Chapter 9: The Masked Swordswoman and the Armored Merchant
"Sloosh! Splash! Gloop!" Erik was not a happy Undead. He was soaking wet from the waist down again, and he really should have seen it coming. After all, why wouldn't an underground passage way built near a sunken city not be flooded with salt water? At least it wasn't sewage like before.
Water dripped and trickled down his pants and out of his shoes as he walked down a slick tunnel, this one hewn from raw stone rather than being part of the well-constructed ruins. It angled oddly, sometimes rising, sometimes dipping, and always winding. It was cramped and narrow as well, barely tall enough for Erik. Which was a good thing. The chef had just ran past the Old Knight Golems, evading half by ducking through a tiny door, the other half by slipping into this tunnel. The only positive side of the pathetic route was it did not have any side passages, which meant he just had to keep moving forward. It was dark, too. Back in the ruins the walls were lined with faintly glowing magical torches, crafted from enchanted amber and gems. In the crude stone tunnel though there was no true light source. Erik had ultimately been forced to light a torch, one of few he'd found and was thankful he'd done so.
It wasn't long before he entered a cave filled with stalactites and stalagmites, faint orange light reflecting off of them and casting twisted shadows everywhere. There, around a veritable forest of earthen pillars, was a bonfire, glowing cheerily in the gloom. What really stuck out to Erik though was the tall person wearing a pointed brimmed hat with a feather sticking out at a jaunty angle, a silver mask shaped like a bearded man, and the overcoat and armor of a knight of Mirrah! They were leaning casually on the cave wall staring into the flames when the chef entered, and they looked up to stare at him. Eventually the Mirrahian knight judged Erik to be non-threatening, and just gave a soft grunt of acknowledgement.
"Hello sir! I have to say I'm surprised to see another person down here! Do you mind if I share the bonfire with you?" Erik asked, stepping forward into the edges of the mystical flame's warmth.
"What is it? I don't know you, and you don't know me. Things are better that way. So do what you like, I'll not stop you."
Erik blinked in surprise at the voice that came from under the mask. A woman? He took a closer look at the knight, trying to spot something out of place that might confirm his assumption. The uniform the person wore was standard for the elite knights of the Martial Kingdom of Mirrah, and he knew from rumors that gender and social standing meant nothing for obtaining positions of authority, only strength. It wasn't too far out of left field for this masked Undead to be a woman!
"Well, thank you regardless," Erik said and sat down in front of the bonfire. He sighed happily as the water evaporated from his clothes and he finally felt warm and dry again. He couldn't catch colds or illnesses any more, which was perhaps the sole benefit of being an Undead, but being in clammy wet clothing was still unpleasant.
"Do you know anything about the area up ahead?" Erik asked after a few minutes of relaxed silence. He'd seen how the tunnel continued on past the cave, and he could vaguely hear the sounds of waves in the distance.
"The Wharf is beyond the tunnel," the knight said after a moment, looking over at the man across from here. "It used to be the primary port for southern Drangleic, or so I was told. Now though it is overrun with Hollowed pirates and strange black skinned monsters that fear fire and light. Though truthfully I have only been here a day or so."
"I see… thank you regardless for the help, sir," the chef said gratefully, his mind turning to imagine what awaited him.
"My name is Erik Potts, a chef. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." The only reaction from the warrior woman was a slight tilt of her head when he spoke of his profession, but nothing more. The Undead cook shrugged helplessly and went back to looking into the fire and sorting himself out. A few more minutes went by and Erik spent that time looking through his pack. He didn't have much and most of it was cooking related, but he still wanted to have what he needed on hand.
"Sir, do you perhaps have flint and tinder on you? If the monsters you faced are afraid of fire, perhaps we should carry torches to ward them off?" Erik suggested. When she just looked at him without speaking, he fidgeted uncomfortably.
"Never mind, it was rude of me to ask, forget I said anything!" For some reason though his timid yet talkative attitude made the Mirrahian knight start to laugh. Softly at first, until it came to a full blown roar. Erik, confused and a tiny bit scared, waited quietly for her to finish.
"Phew… Heh heh. You are an odd one. Normally, people keep a safe distance when they see this mask. But you… I am called Lucatiel. From the land of Mirrah, far to the east across the mountains. They say Drangleic brims with powerful souls. And so I came to claim my share. But what a strange place…Even the rumors did not prepare me," the woman in armor said after she regained control of herself. Privately, the knightess' thoughts on the young Undead were fairly comical. He looked and acted like a little puppy, and was so endearingly innocent.
"You are an odd one, indeed. I've always made a point of avoiding people. While you've made a point of engaging me. I can see that you are mid-journey. If you require assistance, I will help you. I come from Mirrah, a land of knights. My sword is always ready. Don't hesitate to call upon me. Whatever happens, I won't be missed…"
"Truly? Thank you so much for this! Alright, let's go and see if we cannot push through the Wharf and find a way out!"
Lucatiel was taken aback by the cook as he bounced up on his feet, adjusted his pack to fit better, and gave her an eager look.
"…Pardon?"
"So far on my journey I've survived being chased by three Ogres, impalement by a huge armored Undead knight, a Giant, a host of odd armored golem knights, and a duel with a Dragonrider of Heide. I have no doubts that my luck, as amazing as it seems to be, will hold forever. So when you offered to assist me, I was overcome with gratitude! Thank you so much, you won't regret this!"
"I, I meant Soapstones! I'd help you using those!" Lucatiel protested, but found herself swept along in the young man's enthusiasm.
"Why would you bother with that? We're both heading in the same direction, so shouldn't we travel together? It'd be safer and we can work as a team!" Erik belatedly remembered that his 'partner' was a knight, and thus a person of higher standing than himself, and he seemed to shrink in on himself in embarrassment.
Lucatiel just sighed and tried to look away from the puppy-like Undead in front of her, cursing her inability to resist! Damn that brother of hers! Because of him doing such things to her she could never resist such actions!
"Very well," she sighed, giving in. "I shall accompany you. Our path seems to lie in the same direction for now."
"Wonderful! Thank you again!" Erik said happily, grabbing her right hand and bringing it up to his lips. He gave her a quick peck on the knuckles, only to blink and mentally berate himself for doing it again! Lucatiel said and did nothing save for retracting her hand. She was glad for the silver mask hiding her face. She was not sure she could handle the embarrassment! She shook her head and put the thoughts out of her mind. Such a cheesy greeting! Where did he learn that? The knightess stayed silent though, and chose to focus on the next leg of her journey. Packed and ready, the two Undead moved from the bonfire towards the Wharf.
In didn't take long, only a few minutes at most, for the pair to emerge from the cramped passageway into a massive cavern. Built into the interior of a massive cove that was also a deep cave, the Wharf had clearly once been a busy place. Long wooden docks stretched from end to end of the interior, water from the ocean outside lapping against the rocky cliff face into which homes and buildings had been built. Sunlight from the outside poured in, though the overhang of the cave's ceiling blocked most of it. What little light was available was reflected off of the water creating an eerie blue luminescence to the area, allowing a degree of visibility the two had not expected. When night fell though they had no doubts that they would be plunged into a deep darkness.
All in all it was a truly amazing sight. Though many of the buildings were ruins, and the skeletons of old and vast ships were piled up in broken, impromptu graveyards along the docks, the Wharf still carried a sense of grandeur.
The numerous Hollows shambling around slightly spoiled the effect though. Most looked like common sailors and soldiers, while a few of the larger ones wore horned helmets that looked vaguely familiar…
"Varangian pirates," Lucatiel sneered, staring at the Hollowed sea-bandits with a mixture of disgust and grudging acknowledgement. Erik could only nod in agreement. The Varangian had been famous raiders and plunderers back in the old days, with many a legend about their exploits. Fierce and prideful they were the scourge of the waters around Drangleic and the other lands for many generations, until King Vendrick ordered them to be exterminated, and hunted them all down. No one knew why the king had demanded such a harsh campaign, and so soon after the victory over the Giants. The few who'd survived had fled into hiding, but seeing so many of them here and Hollowed showed that the Curse of the Undead must have drawn them to the blasted land as well.
"I never thought I'd get to test my sword against one of them. Truly, Drangleic is a bountiful place," Lucatiel continued, hand resting lightly on her long, slender sword.
"Shall we?" Erik inquired, raising a throwing knife and prepping his pyromancy. The knightess nodded eagerly.
"Let's!" With a battle cry the two charged down into the subterranean docks, ready for an epic battle!
"You fight well for a chef, Erik Potts," Lucatiel said politely as she wiped down her sword. The young Undead nodded his thanks as he gathered throwing knives from some of the fallen Hollows around them. The two were currently sitting in a cozy little house on the side of the cliff, having climbed to it earlier in the day as they'd hacked through Hollows. It was a pleasant trip all things considered. The only foes that gave them any trouble were the Varangian pirates and the strange, deformed monsters of darkness. The latter were the worst of them, so odd and twisted, with their long limbs and rending talons! One had nearly disemboweled Erik when they'd first reached the dry land away from the wooden docks. It had lunged at the two from the shadows and only a frenzied Combustion had startled the beast from completing its attack on the chef. Lucatiel slew it by lopping its head off, and the two hadn't seen another since.
Right now they were taking a break from all the excitement, hiding in one of the houses as well as counting their meagre loot. Only a few impressive items had been found, most interestingly an Estus Flask Shard and a Royal Soldier's Ring.
"Thank you, Sir Lucatiel. I've never seen a thing like that before. Have you?"
"No, never. Keep in mind I've only been in Drangleic a few months now and have not seen the entirety of this place's wonders. Perhaps they are a common monster around these parts," Lucatiel mused. "And you need not add 'sir' to my name, or use it when you address me. I was a commoner before I rose the ranks, and never felt comfortable with it as part of my titles."
"I shall try to remember that, si- I mean Lucatiel." Erik finished his rounds, stabbing one of the Hollowed bodies at his feet and sighing in satisfaction as it gurgled and "died" again.
"That was fairly ruthless. I did not think you had it in you," the knightess admitted, a hint of approval in her tone.
"At first I was hesitant, but these past few days in Drangleic have forced me to re-evaluate myself. They'll just revive in time, and is it not better to keep them down? I do not know if they can truly stay dead, but I would not wish the fate of the mindless on anyone," Erik said softly. He truly did not find such actions approvable, yet he knew it had to be done. Once you Hollowed, there was no turning back. Besides, the one he'd stabbed was a Varagian. Pirates and bandits were cruel and capricious. Better they be the ones to stay dead for good than other, kinder folks.
It didn't make him feel much better about his actions though. He knew it had to be done, but he didn't have to like it. He couldn't see under Lucatiel's mask, but he felt as if she was agreeing with him with her sad yet understanding gaze. That made him feel a little bit better.
"Well, shall we move on?" The knightess of Mirrah inquired, standing up from a surprisingly intact stool.
"Yes," Erik said resolutely, opening the door to the house and stepping out, Lucatiel close behind. Nothing jumped out to immediately attack them, thankfully, though the growl of an Undead Dog carried over to them. Erik grimaced. He liked dogs and cats and pets in general, but those blasted furless corpse hounds had quickly gotten onto his nerves. Lucatiel took care of it through, thrusting her sword forward just as the undead animal leapt, impaling and slaying it.
Marching forward, the duo hacked their up to the top of the town, a long, stark stone ridge encircling the buildings below. They were so close to the ceiling it wouldn't take much effort to touch the moisture slick surface with their hands. It was much darker though, and Erik had started carrying a lit torch. The shadows were banished, but in doing so it revealed something much worse. Where the light touched, more of the large, long-limbed horrors scuttled back, lurking in the darkness with their red eyes glaring in ravenous fury at the humans as they marched past.
Not even Lucatiel's nerve could stand up the constant scrutiny, and she shivered as they made their way through the numerous shadow monsters. A few had attacked them early on, but were driven back. They hated fire, and as long as the torch was lit all would be fine. There wasn't much light though which meant Lucatiel had to stand close to Erik and share the single torch. As the heavy hitter, Erik didn't want her to have to distract herself with holding a source of light, and instead focus on fending off the dark-dwelling monsters. She'd agreed, albeit grudgingly.
Now though they were nearly to the other side, a large wooden building looming ahead. As they neared though Lucatiel tapped Erik on the shoulder to get his attention.
"What?"
"Up there," she said, pointing to the second floor of the nearby building. Most of the wall on the right side seemed to have been torn off, and there standing against the wall was a person in huge, barrel-like armor and a unique helmet. A thin, flickering lantern seemed to be hanging on a hook next to the figure, though anything more was hard to see due to distance and gloom.
"Who do you think it is?" Erik asked, staring up at the man.
"I don't know, but they might be a Hollow, or a threat," Lucatiel warned. As she said this the helmeted head turned to look at the approaching light source, and waved a large hand down at them. It wasn't a panicked, "help me!" wave or a "stay back!" wave, but a gesture of greeting.
"Seems to be a nice person," Erik replied with a smile, waving back. "Let's go see what he's doing. He might have some information for us about the area."
Lucatiel was not convinced, but followed the chef's lead regardless. She could have argued, but honestly she trusted this young man's ideas and intuition. He hadn't steered her wrong so far, and she didn't have any better ideas.
The front of the building was missing, huge chunks torn away just like the second floor. Erik wasn't sure how it happened, but he had a feeling he didn't want to meet whatever had done this.
Glancing around, the Undead chef spotted a door on the left. There didn't seem to be anything else around, as most of the furniture was splinters and dust, so he walked over. As he did he thought he heard a gruff voice shout "Don't open!"
Too late. Erik turned the doorknob and barely got the door open, when it was smashed down and the cook was pinned beneath the plank of wood, causing the torch to fall out of his grasp and start sputtering on the ground. Lucatiel swore and moved in a blur as soon as the shadow monsters lunged and tore the door down.
One, two! One two! Parry, dodge, riposte, and stab! Lucatiel was a flashing whirlwind of death, her blade reaping a bloody harvest through the monsters that were trying to pour from beyond the ruined doorframe. Limbs and claws went flying and the dark beasts roared in pain and fury. Their weight was surprisingly not as bad as Erik had first thought, but they were stamping on the door that now pinned him down, making his ribs and bones creak and cry in protest.
Drawn by the sounds of battle, the lurking monsters the chef and the knightess had passed by suddenly began lumbering towards them, shrieking in a cacophony of terrible, shrill cries. Lucatiel swore again. She was already hard pressed to fend off the quartet of shadow beasts before her, and now she had to deal with three more?! Before she could lament her fate anymore, a bellow echoed from above them, and a fat looking figure fell and crashed outside on top of the approaching dark spawned creatures. It leapt to its feet and Mirrah gasped in surprise. It was the man from the second floor! It was hard to miss the bulky, brownish armor and distinctive helmet. A glowing lantern was hanging from a belt, and in its hands a gargantuan weapon was clutched.
"Ha ha! Gavlan wheel! Gavlan deal! Deal death! Ha ha!" The newcomer tore into the monsters with an outrageously large double headed battle axe, each blow slaying a monster. With his arrival, the attackers were all put down.
Looking around the battlefield, the stout warrior laughed and walked over to where Erik was still pinned. His companion gripped her blade tightly and eyed the man warily, but did nothing at the moment.
"Gavlan try to warn!" the figure boomed, lifting the door with one hand and tossing it aside, before helping Erik to his feet.
"Thank you for the help. And, err, sorry for not hearing your warning," Erik said sheepishly. Their helper just shrugged.
"Is fine, is good! Dark Ones trap Gavlan. Too many. You drew attention. I repay help. Is Gyrm way!"
"Gyrm?" Erik and Lucatiel said as one, surprised. Legends spoke of such beings. Inhuman, but powerful. Strong as a Giant but shorter than a man. Driven from their ancestral homeland long ago by greedy and evil humans who decried them as monsters and abominations. Erik winced as he remembered just which group had done most of that. Lindelt had been founded near the Gyrm lands and it was the Church and its clerics who formed the crusades and commanded the exterminations. They had fled the mainland long ago, and rumors had spoken of a secret Gyrm kingdom founded in the deepest reaches of Drangleic.
"Yes, Gyrm! I Gavlan. I merchant. Trade souls, many souls!" The armored warrior-merchant declared, pulling out a strange looking chest from his side.
"Oh my! Is that a Bottomless Box?" Lucatiel gasped, and the abhuman nodded.
"Yes! Is good! You trade?"
"Sure, let's see what you have," Erik said. The Gyrm bobbed happily, and started to remove and show what he currently carried. Poison drenched knives and arrows seemed to be the main things he sold, along with a few samples of Rotten Pine Resin and some dried Poison Moss. The latter was useful, and Erik snatched up a few clumps, plus some poisoned knives. The chef ignored the knightess's disapproving glance at that. Poison was dishonorable, true, but it could still harm the Undead. Plus, poisoned Hollows took longer to resurrect. It was useful, and Erik knew he would need every advantage. As he gathered his purchases, he saw something glint dully in the lamplight. Frowning he reached down and picked it up, bringing it closer to examine. A large ring, seemingly hewn from stone. A gasp from Lucatiel told him it was apparently something precious.
"A Giant's Ring!" At the men's confused looks, the knight of Mirrah explained. "A Giant's Ring is a famous magical item for knights. Originally made for Shieldless Lothian, one of the Generals of King Vendrick, copies were made to honor his death at the hands of the Giants. Each ring is made of enchanted granite, and it boosts the combat skill of a knight! Wearing it increases Poise by a large amount!"
"Poise?" Erik and Gavlan echoed, and Lucatiel chuckled at their bewildered expressions.
"When you're fighting, do you feel that your weapon is a part of you? That you can control it far better than another might be able to? That is Poise. Not magic, or miracle, it is skill and talent, and something all knights cultivate. Without Poise I could not parry and riposte as well as I do. It enables me to block attacks without staggering, or strike even faster and with greater accuracy. I myself have cultivated 150 Poise in my life. Few knights ever reach one hundred. Amongst the warriors of Mirrah, I am considered an elite," Lucatiel elaborated, smiling proudly under her mask. Erik was wowed, and applauded her when she was finished.
"That's amazing! I never knew there was so much to fighting and combat!"
"Most people don't realize this either. In the past the Miracles of Faraam could boost Poise temporarily, but with the fall of Forossa, much of their war priests' knowledge had been lost," Lucatiel admitted, a tad sadly. "Back on the topic of the ring, I'd have to say that that Giant's Ring is an original, one of the first ones crafted, and not a mere knock-off."
"Hmm…" Erik mused, tapping his chin. He then turned to Gavlan and beckoned him over. The Gyrm complied, and the two were soon talking in hushed tones. Lucatiel tilted her head to the side, curious as to what they were discussing. After a moment, a flash of souls being transferred lit up the area, and Erik shook hands with Gavlan, who took the offered hand happily.
"Many thanks!" The Gyrm bellowed.
"Here, Lucatiel. For you," Erik said, walking over to his protector and companion. She blinked and froze in surprise as the Undead chef held out the ring they'd been discussing moments before.
"That, that," Lucatiel stammered, not sure of what was happening.
"Here, the Giant's Ring will do you more help than I. Take it, it's a gift of sorts," Erik said kindly, still holding out the ring to the stunned woman.
"But, that, it must have been expensive," she gasped out. Erik shrugged.
"A little bit. Gavlan wanted 7,000 souls, but I talked him down to five grand," Erik said. He'd have paid the whole price, honestly. Slaying the Dragonrider and the Old Knight Golems back at Heide had given him a good supply of souls with which to barter. But it wasn't a shopping trip if you couldn't haggle the price a bit, and Erik was used to such dealings back in Lindelt.
"This is too much," Lucatiel protested, and Erik frowned.
"Give me your hand," the chef commanded, and the force in his tone was enough that she reacted without thinking, holding out her left hand. Grabbing it so it couldn't escape, Erik then quickly slid the Giant's Ring onto her ring finger, ultimately forcing her to accept his gift. Once more Lucatiel was thankful for the mask as she blushed crimson at the audaciousness of the young man before her. Behind them Gavlan burst into laughter at the sight, clearly aware of the more intimate meanings of this human gesture.
Erik looked up, oblivious, and smiled happily at Lucatiel.
"There! Now you can't refuse my gift!"
"Yes…" the knightess mumbled, mostly to herself.
"Smooth! Smooth like good alcohol!" Gavlan chortled. Erik, still uncomprehending, just shrugged.
"Um, Gavlan, do you mind me asking how you learned the Common Tongue? I wasn't aware the Gyrm spoke it," 'or tolerated humans,' Erik added in his mind.
"That sad story. Gavlan live with Gyrm. Live. Work. Love. But one day Curse appeared. Gavlan first of the Undead for the Gyrm. Life beyond death great shame, for cannot join ancestors now. So Galvan exiled. I leave, and I wander. Many years alone, almost go Hollow," the warrior-merchant said sadly, his voice a deep baritone.
"But one day, Gavlan meet human. He also Undead, but he not hate Gyrm. He like knowledge and treasure not fighting and blood. He named Pharros. He teach me much. I learn from him. I respect him. But one day he leave, to explore the Deep Dark. Never comes back. Gavlan sad, but can do nothing. Only keep memory alive. Help Undead like Pharros. Not all humans bad. Some mean, but some nice."
Erik and Lucatiel were touched by the kindness of this gentle warrior, and impressed by his fortitude. Not to mention the fact that he'd known the Dungeon Delver, the Trap Master, the famed Inventor-Lord Pharros.
"Gavlan show you way out." With that, Gavlan broke aside their thoughts and walked out to an area of the upper Wharf they hadn't reached yet. There, they came across a trio of holes in the ground, shaped like a face. Reaching into a pocket, Gavlan removed a cube the size of his head, and lowered it into the "mouth" of the face. The cube was a magnificent block of finely carved marble, with dozens if not hundreds of grooves and lines running through it. Placing the cube into the socket, a rumbling echoed through the cave, and the two humans tensed. The Gyrm remained calm and he pointed to the ceiling.
Mouths wide the chef and knight watched as a giant crystal lowered itself to reside over the center of the entire Wharf, before bursting into brilliant blue light. Everything was illuminated, and screams and hisses could be heard echoing from the dark corners as the light fearing Dark Stalkers scurried away as their flesh bubbled and sizzled in the light.
"That cube and that face… are they some of Pharros' contraptions?" Lucatiel asked, impressed. The whole area now shone as if it was midday, though with a distinct bluish tinge to the color of the light. Gavlan however shook his head.
"No. Not Pharros. Humans call them 'Pharros' Lockstones' and 'Pharros Contraptions' but he no make them. He merely discover them and how they work." Gavlan pulled a second one out of his pocket, showing it to them. On closer inspection, the lines and grooves were far too symmetrical and perfect to be an accident, but who or what could make such a precise set of designs?
"Each Lockstone made to fit the faces. Old machines. Bit of magic, bit of talent. Each do something. This one here make light. Scare off monsters. Used by people who found the cave. Lost when all went Hollow. Gavlan and Pharros study these, but not know who made them. But old. Very old. Older than Gyrm, older than the Gods," Gavlan explained. "Here, take. Gift for friends."
He passed them the cube, and Erik it took it with a bow of his head.
"Thank you, Gavlan. We'll treat it with care."
"Some Contraptions hide treasure. Some hide secrets. Be safe on trip. If want to move to next area, ring bell," the merchant said, pointing into the distance where a fairly large sized bell stood, just waiting to be rung.
"Good bye friends. Meet again someday." With that, Gavlan marched off, humming a tune under his breath.
"Well, best get on with it then," Erik said, turning to Lucatiel with a smile. She merely looked past him, avoiding his eyes. The chef frowned. Was she mad at him?
He mentally shrugged and started to walk down to a nearby building, ready to head to the next stage of his journey.
Author's Note: Well, here we go! So many people have stated they were looking forward to Lucatiel, and I finally deliver! Hopefully I can do her justice.