Ciaran and Artorias had been sent to New Londo on the Great Lord's orders to investigate the possibility of a cult forming there. After spending most of the day in the complex subterranean city, they had turned up virtually nothing but rumors.
The city was close to being completely human-populated, which honestly worried many people at Anor Londo. Especially given recent events, humans were often seen as violent and lesser beings. This was not a belief that Artorias shared. Nevertheless, he could feel eyes on him from almost every direction no matter where they were. He had wondered why Gwyn would send him when Ciaran could pass off for human relatively easily, and the only reason he could come up with was that their presence, his presence, was meant to be broadcasted.
"That is a lie."
Ciaran shrugged. "It's the truth, believe it or not."
Artorias idly scratched Sif's head. "I don't believe it, not for a second. Not a single lover at all so far? Not even a short-lived affair?"
"My people do things a bit differently than the rest, Artorias. Don't rub it in." She punched his hip.
He clutched his hip and pretended to stumble. "Ah! A mortal wound!"
They both had a little chuckle at this, straightening up as a few humans in rich garb turned the corner. When they had passed, Artorias tapped her shoulder. "What did you mean about your people? What are they like?"
Her porcelain mask gazed up at him. Not for the first time, he wondered at her expression, only being able to see a slight reflection of her eyes. After a moment, she broke eye contact and looked over her shoulder. "Not out here on the street."
"Right. I tell you, this city gives me chills. Sometimes good chills, but mostly bad ones."
"Yes, well…" The Lord's Blade inspected her gauntlets carefully. "Perhaps I could tell you more about it over dinner?" He looked over at her, and she became a bit flustered, glad for the concealment of her mask. "I mean; we're going to have to stay here a day or two to dig deep enough anyway."
Artorias grinned from ear to ear. "That sounds grand!" He scratched behind Sif's ears. "But until then, what's our next move?"
Ciaran pointed to the impressive tower that merged with the far side of the cavern. "We need to check in with the Four Kings before we do anything." She tilted her head and crossed her arms. "We really should have done that before we started looking around, but we don't really get along, so I figured they could wait. I'm sure they have important king things to do."
He could sense her smile in the tone of her voice. "Ciaran, you naughty thing you." He dropped his head lower to speak by her ear in a quieter tone. "They can't actually arrest you, can they?"
"It wouldn't happen for anything less than me assassinating one or more of them, no. That's one of the reasons that they don't like me. I think it has something to do with my size. I'm not as large as most of those in Anor Londo, so they figure they should be my superiors. It's irritating."
They had come to a pavilion, where people bustled back and forth, and a general buzz filled the air. The tone of it changed when they strode by.
"Well, and don't kill me for saying this—"
"No promises."
"—but you are quite short."
"You're a dead man, Artorias."
"Can you even reach my throat?"
"I mean it!" The seriousness of her words was dispelled by her giggle. She settled for punching him in the hip again.
"Ah, same spot!"
They dissolved into snickers again, just as the same group of humans in noble clothes rounded the corner. Artorias made his face as blank as he could manage, Ciaran having an easier time with her mask.
After they had passed, he whispered to her again. "Am I insane, or were those the same men as before?"
"While you are insane, those were the same humans. They would be a few of the privileged wealthy of New Londo. They have the ears of the Four Kings, and are likely here right now at their order."
"Ah. I suppose I stick out a fair bit in this city." He ducked to get through another arch. "Nothing is sized for me down here. I wonder if this is how Gough feels."
"A fair bit of Anor Londo is actually sized for him. They were considerate." She walked with ease beneath the same arch. "Your presence here will make things interesting."
"I get that a lot."
"How are you at intimidation?"
"I'm a pretty scary guy." He set his face, his dark eyebrows furrowing. He stood as tall as he could, raising his chin and crossing his muscular arms. Sif promptly sat on his feet. The image was surprisingly nonthreatening.
"Try to stop smiling for a second."
When his smile disappeared, things were greatly affected. He was almost always wearing a smile of some sort, but now she got the sensation of a storm building. Those few minutes before rain and lightning would fill the air.
"That'll do."
"It was bad, wasn't it? I felt ridiculous."
"It was perfect. I'll give you a cue to look especially upset later."
"What sort of cue?"
"You'll know it when you see it."
"If you say so."
"I do. Until then though, I need you to do some looming that I just can't pull off."
"They're going to think that I just ate a lemon or something with this face."
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
"Well, what a…pleasant…surprise. What brings you two to our fair city this evening?" King Thaddeus rested on his throne, clothed in expensive robes and a tall jeweled crown. His paleness had a way of creeping into his tone, leaving him somewhat monotone in his speech. A precisely trimmed beard decorated his face.
"We are investigating rumors of a cult that may be forming in this city." Ciaran and the kings were eyeing each other like strange cats. "…your majesties."
King Darius sat forward in his throne, and the nearby guards shifted in response to the mood in the room. "I am quite certain that this whole 'cult' is fictional. A ruse to grant you room to stick your nose in others' business." A matching jeweled crown sat on his brow, emphasized against his dark skin.
King Phillip put a hand on his shoulder. "Peace, have we ever had reason to doubt the Lord's Blade? Certainly, no one can question her motivations and methods." Listening to Phillip, one could be convinced that he meant whatever he said. Ciaran knew better. He might often be smiling good-naturedly, but it never reached his eyes. "Why, even during the last excursion, nobody could—" Artorias had been standing to the side, and shifted a half-step closer. The movement had distracted the king, as if he had just become aware of his presence. He looked up at the Knight, who towered over him. He started over, finding his train of thought again. "Ahem, nobody could doubt her love for—" Another distraction came as Artorias crossed his arms and looked down at him. "Ah…her love for humanity?"
"Of course you can't. I just love you humans to bits."
Darius waved his hand. "Enough of this. Do what you think you can justify to yourself or Gwyn, but do not flaunt our laws! There is nothing to find here, no conspiracies and no cults! Is that really so hard to believe?"
"Pardon my prying, your majesties, but where is the fourth of your number?" Ciaran tilted her head.
The resulting silence was filled with tension. Thaddeus flicked his eyes to Darius, who stared at Ciaran and clenched his jaw.
Phillip spoke up. "You are pardoned for your prying." He rose from his chair. "Worry not about us getting in your way today. In fact, the citadel will be closed off until tomorrow afternoon." He smiled rigidly. "You are dismissed."
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Cierte stared at his hands. They weren't the hands of a farmer, smooth with thin fingers. He had been a sorcerer all his life, improving the lives of his fellow humans in Oolacile with the gentle sorceries that had originated there. Life was simple, yet fulfilling.
But he would be lying if he were to say he thought everything was fine.
Ever since that serpent had told him the horrible truth, that the Flame was fading, it was like every aspect of his life had been tainted. He was content with the Great Lord's rule, as were most of the humans in this city, and was frantic to keep things the way they were.
Perfect.
He clenched his hands. He couldn't let this news get out, lest panic ensue, but he could definitely do something about this. He was a sorcerer, for Gwyn's sake. The power at his disposal could change the course of history.
The serpent had presented him with a way to reverse things. It was filled with unknowns, but he wouldn't let his perfect world fall into darkness.
"Qerra? Call the council together. I have something I need to say."
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
"I wanted to step on him, Ciaran."
"Mhm."
"There's definitely something going on in this city."
She held up a finger. "There's something going on in the citadel itself."
Sif nudged her arm as they sat on a bench in a square featuring a fountain. Well, Ciaran sat on the bench. Artorias, being unable to fit, sat on the edge of the fountain. She indulged the wolf, petting him. He panted happily.
They stopped their discussion momentarily as a stream of people walked by, some of them carrying food. The smell wafted over them.
"It seems as though you've been here quite a few times, Ciaran, so I'll defer to your judgement; where can some Knights go to eat around here?"
"Are you sure we should?"
He stood up and stretched. "Someone once counseled me to take a break every once in a while to stay effective."
"Fair enough. I think I know a spot."
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
The place she had in mind turned out to be a cozy spot. The barkeep was kind enough to allow Sif to be situated in one of the rooms upstairs for the evening. There were actually people that didn't mind their presence, and the hum of conversation fueled merriment.
Of course, a little alcohol never hurt that sort of thing as well.
Ciaran had only been here on the job before, entailing some professional stalking of targets, this experience being radically different. In a good way.
Artorias was at the bar picking up their second rounds to wash down the meal. They had had a good laugh at how he needed to order several plates to equate a decent meal, and she couldn't help but feel little butterflies in her stomach at this whole excursion.
As if he felt her eyes on him, he looked over his shoulder at her and waggled his eyebrows.
His mood was contagious, by the gods.
He settled back down at their table, sliding her the pint sized for him. "That one's yours, right?"
"Ha, no way. I would be out like a light."
He waved his hand and switched the drinks. "Nonsense. You can handle your drink better than you think." He took a pull from his mug. "Not a bad brew."
She nodded after her own pull. "I always thought the stuff back home was best, but this is still up there for me."
Artorias slapped his forehead. "I almost forgot! I never heard about your home!" He placed his hand on her arm. "…that is, if you want to share?"
She tilted her head, her smile hidden by her mask. "No, it's alright. I said I would after all."
"Fantastic! Perhaps you could start with this?"
He put his drink down and reached out with both hands to grasp the edges of her mask, gently easing it up and off her head. "A fine piece of craftsmanship..." He winked at her. "And the mask is pretty good too."
The compliment caught her off guard, and she felt heat radiating from her face. "Alright, alright!" She gave his shoulder a shove and took the mask, setting it on the table and brushing her bangs back.
"You remember how I said my people were a bit different? Well, our duty is very important to us."
He held up a hand. "If I could interrupt for a second, where do they live? I know the Lord's Blades aren't allowed in Anor Londo anymore."
She idly ran her fingers over the face of her mask. "Well, my people aren't all Lord's Blades. Roughly half of them, but…" She spun the mask around so it faced Artorias. "We come from an area east of Anor Londo, through the forest past Oolacile. The females become Lord's Blades and the males become Guardians."
"Wait, all of you are either Lord's Blades or Guardians?"
She nodded. "Yes. Training starts very early on."
"So…no one's a baker or smith or anything else? What do you do if you want bread?"
She took a swig. "Well, training encompasses more than doing tricks with swords." She pulled a knife out of nowhere, throwing it into the air and catching it by the blade without sustaining a scratch. "There was a slew of other skills to be learned. After all, there was nothing else to do. Like I said, my people do work and not much else."
He nodded while drinking. "Well…I hope I'm not ruining your culture or something with all this." He said, gesturing to their surroundings.
She shrugged. "Maybe you are." She downed the rest of her drink and smiled at him. "But I don't answer to anyone but Gwyn anymore. This is great." She reached over and squeezed his arm.
He downed his own drink. "Well, whenever you want me to ruin your culture again, you know where to find me."
"No one escapes the Lord's Blades, Artorias."
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
The night had worn on, and most of the customers in the building had either left or retired to one of the rented rooms upstairs for the night.
Artorias leaned over to Ciaran at the bar. "We're not planning on sleeping in the streets, right?"
"I don't know; I saw a rather comfy stretch of cobblestone under a bridge…"
He chuckled and shook his head. "Suit yourself. I'm getting a room!" He signaled the barkeep over. "How much for a room, sir?"
The man who had been so vibrant and welcoming earlier was drawn and somber now. "Ah…we actually have no rooms available tonight."
Artorias furrowed his brow in confusion. "But my wolf is up there right at this moment, no?"
The blood drained from the man's face. "Well, there…there was…"
"I'm afraid I rented the room in advance, honorable knights." One of the men they had seen earlier in the streets spoke up as he approached the bar. "It seems to be a busy night tonight. I should wonder if all of the inns are full…" He finished his drink and pushed it to the barkeep. "I will require you to remove your beast from my chambers. Now."
Artorias stared at the man for a few moments, then whistled shrilly. There was some bumping heard upstairs, and Sif came bounding down the stairs with his sword.
"I suppose we'll be going then. There's sure to be someplace to bed down."
The barkeep's eyes were downcast while he cleaned the man's mug.
When they had left the building, Ciaran shouldered the Knight good-naturedly. "Hey, don't worry about it. We're on a break, remember?" She scribbled out a quick message on a sheet of paper. "Here, you could have Sif run this report to Anor Londo if it would make you feel better."
"It would. Come here, Sif." He knelt down and fastened the note around his neck with a leather strap. "There, now run that out to Anor Londo, ok boy?"
Sif whuffed in affirmation, and took off down the street.
He watched his wolf go. "Alright, let's find a decent hole to crash in around here."
"There was always that spot under the bridge."
"I'm not that desperate yet."
"Well, if worst comes to worst, remember that it doesn't rain down here."
"But gods, does it get damp."
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
"Well, it's amazing what money can do for you. Or against you, rather."
They had made a thorough route of the various inns around New Londo proper, but had quickly found that all of the rooms were occupied. All except one. They had managed to beat the agents of the Four Kings to a spot, and Artorias had had to literally put his foot in the door.
Instead of being disheartened at this, it had started to become a sort of game to the two. A combination of exhaustion, alcohol, and pleasurable company put their mad dash through a sort of comedic filter.
Ciaran entered the room first. "They're so desperate, they've probably rigged traps in the room, hold on." She made a show of looking under the cushions on the chairs. Artorias stopped her from entering the attached bathroom.
"Wait! They may have set a bucket of water on top of the door!"
She laughed and pushed him backwards. "Look out for tripwires between the dressers!"
They were fervently whispering, trying not to wake up the neighboring residents, but dissolved into wheezing laughter.
Artorias spoke between fits. "There…there has to be p-pressure plates…in the bed! It can't be right that it would actually fit me! Very suspicious." He yawned and half sat, half collapsed on the edge of it, realizing his fatigue. "Gods, I may have overdone the drink tonight."
Ciaran perched on the edge as well. "All part of my master plan."
"Oh yeah?"
She rose to her feet. "Mhm. Now that you're weak, it's time to strike!" She made to move forward, but her legs wobbled and she fell onto the mattress herself. "Oof. Alright, maybe later."
Artorias let himself fall onto his side next to her. "Aha! There won't be a later! You're done for!" He wrapped his arms around her in a bear hug, eliciting a small delighted noise from her. A short romping period followed, stopped only by the downstairs neighbor banging on his ceiling and telling them to be quiet. They ceased, smiles written on breathless faces.
There weren't words.
Much more passed between their eyes.
He lowered himself down, and they shared a lingering kiss.
When that broke off, he planted another one on her neck, then stopped and looked her in the eyes.
"Wait."
She made a questioning sound in her throat, hand against the side of his head.
"I…I want this Ciaran, and I think you want it too. But you're drunk, and I'm drunk." Concern shone through his eyes. "I wouldn't be able to…do anything with a clear conscience…"
He lay down on his side, and drew her close to him. "…but I look forward to seeing you in the morning."
It wasn't long before they drifted off, secure in each other's arms.