III: On The Path

Ryan looked down at the man. His hood had fallen off, revealing an unmarred, almost boyish face if not for his long beard. He didn´t look like a warrior, not at all, but he would still be a threat. Mages needed nothing more that one mistake to kill you. He approached him as he shakely got to his knees and stood up. The man heard him approach, and looked at him right at his eyes. He sneered, turned on his heel and, with a flick of his wrist, motioned for him to follow. Ryan did it, mildly amused that he still maintained his arrogance, despite that he would have killed him at any moment and he would still do so.

As they walked, some of the people turned to look at them. They reached the outskirts of the town, and then that man stopped. There were two horses, tied to the same tree by a long cord. The other took a step forward, untangled one and, in one fast movement, he sat on the riding chair. He grabbed the reins of the horse.

"What are you waiting for?" He said.

"I don´t know how to ride a horse."

"Seriously?" He sneered. "You just walked everywhere, then?"

"Yes." Ryan said. The man just looked at him for a moment, shook his head ruefully and patted the saddle. Ryan approached the horse, put one foot in the one of the supports for them-whatever they were called-, grabbed the horse with both hands and went up unsteadily, almost falling over.

"Hold on." He said, and Ryan grabbed on to his shoulders. The horse barreled forward, through the forest, picking up speed by the moment. Ryan tightened his grip. They rode for hours, the only indication of time passing being the sun slowly retreating behind the horizon. When they finally stopped, it was night. He dismounted first, and Ryan followed behind him. There was a town just in front of them, the many buildings visible only because of the few lights that were still on. They passed some kind of sign, but he understood it even less that the runes. Maybe it was the name of this town, or something like that.

"Is this group of yours here, then?" Ryan said.

"No." He said, and turned his head to look at him. "The headquarters of Reconquista are in Albion. We are here only to board a ship that will take us there."

Ryan nodded, and felt silent. He followed him up a hill, expecting to see a harbor below them, but it didn´t happen. He looked up, up, up. The arbor was a giant tree. He saw ships, a lot of ships, tied to the tree with chains and floating in the air, just like that. Like they were balloons. What kind of magic would do something like this so casually that the man who accompanied him didn´t even give anything a second glace?

He breathed in, and out several times. Questions would come later, now he had to concentrate in what was important. They ended up in front of the nearest ship, and stepped on board. One of the people on the deck approached them, probably the captain.

"Stop." He said. "What do you want?"

"I am noble, and a square class wind mage. I want you to take us to Albion, right now."

"Fine. We talk about payment later." He said, and turned towards the sailors. "Leave port! Untie anchors! Set sail!"

Ryan approached the mast as the sailors ran around doing their tasks, put his back against it and waited. The anchors were taken off and, at first, the ship shank. For one crazy movement, he cursed for being so foolish, almost believing this was all a trap to kill him. Then, the ship floated again and started flying through the clouds. God, he hoped he never had to get accustomed to this. It was not so bad; the ship advanced in a straight line, most of the time, without bobbing or shaking. His head didn´t and he didn´t feel sick, either. It was just...disconcerting. He had only felt something like this once, when the bird had picked him up from the Undead Asylum and dropped in Lordran. He remembered it, far too well. That fear that it had got the drop on him, then confusion and the sound of the wind on his ears. Feeling weightless, head spinning for the far to real sensation of not being held by anything solid, that he would drop to his death in any second.

He hated things like that.


Ryan could see dark land above the clouds, and it expanded moment by moment. He gripped the rail, hard. There was a city floating between the clouds, just like that. Like it was one big balloon. It was ridiculous, just ridiculous. The ships were one thing, but this was just too much. For what fell like the first time, the Chosen Undead realized what it truly mean to be in another world. It mean much, much more that a simply change of scenery and not having other Undead to worry about. It mean stumbling against things you wouldn´t have done or expected, truly going beyond your depth. A sobering thought, if there ever was one.

The ship descended, and the sailors tied it to the arbor with ropes. He waited for the man to pay and, together, they entered Albion. He guided him through the streets of the city, which looked abandoned despite that he saw the occasional person, for nearly half an hour up to a building. He took off a key from his pockets, and opened the door. There were no lights inside, but the sunlight going through the windows illuminated the place well enough. He stepped inside, and Ryan followed him.

They got up a nearby set of stairs, passed a door and went left to another set of stairs. On the top of the stairs, there was a wide, sturdy looking door. The other took a step forward, and pushed it open, revealing an undecorated, spacious room. Several meters ahead, there was a some stairs that lead to a throne and, just behind it, a big window. There was man sitting there, legs crossed, one hand under his chin. He looked at them as they approached the throne. His companion bended at the waist, one fist over his heart.

"So, Wardes... Is this him?" He said. Wardes lifted his body, looked at him and nodded.

"Yes, Cromwell."

The man on the throne turned towards Ryan, his smile wider.

"Tell me, then, whatever you call yourself now. Where do you come from? What does it mean to be... how do you put it? Ah, yes. The Chosen Undead."

"It doesn´t matter if I tell you or not." Ryan said. "You won´t be able to find that place in any of your maps. As for what it means to be me, I already say it and you should know that much, since your lapdogs managed to find me."

"So..." His smile grew wider. "Is that place beyond even the Holy Land?"

"No. Is not in this world." Ryan said. There was no point in lying now, anyway. Cromwell´s smile disappeared, and his eyes narrowed.

"Don´t screw with me. You are in my dominions, surrounded by my soldiers. You have no chance of survival should I wish for it. Your life is my hands."

"I can´t die." He said-seems he had spoken too soon- and put one hand on the pommel of his sword. "And you are wrong about that last thing, too. Where you not listening? I am Undead. Right now, Reconquista´s fate is my hands. So... I dare you. Give me an excuse to draw my sword. Just one."

They stared at each other, right in the eyes, in silence. Wardes right hand went inside his robes, surely grasping his wand. Ryan´s parted his feet, but didn´t move otherwise. Things went on. Then, Cromwell laughed. His whole body shook, and there where even tears in his eyes. Ryan just stared. It took in nearly a minute to calm down.

"Well, well, this was surely a good acquisition. I don´t regret it in one bit." Cromwell said. His smile widened even more. "Say... die for me, now."

Ryan moved. He grasped Wardes right hand, which had shoot out of his robes, and twisted it. The lance of wind that had be intended to skewer him hit the wall. It blackened, and several stones dropped, but it didn´t sustain mayor damage. He put the tip of the sword against his throat; the hood felt off.

"Shall we go on, Cromwell?" Ryan said. He pressed the tip harder, drawing blood.

"I don´t get it." He said, sounding kind of like a child. "You are Undead, so die. This is nothing personal. It just what to check the merchandise, if you get what I mean."

"For me, dead is merely an inconvenience. But is still an inconvenience."

"What does that mean?"

"It means my body would gradually rot with each death. I stop looking human."

"You have not die yet, then?"

"No. I died, died and died countless times before. The only reason I look like this is because I managed to recover. However, I need something that doesn´t exist in this land to recover, and moving around would become an inconvenience when I look like a corpse. So, I won´t do such a thing as dying pointlessly."

"Uh, fine. But unhand him. He is still useful." Cromwell said. Ryan moved the sword away, and let go of his arm. Wardes seethed, but didn´t make another move. "Well, at least, is clear that you are not all bark and no bite. Lets about what you can do for Reconquista, Undead."

"Fine." He said, and turned towards him.

"One of our agents is stationed in the Tristanian Academy Of Magic. She is the headmaster´s secretary. Tomorrow, the day of the Familiar Exhibition, she will put in motion her plan to steal the Staff Of Destruction. We originally planed to let her handled it alone, but we can´t do so any longer. You killing the Valliere Girl had an unfortunate effect in the security of the academy. So, you will go there and ensure that the Staff Of Destruction gets stolen."

Ryan just nodded.

"Excellent." He said, and sat up. "Now, I like to see your skills for myself. We will guide you to the training room."

Cromwell walked ahead of them, and motioned for him to follow. He did, with Wardes in front of him, behind Cromwell and a few steps to the left. When they were close to another door, Cromwell said:

"Ah, one more thing. How is this so called Undead Curse transmitted?"

"That can´t happen here, for certain reasons." Ryan said, without looking at him.

"Don´t lie. The Valliere girl came back to life, just a few days ago."

"What..." He mumbled, trying to get his thoughts in order. That just wouldn´t happen. He didn´t know for sure what was the Undead Curse, nobody knew for sure, but the darksign was a blight upon mankind because they held the Dark Soul. This was a different world all together; he had already left such things behind. Unless... that kiss... some of his souls got inside her, and it changed her. "That was just because she almost succeeded in binding me. How is she, then?"

"Nobody knows. She escaped, and has not be see since then." Cromwell said. "Anyway, I think about it later. Lets go."

They went away through that door. Soldiers sitting in desks, playing cards or drinking or just talking between each other, looked at them-no, more like, at him- as they went past, but returned to do whatever they were doing without saying anything about it. Seeing their leader face to face was not an every day occurrence but, at least, they were disciplined enough to know when to shut up. Ryan tried to remember their path, to not need to ask for directions later. They ended up in a big, spartan room, almost as big as Cromwell´s throne room. There were soldiers fighting among each other with wooden swords in one side, and, in the other, mages practicing their accuracy. They heard them come, and saw them, but nobody stopped. Cromwell sat in a close seat, in the same posture as on the throne.

"Well, go get a sword and fight, Undead." Cromwell said.

"Fine." Ryan said. He saw a box with four wooden swords, approached and picked up one. Fragile. So fragile. How one would fight like this, even if it was just training, was a wonder. He felt like it would break with just clenching it a bit too hard. Even so, he approached the left side of the training field, because it didn´t really change anything.

"Attention, everybody." Cromwell said. Ryan stopped. The soldiers in the training field lowered their weapons, and turned towards their leader. "This our new acquisition, the Undead who raised hell in Tristania by killing a noble and burning down the mansion of a local count. I want to see his skills for myself, so all of those who wield melee weapons now will fight him. After that, he will fight those with wands. Understood?"

"Understood!" The soldiers screamed, in unison. Ryan stayed silent. When their voices died down, he charged towards the left side, sword held high. They also rushed at him. He got near them, slammed a sword right out of the hands of a soldier and hit him in the nape of the neck, knocking him out. He stepped back, dodging the wild swinging of their swords and hit one of them hard, in the back of the legs, making him fall and knock others down with him. They had the advantage of numbers, but he was fast and they were far to cluttered to react in time, even if they had the ability to do so. They stopped their attacks, spread out and charged at him. One got to him first, and swung at him. He bowed his head, the wooden sword passing right over it and hit the soldier straight in the chest. He gasped, holding his stomach with his hands and felt to his knees. He was to slow, and the next soldier caught him on the shoulder, but he managed to hit him back on the face. He sweep the legs of the next one from under him with his sword, and hit the other one in the heart before he would react.

This was fine at all, but he wouldn´t get this up much longer, not while being so outnumbered, so he striven to put distance between them. If this had be a real fight, he would have just conjured a firestorm to burn them all to a crisp. He barely dodged one swing, aiming for his neck and knocked the sword out of his grip with a strong hit. Ryan kicked the soldier, and continued his retreat. One swing whistled right past his head, and he knocked that soldier out with a hit on his head.

"This is him, them." Somebody said, a female. The soldiers stopped. Ryan, middle confused, looked back at Cromwell. He saw a tall woman, on hig hells, with a tight purple dress and long indigo approach him. She moved gracefully, like Princess Dusk, but there was something in her movements. Something almost predatory.

"Who are you?"

"I am Master´s familiar, the Myozunitonirun, the Mind Of God, but my name is Sheffield." She said. Familiar, the same thing that girl had intended to turn him to. So this woman and Cromwell´s soul were united. It made him pity her, but just a little. "And... you are the one who was supposed to be the Gandalfr, the left hand of god. An Undead, or so you say."

"Were are you going with this?" He said, simply. He didn´t even try to address the terms she casually dropped. Anyway, he seriously doubted he would be able to get a straight answer out of her. Sheffield´s smile widened.

"Fight me. You are not going to show anything, just by fighting these idiots. Face me, and know the weight of the power of the void." Sheffield said.

"I approve it!" Cromwell chimed in.

"Fine, Sheffield. I will do want you want, just this once. But make sure to kept up with me." Ryan said. He let go of the wooden sword, and unsheathed his sword. She raised a hand, and strange creatures suddenly appeared in a circle around her. They vaguely reminded him of the Gargoyles who had be guarding the first Bell Of Awakening, but their similarity was only superficial.

"Gladly." She said, and the creatures leaped at him. Ryan cut one creature down in the air, and retreated. They were fast, deceptively so. Not on Artorias level, but still, it was clear that he wouldn´t take this fight lightly, even if it was just practice. When one try to claw him, he stabbed it in one eye and, with a rapid twist of his body, threw it against the rest of the creatures. They went tumbling down in a heap, slowing them down and he continued to put distance between them. "Was wrong, Undead? Are you afraid?"

He didn´t answer. His skills may be meager, compared to many of the things he had killed back at Lordran, but even he was not amateur enough to waste his breath during a fight. He cut down another creature and, when he looked, he noticed they were the same number. Those things would stop coming as long as Sheffield was still capable of manipulating magical energy, so is only chance to win was to get to her. So he crunched, jumped to the side and, with the creatures behind him, rushed at her. It didn´t last for long. They jumped at him, striking his armor or clinging to him to try at drag him down. He didn´t slow down, just tried to feed them off with his sword. Many fell, many replaced those who had fallen. Sheffield stepped back, seemingly panicked, blue light shining in her hands. Ryan brought the sword above his head, and swung it. A wave of blue light hit the sword, but it just bounced out of it. He stopped himself mere inches from her throat. Slowly, he moved the sword away. Sheffield was delighted, like she didn´t know how close she had come to her death. Her smile was predatory, and her eyes were wide and round. Her tongue was sticking out lightly between her parted lips. They had planned this, for the beginning, probably to try to find out his weakness so he could be killed swiftly if he ever became a nuisance to them. But...

Sheffield punched him in the face, knocking the sword out of his grip and driving him to the ground. She straddled him, and began punching his head, repeatedly, with blows as hard as hammers. His head spun. He raised raised his hands to protect his face, only vaguely aware that Sheffield was laughing at the top of her lugs. He waited. Waited for his chance. There. He grabbed her neck with both hands, and pressed. Her laughter was cut off. He kicked her in the stomach, making her fall back to the ground, crawled away and stood up. Sheffield just looked at him, panting, right in the eyes. Silence.

"Well..." Cromwell said. Then, he started clapping. The rest of the soldiers followed suit, even Wardes. "That was quite a show, yes. You will serve Reconquista well. Now, Wardes will show you your quarters, if you wish."

Ryan just nodded. He passed Sheffield, grabbed his fallen sword and sheathed it. When he turned back, Wardes was already walking away, without even looking back to see if he was following. Eh, that must have hurt his pride more that he thought. Even so, he followed him out of the room and into a long corridor filled with rows of doors. Wardes went to the door of the middle, in the left side.

"Here it is." He said, took a set of keys from his pockets and opened it. When he approached, he gave the key to him and walked away. Ryan entered the room, closed the door and locked it with the key. He put the key on the nightstand, settled down on the bed and waited for tomorrow.


Ryan didn´t sleep. He was tired, but he didn´t sleep. It was not because of caution-he knew damn well that they still needed him-, but just because he couldn´t do it. He didn´t even remember the last time he had sleep, now that he thought about it. Knocking. He sat up, grabbed the key and opened the door. There was a bald, armored man with clear blue eyes behind it, instead of Wardes.

"My name is Vincent De Stael. I am the one assigned to take you to the arbor." He took some kind of parchment for his pockets, and a bag and held them towards him. Ryan grabbed them. "That is a detailed map of Tristania, and that is some money so you can pay a carriage to take you to the Academy. Follow me."

Vincent walked away, and Ryan followed him. On their way out of the building, they passed very few soldiers, fewer that yesterday. He briefly wondered what they were doing. Soon, they reached the harbor. Vincent talked with the captain of a nearby ship and, when he told him to, Ryan stepped on board. He put his back against the mast, and waited. The anchors were taken off by the sailors, and the ship took flight towards Tristania. After an hour, at the most, they were already about to land in another arbor. Ryan was mildly confused, because the last flight had took much longer, but he didn´t think much about it. Probably, it was just that it was a faster ship or the sailors were better or both. He brought transportation with the money Vicent had given him, and it took him to the forest near the academy. When the carriage went back, he hid between the tress and waited for his cue.

Not much later, Ryan watched as a big, bright pink carriage entered the academy, surrounded by armed men on horses and several men flying over it, riding strange avian creatures. When the door opened for them, he saw that a crowd of students had gathered in the courtyard. He remained unmoving, listening to the hustle and bustle of the crowd, until he fell the earth quake. This was it. He climbed a tall enough tree, jumped on the top of the wall and ran for it.

Ryan didn´t go far before he saw it, a huge rock monstrosity with a hodded person on its shoulder, cape blowing in the wind. It was pouching a tower, so hard the ground shook every time, but it had yet to show any signs of damage. He looked to the side, and saw what looked like a dragon with two girls mounted over it. One of them brandished her staff, and icicles hit the mostrisity on the back. It didn´t even seem to notice.

"Damn, damn." It took him a moment to notice than that voice, clearly of a woman, came from the person on the thing´s shoulder. "Why is not working?"

The things swung its arm at the wyvern, but it dodged it easily. At this rate, Fouquet was going to get captured without even having touched that staff. Ryan lifted a hand, prepared and waited for the right moment. There. His hand crackled with electricity, and he sent a Sunlight Spear after the wyvern. They didn´t even see it coming. It exploded near them, sending the dragon crashing down, on fire. Then, he lifted it again and sent another Sunlight Spear flying. It hit the tower, and made a hole, big enough for one person to fit through. Fouquet looked back once towards him, then jumped inside. Ryan unseated his sword, as soldiers came en manse to this part of the courtyard. Most went after Fouquet, but some noticed him and levitated to the walls to get at him.

They were mostly clustered together, so he send a Fireball to the center of the group. Some of them got away, but most got caught in the explosion, sending them flying. If they didn´t die because the flames, then when the fall broke their necks. He dodged the spells the remaining soldiers fired, most of them panicked and wildly out of target and put some distance between them. The earth shook, again. Ryan raised his head, and saw the monstrosity coming towards them. It crushed the soldiers on the wall with an almost casual movement, picked it him up in one hand and stepped over the wall. The hand dropped him on one shoulder, and he gripped tightly to the monstrosity to not fall off.

"Just who the hell are you?" Fouquet said. He noticed she was gripped a black case in her left hand. "How the hell did that spell make a hole in the vault when my Golem couldn´t?"

"This is not the time for this." Ryan said, and looked back. "Just how fast is this thing?"

"Fast enough." She said, and then something hit him in the back. He screamed, lost his balance and fell back, out of the golem. He hit the ground, and...

A crack.


It burned, something burned. The darksign. Ryan opened his eyes, again. It took him a few moments to remember where he was, and what was he was doing. His throat was tight, and he would smell what had become almost indistinguishable during the weeks of dying, dying, dying and living in Lordran-the smell of his own rotten flesh. He saw the hands of that Golem dig into the ground, on each side.

"What..." Fouquet said. He lifted his head, and regarded apathetically. She seemed afraid. Ah, yeah. This armor didn´t have a helmet, didn't it? "Just... how the hell...?"

"I..." He hacks out a cough. "I am Undead. I thought they told you that much."

"Yes, but I... I didn´t..." Fouquet muttered, then the golem´s right hand opened. "Anyway, get it. They are going to catch up."

Ryan forced himself to his feet, and jumped on the open hand. It rose, and put him back on the Golem´s shoulder. He grabbed into it, hard as it continued its advance. The ground and trees were crushed under its foot. Dimly, he saw Fouquet looking back. Then, the golem stopped and she threw the black case to the ground.

"Grab my hand." She said, and he did. The Golem dissolved beneath his feet, and crumbled, obscuring everything with a massive cloud of dust and rock. They should have be fallen, but they didn´t. Even if he had see for himself those mages levitating, it still took him by surprise. Fouquet and he, gripping her hand, slowly descended to the ground. When they landed, Fouquet grabbed the case and together they ran for it, under the cover of the dust.

Author´s Notes

The explanation The Chosen Undead gives about what happened to Louise is innacurate. The real explanation will come next chapter... probably.