"About damn time," Beatrice complained as the trio joined her.
She was practicing fire sorcery again, something resembling a flame soul spear floating in the air in front of her. As they came out of the hallway and onto the balcony overlooking the Fortress' exterior, Sen's gibbet reeled down from a pulley on the side of the building.
"You already knew how to solve my puzzles!" he said, swinging the cage in front of Lex. "The witch warned me, but only a fool would believe her without confirming for himself."
"Don't look at me," Beatrice said suddenly, glaring. "All I talked about with this idiot was his raging boner for deathtraps."
"Velka," Oscar replied sternly. "Since you seem to have forgotten. Lord Sen, we have already faced one of her Pardoners. You said she was responsible for picking the Chosen Undead. Why is she trying to stop us now?"
The god shifted uncomfortably in his restraints.
"Who knows? I am Lord of Machines, but that wicked witch's machinations moved half of Anor Londo once the Great Lord departed. I can only assume that you're not moving according to plan."
Lex nodded, thinking.
"Since this is a unique opportunity: how do you think this whole Prophecy nonsense is set up? Is Gwyndolin a terrible person as he seems or is he being fooled by Velka and/or Frampt like the Chosen Undead is supposed to be?"
"He?" Sen said, intrigued.
"Oh god, that was a secret, wasn't it? I just kind of assumed it would have been revealed by now, what with his voice having dropped already. Maybe it happened after everyone left. I don't know."
"Machines don't have those sorts of problems," the god hummed. "Machines are honest."
"Yes, well how about you be honest and answer the question, Machine God?"
"I don't know! I tried to avoid the games of divinity. You'll have to ask the…princess…yourself. For now, you have the rest of my tests to contend with!"
Lex groaned in exasperation.
"Right, team. Time for a strategy meeting. There's a lot of boring crap to do in order to finish this place, and since I don't feel like doing it all, we're going to split up."
"Is that wise, Lex?" Oscar asked.
"Eh. We've hit the bonfire. Not much can go wrong. I think I can divide up the work so that no one dies. Like, obviously, I'm not going to ask Siegmeyer to do that stupid suicidal long jump to the other tower."
"Oh," the old knight said, shuddering, "thank you for that."
"You're not going to make me do anything stupid, kid," Beatrice said flatly.
"Weeeeeell…" the cleric started.
"Kid."
"It's not that that task is stupid so much as who else is involved. The task itself is merely tedious."
"Kid, I'm going to count to three-"
"You just have to free Big Hat Logan. He got locked up in one of the cages."
"Ah, yes!" Sen interjected. "One of the conditions that Duke Seath made when he lent me servants to staff the Fortress was that they be allowed to capture failed Undead according to some set of criteria I didn't bother to read. He seemed to be fond of sorcerers and young women. Consider yourself doubly lucky, young witch!"
Beatrice glared at him and flipped the bird but said nothing, so Lex continued.
"Right, so you'll need to backtrack through the Fortress the long way. When you reach a hole in the wall heading back toward the Parish, head out that way. Logan will be in one of the middle cages on the right. You'll need this key."
He rummaged through his bag and withdrew the Master Key. The witch dispersed her fire sorcery and snatched it out of his hands before he even started to give it to her, hurrying down the hallway.
"When you find him, keep backtracking until you get to the first set of pendulums!" he shouted after her. "I'm going to open up a shortcut!"
He paused.
"You know, actually, I wonder if it'll still work since that first bridge was replaced. I didn't think to check."
"I'm not so cruel," Sen said, huffing. "If an Undead is clever enough to discover a shortcut through tests he has already completed, I won't take that from him."
"Cool," Lex said, giving a double thumbs-up. "Let's go, guys. Here're your weapons."
He drew the zweihander and Black Knight sword out of the bag and set them gently on the ground before taking the loaned blunt weapons and stuffing them into the hammerspace.
"I'll point out where each of you need to go when we get there."
"Fair enough," Oscar said.
The trio rose from the bonfire. So too did Sen's gibbet rise slightly. As they began to walk down the hallway back into the fortress, the cage followed, the wall splitting to accommodate a rail from which it could hang.
"Uh, what?" Lex said.
"I was curious about the men who solved my puzzles so quickly. The new ones were makeshift to be sure! Still, your speed was impressive! I thought by following you, I might learn how to make even more difficult ones!"
"Oh, god, no."
"It might not mean much to you, Lex," Siegmeyer started, "but I would relish the opportunity to adventure alongside a god! Come, Lord Sen! I am sure the others don't mind!"
"Of course not," Oscar lied politely.
"Uggggggh. Fine," Lex complained.
They dropped down to the stairs they had climbed to reach the bonfire, and Lex led them back into the open air through the doorway at the top. They were now on the roof proper rather than a hidden balcony, and the shadow of the main tower above loomed over them. The cleric turned left and climbed halfway up a staircase before stopping and holding his hand out to signal a halt.
"Okay, so when I say 'go,' you need to sprint after me. I'll stop at times so we can catch our breaths, but you need to be ready to go again when I say. Also, Oscar, I'm going to point out where you need to go, and you'll need to sprint off in that direction. Got it?"
"Understood."
"Clear as a bell, my friend."
"I wonder. Who should I follow?" Sen added.
"Siegmeyer. Definitely Siegmeyer. Oscar's going to be doing a thing, and you'd have to take the long way to follow me to the other tower since the bridge is out."
"Hmph! Well fine then!"
"Okay, so if everybody's ready… Go!"
Lex sprinted up the rest of the stairs and onto the next platform. The entirety of it was covered in black – scorch marks. From somewhere above, a terribly loud voice grunted, and the cleric wasted no time in climbing another set of stairs to the left onto the next level. Directly ahead was a pair of scorch marks, one with a corpse in the middle of it, and more stairs. He stopped at the base of the stairs and waited for the others, Sen's cage apparently having no difficulty climbing the rail as it bent upward.
They waited a moment to rest, when something suddenly struck the platform below and shattered. A wave of fire washed across the platform and licked over the wall to the one they were on. There was another grunt, and Lex ran up the stairs as fast as his legs would carry him. At the top, he spun around and continued to the next scorch mark.
"Oscar, to the right! Siegmeyer, with me!"
They all paused to breathe but then hurried along when they heard the grunt. Oscar followed a straight path along the side of the tower. Midway through, the pattern of scorch marks ended, and some shallow stairs led to a turret where a hollow Berenike knight overlooked the Undead Parish in the distance. He approached it cautiously, but the clink of his armor eventually gave him away, and it turned to face him. It swung its massive flanged mace casually, confident in its brute strength.
Unfortunately, while the mace would shatter a normal man's arm, Oscar had grown used to the durability of his Undead body. The mace skidded across the face of the crest shield, and as the Berenikean spun with the force of its own swing, Oscar used the force of the rotation to hammer his own massive sword into the joint between the breastplate and the skirt. The sword, meant to shatter stone scales and cleave demon bark, had no trouble with a mortal's spine, and slid cleanly through. The body wobbled, and as the knees gave out, the torso slipped back and fell the immense distance to the forest floor below. Oscar looked at the carnage grimly and wondered what a still-sane Undead might suffer from such a blow.
He turned the corner, and seeing a ladder, hung the blade at his belt before descending. A narrow bridge with spikes rising on either side as railing lay before him, and at the end, stairs leading up. He continued to the top, shield raised and sword drawn as he turned the corner. He was forced to step back suddenly, as an arrow struck his shield. At the top of the bend stood another of Astora's elite knights.
The golden pattern on his tabard was worn but still clear – the banner of the royal family. The royal knight drew another arrow on his longbow and fired while Oscar was struggling to react. The shot brought him to his senses. He blocked the arrow and called out.
"Hail! I am Oscar, heir to Hillund before my death!"
"Well met, young knight," the archer said in a thin, old voice. "I am Ricard. Defend yourself."
He slung his bow over his shoulder and drew a rapier with an elaborate golden guard and a simple buckler. He charged down the stairs and lunged at Oscar. The younger knight tried to turn away the blade, but Ricard whipped it back and lashed out at a different angle, piercing through Oscar's side. Oscar tried to put some distance between them, but Ricard pressed the attack. Running out of room to maneuver, Oscar hazarded a kick, sweeping at Ricard's feet to knock him down.
Unfortunately, the older knight hopped backward gracefully and then took a few steps back, brandishing his rapier to guard his retreat.
"Good," he said, a little excitement seeping into his voice. "You are not another fool who follows his teachers without learning. After facing so many, I am proud to call you my countryman."
"Then why are we fighting? Aren't you Undead Prince Ricard, Hero of Falk Vale, Champion of Elston, Leader of the Companions of the Blade?"
"We fight because we must, Sir Hillund. Those same Companions were felled by the guardian of this Fortress. I was cast from the roof. I survived, but I returned to find the others had hollowed. If you cannot best me, then I will grant you the mercy of ending your journey before you fight that monstrosity."
"Prince Ricard, it is not my place, but won't you help us instead? I travel with a prophet, and we have defied fate itself. Surely this is another chance for you."
The older knight grew bitter.
"I too thought much of my fellows. It will avail you nothing. You will perish here, or if you are worthy of conquering the Fortress, you will grant me the honorable death I have wished for long and inherit my blade and the blessings bestowed on me. Defend yourself."
Ricard rushed down the stairs again, but with the additional distance, Oscar ran forward as well, forgoing defense to swing his massive sword with two hands. He swung early in order to head off the range of the prince's lunges' but instead of charging directly forward, Ricard leapt to the side and kicked off the wall. Oscar spun as the rapier ran cleanly through his left arm and bashed the older knight aside with the flat of his blade. Now he had the high ground, though the loss of his left arm meant that he hadn't gained much overall. Ricard shot upward.
Oscar turned his body sideways to hide behind the breadth of his greatsword and swung defensively. Ricard was a moment too late in his evasion, and his sword was batted away. If Oscar couldn't best his elder's superior swordplay, then he would have to try a different tack. Seeing an opportunity, he fell forward and tackled the prince. Instead of tumbling down the stairs together, Oscar forced Ricard to the floor, each step battering the older knight. When they crashed onto the platform where the stairs turned, he rose unsteadily, holding his sword at the ready.
"Yield. I have no desire to slay the legendary Undead Prince."
"So, my vigil has come to its end. That wasn't quite the honorable defeat I wanted, but I suppose honorable thinking may have held us back when the final test demanded our all. Sir Hillund, I entrust you with my blade and with the last of my equipment in the tower above. May the Lords be with you."
The old knight groaned faintly, and his souls flowed out from his visor and into Oscar. The body went flat, and the neck made a creaking noise as the head twisted sideways. It convulsed and then began to rise, the head dangling limply. The hollow turned lazily, but Oscar was ready, and ran it through before it could disgrace the ancient hero's memory. He sighed.
Undead Prince Ricard was one of the great apocryphal heroes of Astora. Tales of his (ultimately unfortunate) journey were often told to children alongside those of the Knights of Gwyn. Having killed such a hero, by accident no less, left him feeling a little empty. He sighed again and clipped his sword to his belt, then recovered Ricard's rapier, which had managed to roll down the stairs a little further. He stared at the body for a moment, slightly disoriented, then knelt down and hefted it onto his shoulders.
He climbed to the top of the tower and entered the lone room. It was mostly barren. There were a pair of chests, apparently containing Ricard's belongings and a number of stone vases of the sort used for decoration in the lands that had been under Gwyn's rule. He peeked inside a few of them and discovered human remains – perhaps what was left of Ricard's Companions. There wasn't an extra vase for Ricard, so Oscar simply laid the body flat on the floor, carefully straightening the head.
He said a brief prayer and turned to open the chests. Among a number of personal possessions, they contained a divine blessing, a type of oil blessed by the Princess of Sunlight herself and used to treat the most grievous of wounds and a rare ring of sacrifice, which warded against the pain of death and curse. They were certainly treasures worthy of a prince. Oscar whispered a silent thank you as he turned to rejoin his allies.