Chapter 8: Anti-Climax and Memories of Faith
"The quickest way to the Wharf is through that cave past the Dragonrider," Targey explained, pointing out the path Erik would need to take.
It was morning and after a quick breakfast for the Twin Azure Order members the Undead chef had been escorted to the exit of the cathedral. Beside him and the Covenant leader were the Dragonslayer and Gordin, who were seeing their new acquaintance off.
"There's a land route option, but the way is extremely perilous," Targey continued, pointing out the mountains in the distance. "The Brotherhood of Blood has all but taken control of the Huntsman's Copse, which was the safest route to and from Alken and the areas around the Old Iron King's domain. It is far safer to move through the old sunken tunnels that litter Heide and bypass the woods all together. Do not worry though, you can just run past all the Old Knight Golems that defend the underground passages."
"Any advice for getting past the Dragonrider, then?" Erik inquired, casting a hopeful look at his guides. They all shrugged.
"He's an Undead like us, but Hollowed. Killing him is easy but he doesn't stay down for long. Honestly, I can defeat him in a one on one fight," Gordin admitted, but he quickly continued, dashing Erik's budding hopes.
"And no, I will not aid you in the fight. He does not appear before the same challenger twice if they've already beaten him once. He is a strong but pragmatic sort, and honorable even in his mindless state. If I accompanied you, we'd both be trapped by the fog, unable to pass until I left."
"What is that stuff anyways?" Erik asked, staring out at the distant wall of grey he could now spot from his elevated position. The Dragonslayer shrugged but suddenly took off, dashing down over the drawbridge and slashing the Old Knight Golem that was standing below!
"We can't fight the Dragonrider for you but these suits of armor are fair game," Targey explained at Erik's inquiring look. "As for the fog… well, we have some ideas but no clear answer. You saw how there was the stuff before you encountered the Dragonslayer? The fogs seems to be a manifestation of fighting intent and intimidation that a strong Undead or magical being can create to ward off foes and create isolated territories. The Dragonslayer uses it to keep unwanted Hollows and Undead away from our sanctuary. If you see something like it in your travels then know that whoever is on the other side is likely a powerful foe. But sometimes you cannot advance without engaging the Fog Master in combat, as in death it seems to fade."
"I see. Thank you for the information," Erik said gratefully, bowing to the two Blue Sentinels.
"Don't mention it. Seriously, don't. I have a reputation," Gordin huffed, turning his head away. Targey just smiled warmly and shook the chef's hand in farewell.
"Be safe young Erik Potts. Your journey will not be easy, but we will add you when we can. Good luck, and good hunting."
Erik bowed one last time, before turning and leaving, heading down the drawbridge and following in the wake of the rampaging black lion knight. It did not take long for the cook to reach the fog gate, staring up at it in nervous worry. The Dragonslayer surprised Erik by placing a comforting hand on his shoulder before the silent Blue Sentinel fled back to the cathedral to continue guarding it from invaders.
"I can do this," Erik muttered under his breath, taking a deep breath and stepping through the warm yet cold, moist yet dry barrier.
Back at the Blue Cathedral, more than a few Covenant members were watching the young Undead, including Gordin and Targey. The latter was holding up a pair of binoculars to watch Erik's progress, and he frowned nervously.
"He can do it. Don't worry boss," Gordin assured, trying to keep worry from his own voice. An amused grunt came from the Dragonslayer as he returned, to which the Forossan barked out a laugh.
"Me? Worried about him? I didn't know you were a jester!" The Dragonslayer just chuckled drily through his helmet, causing the mercenary to huff and focus intently on the upcoming brawl between Dragonrider and Monarch Candidate.
As soon as he stepped foot into the arena, Erik felt an overwhelming pressure bare down on him. Straight across from the door where the chef had entered stood a tall crimson and gold armored knight, about as tall as the Dragonslayer had been but wider and with much more muscles. The Dragonrider clutched a golden halberd as large as he was in the right hand and a massive red and gold tower shield in the left. The ancient defender of Heide roared, charging forward with a desire to kill!
Mentally prepped for this, Erik rolled under the thrust and under the legs of the Dragonrider, positioning himself to the back. A Combustion to the knight's spine did little however, the metal armor barely glowing with heat! Gulping, Erik took up a guarded stance with his dagger in one hand and his Pyromancy in the other, ready to face whatever came next. He didn't have long to wait. The Dragonrider turned quickly and arrogantly, taking a step forward…
And plunging straight off the edge of the arena into the waters below, a bewildered bellow rising up as it fell until all was silenced with a thunderous splash and a stream of white glittering souls, as well as a larger, golden one that fled into him and nestled beside the Last Giant's Soul.
For a moment visions assailed him, not unlike when the Giant's essence had passed into him, but far more clear and coherent. A kingdom of peace and war with great, powerful warriors astride fearsome Wyverns. Ceremonies honoring the First Flame through ritual combat and the immolation of the impure. A gold and scarlet armored Dragonrider, diving down amidst a terrible storm, lashing out at a vast, pitch black dragon that spewed miasma and corruption with every breath, while a woman in black screamed a song at the heavens, a primal echo of fallen and splintered Darkness and Vengeance…
The images faded as soon as they came, and Erik blinked and rubbed his eyes, confused. He took a look around him and saw the fog dissipating on both doors. He lowered his weapons and toed the edge of the arena, unsure of what to do next.
"…Good match?" Was all he could muster up. When nothing else happened, Erik shrugged and walked out to the staircase that wound its way up the tower's side.
At the Blue Cathedral, there was only awkward silence.
"He has the gods' own luck," Targey finally said, his voice full of disbelief.
"Luck nothing, that kid must be a freaking god himself!" Gordin shouted in annoyance. "How?! I just… what… why…"
None of the other members of the Twin Azure Orders had anything else to say. What could they? They had just watched a kind yet wimpy Undead 'defeat' one of the more powerful Hollows in Drangleic. Without even trying. A sigh rippled through the area and the spectators moved on to various duties.
"He'll… be… fine…" Dragonslayer groaned out, before stalking back to take his place in the central chapel. Targey and Gordin shared a look before giving slight nods. This boy was definitely worth looking into and watching over.
Erik crested the stairs that wrapped around the exterior of the Dragonrider's tower and came to a halt, seeing a bonfire before him but also a young women in the hooded garb of a priestess of Lindelt. Based on the icons he could see sewn into the robes, she was a fairly high ranking one. She turned her head slightly as he entered, and a tiny smile graced her lips.
"Are you from these parts? My name is Licia. I have come to spread the art of miracles, a practice of which I am a disciple. I can see that you are well suited to comprehend their wondrous power. But the cost of it? That's for your heart to decide," the woman greeted with a warm open smile. Erik was taken aback at first but instinct kicked in and he gave her a respectful bow.
"Greetings, my lady. I am Erik Potts, also of Lindelt. I did not expect to see someone of your status here."
The woman's smile grew broader, and she chuckled merrily at the groveling commoner.
"No need for such actions here. Drangleic is dead, and so are we. No need to adhere to such stuffy rules amongst comrades. Call me Licia if you please."
Thank you, my lady," Erik said, standing straight.
"Hmm… I know that Family name of yours… are you perhaps Jakob Potts' son?"
"No, my la- I mean, Licia. I am his grandson," Erik said, and she frowned softly.
"Is that so… how many years have I been here then… I remember a young man working with Jakob in House Osteria's kitchens… such a spitting image…"
"That would be my father, Jack Potts. People say I look a lot like him," Erik said proudly.
"I see." A long, awkward silence descends, with Erik fidgeting slightly. He was too conditioned to try and walk away or ignore a cleric, even if she seemed distracted.
"I am sorry, forgive me for losing myself in melancholy," Licia said suddenly, giving Erik an apologetic smile. "If I can be of assistance, do let me know. I have Miracles and other sundry items for the faithful for sale, should you desire."
"Forgive me for me impiety, but I am not much of a cleric. I can barely manage a Force or Heal, let alone anything you might have. I followed in my family's steps as a chef," Erik explained hastily, almost afraid of what would come next.
"That is all right, not everyone is cut out for the cloth, and they all have their own paths to tred," Licia says kindly and with forgiveness. "Rest by the bonfire if you need to. The road into the Wharf is perilous."
"I thank you for your understanding," Erik said happily, bowing his head again before stepping over to the small fire. Licia turned her gaze back to the ocean, staring out over the waves with an unreadable expression.
As Erik rested and prepared himself he couldn't help but sneak glances at the priestess. She was pretty, in a stern way, and though her robes were torn and used, she wore them well, a portion of her aura bleeding through to her stance. As he watched her Erik couldn't help but think back to his time in Lindelt.
The country was not the largest, but it was strong. The Archdrake Clerics who patrolled the capitol and hunted heretics kept the people safe, and House Osteria reigned supreme from the capitol, their position of leadership not unlike that of a holy family of living saints. For the citizens though as long as one did not practice sorcery or speak against the Church than all was generally fine.
Erik himself was not an overly religious man. Perhaps because he'd lived and worked in such close proximity to the elite of the city he was more jaded to the priests than others might be. Not to say he did not love the gods and believe in them! He'd seen the Gods themselves gift Miracles to the worthy on various holy days and ceremonies, and aside from the Unfaithful Four of Zinder, Zandroe, Calib and Nahr Alma and the Lone One, the War God Faraam, all the others were worshiped in Lindelt. No one god was venerated above the rest. All were greater than mere men, and as such should be worshiped equally. So what was the problem?
The Curse of the Undead that was what! When the chef had fled Lindelt upon discovering his Dark Sign, the country was already in turmoil. More and more Undead rose, more and more bandits stalked the land, and in the outer provinces monster long though extinct were returning to feast on isolated villages. Erik knew it wasn't his problem, not really. He was not a fighter, he couldn't swing a sword or cast a spell or summon bolts of lightning! But when he looked at the young Undead priestess, something filled his heart. A turbulence went through his mind, and he yearned to be able to do something. Seeing her look so morosely out across the waters made him want to help her. But he couldn't. Not in the way that mattered.
"I thank you for indulging me, Lady Licia, but I must be on my way," Erik finally said, rising from the bonfire. The priestess turned and looked at him as if she'd forgotten he was even there, before smiling and nodding.
"Just Licia, my dear. No need for anything else. Be safe on your journey, where ever it may take you."
Erik nodded in understanding before talking her hand giving it a kiss in farewell. She blushed fiercely and turned away back to the ocean. Erik was confused. Had he insulted her? Oh dear, this was the Emerald Herald all over again! He needed to stop kissing every women he met!
…Hold on that sounded wrong…
Erik held back a sigh and instead began to walk over to the tower's exit, which would lead him deeper in the mysteries of Drangleic. He couldn't wait!