Chapter 20: A New Friend Amidst the Embers
Uncomfortable silence filled the circular arena turned dining room. Even the Headless Manikins dared not make a sound or take a step for fear of bringing the attention of the restored Queen of Alken onto them.
"Why did you two have the Desert Sorceresses clothes with you?" Erik asked, bravely taking the plunge to start the conversation and break the silence.
"Because sometimes women want to look and feel beautiful. Now enough stupid questions and tell me what happened!" Mytha said, folding her arms across her chest and tapping her foot slightly, a tiny frown on her face. The sight made the two Undead women tremble, memories of their mothers flashing through their minds.
"Donovan Potts wrote down the recipes for four meals he created while traveling through Drangleic. He called them his Four Divine Dishes. They were the soup dish Soul Noodles, the salad dish Soul Leaf Clover Salad, the meat entrée Dragon's Soul Steak, and the dessert Soul Cake. As their names imply, they all use souls as a main ingredient. Combined with the fact that they use very rare foodstuffs to make, Donovan notes he only ever made the dishes a few times in his entire life," Erik said truthfully.
"That does not explain how I was freed from the taint of Chaos just by eating that heavenly slice of pastry!" Mytha exclaimed and the chef just shrugged.
"I am sorry your majesty but I do not know the answer! To be honest I did not expect this to happen either! Donovan never made mention of this sort of effect in his notes. In fact this is only the second time I've made a Soul dish. And to be honest, I only made a pale imitation of his recipe both times. I had only a few of the ingredients necessary for Soul Cake, and made do with less."
The tall and elegant queen gave Erik a piercing stare, trying to find any trace of falsehood. When she saw none in the young chef's face her features relaxed. Her shoulders slumped and though her posture remained straight and noble, a terrible crushing weariness hung around the queen.
"I apologize for my rudeness, Erik Potts. I should have been thanking you for freeing me from that terrible form and fate, but instead my temper was short and my attitude unthankful. I am sorry." She bowed in gratitude to the young Undead, genuine concern and thankfulness suffusing her tone. Erik's eyes widened in surprise, as did his companions'. To be bowed at by royalty was not something any of them would have expected.
"What will you do now?" Erik asked after a minute of comfortable silence. Mytha rose and looked around her. An unidentifiable emotion crossed over her face as she took in the ruined room and its moat of poison. She then turned to look over the three Undead before her. A thoughtful look made its way onto her face, and she returned her attention to Erik.
"There is nothing for me here. My servants are Hollowed, my people dead or fled, my husband slain and his kingdom fallen. So I ask you, Erik Potts of Lindelt; will you let me travel with you in your quest?" She knelt before the chef, begging for his answer. Once more the Undead were shocked into a stupefied situation. A queen wanting to become their companion? Preposterous!
"Is this really what you want?" Erik asked hesitantly. Mytha simply reached out and grabbed his hands in her own, and she leaned close, giving him a good look at her chest.
"Yes. I have nothing else. My family is gone, reduced to mere dust in the wind. My riches mean nothing to a dying world, and what good is being a queen to a land that lacks people? Please, Erik, let me join you. Take responsibility for giving me a choice once more and accept my offer." Her voice was proud but it was full of longing. Erik understood loneliness. Days on the road as an Undead had taught him that. Before that, he had been surrounded by friends and coworkers. To suddenly find them all ripped away from him had almost broke his heart and shattered his will. But he'd endured. And here was a strong woman with an even greater tragedy in her past. How long had it been since someone spoke to her with kind word? How long had she been hidden away, morphed into an abomination by Chaos?
How could he deny her entreaties after such passion? Erik smiled and looked into Mytha's eyes.
"Queen Mytha, I gladly accept your request. You may accompany me and my two friends on this journey. I hope we can get along."
Lucatiel and Chloanne both nodded in agreement. Though they were slightly put off by the queen's desire, they knew they could not truly blame her for it. Hell, Chloanne had done pretty much the same thing! And both of them understood the pain of loneliness, and knew intimately how Erik's very presence banished that suffering. The two women shared a look, both coming to a silent understanding. They might not approve, but this was something that had to be done.
As for Mytha, her eyes filled with tears and she gleefully hugged the chef to her bosom all while shouting thanks as she squeezed the life out of poor lucky Erik.
"Urg! You're… very strong!" Erik praised awkwardly, and the tall woman just giggled.
"Thank you. You're not too bad yourself." She gave a seductive wink at Erik who blushed before sauntering over to her dropped spear. She picked it up and examined it, pleased with the condition.
Her three companions also took the time to look at the weapon now they had a chance to without a major risk of impalement. The spear was built to match the warrior-queen's size and it was easily taller than Lucatiel, previously the tallest of the group. The long shaft looked to be made of a stone-like wood, probably Arch-tree. It was capped at the base with a simple covering of fine steel which glinted silver in the torchlight. As for the weapon part of the polearm, it was large and sharp, with two sets of spiked prongs set beneath a wide spearhead. It too was made of extremely fine steel but somewhat tarnished by age and contact with the swirling waste of its home. It was simple yet deadly, a fine example of the Old Iron King's style of weaponry.
"Function over form was always Castor's mantra," Mytha said as she caught her new traveling buddies glancing at her weapon. "And of course I have my Sorceries and Pyromancies. I'll hold off on using the latter until we've left this place. I don't want it all going up in flames from a stray spark."
She gave her weapon a twirl, the long and likely heavy weapon like a twig in her hands. She gave a hum of approval and then turned to watch Erik pack up his supplies.
"Let me carry the Bottomless Box for you. I don't want to have you strain yourself trying to be all macho and manly," Mytha commanded, and Erik looked like he wanted to protest, but ultimately gave in and let her take it. She hefted the wooden and gold-gilded chest with one hand and attached it to her back with the improvised straps Erik had provided.
"Thank you, your majesty," the chef thanked, and the queen waved it off.
"Not a problem." She looked around, saw everyone was ready to go, and nodded.
"There is a secret shortcut in the back of this chamber that leads straight out of the Earthen Peaks and into Alken, right near the Iron Citadel. Is that fine with all of you?"
A chorus of assent greeted her and the freed woman smiled.
"One last thing; please, call me Mytha. No need for formalities while I travel with you all."
Erik gulped, unsure if he or the others could do so. They shared a look, and they knew this would take some getting used to.
The secret escape route Mytha led them to was well made, containing another mechanical rising platform that the queen explained was called an 'elevator' and had been invented by the smiths and forge-masters of Alken. Their design was popular and convenient and many were installed across the land during the height of the Old Iron King's reign.
"As useful as they are I'm not a fan," Mytha admitted after they stepped off of it. "I like having solid ground beneath my feet."
"I suppose you're bad with boats then?" Erik asked, and the queen nodded.
"I've only been on one and that was to travel here. I've never felt so nauseated before!"
"Does anyone else smell smoke?" Chloanne suddenly asked, tilting her head to the side to catch the scent. As soon as she said this, the rest of them felt the vapors of burning materials reach their nose.
"Erik, you said that Alken drowned in lava… do you think…?" Lucatiel began but petered out, looking askance at their new royal companion.
"I don't know, but I feel we are about to find out," Erik said grimly, pointing ahead to where the smooth stone tunnel ended, letting in red-orange light shine onto the darkness. The view that greeted the Undead as they stepped out of the tunnel was a nightmarish vision.
Fire. That was all that could be seen. What had once been a city surrounded by a vale and mountains was now a seething wound upon the world. Lava gushed from gaping pits in the ground while the remains of the city burned in a cauldron of flames and molten rock. Most of the buildings and monuments were gone, swallowed by the pit that had opened up. Only the Iron Citadel remained intact in any manner, the ensorcelled iron used to enhance its foundations the only thing keeping it afloat on the apocalyptic sea.
Thanks to the way the Earthen Peaks had formed eons ago, when the volcanoes had erupted the resulting destruction was contained by the rocky slopes. Furthermore, when the ground shifted under the sudden influx of lava, most of it sunk deep into the old mines that littered the area, keeping the burning tide from spilling forth into the rest of Drangleic.
Of course this was little consolation to the people who'd once lived here. Those who hadn't been immolated by the flames, suffocated by the toxic vapors, or trampled by riots and panic had lost everything. From their homes and possessions to the jobs and monarch. Without anyone to lead them, most of the survivors fled to other countries. Tales of Alken's fall spread with the refugees, and in time entered the annals of history and legend. To see the charred remains of greatness was humbling and heartbreaking.
Mytha collapsed to her knees as she took in the devastation, tears falling only to hiss into puffs of steam upon the baked soil.
"My home," she whimpered, staring at it all. "It's gone."
She raised a trembling finger and pointed to somewhere in the fiery quagmire. "Over there is was the training grounds stood… Sir Alonne used to discipline the troops there, and was also where he'd sometimes show me tricks with weapons… And that place used to be where a flower shop sold the most fragrant roses I'd ever smelled… and can you see that obelisk? They used to hold the festivals there in the city square…"
Everything the queen pointed at was gone, replaced with roiling waves of Chaos infused lava. Chloanne hesitantly wrapped Mytha is a comforting hug, which the larger women gratefully accepted. With a shoulder to cry on she let out all her sorrow, rage, and frustration, letting her sobs echo mournfully across the ruins.
"How did this happen? Volcanoes are temperamental but surely there should have been warning signs?" Lucatiel asked, gazing in horror at the landscape.
"I don't know! Maybe Castor dug too deep and unleashed something, or perhaps it was nature taking its course. I just don't know!" Mytha wailed.
The knightess opened her mouth to ask more questions, but Erik placed a hand on her shoulder, shaking his head silently. This was not the time for questions. She reluctantly agreed, and chose instead to remove a pair of gilded binoculars she'd picked up from the Covetous Demon's hoard, peering down at their next destination.
"I see a lot of armored Hollows down there. Some have black armor and either giant bows or curved swords, while some have big hammers and hunched backs. Think they'll be a problem?" Lucatiel asked after a minute of scanning the area.
The queen of ruined Alken sniffed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand before answering.
"The former are Alonne Knights, trained by the One Strike Kill Swordsman himself and who acted as the elite force of Alken. They are clad in Blacksteel armor and their weapons, a type of curved sword called a 'katana,' are also made of the stuff. Each is trained to be swift and to kill in as few blows as possible." Now that her tears were shed, Mytha turned to examine the problem in front of her. She had a new mission now and it was to aid the chef and his companions. This may have been her home once, but now it was naught but rubble.
"As for the soldiers with hunched looking posture, those are Ironclad Knights, golems made by Prince Carlyle and the Forge-Mages. Brute strength is their forte, and they can take a lot of damage before being taken down."
"What is Blacksteel? I've never heard of such a metal?" Chloanne asked, intrigued.
"And what exactly is the difference between a katana and a scimitar or other curved sword?" Lucatiel inquired as well.
"Blacksteel is a special alloy of steel and Titanite devised by my husband. Alken had plenty of iron and coal mines, but very little Titanite. That was mostly mined in Tseldora and thus belonged to King Vendrink. Blacksteel was invented to give his forces an edge over the Bradden steel and Geisteel of the Soul King's armies," Mytha explained, answering the ore trader's question first. "As for what is different about katanas… The main thing is they tend to be straighter then a scimitar, but still have only one bladed edge, as well as having a good balance between cutting and stabbing. They originated in Sir Alonne's homeland, and he brought their techniques with him. Castor loved the design of the swords and their fighting style and had his knights practice the same as his favorite warrior."
The two women nodded at the queen's explanation. Erik then spoke up with his own question.
"Since you were their queen, would the Hollowed knights and rampaging golems still obey you?" Erik asked, and the former snake-women paused to think about that.
"I do not know. Hollows are mindless, but they also have been documented to continue following routines they'd done in life. A miner who became an Undead and later Hollow would continue to swing a pickaxe and dig. So it's possible the years of ingrained training and loyalty might make the Alonne Knights leave us alone. Not the Ironclad's though. Only Carlyle and Castor knew the keywords to control them. They were military units unlike my Manikin servants."
"Yes. Those headless dolls were totally servants. I mean, who doesn't strap knives to their toys?" Lucatiel snarked, before clamping her mouth shut and casting a fearful glance at Mytha. The queen just sighed in acknowledgement though.
"I'll admit, I was not in my right mind for a long time. Did you know they used to have faces? But at some point, around the time I lost my head, I ordered all of my servants to remove their own heads because I was insulted by their intact necks."
"Huh." Erik had nothing to say to that, and neither did the knightess or merchant. They simply smiled tensely at Mytha, who smiled back playfully.
"Don't worry, you three. I promise that if I go crazy, I won't make you cut off your own heads, or any of your body parts."
"That's a relief. I like having my tongue where I can't see it," Erik joked, and the tension was eased by his dumb humor.
"Maybe I should show you some tricks about where to put it later," Mytha purred, suddenly leaning over to the chef in an exaggerated and sexual manner. "If you're anything like Donovan you should be very skilled…"
"OK! Time's a wasting! Let's go and get that soul! Huzzah!" Erik cried, his face bright red as he hurried past the laughing queen. As he headed down the ridge that led to the caldera and the Iron Citadel Lucatiel and Chloanne gave the taller woman scandalized glares.
"Oh don't give me those looks! I can't help it! He's just so fun to tease! And he gets all flustered just like his ancestor!" Mytha chuckled, following after Erik. She then turned back to the pair of women and winked. "And if you two want, I could teach you some 'techniques' that could help you catch his eye."
Lucatiel spluttered in indignation and denial while Chloanne squeaked in surprise and turned crimson as well. They then realized they were being left behind and hurried to catch up with their leader and new traveling companion. Mytha grinned to herself. This journey was turning out to be a lot of fun!