Caelid was as daunting and disturbing a place as the Tarnished had ever seen. So it was that the tankard of mead clutched in his hand provided a welcome distraction from the horror of rot outside the castle walls.
He did not think there would be a safe haven in all of Caelid, but Redmane Castle proved more than sufficient. It had been a substantial undertaking to even reach the stronghold, but they'd managed. The scarlet rot festered as far as the eye could see, covering the land in a sickly red hue. The land's inhabitants were of similar shape—dead or in the process of dying.
According to Blaidd, it hadn't always been like that. Caelid had once been a lush land of forestry, host to a throng of wildlife. Still dangerous, but breathtakingly so. The people lived off of the land, enjoying what had been a mutually beneficial arrangement.
That had changed after the Shattering. The resulting conflict between the demigods Malenia and Radahn and their respective forces had corrupted the land beyond salvation. Malenia's rot had not discriminated in its victims—fauna and flora alike had been mutilated. Not even the dragon territory to Caelid's east had come away unscathed.
It was a horrifying prospect. An entire portion of the continent, brought to ruin by a single person. Now all that remained were roaming corpses, transmuted beasts, and sparse remains of abandoned soldiers scattered throughout. Who knew how many had died? Would continue to die?
He managed to put away those thoughts for now. At present, he was attempting to enjoy a well-earned moment of reprieve from the journey through the wilds. The Redmane Castle Plaza was well underway with the festivities of the Radahn Festival—a celebration of war dedicated to the esteemed general of the same name, and the gathering of warriors to grant the rot-plagued demigod an honorable death. The festive air in the plaza was a stark contrast to the stiff attention the castle garrison stood around watching them with. For now, all was calm.
"Very well met, Sir Blaidd!" A large, talking jar whooped in approval. "To be able to wield that massive weapon of yours with all the struggle of swinging a mere toothpick—your strength is most extraordinary indeed!"
The half-wolf returned his greatsword to his shoulder. "Please, Blaidd is just fine. Alexander, was it?"
"Indeed! Warrior Jar, Iron Fist, whichever you prefer!"
The Tarnished remembered the Iron Fist, from a time before he had sought out the Great Witch. As odd a being as any, but far more well-intentioned than most. He remembered the living jar's aim to, in his words, "further his education in the ways of war." That desire had brought him all the way here, it seemed.
Other pockets of warriors made merry throughout. A man with two large katanas spoke beside a portly man in similarly-fashioned armor, drinking. A bald man attempted to joke with some of the guards. A hulking man wielding a massive hammer stood a ways off, observing.
Their own group was the largest. The Tarnished and Blaidd were together, the latter entertaining the warrior jar. A most peculiar woman had seated herself beside the Tarnished—silent and fair, she'd smiled at him, performed a polite curtsy, and sat. She'd taken infrequent sips of her drink, shooting their group occasional glances.
Only eight warriors gathered, in total. Not a particularly inspiring number for a festival, but it didn't seem to bother the garrison any. Any warrior present had to have been capable in some fashion, to have made it here.
Another sip. His thinking had turned his tankard lukewarm. Placing it down, he settled for tending the fire before him, watching the flame as it contorted to his proddings.
Blaidd returned to his seat beside him with a small grunt. "Not lacking in zeal, that one."
"He means well."
"Certainly. Very well might be the only cheerful soul in Caelid." Blaidd eyed the Tarnished as he continued to stare into the fire. "What's on your mind?"
"Much," he admitted. Caelid, the rot, the festival. His senses had been burdened by the glut in his head. It was comparable to when he'd defeated Godrick—when his rage had dissipated, he'd been left with swirling, anxious thoughts of what was next. What would happen to him, now that he had slayed a demigod.
Blaidd couldn't read the man's mind, and decided against pressing the matter. The Tarnished's propensity for retreating within himself was a trait he had come to accept, with time. It did not make him any less curious, or inquisitive.
In times like these, simple conversation helped more than leaving him to himself. And so Blaidd would assist his fellow vassal once again. "What do you know of General Radahn?"
Certain as the moon, the Tarnished's attention was earned at the implication of a story. Unbeknownst to the half-wolf, the Tarnished was more than grateful for the distraction. "I... not much, admittedly."
"Very well. Do listen close, then." Blaidd gave a quick look around to ensure their privacy. Alexander had gone off somewhere, as had the silent woman. They were alone. "Broadly speaking, Radahn was a famed general of the Golden Order, with a strength acclaimed even among the demigods. He learned combat from the first and second Elden Lords, and learned gravity magic in Selia. A rare match of pure strength and cunning." Blaidd paused briefly. "If ever there were a being predestined for glory in battle, it would be Radahn."
Learned through two Elden Lords? Such knowledge must have greatly informed his prowess in battle. Natural talent notwithstanding.
"Beyond that, Radahn is Ranni's younger brother."
The Tarnished's eyes widened. "Ranni's... brother? Truly?"
"Indeed. Ranni was born to Rennala, Queen of Caria, and Radagon of the Golden Order. That, you were well aware of, I presume." The Tarnished nodded, prompting Blaidd to continue. "Beyond that, Ranni is the eldest of three siblings—Rykard was born after Ranni, followed by Radahn."
Blaidd had mentioned Rykard previously—he would have to inquire about that at a later time. Beyond that, he was well intrigued by Ranni's relation to the great general. "Ranni never mentioned siblings."
"More due to her private nature than anything malicious," Blaidd explained. "I'll leave it to her to tell you of her personal bond to her siblings, should she deem it so."
He returned to Radahn. "Presently, the general is a husk of himself—inwardly, at least. After his bout with Malenia, her rot ate away at him from the inside, leaving him with neither wit nor reason. He's been reduced to little more than a wandering beast, gorging on corpses leftover from his battle long ago."
"I've seen him, wandering that beach alone. And I've heard him, howling at the sky. There's no man left in him. Though he ensnares the stars still, and attacks any who dare approach, I imagine it's only out of sheer impulse."
His gaze turned to the gate, perhaps even beyond it. "Death would be a mercy for him. I've considered it before, but I never did manage to gather the will, until now. Suppose fate drew me to him anyhow, daunting as it is."
The Tarnished could feel the trace amounts of apprehension from the half-wolf. It was the first time he'd exhibited such a feeling in front of him. From the way Blaidd spoke, Radahn sounded like a very intimate figure.
He had been Ranni's shadow since infancy. Knowing that, it was only natural that he would have known Radahn. Grown up with him, alongside Ranni. They very well could have been something akin to friends.
He couldn't deny his interest. "What was Radahn like?" Blaidd gave him a look. "You wouldn't ask the specifics of his style of combat?"
"I'll see it for myself, soon enough." It was the entire reason they had braved Caelid, after all. "I'd like to remember the general as more than a mindless beast. Especially if he is as renowned as you make him out to be."
Blaidd continued his look, seemingly in thought. Perhaps even asking for minor peculiars was asking too much of the half-wolf. He would apologize if such was the case. But he would not apologize for seeking to accrue knowledge of those born of the sovereignty of the Lands Between. It had become his duty to learn, and learn he would.
Thankfully, Blaidd relented in the end. "Radahn was ambitious, even from a young age. He admired his father's many triumphs in battle, and would later come to admire Godfrey as well. He believed honor to be a foremost virtue among any good leader, and he derived as much from the first and second Elden Lords."
He snorted. "Even against the most heinous of foes, Radahn would treat them with utmost respect. His was a chivalry that was rare in the Lands Between, especially among the strong. So it was that he would become a paragon of the Golden Order—the shining Red Lion General."
Blaidd took a sip from his tankard. "Beyond that, he adored his family. He thought his father, Radagon, to be a hero without match. So much did he admire him that he fashioned his own hair into a similar mane of striking red."
"I assume Radagon was what motivated him into becoming a tool for the Golden Order?" The Tarnished asked. Blaidd shrugged. "Perhaps. I know not what his aims were regarding the Order. Though, his devotion to his father went without question—if Radagon asked him to take up the mantle of Elden Lord, Radahn would have accepted."
"But I'm getting ahead of myself," Blaidd retraced. "Even as the youngest sibling, he made a show of protecting his siblings, Ranni especially. Rykard would tell him off, but Ranni would always accept the protection of her youngest brother. In fact, when Radahn was in the midst of his training, he was appointed to serve as Ranni's vassal for a time, alongside myself."
A demigod in a subordinate role to another demigod. How peculiar. "I take that to mean they got along well?"
"You'd be correct," what might have been a faint smile revealed itself. "Though Radahn began to tower over everyone else, he would always acquiesce to the demands of his elder sister. Often was he utilized as a means of discouragement toward would-be sycophants, so that Ranni could manage time to herself. After all, no man dared to approach the Lunar Princess so long as her mountain of a brother was around."
He paused a moment. "But, she loved him. Truly. And I believe Radahn loved her, to the end."
Blaidd seemed to remember the time fondly, from the Tarnished's view. Well founded, then, was his internal claim that Blaidd and Radahn had been previously acquainted. Though, knowing that, it must have made their present task a more personal affair than he let on.
"He was a good man," Blaidd finished simply. His gaze returned to the Tarnished. "I believe you would have appreciated his company. And I believe the feeling would have been mutual."
A compliment, the Tarnished realized. "Thank you."
Blaidd grunted, returning to his feet. The festival was dying down for the evening. "Well, fantasy aside, we'd best get some rest. We'll face the man tomorrow. I trust you're prepared?" The Tarnished nodded. "Good."
They had temporary quarters prepared for them, upon their arrival. Blaidd made his way to retire, the Tarnished close behind. He would enjoy the feeling of a proper bed, after their time traveling. Though, a part of him was set on reminding him that it very well might have been the last night of rest of his life.
"Blaidd?" The Tarnished spoke, returning Blaidd from his thoughts. He gave him a look, to which the man continued. "Thank you."
He'd briefly forgotten his steady courtesy. "It's nothing," he assured him. Still, the Tarnished spoke.
"We will grant him an honorable death. Together."
Quite the vow. Yet Blaidd could not deny the Tarnished's earnest desire. It seemed the fight had become personal to him, too. Out of obligation to him, Ranni or the Tarnished himself, he could not say.
Even so, the sentiment was appreciated. "Yes, let's."
He was magnificent.
The Tarnished knew he should have moved his legs. Urged them forward with the extremity of a man near death—which was fairly accurate. But he could not tear his eyes away from the warrior, shining red.
General Radahn roared. The sound rattled within his bones, pounded into his head, and squeezed upon his very heart. Yet, it was not fear that gripped him so. The awe of the Red Lion General, so large and vast as to put entire armies to shame, spun and hacked and smashed with mindless abandon. But it did not feel that way, to the Tarnished. There was a kind of precision to him, beyond what he saw. Perhaps that was the impulse Blaidd had mentioned.
At last, he forced himself to move again. He'd been forced to disengage after getting gashed along his free arm. The silent maiden had provided a quick fix through a healing spell, but the bleeding wasn't stopping. Pure adrenaline would push him through the battle's end, but beyond that was anyone's guess.
He would deal with it when it came. Presently, he deftly weaved through a large swing of the general's greatsword, getting within his guard. He'd opted for a sword in this bout—blunt force would provide little against the massive hulk. He whipped his sword arm forward, slashing Radahn's thigh. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the man with two katanas perform a similar strike, cutting away at his left calf.
The Tarnished could scarcely feel his body move. It felt compulsive, wholly detached from fatigue. The glory of a battle against Radahn had consumed him. Perhaps this was why the general had survived for as long as he had, killing so many who had tried to end him. The splendor of him rendered so many of his foes unable to even approach without losing themselves to awe, helpless to move so that they would be crushed beneath his greatsword. Opposite of that, the allure of defeating the mighty demigod drew so many to commit and attack aimlessly, resulting in a similar death.
It was barbaric. The Tarnished was simply swinging his blade, without care for his body or safety. But such was his unwavering respect, and his desire to grant Radahn death, so that he would live on as a champion of honor rather than a depraved beast. He deserved it, far more than any who had ever battled before.
Something happened to his arm—fatigue, cramping, or otherwise—and he dropped his sword mid-swing. It skittered atop the sand, far from beneath Radahn. He looked up to see if the beast had noticed him, and saw the beast staring back. Eyes without a soul, filled with only a lust for blood.
It froze him. He would have stayed that way were it not for a timely glintstone spell piercing Radahn dead in the face. He staggered back, roaring in agony atop his scrawny steed.
"Disengage, Tarnished!" A voice called, before he was forcefully yanked back by a long, unfeeling arm. Alexander carried him toward his sword, large strides tossing about his liquid innards. "Retrieve your armament, and regain your wits about you, lad! The fight's only begun!"
How long had they been battling? Seconds? Minutes? Hours? Time was a blur, as he numbly returned his sword to his person. The blood along his free arm was worsening, as was the ache in his sword arm.
He staggered back toward Radahn, who flung debris at two other warriors. One awry chunk of rock hit him squarely in the ribs, forcing him to double over in pain. Brought to his knees, he watched the general double back to the highest point of the beach.
A purple shroud swirled around his greatswords. With a chilling howl, he clanged the two massive weapons together, slamming them to the ground, shaking the very earth.
"Gravity magic!" He heard Blaidd yell from some indiscernible distance. "Find cover!" No sooner did he finish did the general tense his arms and leap high, horse in tow.
The Tarnished expected a crashing the likes of which he had never felt. A fragment of him expected death. Alas, neither came. Opening his eyes, he had lost sight of the beast entirely. His fellow combatants looked to be similarly disconcerted, Blaidd included. After what had been an intense battle, silence had consumed the coast.
"Tarnished," the half-wolf approached him after a tense, quiet moment. "Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine," he lied. With the adrenaline wearing off, the pain was worsening. He thought he had heard a crack in his ribs. With a grunt, he directed Blaidd's attention back to the incline. "Did you kill him? I couldn't see."
"No, he just... jumped," there was an unease in Blaidd's voice that unsettled him. "He quite literally took to the skies. I don't know where he went. I've... never seen him do that before."
Whatever it was, they'd been granted a moment of reprieve. For now. Attempting to regain his stance, the Tarnished took to his feet, hissing in pain. Blaidd quickly sat him back down. "Reckon that's enough for you. Let's get you fixed and to safety. Healer!" The silent woman appeared not a moment later, a faint golden glow veiling him as her magic enfolded him.
The Tarnished fell back to the ground, breathing heavily. Still, his thoughts abounded, running about his head with uncertainty. The general had just... fled? In the middle of the battle? He'd been without his wits for some time now, or so he heard. Did he have enough of himself to force his body into a retreat?
But that would beg the question of where it was Radahn would retreat to. He posed the inquiry to Blaidd. "I'm not sure. I would hope he's still in Caelid. Venturing outside to Limgrave—or worse, the capital—would invite conflict and death on a scale not seen since the Shattering. Madness notwithstanding, he's still an exceedingly powerful demigod."
Grave indeed, as the Tarnished reclined onto the sand, regaining control of his breathing. The healing had helped, and he thanked the fair maiden as he gazed into Caelid's red sky. He never thought he would miss anything as given as a cloudless, blue sky, yet the Lands Between had thoroughly changed his appreciation for what had previously been a given.
He took another deep breath. And then he saw it.
It was faint at first, barely a flicker. Yet, as the seconds passed, it became larger, and brighter. "Blaidd, what is that?"
"Hm?" The half-wolf followed the Tarnished's gaze. He squinted. "I'm not sure."
The object became brighter. And closer. The Tarnished gave Blaidd a worried look. "Blaidd." Still, the half-wolf was staring. Almost in disbelief. The force in the Tarnished's voice grew. "Blaidd!"
That seemed to return him. Blaidd quickly took to his feet. "We're leaving." Not bothering to ask, the half-wolf picked up the Tarnished with his free arm, taking off into a half-sprint down the high ground. The silent maiden followed swiftly beside them.
They could feel the heat from where they ran. The Tarnished had a better view of it—a flying rush of force, wreathed in flame. Charging right at them.
He squinted, and saw a figure. Massive, roaring, and riding atop a steed much too small. "It's Radahn!"
Blaidd didn't even bother looking. He could feel that he was right. He shouted to the other combatants, who were in a similar panic. "Get off of the hill, now!"
It might have already been too late. The great general, like a meteor sent from the stars above, crashed into the coast, sending fire and debris in every visible direction. So rattling was the impact that Blaidd collapsed almost immediately, losing hold of the Tarnished and tumbling down the rest of the incline.
He came to a stop, fumbling for his sword. He'd been lucky to find it barely an arm's reach away. The Tarnished, however, was nowhere to be seen. The smoke and ash from the impact didn't help matters. Panting, Blaidd shakily returned to his feet, sharp gaze swiveling about for his enemy.
A resounding roar quickly dispelled any mystery of Radahn's location. Ash clearing, Blaidd looked up to see the general atop the slope, howling at the very sky from which he had returned. His gravity magic was still in effect, greatswords glowing a purple hue and loose debris swirling around his massive person.
Radahn hadn't fled at all—he'd merely taken to the stars, and collapsed upon them like the very constellations he held back. Were it not for his fatigue, Blaidd might have mustered an incredulous laugh.
Radahn steeled himself, falling into a stance. He still couldn't see the Tarnished, but the other fighters had reentered the fray. The man wielding the massive hammer swung at the giant's knee, forcing the general back. Radahn responded with a torrent of wild swings, slamming the ground with repeated, angry strikes.
"By Queen Marika..." a voice croaked. Blaidd looked to see the warrior jar not too far to his right, cracked in some spots along his body. "I've... I've never fought a warrior such as this..."
Neither had he. Now was no time for awe, however. "Can you distract him a moment? I've a plan."
"To what end, Sir Blaidd?"
"To debilitate him." It was risky, but he should have attempted it earlier. It could have prevented his meteor attack entirely. "I'll only need a moment."
There was no way to adjudge any kind of apprehension upon Alexander's face. Thus, when his shaky voice answered, Blaidd could not determine if it was fear or excitement that made him quiver so. "I... I shall give it my best. Good luck, Sir Blaidd."
"You as well." Blaidd took off, circling around the slope, careful to avoid detection from Radahn. Alexander, meanwhile, lumbered his way up the hill, yelling all the while. "O, famed Red Lion General! Your challenger approacheth, as does your demise!"
That got his attention. Radahn stopped spinning wildly, focusing on the voice of the jar. Directly out of sight, Blaidd sprinted up the hill as fast as he could, as Radahn took off after Alexander.
For such a large being, Alexander was far more nimble than he looked. He spun away from the first two swings, advancing within Radahn's guard. He shoved his body against Radahn's wrist, aiming to dislodge his weapon. Admirable, though ineffective, as Radahn maintained his grip, and slammed his other sword into the jar's body. An agonizing cracking sounded, followed by a cry of pain. Blaidd saw the jar flung back from the impact from the corner of his eye, innards flung about the sand.
He very well may have been dead. All the more reason that Blaidd couldn't squander the opportunity presented to him.
Well within Radahn's reach, Blaidd gripped his blade and swung it with all of his might. He did not hit Radahn—instead, he struck his steed's underbelly, with what he hoped was a fatal blow. The blow was true, and the horse fell with a defeated neigh, hitting the earth, dead.
"I'm sorry, Leonard," Blaidd spoke softly, allowing himself brief sorrow for the old steed. He quickly retreated, using the pause from the general to establish a safe distance. The mindless Radahn looked down upon his deceased companion, perhaps confused. Urging his steed forward, he did not move.
The roar that followed was the most chilling yet. It struck Blaidd to his soul, briefly freezing him to the spot. This was beyond mindless—it was rage. And perhaps, a part of Blaidd's mind dared to hope, grief.
"Now!" Blaidd yelled afterwards, to any who were still alive. "Radahn has been impaired! Kill him while he can't move!"
For a moment, there was no response, and he feared he was the only warrior left alive. Until a shout resounded in response.
"Well done, brave champions! You've proven yourselves worthy of granting the great general a worthy death!"
A lone figure entered, sprinting toward Radahn. The herald from the festival, Blaidd recalled. The man unsheathed a sword, and readied a glintstone staff. "Rally, men! Victory awaits!"
The castellan's yelling had once again drawn away Radahn's gaze, which Blaidd would again take full advantage of. Rushing in, the half-wolf swung his sword into the general's wrist, following Alexander's lead by aiming to deprive Radahn of his weapon by force. He was in luck—Alexander's earlier strike had broken and removed the gauntlet upon his forearm.
Naturally, Radahn was immediately drawn to Blaidd. Following another pain-ridden howl, the demigod's eyes landed on him. With how deep his sword had cut into Radahn's wrist, it took a considerable amount of force to remove it. He accomplished the task, but the force sent him staggering backwards on unsure footing. He wouldn't be able to dodge any attack that came.
Fortunately, he wouldn't need to. In another timely stroke of luck, a projectile had managed to find purchase upon Radahn's visage. This time, it was a material bolt that impaled the general's eye, inducing yet another roar.
Blaidd followed the arrow's trail, and came to a stop upon an unsuspecting figure—the Tarnished. Huffing, the Tarnished hastily realigned a small crossbow, struggling to insert his second bolt within the catch. Observing the trail behind the man, he saw the mark beginning near the end of the coastline. He'd been flung back as far as the land stretched, and had crawled his way back.
The damage done to the general's vision had given the other combatants time enough to attack their mark. The man with two katanas finished the task he and Alexander had started, slicing into Radahn's left wrist and entirely separating it, and the greatsword, from his body. The general had no time to even issue a bellow of anger, as another glintstone shard struck his face.
Radahn released the swarm of debris floating around him to create any kind of separation, but his aim had seemingly deteriorated greatly, and the projectiles rushed by without striking a soul. He dragged his body back a pace, creating minute separation before the assault recommenced.
It was only a matter of time, at this juncture. Though he warded off his assailants as best he could, his entire left flank was vulnerable. He would not be granted time enough to conjure another gravity spell. Blaidd could scarcely believe it—they had Radahn near the brink.
Yet, he would not rush in. There was no animal more dangerous than one that was cornered with nothing to lose. He would wait for an opening. One poor swing was all he would need.
"Blaidd," a voice grunted with exertion. The Tarnished had dragged himself beside his fellow vassal. "I'll give you an opening. When he misses, charge him."
Seemed they were of a similar mind. "You plan to force a swing?"
"Yes." He inserted a different bolt into the catch of his crossbow. An animal bone arrow, tipped with crystal shards. "He is wary of his left flank, and will swing at any noise he hears on that side. This arrow makes a loud shattering sound upon landing—he will believe it to be an attack, and attack accordingly. He will miss, and you will end it."
"You're certain this will work?"
"Upon my honor."
Candidly, the Tarnished looked one good swipe away from death. His left arm was coated in blood, and his right revealed a sickly purple blotch along his forearm. His breathing was still ragged, and his eyes were unfocused. In all likelihood, his earlier shot upon Radahn had been a lucky coincidence.
But, his plot was better than simply waiting for an opening and risking death. He'd trust his instinct. "I'll raise my arm when I'm in position. Fire once I'm ready." The Tarnished nodded, and Blaidd rushed off.
Radahn was tiring, though he was far from dead. He'd corrected his swings into a longer, horizontal arc, so as to fend off any melee fighters charging in. He'd begun shielding himself from projectiles with his stump of an arm, using the limb as a cover for his face and body. His second wind had bought him a chance at survival, however slim.
Blaidd wouldn't have it. He raised his arm, signaling the Tarnished. Not even a few seconds later, an arrow was shot forth, striking a wayward rock near Radahn's blind spot. The noise was piercing, a crashing sound not unlike broken glass.
Just as the Tarnished had foresaw, Radahn slammed his greatsword upon the empty area with haste, electing for a harsh vertical strike intended to be fatal for an enemy that had snuck beside his left flank. Instead, the general struck air, and Blaidd quickly charged atop the giant's arm, dashing onto Radahn's shoulder.
Planting himself, Blaidd lifted his sword for a slash. For an instant, Blaidd's gaze met Radahn's own bloodshot eyes. The general stared up at him. He could have been dazed, pained, or angry. Yet, he did not move in that fragment of time. He was still, watching silently.
According to the herald, all that the famed general's troops wanted was a death befitting their lord. An honorable end, for an equally honorable man. Blaidd thought it was curious—did Radahn himself covet death? A beast's natural inclination was toward survival. And for the mindless corpse of Radahn, who had not ended himself or allowed himself to die by another, assuming death to be his wish seemed presumptuous.
A beast could not understand honor. And a beast would not desire death. Even so, Blaidd could not deny the feeling of acceptance born of the rotted general's gaze, as he swung his blade into his shoulder, and guided it toward his heart.
Radahn's hulking body fell, crashing into the earth. The remaining spears stuck to his back snapped, splintering across the sand. Blaidd angled himself atop the general's broad chest, standing above him with his bloodied sword. Raising the weapon, he angled it down, poised to spear it into the defeated demigod's heart once more.
He stared into Radahn, and found the demigod staring back into him. His master's brother was no longer snarling, or roaring in rage. He was silent, almost waiting.
"Farewell, old friend." And Blaidd plunged his sword into Radahn's heart.
When he had made his way back to the Tarnished, he found him somehow looking even worse. His armor was worn, breathing haggard, and complexion a sickly pallid. And yet, the first thing the man did was congratulate him. "Well done, Blaidd. Excellently fought."
"If you've energy to flatter, then you can't be too poor off," Blaidd grumbled, taking a tired seat beside him on the sand. "How bad is it?"
"I'll live," the Tarnished shrugged, though the action drew a minute wince. "I can manage the trip back to Limgrave, at least. Though, I might decline partaking in any duels with demigods for a time."
In that, they were in agreement. "And you're certain you're not afflicted with anything?"
"I'm certain it's not scarlet rot, at least. I would likely be dead otherwise." Blaidd would not comment on how close the Tarnished looked to dying externally. "And you?"
"Fine," Blaidd answered. Fatigued, certainly, but nothing some rest wouldn't fix. He was fortunate, in that regard. The Tarnished nodded. "Good."
Their exchange was curt and unassuming, considering they had just slayed a demigod. The Tarnished's second, Blaidd reminded himself. He seemed to be taking in their victory rather well, despite his injuries. Though, he very likely wasn't in a shape to celebrate.
Still, congratulations were in order. "You did well." The Tarnished scoffed, of all things. The fatigue derived from his injuries might have persuaded him to forego any attempt at grace. "You killed him. The glory is yours, Blaidd."
"And I would have died had it not been for your timely shot," Blaidd saw fit to remind. "The glory is shared, friend. By all of us." The Tarnished had no energy to argue. "I suppose."
"In any event, our charges were one and the same. Our combined efforts have furthered Lady Ranni's machinations, and that is all that matters. Be proud, fellow vassal." The Tarnished hummed a sound that might have been affirmation. He would leave it at that.
A moment passed before the Tarnished spoke again. "Do you think we granted him the death he wanted?"
Who could say? Blaidd reflected upon Radahn's expression when he dealt the killing blow. Not hate, or joy. But placid acceptance. Considering Radahn's condition, even that much was a wonder. "It's difficult to say. Perhaps he would have settled for any kind of death. Perhaps he did not want to die altogether. The reality is, we'll never know."
Another moment. Then, "I think he wanted it to be you."
"Hm?"
"Radahn. I think he wanted his end to come at your hand," the Tarnished clarified. "He knew you. Respected you, in my view. It is one thing to fall to an enemy who knows nothing about you—it is another to die courtesy of someone who cares enough about you to end your suffering."
He continued. "If it were me who had gone mad, I would hope my end would be a swift death, by the steady hand of a loved one."
Perhaps the scarlet rot had gotten to him. "I do hope you aren't implying any intention of losing yourself to madness in the near future." The Tarnished shook his head. "Mere speculation," he reassured.
"Let's hope it remains as such." Blaidd would not feed into the conjecture. They'd much more important matters to pursue than promises of a courteous death. So long as he drew breath, his sword would go toward Ranni's aims. His and the Tarnished's both.
He felt it before he saw it. An urge, indistinct. It drew his eyes to the sky, the vast expanse of space above them all.
They moved. First one, then many, then all. The stars and constellations, for so long bound to Radahn's will, were free to move as they wished. They fell in droves, streaking across the evening sky with a swiftness unparalleled.
It was unlike anything he had ever seen, despite his age. The Tarnished must have felt a similar sense of awe at the sight. "Beautiful..." he whispered.
It continued, until he felt the feeling wash over him again, only far more corporeal. A shuddering beneath his feet, throughout the very earth. Then, a flash to the east, one so bright that Blaidd was forced to shield his eyes, lest he blind himself.
He reopened his eyes only once he was certain it had ended. Slowly regaining his vision, he again looked up at the night. The stars had finished their prolonged journey across the sky, and the constellations were silent once more. Only, they were now freed from the grasp of man, chained no longer to the whims of gravity or order or otherwise.
The Tarnished shakily helped himself to his feet, still wide-eyed. "What was that?" And for the first time, Blaidd smiled from the bottom of his heart.
"Fate."
