Chapter 24: An Ashen Mistress
True to Nadalia's words, the various Hollows and golems that filled Brume Tower did nothing to the four Undead travelers. In some instances the Ash Bride's thralls cleared their path by unlocking doors, moving rubble, and standing in front of traps and other such dangers. Erik and his team were even allowed to plunder the chests and various items that littered the floors of the ruined structure as they smashed Ashen Idols.
To the chef's surprise he came across a large great sword that was familiar to him, and which Lucatiel later confirmed as being the legendary blade once wielded by Gorin of Forossa. Erik took the weapon and looked forward to seeing the expression of surprise on his friend in the Blue Sentinels. Privately the Undead cook wondered if Gorin had ever been to the Tower himself, or if the person who'd claimed it from the Undead mercenary had perished in these walls.
Mytha was silent throughout the entire trip, only nods, shrugs, and sighs her means of communication. She was still reeling from the revelations Nadalia had given to them. So were Erik and the other two women, though Lucatiel and Chloanne were more mystified than anything else. They understood that there was something big behind the Curse and the previous lords of Drangleic, but only the chef had a direct stake in it all. The knightess and ore trader were both worried for Erik. He had become a dear friend and companion to them, and neither wanted to lose him or see him suffer.
Lucatiel had sworn her sword to Erik's service and purpose. She would not let anything hurt the kind young man. She owed him much, more than she could ever really convey.
Chloanne too was determined to help the chef, but knew it could not come from her skill at arms. Her time traveling with the two - then three- other Undead had shown the young merchant just how weak she truly was. Her Work Hook and knives were good against the average Hollow or lesser beast of Drangleic, but against the Demons, eldritch war machines, and twisted monsters of this land? She was useless.
At first, the ore trader had thought she was the equal of the chef. Sure he had Pyromancy and decent aim and skill handling knives, but she was physically stronger than him. Her eyes were opened when Chloanne saw the soft spoken and kind chef weave tapestries of deadly fire and perform the lost art of Cryomancy to defeat Hollows and Demons and Golems alike.
Furthermore, compared to Lucatiel, her combat skills were dull and minimal. A knife fighter could defender herself from a mugger in the streets of a city, but the knight of Mirrah could heft that great sword as if it were nothing and cleave numerous foes in twain. She was strong, noble, and, if the ore trader admitted, attractive in a tomboyish way.
Then there was their most recent party member; Queen Mytha of Alken. When they had first run into the Chaos tainted queen, Chloanne had thought she would be defeated like the other foes. To her shock, Erik was not only able to reason with her into not attacking them, but also to restore her human form. And to put it bluntly, Mytha was gorgeous. She was sensual, had amazing looks and generous 'assets,' and was unbelievably powerful and skilled with Sorcery. How could Chloanne, a simple commoner and ore trader, match up to her?
These thought plagued Chloanne ever since the queen had decided to join them. What could she provide to help them? Chloanne wanted to assist Erik more than anything, and she fully knew her martial prowess was not necessary to the chef. Her only answer was as humble as it was humbling; to provide Erik, Lucatiel, and Mytha with Titanite and other forging components. This was all she knew. It was all Chloanne had ever been good at. So this was her purpose, the young merchant decided as she followed in the wake of three heroes. To help them in the only way she could.
When she returned to Majula, she'd have to swallow her pride and speak with her father about this. She only hoped he would be more inclined to help her now that she was planning to no longer head out on adventurers.
"Everything alright?" Chloanne's musings came to an end as Erik's voice broke into her thoughts, and she stiffened a bit in surprise. When she realized all was well and they were not under attack, she relaxed and gave the cook an apologetic smile.
"Yes, I'm fine. I was just thinking about father and what I'll do back in Majula," Chloanne said, omitting some of her other worries and thoughts. Erik nodded, accepting the young woman's words and gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulders.
"You'll do just fine, Chloanne. Your father will no doubt be glad to see you again, and you can probably do a bit of exploring with Carhillion if you get the itch to wander again," Erik said kindly. She nodded and accepted his advice while privately wondering if it would be that easy. Further conversation was cut off when Nadalia's voice whispered out to them from the walls.
"Beyond these doors lies my dear guardian and my final shard. He'll stand down and let you in to the throne room, but try to avoid provoking him. His mind is mostly gone and is near to Hollowing."
"We'll do our best," Erik promised, looking to the ceiling as he replied. They had gathered eleven of Nadalia's soul fragments from the Tower, shattering her Ashen Idols to retrieve them. Their mission was almost over.
Stepping through the fog gate that lay in the hidden cave below the Tower, the group came face to face with the final and greatest guardian of the Bride of Ash.
The person was tall, standing over ten feet tall and radiating a shimmering malice and distrust. He was clad in armor not dissimilar to the Royal Soldier armor of Drangleic, but modified and colored black and dark blue. A ragged, navy blue cloak stained dark with soot and ash fluttered weakly in the air, while two swords were clutched in each hand. One was proportional to the large man and glinted sharply in the torch light, while the other was a massive slab of roughly forged from crude iron but imbued with the roiling essence of the knight who wielded it. It pulsed and writhed with molten metal, radiating a cruel heat that stank of burning flesh.
"Raime, my dear child. Please, step aside and let the Monarch Candidate reunite my fragments," Nadalia's voice requested, coming from beyond the fog portal and the giant sword itself in a disturbing tandem.
"This is Raime? As in, Vendrick's Left Hand? The Twin Blade Knight? That Raime?" Mytha asked incredulously, staring at the figure of fallen grace.
"Oh, I guess we never told you," Erik said slowly, realizing where the Queen of Alken's confusion stemmed from. "After the fall of the Old Iron King, King Vendrick ordered the various territories to be seized. For some reason though, after failing to claim the Tower of Brume, he turned on the king and dueled Velstadt and lost. He then fled and disappeared. But indeed, why did he come back here?"
"The poor child perished in his attempts to claim this place for his master. But he was reborn as an Undead and despaired. I came to him and comforted him, and it seems he became quite attached." Nadalia's voice held a hint of amusement as well as genuine caring for the legendary rebellious knight. The old Undead merely grunted in response, his gaze never leaving the adventurers as they entered his domain. He waved his swords in a dismissive gesture and stepped aside, allowing the group to pass through the now opened fog gates.
"Raime has always had a bit of a… 'complex.' He latches onto parent figures due having none of his own. He returned to Drangleic and his king whom he saw as a father, but when it was discovered he bore the Darksign Vendrick turned his back on him. The Undead were monsters, and no matter how loyal Raime had once been he refused to let even a single 'monster' go free," Nadalia explained, her voice followed the party of travelers as they entered the secret throne room. "Poor Raime fled back to me, and he shifted his affections to a 'mother' instead of a father. I have cared for him, and he in turn protects me."
"That is a sad tale," Lucatiel uttered, casting a pitying look at the black knight who now followed them towards the final area.
"That is true. But there are many sad tales in this world, most of them forgotten due to time. As part of my 'condition,'" Nadalia said this part bitterly as if her existence was little more than an in-joke among the gods, "I am much more in tune with tales of woe that lead to isolation and the like. And people of that sort are naturally drawn to me. Much like how my sisters are drawn to people who reflect their own Aspect and in turn attract similar souls."
The Bride of Ash's voice now came to them from a top a throne hewn from granite and marble and all but buried beneath mounds of soft white ash and dust.
Like the women Erik had seen in the memories of his various souls, Nadalia was pale skinned to the point of almost being an albino, but with long black hair that hung like a shroud over her face. Clad in a thin robe that was stained grey with time and her surroundings, Nadalia in her true form looked more like a sad young woman than some eldritch Dark born being.
In her lap a large, heavy looking crown made from iron sat. elegant and yet severe, the headpiece was finely made; simple patterns ringing a dozen sharp spikes, with a single square cut ruby sitting in the center. Mytha's eyes widened in recognition when she saw, and that was all the proof her companions needed to know that this was the artifact once worn by the Old Iron King himself. Oddly enough not a speck of rust, dust or soot clung to it. The grime that should have stained the metal was gone, and Erik and the rest could only assume that was due to the massive amounts of magic contained within it. The Iron Crown was said to have restored the soul energy of whoever wore it, as well as refreshing ones stamina. That last part was unconfirmed though, since the Old Iron King had been so strong he could kill someone in a single blow, and he rarely faced a foe that made him exert himself.
"Present my soul fragments, please," Nadalia requested, tilted her head up to stare at the newcomers. Her eyes were like molten silver, with tiny swirls of purple for her pupils. Erik oblidged and carefully removed the eleven pieces of Nadalia's souls, and to the traveler's surprise Raime reached into himself and removed a twelfth shard.
"Always have a back-up," Nadalia said with a tiny smile, and then began to chant.
The words were unintelligible to the group, but some of the souls in Erik's collection seemed to hum along with the tune the Bride of Ash created. The twelve pieces of the Dark Child's soul lifted into the air and started to twirl and dance while sparks of pale blue light darted between them. Slowly the fragments grew closer and united as one once more, blinding the room and its audience with a dazzling display of blue and silver lights.
It all faded away, revealing a massive black and purple soul, easily on par with the Ancestral Souls Erik had encountered. It then sank into the bosom of the young woman on the throne, and Nadalia let out an echoing sigh of relief as she was made whole once more.
"Thank you so much for allowing me to return back to normal," the Bride of Ash thanked with a kind, motherly smile to the group. She rose from the throne still holding the Iron Crown and the detritus that covered her fell away, leaving her pristine.
Raime fell to his knee in supplication, a loving growl issuing forth from his helm. Lucatiel kept a stoic expression while Chloanne returned the Dark Child's smile. Erik was content to smile as well, basking in the glow of a job well done. Mytha on the other hand remained aloof and tried to seem uninterested, but her emotions were in a turmoil and it was noticeable in her eyes. The whole day had been one long surprise after the other.
Erik sighed as he spared the queen a glance. Hard to believe it had been less than twenty four hours since entering the doomed city and defeating the king turned Demon. It was strange. They'd been in mortal danger for so long that an easy trip through a normally deadly location seemed far more exhausting than it should have.
"Thank you so much brave travelers. Please, come this way," Nadalia said, ushering her entourage to follow her. With Raime bringing up the rear, the Bride of Ash led the quartet of Undead adventurers into a secret chamber behind the throne. Here was a large statuary altar just like the one they'd found below the Old Iron King's castle!
"This was how Castor traveled between his domain and this place to see me," Nadalia explained. "I can use it to send you back to Alken's catacombs and from there, you need to relight the Primal Bonfire and return to Majula."
"Why?" Erik inquired. That seemed fairly roundabout. Nadalia just shook her head.
"I cannot tell you why, young Undead. You're still a fledgling on the Monarch's Path. But once you've collected the souls and crowns, I will be more than happy to reveal all the truths to you," the Daughter of Dark explained, an apologetic look to her eyes.
"What will you do, then?" Lucatiel asked the mistress of the Old Iron King, and Nadalia turned pensive.
"I shall leave the Tower of Brume, and travel north to where my sister Alsanna keeps vigil over the rampant Chaos."
"You travel to Eleum Loyce, then," Erik surmised and the ancient woman nodded.
"Yes. It has been too long since she was left alone, and now that the Chaos has been pacified here with the defeat of Ichorous Earth I can lend a hand to help her," Nadalia stated.
"Ichorous Earth?" Chloanne inquired, echoing the confusion of the others.
"Yes, that was the name of the ancient Demon that consumed Castor and claimed his soul. Now that young Erik Potts has both it and the faded remnant of the Sunlight King's soul the Chaos that hid here is severely weakened. In my damaged form I could not muster the power to reaffix the seal. But now that I am whole I have banished it back to the depths of the earth where it belongs," Nadalia assured them.
The waif like young Darkling looked conflicted for a moment as she looked from the crown in her hands to Erik.
"Take this," Nadalia commanded, passing the crown of the Old Iron King to the chef.
"Wait, what?"
"You are his successor. It is only fitting that you claim his crown for your own," The Bride of Ash explained. Erik tried to pass it back, stammering as he did so.
"No, no! If it should be given to anyone, Mytha is the clear choice! I mean, is she not the sole ruler of Alken now?" The chef protested. His words came to a halt when Mytha shook her head in disagreement.
"I do not deserve it, Erik Potts. I lost myself in selfish misery and fell to Chaos. Besides, Alken is gone now. Nadalia clearly sees something in you. And so do I. Hope."
The former serpentine queen shook her head in amusement. "Honestly, you astound me. You've done the impossible several times, and will continue to do so. I have no doubt about that. This crown was a symbol of more than just kingship. It was an emblem of Castor's will and strength. I find it fitting that it be passed on to you."
"I will strive to uphold your belief in me," Erik assented, bowing his head low to Mytha and Nadalia. The Child of Dark smiled faintly, before turning towards the altar.
"Now, time to leave. Your journey awaits." The Bride of Ash raised a hand to the three headless snakes and the bowl filled with flicker purple flames.
"I wish to accompany you on your travels north."
Everyone paused and turned to look at Mytha who had spoken for the first time since a while.
"Why?" Nadalia asked, confused. The pale skinned woman's body language grew tense, and it was clear to Erik that this woman still harbored regret for what she had indirectly done to the true Queen of Alken. It appeared to be obvious to the formerly serpentine queen as well, so the tall figure tried to give a reassuring smile.
"I don't belong with Erik, as much as I wish to stay with him. My home is gone. The land is dying and the gods have fled. But, there is something I need to learn about." Mytha bent down to stare eye to eye with Nadalia. "I need to learn about you."
"Huh?!" The petite woman blushed fiercely, stammering at the words received. Mytha did not react to that and merely explained.
"I never really knew Castor like you did. And I want to know more about him. You can tell me what I want to know." Mytha straightened up but kept a piercing gaze on her. "And, it is clear you are a piece of the puzzle Erik needs to solve. So, I am coming with you to the north to meet your sister. You can't tell any of us some deep, dark secret? Fine. But I will see with my own eyes whether or not you are trustworthy, and if Erik should keep associating with you and your siblings."
"…I understand," Nadalia sighed, bowing her head in acceptance of the queen's demands. "You may join Raime and I in our trip to the frozen kingdom. I hope you'll discover what it is you seek."
"As do I," Mytha said, before turning to face Erik and the others. "I guess this is goodbye for now, Erik. The time I've spent with you three has been the best experience in a long time. I pray for your further successes."
"Don't frown, Mytha. We'll see each other again. I know it," Erik replied with a smile, walking over to the much larger woman and wrapping her in a hug. Her surprise turned to a fond smile and she reciprocated the gesture.
"I'll try to have some more chocolate made for you then. How about it?" Erik offers, causing the queen to lick her lips.
"If you do that, I might not be able to hold back," Mytha purred sensuously into the Undead chef's ear before grabbing his butt, causing Erik to flush scarlet.
"Um, well, uh, got to go!" Erik cried, jumping back and all but dashing to the bizarre altar.
"Keep the brat safe!" Mytha ordered Lucatiel and Chloanne who both shared a look and replied, "Obviously!" to the laughing beauty.
With a burst of bluish-purple flames, the three Undead were whisked away, leaving behind the grand monument to a dead king.