Chapter 5: Meeting the Neighbors Part 1

"Is something the matter, dear Shanalotte?" Shalquoir asked as she slunk up to the silent and staring Emerald Herald.

"No," she muttered, still staring off into the distance. Tilting her head, the immortal cat let her curiosity get the better of her and she turned to look in the same direction as the last Firekeeper, before breaking into a Cheshire grin.

"Oh, watching the forest path, are we? If I didn't know better, I'd almost think you were worried for the boy," Shalquoir teased, smirking up at her friend in that feline way all cats can do. The Emerald Herald snorted in dismissal.

"You do know better Shalquoir. I am merely watching the path leading from Things Betwixt. It just so happens that the location is in the same general area."

The Memory Watcher snorted, before curling up on the flat stone near the bonfire's warmth.

"Say that all you want, the truth will remain. You worry for him."

"Of course not. He chose his fate by venturing into the forest under equipped. Why should I be concerned with a fool who will not become the Monarch? Besides, after Melentia returned, I knew he at least had some sense."

The brown and white cat conceded the point with a yawn. "Indeed he does. But to think the lad could break through to her with food of all things," Shalquoir said, sparing a glance for the hunched old woman. She'd taken up residence in a tent, but spent the day leaning on the wall near the forest path. Her wares were fairly common and low quality, but she did have a few treasures in that large pack of hers. The Herald remembered her from the past. The hag merchant would wander through Majula sometimes, never staying long. She'd been wandering for a long time, longer than even Shanalotte had been waiting. She was one of the early Cursed Undead, and had hidden well from the purges. Now that the land was in ruin and the kings fallen from power, she was seen more often. But rarely did she act friendly, or at least not try and push someone to buy her wares.

Melentia had changed. Shanalotte recognized this when the old Undead had walked out of the Forest of Fallen Giants. She was polite, kept her cackles to herself, and made an attempt to be more pleasant. She'd even returned Lenigrast's key to him without demanding payment! Such a thing shocked all five inhabitants of the town. Hardly greedy, but definitely a skinflint. That was what everyone knew the hag as. Melentia claimed that the wandering cook, Erik Potts, had convinced her to return the poor blacksmith's key.

Hearing about the boy irked Shanalotte. He was a pitiful, naïve brat, who wouldn't last long in this place. Yet he had made a friend out of someone who, while ancient, had a wealth of knowledge and knew how to find rare artifacts and items.

Five days had passed since the boy had first arrived, and three since Melentia had returned to Majula. He was probably Hollow by now.

"Someone approaches. Someone with the Giant's Soul!" Shalquoir suddenly exclaimed, sitting upright, her head swiveling to look at where the exit from the Giant's Forest was.

"Why did they not use the bonfire to warp back?" Shanalotte mused, straining her eyes. Could it have been another warrior? There were a few Undead out in that direction who could pass for a Monarch's Candidate, but it didn't seem likely to be one of them. Pate was a trickster and coward, and Creighton a blood crazed murderer. Both were skilled warriors, but they did not have the drive to become anything more than two-bit crooks.

All of her questions and speculations fled her mind though as she beheld the person Shalquoir had sensed, replaced with a single word; "How?!"

Out of the path emerged the fool, Erik Potts! He was dirt stained and dragged his feet somewhat from fatigue, but none the less alive and Unhollowed!

"Oh me, oh my! Look what the cat dragged in!" Shalquoir said happily, grinning at her own joke before hopping off the rock she was on and sauntering over to Erik as he got closer. He smiled and bent down, stroking her back before freezing.

"It's alright, I do not mind. I may have a voice, but that doesn't mean I don't like a backrub every now and then. What woman wouldn't?" Shalquoir said in a teasing manner, savoring the man's embarrassment.

"Ah, yes, apologies, it was reflex," Erik mumbled in shame.

"It seems you obtained the soul of the Last Giant. I am impressed. I did not take you for such a capable warrior. Or was it a fluke like the last time you encountered big monsters?" Shanalotte inquired, almost able to hide the annoyance in her voice.

"I may have the Giant's Soul, but I did not kill him for it," Erik said striding over to the bonfire and plopping down onto a rock near it, letting the mystical flames caress and heal his body, and also fill his Flask.

"Then how…?"

"I was trapped by that strange fog in the cave with him, but all I did was run. He struck some unstable part of the wall, and it collapsed on him, pinning him beneath." He looked over at the Emerald Herald, who noted with mild surprise how his eyes had hardened since she'd first seen him. Not with pain or misery or even madness, but with purpose.

"I could not bring myself to kill him. He was a victim, much like myself. So, I cooked for him. I prepared one last meal and offered it to him as one might Break Fast in Lindelt. We forgave each other. And then he passed on and just gave me his soul," Erik continued, to the shock of the two immortals.

"You… how…" Shanalotte was speechless. What was with this person?! Who in their right mind would cook a meal for a Giant! How could he even do so, all they consumed was water, sunlight, and…

"You used a Seed of a Tree of Giants!" Shalquoir hissed in surprise, catching on to the cook's trick. Erik just nodded, further stunning the two listeners. Such a precious item, wasted on a dying Giant who was as much a part of the Curse as the Undead were?

"You really are Donovan's descendant! Even with the recipe, it would take a truly talented person to make it all work properly! Amazing! You are a true diamond in the rough!" Shalquoir praised, making Erik blush.

"It felt like the right thing to do, you know?"

"What will you do now? Where will you go?" Shanalotte asked abruptly. He had taken the first step onto the Monarch's road, now it was her job to see him follow through. Whether she liked it or not.

"For now, I'm going to explore Majula. I didn't really get a chance when I was here earlier," Erik said, rising from his rocky seat. "After that I don't know. But I'll come and see you for advice. You seem to know the layout of the land fairly well. And you seem to know where I need to go next, anyways."

He cast the two a look. It was not judging, it was not angry or suspicious. But he knew something was going on. Something deeper than the Curse might first suggest. Still, he moved on, calling out a happy greeting to the merchant hag.

"Mrs. Melentia! I'm glad to see you made it out safely," Erik exclaimed, walking over to the old woman with a friendly smile. She looked up and smiled widely cackling as he neared.

"Looks like you survived! Good, good! No trouble with the spearman I hope?"

"Pate didn't seem that bad, actually. A bit wary, but that's to be expected. Said he was waiting for a comrade," Erik said, leaning up against the wall to chat with the older Undead. "I also met a cartographer. Kale, I think his name was? He was wandering about in a cave, and then he gave me this key." He showed the old woman the worn iron key, and she nodded.

"Trust Mild Mannered Pate at your own peril boy. He's been an Undead for a while now, and we've crossed paths before. Never done anything wrong, mind you, but there is something I do not like about him. And you say you met Kale? Poor lad is almost Hollow," Melentia said conversationally. Erik nodded at that in sad agreement.

"He said he was compiling a map based on something he found in the basement of a house. What was that about?" Erik inquired, and Melentia just pointed a finger across the town to where the largest building stood.

"That is the home of the town Magistrate. Back when things were alright," the merchant stated. "In it there are a bunch of records and documents, and some rare tomes of knowledge. But what the poor lad is referring to is a large mural down in the lower levels; an entire, complete map of Drangleic."

"That seems fairly useful, actually," Erik mused.

"Yes, it is, but here's the interesting thing; it wasn't made by anyone living at the time. It was dug up! When the house was being expanded, workers unearthed the map, and it quickly garnered attention from the king himself! Even with King Vendrick having stabilized the region, much is not known of this land before man first came. This map shows places that do not exist anymore, and some that we'd had no idea existed! The Brightcove was discovered thanks to the map, as was the Dragon's Aerie! That map is also made entirely from a single block of Titanite; no ordinary person could afford that, let alone sculpt it! It was too large to move though so they copied it. Even now though it is still there, untouched by time."

Erik was astonished. Legends spoke of Drangleic as the home of the First Flame, but also the birthplace of Chaos and the Demons, as well as land of the Gods. Artifacts from bygone eras were unearthed all the time, but most were broken or hoarded by the nobles. To have such a thing so close was almost like a dream. Erik felt giddy, and he wanted to rush over and examine it himself, but he restrained his impulses. He had all the time in the world to do things now. He could afford a slow pace once in a while.

"That sound's absolutely incredible, Mrs. Melentia! I want to see it for myself someday!" Erik said, impressed. The merchant hag just cackled.

"Well, since you are here, why not buy something? You may be surprised."

And he was. Melentia had a massive amount of Lifegems, as well as some throwing knives, fire bombs, and most tantalizingly a bunch of Amber Herbs! He bought a bit of all of it! Lifegems for healing were an obvious choice, and he lacked projectile weapons, something that would have come in handy back with the crossbowmen at the castle. He snatched up a few of both throwing weapons eagerly. Lastly, he took just one Amber Herb. He'd wanted them all, and the Brightbugs, but he did not have enough souls for that. Still, this was a good haul, and he had some souls left over.

Thank you kindly! Keh heh heh!" Melentia said with a cackle as the chef bought his goods. He politely ignored that, and went on to the next person to meet.

"Err, oh, hello there. W-welcome, to my shop," A dark skinned man in robes and cap said nervously as Erik entered the surprisingly intact building.

"Hello, I don't think we've met. My name is Erik Potts of Lindelt. I'm a chef," he introduced.

"Oh, h-hello. I'm Maughlin, an armorer from Volgen. Do you need any armor? I have shields as well if you like."

"A shield sounds great, actually. My last one broke and my current one has seen much better days," Erik said happily, showing off the dented plate of iron masquerading as a shield.

"Ugh, yes, let me show you what I have," Maughlin said hurriedly, giving the rusted shield a disgusted look.

"It's not much, but here." Shields were laid out before the cook, and he rubbed his chin as he examined them.

"The smallest one, please. I fear I am not strong enough to lift the other two," Erik decided, handing over the souls for the Iron Parma. Maughlin took them gratefully, and passed him the small roundish shield.

"So, what brings you to Majula?" Erik asked after a bit as he tested out his new shield.

"I came from the west, from Volgen. Have you been there? It's a lively place, vibrant with trade. Very competitive, of course. And y-you have to grease the wheels to get anywhere. But I didn't have the funding for that, so I left home in hopes of striking gold." At this, Maughlin's head drops in weariness and defeat. "It's been years since then, and I've… well I've made very little headway… hah hah. I don't even know why I'm still here… Everything's all run-down and dying… It's t-terrible for business, really…"

"I can imagine business being slow," Erik agreed, glancing out the window at the town. "But why not just leave? Surely there are other places you could set up shop?"

"Not likely. Majula may be desolate, but it's the safest place to be if you're Undead. Plus, travelers come through all the time, be they new arrivals or older Undead passing through to elsewhere. It's a hub, really, and everyone needs some manner of protection," Maughlin explained. Erik raised an eyebrow at that.

"How is that possible? Drangleic is vast, how is it that this tiny settlement is the safest spot to be?"

"Because not just Hollows and monsters roam these parts," Maughlin explained. "The Gyrm hold dominion over the pass towards the Brightcove and they dislike intruders of any sort, especially humans. The Lion Clan rules the Shaded Woods and they hate non-clansfolk, so that means access to Drangleic Castle is extremely perilous. The interior of Alken, the Old Iron King's domain, is either bogged down in lava or choked with poison, while the outskirts are filled with disciples of Nahr Alma, the blood god. Eleum Loyce has been isolated with an unending blizzard for centuries now and is almost unreachable. And don't even get me started on the Blue Sentinels who've claimed the ruins of Heide for themselves!" Maughlin cried, all but shouting. "And then you have Hollows and monsters and unscrupulous bandits! No, Majula is the only place left for sane folk like you and me. Don't go expecting any safety beyond this place."

"I see. Thank you, that information was most helpful," Erik said softly, taking it all in. Things were worse than he'd thought!

"Be seeing you then. Try not to die out there," Maughlin said in farewell as the cook left the shop.

The sound of metal being hammered into shape rang in Erik's ears as he approached the roofless home that belonged to the sole blacksmith of Majula. The ringing of sound was loud, but not unpleasant. To someone who'd grown up in the capitol of Lindelt, Erik was used to being surrounded by noise. He'd never admit it, but to him the most unnerving part about Drangleic was the lack of familiar sounds. Even the birds and beasts were muted, as if afraid to call attention to themselves, and the silence made the cook uncomfortable. As such, even the tiniest reminder of home calmed him.

"You, stand back. This is dangerous work," the smith called out as Erik entered through the doorway. The green skinned man barely glanced up, and Erik averted his eyes from the massive hole in the man's shoulder. Was that how he'd died? If it had been recent the bonfire should have healed him. "The name's Lenigrast. Just a simple blacksmith. And you are…hmph! Another useless traveler. A man ought to labor with his feet planted firmly in the earth. Not roam around like you flirtatious vagabonds."

Erik frowned, but shook it off. The smith was gruff and slightly rude, but that didn't mean anything.

"I may be travelling, but I do so in order to find ingredients. I'm a chef, and while I do appreciate the idea of a home, I feel this is something I need to do."

"Oh, a chef you say?" Lenigrast's demeanor changed slightly. Not by much, but it was still noticeable how his posture shifted. "You must be the one who convinced the old hag to give me back my key! I was afraid she'd charge me for it! Please, excuse my attitude. I work with too many men and women who fight and bleed for a living. Repairing their equipment earns me souls, but having to repair the same things over and over gets tiring. If you ever need any of your cooking tools fixed, I'll be glad to help!"

"I'll be glad to take you up on the offer, sir," Erik said, mollified somewhat.

"Please, call me Lenigrast. No need for formalities here. But, do you think you could do me a favor?"

"Perhaps. What is it?" Erik asked.

"You see, my witless daughter is around here somewhere, but I'm not able to do much exploring. She's an adventurous type, but with unfortunately a bit too much air between her ears and her head in the clouds," Lenigrast said sadly, shaking his head. "If you find her, could you ask her to return here? I fear for her safety every day she's missing."

"I promise to do what I can if I meet her," Erik said with a nod of his head.

"Oh, thank you! Her name is Chloanne, and she wears a black dress and has her brown hair in a ponytail," the blacksmith exclaims, describing his daughter with a happy expression on his face. "You can't miss her!"

"Of course. I'll see you around." Erik turned and left, leaving the blacksmith to his work, and soon the clang of metal and the wheeze of bellows sounded in his ears once more.

A flight of worn stone steps lead up to a large monument atop a bluff near the bonfire. It was a beautiful object, made of marble and smooth stone that even after decades of sea air was mostly intact. Only the names the stood on the sides were faded from view, though a few could still be made out. "Syan… Drummond… Lothian…" It was a memorial to the warriors and heroes who fell during the Giant War.

"You're Undead, aren't you." This was a statement rather than a question, and it came from the man who sat on the steps of the monument, head bowed. He raised it though to stare at Erik with dead eyes. "You have that distinct scent. The smell of irreversible fate."

"This is Majula. It is a kind of settlement… a place where life is almost normal. And in Drangleic these days, there are very few places like that. Though, I assume you already knew this. I heard the poor merchant from Volgen lamenting his fate from here," the crestfallen knight said with a bitter chuckle.

"Greetings, my name is Eriks Potts, sir," the chef said, bowing his head slightly. This man wore worn and dirty armor, but there was no hiding the noble posture, even if slumped. In Lindelt, and anywhere really, the peasants and commoners learned to recognize the telltale signs of a nobleman, even if they were incognito.

"None of that 'sir' nonsense. I am a knight no longer. My name is Saulden, and like you I lost everything, and now I'm here. You probably heard that it was possible to break the curse here. I know you told the ladies that you had no such interest in that, but let me give you some advice, should you forget what you said; there is no cure. There is nothing here that can save us, so do what you want without entertaining such childish notions."

"I'll keep that in mind," Erik said, forcing himself from adding "sir" to the end.

"Since you're here though, why not have some advice. Over there, do you see? On that cliff opposite us. There is an ancient marker stone that still hums with magic. It might be useful to you, or not. Though if you need protection, why not join the Way of Blue?" At this, a tiny spark of enthusiasm comes to life in the knight's eyes, which Erik is quick to notice.

"The Way of Blue, you say?" He knew what it was. In Lindelt, you'd have to be blind and deaf not to know of it and its sister order, the Blue Sentinels. They were a pair of Covenants that had risen to power a little over four centuries ago, spreading quickly across the lands to combat the rise of Hollows and other threats. Firmly entrenched in Lindelt after only a decade, and now one of its major powers, they were the agents of justice for the gods. All who committed crimes against the Church were hunted down, and their main prey were the members of the Brotherhood of Blood. The Way of Blue acted as a shield, protecting the innocent and common folk, while the Blue Sentinels were the sword, actively hunting their foes down across the lands. Volgen, Melfia, Mirrah, even Lanafir and Jugo were slowly being influenced by these rising stars.

"Yes, the Way of Blue. I happen to be the local chapter master of the Covenant. If you are ever attacked by vile blood seekers, you can rely on us to protect you."

Erik thought it over. It sounded good. Having a life line while traveling was always a good thing, and the Twin Azure Orders were famous for their dedication to duty. There were worse things than having them to watch his back.

"That sounds like a good idea," Erik admitted, to which Saulden clapped his hands in delight.

"Wonderful! Here, hold out your hand, and I shall bless you with the Covenant's protection…"

Erik did so, and his right hand was clasped by the rougher ones of the morose warrior. Blue light danced in the air for a moment, before he pulled away. There was a new addition to his hand, though. A simple turquoise blue ring now sat on his ring finger, with a stylized leaf on the face as its symbol.

"This is the Blue Seal, emblem of the Covenant. As long as you wear it we can detect if you are being assaulted by one of the Blood God's followers or other such abominations and summon ourselves to your side."

"Thank you very much," Erik said with a bow before turning to leave.

"If you want to continue your journey, go through the tunnel near the monolith. It will lead you to the sunken kingdom of Heide, where my brothers in the Blue Sentinels reside. It is also a good place to fish, if that's your idea of fun," Saulden spoke up, surprising the chef with some helpful advice. Erik bowed to him once more before moving on down, making his way past the bonfire.

"…Is that a shard you've found?" Erik paused and turned to look at the Emerald Herald, who was looking at him with a mixed expression. Blinking, Erik nodded and removed the greenish shard from his waist pouch, where it sat with his Estus Flask.

"May I see it? I can use my powers to reinforce your Estus Flask with this broken fragment."

Without hesitation Erik passed them both over, and watched in awe as the woman held the two objects close to her chest, shining light spilling over them and the area. When it faded, the shard was gone but the flask remained, though it seemed bigger and sturdier for some reason.

"Take care on your journey. And if you venture near Heide, then past it lies the Wharf, where it may be possible to find some of what you seek."

"Thank you, my lady. And I don't think I ever apologized for mistaking your gift to me as a common bottle. For that, I'm sorry," Erik said, bowing his head to her.

"It is no trouble," Shanalotte said, avoiding meeting his eyes. Taking his flask back, he waved farewell and left for the legendary Towers of Flame.

Half way through the tunnel, Erik suddenly slapped his forehead and groaned. He forgot to ask her name again!