Artorias did the impossible. He opened his eyes.
He was greeted by gentle sunlight filling a comfortable hall layered with drapes and tapestries. He tried to get up, but was struck suddenly by a sharp pain and a hand pressing on his chest. He lay back down.
"Too much has been fixed for you to undo it now, Artorias. Lie still."
He wrinkled his brow and attempted to brush his hair out of his eyes, but winced and stopped. "Where am I?"
A voice as gentle and radiant as the sunlight answered him. "Thou resideth within the mighty walls of Anor Londo, good sir." Gwynevere beamed at her patient. "I have been told of thine deed, and I commend thee for thine efforts."
Artorias's eyes widened in recognition. "My Lady! Forgive me for troubling thee, I—" He grunted in pain as he tried to get up, but Ciaran pressed him back down again.
"You seem to have a death wish, Artorias. Stay down!"
He shot her a look. "Very well." An urgent thought seemed to come to him suddenly. "How fares Oakbridge? Did you see a woman, near about my height? Where is Sif? Where—?" He lifted his head to look at himself, and Ciaran shifted, ready to act again. "Where are my clothes?"
The Sunlight Princess laughed musically. "I'm afraid thine garments were not fit to wear, as they were nearly rent in twain and quite dirty." A sheet had been thrown over Artorias to preserve his modesty, the material finer than any he had ever experienced.
He cleared his throat and reclined very carefully. "Well then…Did you see—?"
Ciaran interrupted. "Is Sif the name of the wolf?"
Artorias's face lit up. "Yes! So he is well. What of Serafina? Is she safe?"
Ciaran looked to Gough, who sat nearby. "Did you see a woman?"
The giant rubbed his chin. "Now that you mention it, I did spy a woman easily larger than human. She seemed well."
Artorias nodded contentedly. "A fortuitous turn of events, things seemed rather dark for a span."
Ciaran crossed her arms. "Things did go smoother than expected, aside from the fact that you were just about dead for a few minutes."
Artorias shrugged. "I've taken harder blows."
"I doubt it."
He flashed her a grin. "Give me a minute to build a story."
Gough chuckled, his joints audibly creaking as he stood. "I shall look forward to that, Artorias. Pray we meet again!" He turned to the Lord's Blade. "Come Ciaran, we should let this man heal."
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
"Men, we suffered losses. Five strong souls gave their bodies away, but left their memories with us." Bishop Havel addressed his clerics in the Parish, about an hour's walk from the gates of Anor Londo. "You've all performed spectacularly in the face of intense battle." There was a murmur of thanks around the chamber. Most had been transported here by silver knights after they had exhausted themselves beyond consciousness.
The Bishop clapped a hand on Casper's broad shoulder. "While losses were high, gains were splendid." He hefted one of the Dragon's black teeth onto his podium. "I send this gem to New Londo on the morrow to fashion a new weapon. The scales of that beast should be a wondrous armor, and the spines on the beast's back are being considered for more use. Nobody inform that blind lizard of this, he may not take kindly to such a thing!"
Casper knew of Havel's mistrust of Seath and sorceries in general, and shared his opinions. "What of Oakbridge?"
The Bishop sat down heavily. "I'm going straight to bed tonight, I haven't had to heal like that in a long while." He raised a flagon to his men. "Tomorrow, I shall take volunteers into Oakbridge to assist in restoration." The flagon bumped Casper. "Remember to notify our gentle giant, he should speed the process."
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
"I regret to inform thee of my failure, Great Lord. I was discovered whilst observing thine son." Ornstein looked up from his bow. "I have discovered something potentially ruinous, however. Gwyndolin conspires with some power I was unable to uncover. They spoke from beyond a closed door set into a solid wall."
Lord Gwyn left his throne and strode to the window. He stared out at the glorious towers and bridges of his kingdom and stroked his beard. When he spoke, his words were barely perceptible. "Velka." He was still for a long while.
Ornstein rose. "My Lord? What are thine commands?"
Gwyn remained looking out the window with a furrowed brow. "I command thee to cease your observation on my son. Distance thineself from his workings. I will deal with this personally." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "As I should have done long ago." He turned to address his Captain. "You have performed beyond expectations, resume your duties."
Ornstein bowed low. "My Lord."
As he left the Great Lord's chambers, his eyes came to rest upon a nearby human servant. This was unusual, as the servants closest to Lord Gwyn were specifically handpicked, and none were human. To further arouse the captain's suspicion, the woman ducked out of sight immediately.
"Miss, you cannot tread here. Who allowed thee into these chambers?"
He rounded the corner after her, ready to berate her. Instead, he found her drawing a weapon from a fold in her dress. He was so surprised that he would have been struck with the club, but an arm shot out at seized her wrist at the last second. She made an aggravated sound in her throat.
The interception had come from the human called Casper. The large man stared angrily into the woman's eyes and quietly spoke. "How dare thee." He squeezed her wrist until she was forced to drop the weapon.
Ornstein watched the club clatter on the tiles. "What is the meaning of this?!" A knife had appeared in his hand and he stalked over to the captive. "You dare bring such treachery here?!" The knifepoint was pressed to her comparatively small throat. "Speak, woman!"
To the captain's surprise, the woman twisted lithely and escaped Casper's grasp, diving for the wooden weapon. The Dragonslayer's boot connected with the club, sending it flying. He put his foot on top of the woman's prone form in the same motion, pinning her down. He lowered his face to look at her closely. "I think we deserve answers, don't you?" he hissed. "You could tell us now, or you could have a decidedly unpleasant conversation with our Executioner. You choose."
The woman glared at him but said nothing.
Ornstein rose. "Very well. Guards, to me!"
Within five seconds, two silver knights rushed into the room with swords drawn. "My lord, you called?"
Ornstein's eyes could have chipped stone. He got in the knights' faces. "And where, pray tell, were thee?!" He gestured to the woman underneath his boot. "This…vermin circumvented thine guard, undoubtedly with intent to harm the Great Lord!" He bared his teeth, a vein standing out in his neck. "Where. Were. YOU?!"
"Captain, we weren't—"
Ornstein silenced them with a viscous sweep of his hand. "I would command thee to take the prisoner to Executioner Smough, but I don't trust your judgement. Call two of thine number to do so and get out of my sight."
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
As soon as he was minimally able to, Artorias set out to find Sif. He was dressed in the finest clothes he had ever worn, so smooth that he almost felt they would slide right off of him.
He cracked the door open slowly, very aware of the quiet in the citadel. There would likely be a flock of people trying to keep him down, if yesterday was any indication. The sun had yet to rise above the horizon, but it was hinting at it, the sky a vague red-orange.
Artorias noticed a silver knight looking at him sideways and realized how out of place he seemed, a stranger sneaking out of the Sunlight Princess's chambers in the wee hours of the morning.
He smiled and approached the guard. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Artorias, of Oakbridge. I arrived only yesterday for healing." The knight just looked at him for a moment, and he feared the man would sound an alarm. But then he slowly smiled and extended his hand to the taller being. They clasped forearms. "My name is Rethir, m'lord."
Artorias nodded his head. "Rethir it is! A pleasure to make your acquaintance." He cleared his throat. "Rethir, would you happen to know where my wolf is?"
"He's resting, like you're supposed to be."
Ciaran had appeared where there had been no one just a moment ago. The silver knight appeared embarrassed. "Forgive me, m'lady, I wasn't aware—"
Ciaran dismissed his apology with a wave of her hand. "You're not to blame here." She approached Artorias and crossed her arms, scowling at him. "First you nearly kill yourself by screaming at a Dragon, then you refuse to get well. I don't do well watching after children." Artorias did well not to mention that she was the smallest of the three present, standing only about half his height. His eyes went to Rethir's, but the knight's face was resolutely staring straight ahead.
He had made up his mind to look after his own though, and anyone who knew him knew his will was unbendable. "Look, I am well enough." He flexed his impressive arms, the silken fabric straining as it wasn't really designed for him. "Your Princess truly knows her healing!" He smiled through the brief stabbing pain in his gut.
The Lord's Blade didn't look convinced. "Fine. I'll show you to your wolf."
Artorias gave a bow. "I would be honored, m'lady. This place is foreign to me, and I know you can handle yourself. That Dragon never knew what hit it!"
Ciaran brushed a lock of her hair out of her eyes. "I'll be frank, Artorias. I haven't seen anyone recover as quickly as you have, healing or not. I thought Dragons would be a subject you would wish to avoid."
He rubbed his chin. "I never did come up with a tale of a worse blow." He smiled and shook his head, one hand unconsciously tracing across his abdomen. "In truth, I have never felt its like."
The two began to walk, Ciaran taking the lead. The man chuckled. "I have spent most of my life fighting bandits, minor monsters, and protecting the innocent where I can. Dragons, I never counted on."
Ciaran nodded. Most wore casual robes on days such as these, but she was rarely seen without her armor. She at least removed her mask outside of work. "Dragons were never my forte either."
Artorias snorted. "Truly? That last Dragon may have a hard time believing that!"
"I got lucky."
"I would believe that if I weren't speaking with one of Lord Gwyn's fabled knights!" He considered for a moment. "I don't think I've gotten your name?"
She stopped by an archway. "You don't already know me?"
He shrugged. "I only know what I hear." He regarded her soberly. "They hold a great deal of fear for you, the humans in my town."
She crossed her arms. "It's Ciaran, and that brings me to my next question. How did one such as yourself come to live among such lowly folk?"
Artorias frowned. "Lowly? Nay, those folk are as lowly as I. I have spent enough time tilling the ground alongside them to know that. Serafina used to live in a neighboring town, and she was well received there as well."
She shook he head. "Don't try to cover their nature, Artorias. I have been among humans before, and the experience does not often impress."
He looked around at the beautiful pillars and windows constructed around them. "It may be that you are trying to be unimpressed, m'lady. My neighbors are plenty impressive, even if they do not have such fine craftsmen as your Lord does." He waved his hand. "Ah, but enough of this! Which door might I find Sif behind?"
"Try the kitchen door."
Both turned to see Executioner Smough smoldering in the archway. Ciaran mentally kicked herself for not paying attention as the huge man approached. Artorias held his ground and extended his hand. "Hello there, my name is Artoria—"
Smough grasped Artorias's forearm and pulled him forward, smashing his forehead into the smaller man's with impressive force. He staggered backward, and was pushed to the ground.
Ciaran's swords were drawn. "You step out of line, Smough!"
He glared at her. "And what will you do? Stab Gwyn's Executioner?"
Ciaran scowled, yellow eyes flashing with anger, but sheathed her swords. "Leave Smough, or I shall devise some other method of harm."
The Executioner lifted Artorias a bit off the ground by his shirt. "You listen to me, manling. Stay away from her." He bared his teeth at his dazed victim. "Do you hear me?! Don't even look at her!"
Artorias's leg swung up and caught Smough in the fork of his legs. Taking advantage of the surprise he had caused, he freed himself from the massive man's grasp and punched him solidly in the throat simultaneously. He rolled to his feet, arms up and ready for combat. "That's going to be impossible, friend. She's my guide, you see."
Smough was almost mad enough to spit, but instead he clenched his fists until they cracked. He rose to his feet slowly. "Heed me, manling! I will crush your bones under my feet should you make a single false move!" With that, he turned and stormed off.
Artorias straightened up and brushed himself off. "I admit, not the greeting I expected in the great city of Anor Londo." He adjusted his shirt and nodded toward the man's back. "A former lover of yours?"
"Not in a thousand years." She glared acidly in the direction the Executioner had left in. "Smough is an executioner and nothing else but a pain to me."
He examined a small rip in the front of his tunic. "Hm. Well, I can say that such an occupation could not be mine. It seems soul-tainting work and I should think that I might be…disagreeable as well in his same position."
She shook her head as she lead the way again. "You're far too kind, Artorias. One day you might find that it gets you killed—for real this time."
He shrugged. "I suppose time will tell. It has served me fine so far."
Ciaran pushed open a door, and was almost thrown to the ground as a furry mass blurred past her. The great gray wolf leapt onto his master, yelping excitedly. Artorias laughed and ruffled Sif's fur. "There's my partner! How are thee, boy?"
Ciaran straightened, hands on her hips. "Huh, what do you know? He's up early, who would have guessed?" A smile lit her face, "Are you sure you're not related?"
Artorias gave her a mock serious look. "Certainly not, Sif's fur is much lighter than mine." The wolf licked him happily.
At that moment, two silver knights and a man in Berenike armor hurriedly rushed past, their armor clinking. Ciaran flagged them down. "What is the matter, is something wrong?"
The human bowed hurriedly. "Lord's Blade, an attempt has been made on the Great Lord's life, and the perpetrator has been apprehended. We go to bring them to the Executioner."
Ciaran's face hardened. She turned to Artorias. "It looks like our tour ends here. Can you find your way home?"
"Of course, m'lady."
"Good." She slipped her mask on. "And don't call me 'lady'." With that, she dashed off after the knights.
Left in the relative quiet of the hall, Artorias looked to Sif. "Well. I think Serafina may have difficulty believing me this time." Sif wagged his tail. "You're right, I'll leave out the whole 'bitten in half' portion."
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
The journey back to Oakbridge wasn't terribly long, so Artorias wasn't worried about provisions. He walked out one of the side entrances on the west, nodding to the guard up in the tower. "Enjoy thine day, friend!" There was no reply.
Artorias stopped in his tracks. It could be nothing, after all, not everyone was interested in responding to him. But he had a prickling sensation between his shoulder blades. Lady Ciaran had responded to an attempt on the Great Lord himself, and here lay a silent sentry post.
Sensing his master's intentions, Sif sat down and threw back his head in a full-throated howl. If there was a guard up there in possession of his senses, he would surely peer out or make some comment.
But there was only a very slight scraping noise, likely to be missed if the wind had been blowing.
His hand wandered to his hip, where his greatsword had hung. "Come, Sif." Crouching low, he crept up the flight of sweeping stairs to the tower. He froze when he saw a red spray of what could only be blood on the white stairs near the entrance. He gestured to Sif to be stealthy, and the wolf's teeth bared in preparation.
Sidling up to the doorway, Artorias peered inside carefully. The tower contained two small rooms from what he could tell, one for overall use and the other for what he assumed to be storage. The guard lay face down in a small pool of blood.
He crawled over to him carefully, looking to see if those responsible were still around. The guard appeared to be alive, so he propped him up against a wall. The man was out cold, his nose broken, but he seemed like he would make it. He stood up, seeing nobody around. "Alright Sif, let's warn—"
But Sif wasn't at his side. The great gray wolf was standing in front of the storage door silently, hackles raised. He looked back at Artorias with clear intentions.
Artorias nodded and slowly approached. "Let's get out of here and warn the royal guard immediately." He waited a few seconds, then threw the door open with his fist raised. They were immediately beset by four attackers.
Even in that brief first instant when everyone tried to decide what to do, Artorias could sense desperation. These men already felt doomed. Their eyes were frenzied and their weapons shook in their hands.
Artorias raised his hands, palms out. "Stop! Lay down thine arms and I shan't harm thee."
Three of the haggard men looked to the fourth uncertainly. The man's eyes flicked between Artorias and Sif, and his gaze hardened. He suddenly raised his sword over his head. "Death to our oppressors!" The sword slashed at Artorias's leg, but he lashed out with a solid punch that sent the man flying back into the wall.
"I said lay down thine arms. You have no chance of overpowering us, give in!"
Despite his speech, the remaining humans threw themselves into battle, if it could be called that. Sif pounced on one and sank his teeth into the man's arm, breaking it with an audible crack.
"I warned you! Cease now!" He kicked one up into the air and caught them, dropping them back onto the floor. He wanted these men apprehended, not killed. Sif swiped at another with his paw, throwing them to the ground.
"Death or freedom!" The last man jabbed his spear into Artorias's leg.
A horrible cold pain lanced through him briefly, and his leg reflexively lashed out, killing the man on impact. His limp body flopped on the ground. Artorias took a knee at the same time. The rudimentary spear had only delivered a superficial wound, but why had it hurt so much?
He lifted the rudimentary weapon to examine it, the spear small in his hand. Oddly enough, there was no blood to be found on the blade, but as he looked at it he felt as though it were vibrating slightly.
And craning closer.
He dropped the dark thing, climbing back to his feet. "Sif, watch our…prisoners." He kicked the weapons out of the room, over near the downed guard. "I will escort this man back to the citadel and warn them of the danger." He furrowed his brow and rubbed his leg. "Don't kill them."
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Artorias had been quickly brought before Great Lord Gwyn upon relaying his story to the first silver knights he had found. He met with the captain of the guard, who gave him a stern and suspicious look before accompanying him into the throne room. This place was crawling with silver knights.
The Great Lord himself stood before his window, arms clasped behind his back. Ornstein took a protective stance nearby. "My Lord, this man brings important news." Gwyn's head turned only slightly.
Artorias went into more detail this time, explaining everything whether he thought it important or not. The Great Lord would want to know everything. Ornstein interrupted him.
"Did you say it was the west entrance that had been compromised? You're sure?"
"As sure as I've got my father's eyes."
Ornstein paled visibly. He knew this fortress in total more than anyone else. He was aware of a small structural weakness accessible from the little-used west entrance. The west portion had been an addition onto the rest of the city, and there was a small channel running through the wall as a little flaw. The builders had claimed it was for ventilation. It was too small for most anyone that lived here, but humans could move through it with little effort.
The problem was that no human should know of its existence.
"Traitors." Ornstein's color came back, his hands tightening on the shaft of his spear. He took a step towards Artorias. "You have connections with the humans, and your arrival is punctuated by the attempt on the Great Lord's life." His voice was cold and sharp, and he took another step forward. "What evidence have thee that you were not involved?"
Gwyn rested his hand on his captain's shoulder. "Be calm, Ornstein. This man had no knowledge of this attack." He turned his crowned head to examine Artorias. "He has shown bravery and skill in combatting an Ancient Dragon and halting a potentially lethal ambush." A smile awoke a myriad of wrinkles around the Great Lord's eyes. "He deserves a reward, and a responsibility."
Ornstein's eyes widened. "My Lord! Surely you don't mean to—"
"I surely do, my captain. In this very room, surrounded by those I trust."
Perhaps by coincidence, Gough entered the room at that very moment, taking in the scene. "What transpires in here?" he boomed.
In a series of leaps, Ciaran made it up to his shoulder to shush him.
Gwyn chuckled. "My statement stands." He suddenly fixed Artorias with a powerful gaze, his Lord Soul reflected in his eyes. "Artorias, do you accept the responsibility of becoming a Knight of Gwyn?"
Artorias's jaw dropped. One of Lord Gwyn's knights? They were tale-worthy, impressive figures in their fields. He managed to get his words out. "I do."
Gwyn inclined his head slightly. "Do you accept fealty to myself and to my rule?"
Artorias had gained confidence. "I do."
The Great Lord drew his immense sword, wreathed in flame. "Do you, Artorias, grant your service to the Lord of Sunlight as long as it may be required?"
He had lived under the shadow of Anor Londo all his life. The answer was quite clear, he loved his land.
"I do."
Gwyn nodded slightly. "Very well." The flaming sword was raised to its impressive height before it came down slowly upon his shoulder. The flames licked at his flesh and clothes, but did not harm him. The sword was moved to rest on his other shoulder as he became swathed in orange flames. There was an exciting and terrifying vibration along his spine, as though his bones trembled.
The Great Lord spread his arms wide. "I, Gwyn, Lord of Sunlight, Knight thee." Light spewed from his chest, lancing its way into Artorias.
His eyes were blinded, his muscles on fire. He clenched his fists and jaw, and light could be seen under his skin. It seemed as though this went on forever, but the light eventually faded, leaving him light-headed. He fell to his knees.
Ornstein helped him up, face unreadable. "Welcome, Knight Artorias."