in him told him that it might have been a mistake to let him go so easily. If Godrick learned of them through his soldier…

The news of Godrick in general alarmed him. He didn't remember much of him, but what he did spoke of cunning restraint, sometimes even bordering on cowardice. He did not recall Godrick being particularly cruel to anyone considered his subject. But strange things had befallen Limgrave, so it seemed, and perhaps even all of the Lands Between.

It was still too early to fully understand the scope and scale of the realm's whole situation. So Cenric decided to, reluctantly, focus on the here and now, something Neria seemed to have far less problems with. As they approached the small forest and the ruins within, he found himself looking at her from the side. What he would find confused him. One moment, she seemed lost, the next in awe, the moment after lost again. It was as though Cenric was looking at a child, which, given that Neria was considerably taller than him, far taller than he would have assumed a woman of her age could even become, was a rather odd sensation.

Nevertheless, she was easy to be around, unlike the other Tarnished he had come across before embarking on his journey to the Lands Between. Cenric only wished that she would finally recover her magic. Whatever had led to her memory loss? It could have been death, true, but why was she the only one whose mind was affected so? And why was Cenric so compelled to help her in regaining herself? He knew what he sought in the Lands Between, although he couldn't say why the Erdtree supported him. Was that a riddle he had to solve?

The village looked even worse up close than it had from the distance. Even though the forest tightly surrounded it, having overgrown all possible paths that had once led there, it did not hide the sheer destruction. Not one house was intact. Roofs had been ripped apart, walls struck down, fences splintered, paths dug up. It looked like a raging beast had passed through with the speed and force of a storm from the ocean.

By now, the skies had darkened and the stars began to show themselves in the heavens, followed closely by the great moon, joining the Erdtree's golden light with their chill silver. Within minutes, Limgrave was covered by a shining blanket.

The Tarnished found the most undamaged of the houses, a small shack at the end of the village. The roof was almost fully torn off, but the skies were clear. No rain would surprise them tonight.

Even though it was cold, no fire was made. A lingering suspicion that something foul would come upon them prevented Cenric from doing so. If it wouldn't be Godrick's forces, it could be beasts or more undead. Neria understood, even though she tightened the embrace of her cloak.

While Cenric was scouring and readying the shack for a suitable resting place, he noticed how the tall white-haired woman slowly wandered off. While he wasn't particularly worried about her ability to defend herself anymore, she had quickly regained her memories of stealth and sword, he still pursued when she didn't return several minutes later.

He found her in the village square, or what was left of it. She was standing in front of what used to be the well, hauling and pulling. When Cenric approached, she turned around and smiled. "There is water down there," she said. "Whatever ravaged here, it did not touch the spring beneath. Listen."

Cenric listened. And indeed: from deep beneath, he could hear the study flow of an underground spring. "Not bad," he said and gave Neria an approving nod.

"Oh, and I found these," the woman continued and presented a bucket filled to the brim with small red berries.

"Rowa," he said, approvingly. "Good find. Did you remember how to survive in the wilds while I wasn't looking?"

"Not exactly," Neria said. "I just…knew what was good."

"Well, let's hope you have more instances where you 'just know'," Cenric said with a smirk. "Good work. If you never recall yourself, you'd make for a fine gatherer."

Neria blanched and her eyes widened in horror. "Never?" she gasped.

"I'm only jesting," Cenric said. "I'm sure you'll get there soon enough. But for now, we eat."

They cleaned the rowa and sat on the hut's porch. The water served as a reminder to both of them just how thirsty they were. Even Cenric couldn't recall the last time he had drunk something that wasn't somehow marred by saltwater. Even though the rowa fruits were of bitter taste, they fulfilled the purpose of filling up their stomachs.

When it came to properly preparing for slumber, Cenric noticed one important detail: there was only one bedroll.

"You can have it," Cenric said after a short while, even though he could feel the tiredness creeping in on him.

"It's yours," Neria protested. "I am burden enough as it is, I shall not take your resting place as well. Besides, I don't feel tired yet." And it looked like she meant it. In fact…she seemed to be way more alive than she was during the day.

"If you're waiting for me to offer it to you after an argument, forget it. You either take it now, or I will keep it," Cenric said with a sudden harshness that surprised even him.

Neria gave him an uncertain look. "I…truly am not tired," she said slowly. "I can use the pause to think. Maybe I will recall something else about myself. Please, Cenric, sleep."

"How am I to be sure you're not going to slice me up while I'm unguarded?" he asked. It was a question he was used to asking, even though it felt wrong this time, even before it had fully left his lips.

Neria studied him with her great blue eyes. There was something inherently compassionate in them that made Cenric feel strangely at ease. "I will not slice you, Cenric," she said at last. "That is one thing I am definitely certain about."

Cenric looked at her for a long while, until he couldn't withhold a yawn any longer. Slightly embarrassed, he took off his armour, until his body felt that much lighter. And still, even though it had been sorted, he felt a pang of guilt as he began to settle down. He turned to Neria, intending to repeat his offer after all, but the sorceress without magic was sitting on the ruined porch, gazing up into the stars. A strangely peaceful look had overcome her. Cenric decided, against his knowledge of common courtesy, to let it be. Before he had even fully registered that he was lying down, he was already asleep.

The once white cliffs were black on this night. The lonely boat waited, waited to carry him away into the darkness beyond the fog. Away from all that he had once loved and cherished.

The verdict was unanimous: Exile. Tarnished. Spurned. Disgraced. It was no more than he had deserved. And he had begged for death, for death would have been mercy.

He sailed away, until the coast was no more, and only the fog surrounded him. He was alone on the boat. Alone with the cries. Alone with the devastation. Alone with the guilt. Tarnished.

Cenric startled and awoke. His body was drenched in sweat. He sat up and held his face. His head felt like a spear had impaled it. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep again. But all attempts resulted in failure. Eventually, he gave up and rose.

It took him a moment to fully remember where he was, which was also the moment he realised he was alone. Neria was gone.

He couldn't explain the sudden alarm he felt as he stepped out of the shack. Even greater was the relief when he saw her in the distance. Once more she was standing in the village square, making strange swinging movements. Cenric quietly approached, for he felt like it would be unwise to disturb her.

The moon shone upon her, drenching her in its light. It was almost like her white hair had been conjured by the celestial body, illuminating it as though it was flowing silver. She was holding her staff high into the air. The glintstone at its tip shimmered in the night. She swung upwards, downwards, sidewards, and performed a spin. That's when she spotted Cenric.

"My, you weren't lying about your lack of tiredness," he said with a light smirk.

Neria's face was wrought with disappointment. "I am trying," she said. "Truly trying. Nothing. Was I even a sorceress? Or did someone put the staff into my grave to spite me?"

"Only time and practice will tell," Cenric said. "Come now. Tired or not, you need rest. I can't have you sleeping in during the day."

"Wouldn't it be safer to travel at night, anyway?" Neria asked. "If what Edvin said about Godrick's Tarnished holds true?"

Once again, his thoughts returned to the lonely soldier of Godrick, who had aided them without much questioning. What goal was he aspiring to accomplish by doing that, knowing that it would irk his master's fury?

"Travelling at night would only be safe," he responded at last, "if we would know our way around in the darkness. The Erdtree doesn't shine on everything. And there are certain beasts that would only come out under cover of night. Wolfpacks, for instance. Do you feel prepared to deal with an entire wolfpack?"

Neria sighed. "No…I suppose I'm not."

Cenric nodded. "Wise choice. Now go get some rest. We'll figure out your magic eventually."

As Neria beheld her staff one more time and began returning to the shack, Cenric's easy smile faltered. While the young woman wasn't watching, his gaze turned towards the stars, forever frozen and still, halting all fates that would have come to pass by now. For a long moment, he beheld the heavenly bodies, a feeling of distant melancholy rising within, before he turned away and followed the white-haired one.

Back in the shack, the matter of the singular bedroll came up once more.

"I will not rob you of your rest," Neria repeated.

"And I will not see you slow us down during the day," Cenric retorted. How many times were they going to go over this until an agreement was finally reached? The vagabond looked at the meagre resting place, until he finally sighed. "Right, here's what we'll do. We'll share."

"What?" came the quick uneasy reply.

"Until we can get you camping material, we'll share the one." Neria's face was pale as he set himself down. "Oh, what?" Cenric asked. "Nothing unusual about it. Soldiers do it all the time if one comrade falls short. Sometimes, you have to make certain sacrifices during journeys."

Without hearing another word of protest, he lied down on one side of the bedroll, leaving just enough space for Neria to join him. The woman stood there for several minutes, unsure of what to do, until she let out a small yawn herself. Slowly, she lowered herself next to Cenric, doing her best to not actually make physical contact. A few minutes of settling down later, the two Tarnished had more or less come to a space agreement, their backs facing each other.

When Cenric closed his eyes, he felt strangely at ease. He recalled a long gone time, when such practices were almost everyday occurrences. Neria's presence next to him brought back a sense of old familiarity. And when he closed his eyes and fell asleep once more, no nightmares plagued him.

The next few days all went by in a relatively similar pattern. They travelled swiftly, always on the lookout for potential threats, but apart from one or two howling wolves in the distance at night, nothing troubled them.

They ventured through empty fields and misty woods, always sticking to the direction Edvin pointed them into. Sometimes, they would pass ruins that looked like they had been randomly placed without thought. There were occasional walls, towers and bridges all built in a similar manner. After spotting several of such ruins, Cenric began to ponder whether they truly had been randomly placed. He certainly didn't remember them from his past life. Just how long had he been dead? And just what had all happened since? Limgrave felt as though it was in a state between life and death. There were no people, no signs of active civilisation.

They ate whatever they could find. Luckily, rowa grew in bountiful amounts. Sometimes, Cenric got lucky with a deer or hare. They just about managed to not go hungry for too long.

On the third day of travelling through a particularly great forest, its canopies obscured by the morning fog, they slowly began to doubt Edvin's words. Just as they began to think about turning back and looking for another path, they suddenly heard a sound. A distant ringing of bells reached them through the mists between the trees. To Cenric, they sounded like church bells, a sound he had least expected here. But it matched Edvin's description, so they pursued, their energy renewed.

After several more minutes of hiking through the woods, they finally came to a clearing. And then they saw the houses, actual standing, intact houses. They were mostly made of grey stone with roofs of dark wood. Smoke rose out of several chimneys. The heart of the village was made of a great open square, in the centre of which stood a church. Contrary to the other buildings, this one was made of white rock, similar to the cliffs of Limgrave's coast. It was from there the bells sounded.

"Am I…seeing this?" Neria asked, clear exhaustion in her voice. "Am I… hearing this?"

"Looks like Edvin's word was good for something after all," Cenric said, unable to fully hide the relief in his voice. "Let's go and find this Kalé."

They stepped onto the clearing and began approaching the village. As they drew closer, they saw movement, people going about their business. Cenric was almost in disbelief. Aside from Edvin, they hadn't seen any living human souls in the Lands Between so far. A part of him had begun to assume that the realm had been deserted. It was one of the times where he was glad to be proven wrong.

But as they passed the first few houses and laid eyes on the first few people, Cenric immediately noticed that something was wrong. People rushed past them, avoiding their gazes. All seemed to make their way towards the church.

"They're…afraid," Neria said quietly.

A few minutes later, they understood exactly why.

The lonely sound of a trumpet thundered across the clearing and lost itself in the woods. When they reached the village square, they found the villagers assembled into a great circle. In the middle stood a group of armoured men. The colours of their regalia immediately marked them as soldiers of Godrick. Cenric instantly grabbed Neria by the arm and pulled her behind the nearest building. They couldn't risk being caught now. From behind the wall, like a pair of thieves, they watched.

Another sound was heard, the sound of something great approaching. A moment later, a great black carriage reached the square, and Cenric heard Neria gasp momentarily. His breathing also increased briefly. It was not the sight of the carriage that alarmed the two Tarnished, but rather what was pulling it. Two giant creatures, their form resembling a sick artist's nightmarish vision of what a human was supposed to look like, brough the vessel to a standstill, beholding the crowd with great dark eyes, from faces that resembled fleshy skulls. They had hair as well, but it looked like a dead and dry bush someone had merged with the creatures' flesh. On their backs, they each carried a sword so great that it could demolish an entire house if swung with the appropriate power. The most grotesque detail about them, though, was their lack of stomach. Cenric could see the beings' intestines almost spilling out onto the ground. Only some unnatural dark spell seemed to hold them back. He found himself holding back the urge to gag. But as he looked, a memory stirred within him, the memory of a dark time, where soldiers had marched onto battlefields to face creatures of similar liking. Trolls they had been called, but the beings from his recollections were mighty, strong, and armoured. These ones looked like living curses, bred to bring nothing but horror to those who dared to behold them.

The villagers were all too eager to keep their distance from the trolls. The soldiers, who seemed to guard something, were entirely unfazed. Then one of them stepped forth. He looked to be their leader, for his armour was made of sturdier plate and tinted in a dark golden colour, and his helmet showed a mighty grey plume, as though a storm cloud had been fetched out of the sky. He carried a great lance and a shield that could cover his whole body. Even though his face could not be seen, his entire posture spoke of superior hostility as he walked in front of the gathered villagers.

"The divine-given law seems to have eluded this corner," he said and his voice was as cold as newly born rain. "Or perhaps it chose to repel it when it was proclaimed."

Now, the Tarnished could see what the soldiers were guarding: bodies. Several dead bodies, some fresh, some old and rotten, all thrown upon a pile of sick stench. Strangely enough, that sight was far more bearable to Cenric than that of the living breathing trolls. Nevertheless, he felt great revulsion rising. A quick glance to Neria confirmed that she was feeling the same.

The knight of Godrick, for that was what he resembled closest in Cenric's mind, continued. "As it was decreed by Lord Godrick the Golden within his rightful reign over the land of Limgrave, all manner of funerals are to be banished from the realm for all eternity. Those witnessed performing the ancient rites with full intention and will, shall be held als traitors to the golden word. All bodies already beneath ground are to be exhumed and delivered to those enacting the divine will."

He stopped and let his gaze hover over the crowd. "And yet, what have we here? If one seeks to absolve this village from guilt and blame by providing a defendable cause for this perversion of the law, may he or she now step forward and claim the spoken word."

A long silence fell over the crowd. Every breeze could be heard. The people looked around, uncertain and frightful. The knight waited for a few more moments, before he turned towards his men. "Claim tribute," he said.

The soldiers brandished their blades and approached the people. Cenric's hand immediately reached for his blade. But before he could do anything else, a panicked cry sounded from the square.

"Stop! Stop!", a young man's voice came, and the knight raised his hand. The soldiers sheathed their weapons and returned to guarding the bodies.

"Step forth!" the knight commanded. "And bring forth your wits."

A man dressed in peasant garb slowly stepped towards the knight. He lightly dragged his left leg behind him.

"Please, please sir," the peasant said. "We've done nothing harmful. No undead, no scourges, no fires, nothing."

"And yet I see bodies here," the knight said. "How do you answer to this crime?"

"Please sir," the young man said. "No word of Godrick's law passed to us. We live secluded, is what it is, mean no harm to the land. Just go about our business."

"So you claim the ignorance of simple folk as your defence," the knight replied calmly. "Unlearned and unread, turning your eyes away from the Erdtree's eternal grace and those who have been blessed by the Greater Will. Nothing more in mind than your everyday pitiful existence and how to stuff your meagre frail bodies with the next portion of sustenance."

The peasant looked away and onto the ground. "We…we've meant no harm, sir," he muttered. "All we do is keep our folk with us when they pass."

The knight stood still for a moment, as though he was pondering over what he had just heard. Then, he nodded. "Very well," he said. "Are you prepared to swear, hand on your heart, that your words are of truth?"

"Yes sir!" the peasant eagerly replied and planted a palm on his chest. "I swear it, sir!"

The knight nodded again. Then, he stretched out his lance. A gust of wind engulfed the man, which quickly turned into a miniature tempest. Before the peasant could as much as scream, the wind whirled him through the air…right through the knight's lance. Without effort, the man held his weapon skywards. The peasant's eyes were wide and he reached for the cold metal, which only drove it in further. Blood ran down and wetted the knight's helmet.

The villagers screamed and one old woman cried in woe and grief. The knight turned his attention to them. "I hereby accept your tribute and absolve the village of their…regretful mistake," he said, while the peasant was still writhing. "It shall be returned to its rightful place on the map of Limgrave. Valiant soldiers will arrive in due time to grant you the protection you require and deserve. The wisdom and grace of Godrick the Golden shall be with you once more."

Finally, the peasant stopped writhing. His eyes became glassy. A silvery smoke escaped his mouth and dissipated in the air as it began to rise towards the eternally distant Erdtree. The knight lowered his lance and threw the man onto the pile with the other bodies.

He then nodded to the trolls. The creatures came forth and opened the carriage's roof as though it was a great coffin. Then, they began grabbing the bodies, throwing them into the carriage through the new opening. When all was done, the beasts closed the great coffin again and began to move away, flanked on both sides by the soldiers of Godrick. The knight climbed an armoured horse and positioned himself before the trolls. Then, in a swift march of death, the delegation moved out of the village, disappearing through the trees like a procession of dark phantoms.

Chaos erupted on the village square as people found their way out of the stupor. More screams were heard, more wailing, more cursing.

Cenric had barely noticed that he had been holding his breath. He slowly turned to Neria. Her expression was one of pure horror. Cenric couldn't say he felt any different. But he was beginning to feel something else stir within him, something he hadn't felt in his second life yet: anger.

"You are Tarnished, are you not?" came a voice from behind. Cenric whirled around, while Neria couldn't pull her eyes away from the village square. Only a moment later did she slowly move.

Before them stood a tall man with a grey face and straw-like blonde hair. He was wearing a thick red coat and a complimenting long hat of similar colour. His yellow, almost fiery eyes had something piercing about them. "Ah yes," he said. "I can see it now." His voice had something raspy about it, as though he had been used to shouting a long time ago.

"You've caught us at an advantage," Cenric said, quickly regaining his composure. "Who are you?"

"I am called Kalé," the man said. "And you have chosen a bad time to arrive. Follow me, and be discreet."