Chapter 6: Return to the Roundtable Hold
Harry woke up slowly, a lingering sensation of warmth and weariness enveloped him. Reluctant to abandon the comfort of slumber, he kept his eyes closed for a moment, savoring the last traces of rest. The feeble glow of torchlight painted shifting patterns on the walls of the spacious room. As his senses sharpened, he gradually became aware of his surroundings.
Surveying the room without opening his eyes, Harry noted the vague outlines of beds spread out across the dimly lit expanse. The space seemed cavernous, a collection of sleeping quarters gathered under one roof. The flickering torches cast dancing shadows, their uncertain light revealing rows of beds, most of which appeared unoccupied, shrouded in the quiet of solitude.
Sighing softly, Harry finally pried his eyelids open, adjusting to the gentle illumination. The room's layout began to take shape before him, two occupied beds standing out amid the sea of emptiness. He shifted his gaze towards one of the beds, observing the figure that lay upon it, seemingly lost in their own world of dreams.
A sense of curiosity nudged Harry to sit up, his muscles protesting the movement after what felt like an eternity of rest. Rubbing his eyes, he allowed his surroundings to fully come into focus. The room's walls were adorned with faded tapestries, their once-vibrant colors now muted by time.
With a deliberate stretch, Harry swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his body awakening gradually from its slumber-induced stupor. The cool touch of the floor beneath his feet offered a refreshing contrast to the lingering warmth that still clung to him. As his senses gradually acclimated to the awakening world, Harry's surroundings emerged from the haze of sleep.
The torchlight that flickered across the room's walls played curious tricks on the edges of his vision, casting elongated shadows that seemed to waver and dance with a life of their own. The play of light and shadow created an almost mesmerizing spectacle, an interplay of illumination that painted the room in ever-shifting patterns.
As Harry's gaze swept over the room, his attention was divided between the curious dance of light and the lingering thoughts that tugged at the recesses of his memory. The place almost reminded him of the Hogwarts Hospital Wing, with its stark white walls and multiple beds. He almost expected Madam Pomfrey come bustling out of the office and scold him for being out of bed despite his injuries.
Then, like a puzzle slowly coming together, the memories began to solidify. The battle against Godrick the Grafted, one of the shardbearers of the Elden Ring, had been fierce and unforgiving. Nepheli Loux had joined him in that perilous confrontation, their combined efforts yielding a hard-fought victory. Yet victory had come at a price, as both he and Nepheli Loux had suffered grievous wounds in the process.
With the assistance of Melina, they had been transported to the Roundtable Hold. There, the injuries they had sustained in their battle against Godrick were tended to, and the shroud of unconsciousness had descended upon Harry as his body sought to heal itself.
"Welcome back," the voice resonated through the room, causing Harry to startle in surprise. Turning swiftly, his gaze fell upon the figure approaching him—someone he had never anticipated crossing paths with again.
"Sir Gideon Ofnir," Harry acknowledged with a neutral tone, acknowledging the leader of the Roundtable Hold, who bowed courteously in return.
"It seems that you are mostly healed, brave Tarnished," Sir Gideon Ofnir observed with a discerning eye, motioning towards a nearby door. "Shall we?"
Harry nodded, and the two of them exited the room, ascending a flight of stairs that led to a landing overlooking the chamber where Harry had initially arrived during his first visit to the Roundtable Hold. Continuing their journey, they traversed a hallway until they reached the door that Sir Gideon had previously disappeared through. This time, Harry followed him inside. The door opened into a spacious room, furnished with a table and chairs. Sir Gideon gestured for Harry to take a seat before settling himself behind the table. As they both made themselves comfortable, their gazes met in a moment of contemplative silence.
"It's good to see you again," Sir Gideon began, a hint of sincerity in his tone.
"I did not expect that sentiment, given our last encounter," Harry retorted curtly. Sir Gideon leaned back in his chair, studying Harry intently.
"Many Tarnished have trodden these halls, yet few have risen beyond the veil of obscurity," Sir Gideon expounded. "I see no need to forge connections with each fleeting visitor, given the likelihood of never crossing paths again. However, I extend to you a welcome not as a transient presence, but as a true member of the Roundtable. As you have discovered, I am Gideon Ofnir. I stand as a Tarnished who aspires to confront the Elden Ring, ascending to the title of Elden Lord. In my pursuit of this lofty ambition, I gather knowledge relentlessly, aspiring to become all-knowing. You, my new compatriot, are now part of an exclusive assembly of individuals. As such, I merely implore you to remain resolute."
Harry's curiosity was piqued as he considered the enigmatic figure before him. His inquiry slipped from his lips, "May I inquire about the condition of Nepheli Loux?"
"My daughter sustained injuries more grievous than yours. I find myself deeply disappointed by her performance. She is a skilled warrior, yet to be bested by Godrick is lamentable. Nonetheless, she is currently recuperating within our rejuvenation hall," Sir Gideon replied, casting a glance of disapproval in his daughter's direction. Harry could not help but feel a twinge of sympathy for Nepheli Loux, even if Sir Gideon's sentiments were born of concern.
"I, too, sustained injuries," Harry pointed out, unable to hold back his mild vexation at Nepheli Loux's apparent mistreatment by her father.
"Yet here you stand before me, while she remains incapacitated," Sir Gideon retorted. "Now, let us divert our focus. You are yet to meet with Finger Reader Enia. She resides beyond another entrance within the Roundtable Hall. Once you have gleaned wisdom from her, return to me."
Pushing his chair back with a sudden movement, Harry rose from his seat, the tumult of emotions swirling within him threatening to burst free. He had never thought that anyone could provoke him in the manner Snape and Malfoy had managed, yet Sir Gideon seemed intent on entering that elite category. Storming through the Roundtable Hall, his determination led him to the door Sir Gideon had directed him to. Stepping through it, his eyes widened in surprise, and he barely refrained from casting a curse.
Before him loomed, a towering statue resembling two colossal fingers, erected upon a throne-like pedestal. As he approached the structure, Harry noticed the fingers moving with a disturbing semblance of life. His reverie was broken by movement at his side, and he turned to behold an elderly woman, wielding a massive club, perched on a rickety stool. Her visage seemed as though she had been drained of vitality, yet her breathing was evident, defying the apparent frailty.
"Hello," Harry ventured cautiously, his voice breaking the silence.
Slowly, the woman swiveled to face him, her gaze piercing into Harry's soul, seemingly assessing him. With a curt nod, she began, "Are you the newly arrived Tarnished? You've performed commendably. I am Enia, the Finger Reader."
"Greetings," Harry replied, uncertain about what to expect from this enigmatic figure.
"I decipher the utterances of the Fingers, heralds of the Greater Will," Enia's voice barely rose above a whisper. "Observe them. The Fingers quiver in greeting. Welcome, bearer of shards. Allow their sagacity to seep into your being. Let the utterances of the Fingers chart your course."
Turning his attention, Harry saw the massive fingers swaying rhythmically through the air. As if drawn by an invisible force, he moved toward them, dropping to one knee in a humble gesture.
"Exalted Elden Ring, foundation of the Golden Order," a stern voice echoed within Harry's mind. "Anchor of all domains, bestower of grace, source of boundless joy. Until sundered by treachery. The grievous corruption of the Order has inflicted scars upon the realm. Devastation and turmoil sprawl, unrelenting. Yet, the Greater Will has not forsaken the realm or its denizens. Hence, the Tarnished are guided by grace. Summoned to action. Resolute Tarnished, your Great Rune is a splendid fragment of the Elden Ring. Pursue another akin to it. Ascend to the title of Elden Lord and resurrect the Golden Order."
The words ended just as they had started, without a hint. Harry slowly rose back to his feet, considering the words the Two Fingers had spoken. He would need to seek out another Demigod like Godrick and defeat them. Only then, would he move forward in his quest.
"What is a Great Rune?" Harry asked Enia.
"Ahh, Great Runes are the stuff of demigods: the children of the goddess, Queen Marika. She who is the vessel of the Elden Ring. Tainted by the strength of their runes, her children warred, but none could become Elden Lord. And so, grace was extended, to your kind, the Tarnished".
As if in response to Enia's prompt, the voice of the Two Fingers once again resounded within Harry's mind. "The Greater Will has forsaken the demigods for long. Tarnished, show no clemency. Seize their heads. Claim all that remains to them."
Enia's words continued, cautioning Harry, "Indeed. Yet remember this: the demigods trace their lineage directly back to Queen Marika. Godrick the Grafted was a distant relation, an outlier. His divine blood is diluted, rendering him lesser in the hierarchy."
"Valuable insight," Harry murmured under his breath as he retraced his steps back to Sir Gideon's chamber. The imposing Tarnished, Ensha, still stood sentinel outside the door, glaring daggers at Harry. In response, Harry cast his own pointed look in return.
"Why does the Tarnished outside your chamber appear so hostile toward me?" Harry inquired once he was seated across from Sir Gideon, who had been engrossed in his writing.
Sir Gideon Ofnir set aside his quill and parchment, leaning back in his chair. "Disregard Ensha. He serves under me and is present to fulfill his assigned duties. Have you engaged with Enia and the Two Fingers as instructed?"
"I did" Harry admitted. "I expect you are quite familiar with what I was told by them?"
"I am. You will be after more Great Runes, now, eh? Then as your fellow, allow me to divulge a little knowledge. The inheritors of the Great Runes; the shardbearers. We of the Roundtable know the location of five of them, including the one you defeated. Godrick the Grafted, Lord of Stormveil. General Radahn, who fought Malenia and her rot to a standstill in the Caelid Wilds. Praetor Rykard, Lord of the Volcano Manor of Mt. Gelmir. Morgott the Grace-Given, Veiled Monarch, and Lord of Leyndell. And Rennala, Queen of the Full Moon, ruler of Raya Lucaria's Academy."
"Where should I visit next?" Harry asked.
"Well, you have two options. You could either venture into Raya Lucaria Academy in Liurnia of the Lakes or go to Caelid and put General Radahn out of his misery."
"Tell me about them both"
"General Radahn" Sir Gideon Ofnir began "the famed Red Lion and scourge of the stars, is a ferocious warrior. He fought Malenia and her rot to a standstill in the Caelid Wilds to Limgrave's east. And now Caelid has been engulfed by the scarlet rot, even approaching the region is no mean feat. I have heard survivors of Radahn's army are still in the wilds, staving off the rot with fire. And if it is true, I suspect Radahn is still there as well, in Caelid. Though I doubt he much resembles his former self anymore..."
"Radahn sounds like a formidable adversary," Harry interjected.
"Indeed. Moving on to Raya Lucaria's Academy in Liurnia, it stands north of Limgrave, towering over the mist-shrouded expanses. Rennala presides as the queen of the Carian royals, who govern the academy. Yet, Rennala herself is not a demigod. Her beloved, Radagon, forsook her to become Queen Marika's second consort, adopting the title of King Consort. The Great Rune is harbored within the amber egg that once was Radagon's gift to her."
Harry's curiosity stirred, and he continued to probe, "And did Radagon ascend as the Second Elden Lord after Godfrey?"
"Aye. It is said that Rennala was heartbroken by Radagon's betrayal, especially after their great love affair that ended the wars and truly established the Golden Order in the Lands Between. During the Liurnian Wars, Radagon led the armies of the Erdtree against the Carian lands of Liurnia. During this, he met Rennala, Queen of the Full Moon on the battlefield. Much of Radagon's true nature remains in mystery, but he appeared to be an individual that was highly devoted to his role as the Elden Lord. A great champion with flowing red locks, he fought two wars against the Carian Queen, the First Liurnian War, and the Second, no victor would emerge from either. Radagon eventually repented his territorial aggressions by cleansing himself with Celestial Dew and swore his love to Rennala. He became husband to the Carian Queen, wedding her at the Church of Vows. Sometime in their marriage, she gifts him a red wolf as well as a Greatsword as per Carian tradition. During this time, Radagon studied Glintstone sorcery to be a more complete hero."
"Yet, what prompted Radagon to leave Rennala behind despite the love they shared?" Harry's empathy swayed toward Rennala as he mulled over their story.
Sir Gideon Ofnir's response was a shrug, indicating his own uncertainty. "The reasons remain obscured. Throughout their union, the pair even bore three children—Rykard, Ranni, and Radahn."
"Speaking of Rykard and Radahn, you mentioned them earlier as shardbearers. But wasn't Ranni involved in the shattering as well?"
"No, Lunar Princess Ranni vanished on the same fateful day that Godwyn the Golden met his end by the hands of the Black Knife Assassins. Despite my network of spies, her whereabouts have remained elusive."
"Considering these intricate connections, what befell Radagon?" Harry's inquisitive nature was clearly piqued. "I've heard much about Godfrey's legacy, but you're the first to share Radagon's part in these events with me."
Sir Gideon Ofnir's response was tinged with a sense of explanation. "Godfrey was cherished in the Lands Between, his memory hallowed despite his militaristic tendencies. Under his rule, the populace thrived, and even as a warrior, he governed the realm effectively. As for Radagon, his disappearance aligned with the Elden Ring's shattering, a time marked by upheaval and chaos."
Harry's contemplation deepened as he mused aloud, "Could there be a connection between these events? Ranni's disappearance coinciding with Godwyn the Golden's demise, and Radagon's vanishing during the Elden Ring's destruction?"
"Your instincts are keen," Sir Gideon Ofnir acknowledged, approval coloring his voice. "I've held the same suspicions, yet my attempts to unearth definitive proof have yielded naught thus far."
"I should embark for Liurnia then. How might I reach that realm?" Harry inquired; his resolve unwavering.
"To reach Liurnia, you must retrace your steps to the location where you confronted Godrick. There should be a passage from Stormveil Castle that guides you towards Liurnia," Sir Gideon Ofnir informed him. "Before you depart, however, recount to me the details of your battle against Godrick."
Harry's suspicion prickled, his gaze flitting to the scattered sheaves of parchment and books strewn across the room. "Why the need for such specifics?"
Sir Gideon Ofnir gestured expansively to the array of literature and scrolls, explaining, "As I strive for omniscience, it is imperative to amass knowledge from every conceivable source. How could I achieve such a state without endeavoring to comprehend all?"
A wry smile tugged at Harry's lips, "You would fit right in at Ravenclaw. It was a brutal battle. While Nepheli Loux engaged with Godrick in melee, I chose both ranged combat with spells as well as swordplay myself. Eventually, I managed to disable him by cutting off his leg. And then I somehow managed to kill him."
The leader of the Roundtable Hold acknowledged the jest with a nod. "I do not know what that word 'Ravenclaw' means. Perhaps you will tell me later. Now, your description of the battle intrigues me. You mention wielding spells without the traditional staff—a marvel I have never encountered myself."
Harry shrugged, his voice laced with modesty, "I've had to adapt in this world. Without my wand, I have relied on this sword," he patted the scabbard at his waist, "and whatever magic I could conjure."
While an appreciative note crept into Sir Gideon Ofnir's tone, he stood up, gesturing Harry to do the same. "However admirable your ingenuity, I suggest you outfit yourself in our armory before venturing forth into the Lands Between once more. Your current sword and chain armor will offer limited protection in Liurnia and beyond. Join me, and I shall guide you."
Harry followed the leader through the halls until they reached a spacious armory brimming with weaponry of all kinds—swords, katanas, maces, hammers, great swords, flails, and full suits of armor. Harry's gaze sparkled with curiosity, and he moved forward with alacrity.
Sir Gideon Ofnir's words imparted history and tradition as he shared, "Our magical staffs, among other weapons, have been amassed over time from allies and adversaries alike. Tarnished often leave their past weapons here, allowing them to serve a new purpose in another's hand."
Harry's hands danced over the staffs, seeking a resonance akin to the connection he had felt with his phoenix feather wand at Ollivander's. One by one, he touched each staff, searching for that elusive bond. As disappointment started to settle in, he almost abandoned his quest. Then, his fingers brushed against a dark, intricately knotted staff crowned with a dark crystal. A surge of magic coursed through him as he gripped it, a sensation that felt colder and distinct from the warmth of his wand.
"Surprising," Gideon Ofnir's voice rang out, drawing Harry's attention. "No sorcerer has ever connected with that staff. Many claimed they could not channel spells through it. Perhaps it awaited your touch."
Harry nodded in agreement, his fingers tightening around the staff. As he inspected it further, he noticed striking similarities to the Elder Wand's appearance and structure. A shiver of foreboding brushed his spine as he voiced his inquiry, "Do you know what it's composed of?"
"Of course. I endeavor to be acquainted with the composition and craftsmanship of each weapon here," Gideon Ofnir replied with an air of confidence. "The staff you hold is crafted from elder wood and adorned with scales from the wings of Dragonlord Placidusax. Placidusax was the Elden Lord preceding the Greater Will's arrival in the Lands Between. You possess a formidable weapon, fellow Tarnished. May you wield it with purpose."
As the truth sank in—elder wood, scales of a legendary dragon—Harry sensed destiny's inexorable threads weaving his journey once again.
"It seems that I have a staff then," Harry said, slamming it on the ground, eliciting a stream of sparks around the tip. Ensha suddenly approached Gideon Ofnir and whispered something in his ear that Harry struggled to catch. All the leader of the Roundtable Hold did was simply nod and turn back to Harry.
"Aye. You can have your pick from the armor we have" Gideon Ofnir said. "After you have picked up what you need, you should meet the other Tarnished at Roundtable Hold. Perhaps their experiences will be able to provide you with guidance. I have some other matters to attend to currently."
"Very well."
Harry tested the equipment hanging on the walls, primarily looking at Swords and katanas that would complement in his lean build. In the end, he chose a longsword with a golden hilt and blue gems embedded in it. He gave the sword a few experimental swings in the air, finding it suitable. Hunting for a scabbard, he found a leonine armor stacked against the wall, almost hidden behind some curtains. Pulling it out, he examined the armor and found it to his liking. The helm was a distinctive golden, with red hair flowing out of the back, like a lion's mane.
Its faceplate boasted narrow eye slits, giving the wearer both visibility and protection. A rich red plume cascaded from the helm's crest, like a lion's mane. Around the base of the helm, an elegant circlet of polished steel bore the armor's heraldry—blazoned with the crest of a rampant lion, its paws poised as if ready to strike.
Secured over a chainmail coif, the gorget encased the armor's throat in overlapping metal scales. From the gorget extended articulated plates that covered the shoulders, allowing for ease of movement while preserving essential protection. A cuirass, a symphony of sculpted plates, molded around the knight's torso and upper arms. It bore the armor's coat of arms—an intricate design of a rearing lion. The cuirass melded seamlessly into the faulds, a series of metal plates that safeguarded the waist and hips while providing flexibility.
Laminated greaves shielded the knight's lower legs, their polished steel reflecting the surroundings like mirrors. These greaves bore the armor's motto in elegant script: "Victor Astrorum,". Beneath the greaves, blackened chainmail stockings protected vulnerable areas from any potential breach.
Gauntlets, adorned with intricate etchings, enfolded the armor's hands, their fingers articulated to allow dexterity in gripping weapons. Upon the gauntlets' backs, the knight's personal emblem—a regal lion in majestic repose—declared his lineage and prowess. The knight's legs were encased in cuisses and poleyns, articulated plates that shielded his thighs and knees. A coat of chainmail, known as a hauberk, formed a protective layer beneath these plates, every link hand-woven and interconnected.
Liking what he saw, Harry started putting on the armor. The armor felt cosy, like a second skin. However, having never put on armor previously, he was soon stumbling around trying to put on the armor. Eventually, while trying to put the chainmail on his legs, he tripped over his own feet and fell, sending out a loud clang through the area.
Groaning, he tried to lift himself up but failed "I have the worst luck" he muttered.
"It is fortunate you did not stumble like this when fighting Godrick, my friend"
Harry managed to turn around his neck and saw Nepheli Loux, standing at the doors of the armory, smiling.
"At that time, I wasn't wrestling with an armor, simply a demigod" Harry jested.
"Indeed" Nepheli Loux approached Harry and helped him back on his feet. Pushing a stool under him, Nepheli Loux made him sit on it and attached all the armor plates and greaves with quiet efficiency.
"You are quite good at this" Harry noted as Nepheli tied the chainmail to his legs. "Even though you don't wear any armor yourself." Indeed, Nepheli was garbed in simple armor, a grey pauldron covering her torso, baring her midriff with a long grey skirt. Two bracers adorned her wrists and a headband completed her ensemble.
"It is the way of our people. My people were followers of Hoarax Loux, our chieftain, and our armor is modeled after his own. This symbolizes our bravery in facing the unknown while shunning excessive armor. After my foster father took me in, I served as his squire for a while, making me familiar with the art of wearing armor. There. You are done." Nepheli Loux said, neatly tying up in his boots.
Harry slowly got up and walked around, the weight and craftsmanship of the armor settling into place. Its well-fitted components allowed for mobility while offering a comforting sense of protection. Turning to Nepheli Loux, he asked, his voice resonating through the metal helmet, "How are you now?"
Nepheli Loux looked down, her expression a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. "I failed you," she admitted, her voice tinged with self-blame. "I was unconscious for most of the fight, and when I finally regained my senses, I found myself being toyed with by Godrick—the weakest of the demigods."
Harry reached out, his armored hand resting gently on her shoulder. "You didn't fail me," he reassured her, his voice resonating through the helmet with sincerity. "Godrick was a formidable opponent, and it's a testament to your strength that you faced him head-on. Your dedication to your cause and your bravery in battle matter more than the outcome of a single fight."
Nepheli Loux's gaze met Harry's, gratitude, and relief evident in her eyes. "Thank you, Harry. However, my foster father has already expressed his disappointment with me."
"Gideon Ofnir can go to hell for all I care" Harry bluntly said. "He sits here in his study in the safety of the Roundtable Hold and sends you to do his dirty work. He has no right to berate you for something he has not done himself."
"Perhaps" Nepheli was clearly still thinking of this matter.
Harry gently shook her shoulder, his armored gauntlet making a soft metallic clinking against the metal. "I genuinely mean this. It was an honor to fight by your side against Godrick, and I would be equally honored to stand with you in battle again."
This time, a genuine smile graced Nepheli's lips, and she nodded in appreciation. A faint blush colored her cheeks as she bumped his shoulder with hers.
Harry's curiosity spurred him on. "Where will you be heading now?"
Nepheli's gaze grew thoughtful as she considered his question. "My father has summoned me to the village of the Albinaurics. He believes that hidden within its confines is a secret crucial to understanding the mysteries of the Lands Between."
"Perhaps our paths will cross again. Where is this village?" Harry inquired as they made their way towards the Roundtable chamber, the clinking of armor echoing in the corridor.
"It's nestled within Liurnia of the Lakes, beyond the expansive grounds of Raya Lucaria's Academy. You will find it along the southwestern shores, situated in a swampy area. A descending slope leads to the village beneath the plateau," Nepheli explained, her voice resonating with anticipation.
Harry nodded; his determination resolute. "I'll make my way there. We'll meet again, then."
Nepheli offered a firm nod of agreement. "Yes, we will." With those words, she approached the ethereal grace that hovered above the center of the Roundtable and seamlessly vanished from sight.
"I didn't know Tarnished could do that," Harry mused aloud
"You must be new then"
Turning, he noticed another Tarnished seated in one of the chairs at the Roundtable. The newcomer was clad in a resplendent ensemble of silver and gold armor, a greatsword resting beside him in its sheath. As the Tarnished stood, he hefted the greatsword over his shoulder, approached Harry with purposeful steps, and spoke in a deep and resonant tone. ""I do not believe we have met. I am known as D. I hunt down Those Who Live in Death and weed their Deathroot. Heed my warning. Those Who Live in Death should be left well alone."
Harry extended his hand in a gesture of introduction. "I'm Harry Potter. Can you clarify what you mean by 'Those Who Live in Death'?"
D offered a shrug, his demeanor matter of fact. "It's simple. When we die, our souls are supposed to return to the Erdtree. Yet, Those Who Live in Death lack the Blessing of Grace but still manage to return repeatedly. Tarnished like us can come back from death due to the Erdtree's Blessing. We are fulfilling the will of the Two Fingers. You can recognize them by their humanoid skeletal forms, varying in height and armament, distinguished by their capacity to resurrect upon initial defeat."
A new voice interjected, soft yet distinct. Both Harry and D turned their attention to a blond woman draped in an all-encompassing black cloak.
"Salutations, esteemed champion chosen by grace. I am known as Fia," she introduced herself. D seemed mildly irritated by her presence, his response a grunt as he touched the ethereal grace above the Roundtable and promptly vanished.
Harry shifted his gaze to the newcomer. "Pleasure to meet you. I am Harry Potter," he responded with a mixture of wariness and curiosity, intrigued by the array of characters he was encountering today at the Roundtable Hold.
"D seems to be irritated by your presence" Harry pointed out to Fia who seemed to be unbothered by D's abrupt departure.
"Circumstances beyond my control have led me to take residence at the Roundtable Hold," Fia explained, inviting Harry to follow her. They entered a spacious bedchamber, where a solitary bed was nestled in a corner. A crackling fireplace emitted a warm and inviting glow, lending a cozy ambiance to the room.
Seating herself on the bed, Fia made an unexpected request. "May I embrace you?" Harry was taken aback by the oddness of the query but consented with a nod. As Fia's arms enfolded him, he felt an unusual sensation coursing through his body, as if something intangible was dissipating from within. Once she released him, he stumbled momentarily before settling onto the bed beside her.
"Ah, my gratitude, esteemed champion. Your presence radiates warmth. The sensation you experienced was a fleeting manifestation of a baldachin's blessing, unfortunately," Fia explained, her words accompanied by a serene smile.
"You mean you bring them back to life," Harry whispered, a shiver running down his spine as he recalled D's earlier caution. "You align yourself with Those Who Live in Death, don't you?"
"You are astute, Tarnished warrior," Fia affirmed with a gentle smile, acknowledging Harry's realization. "But before I could bestow the gift of renewed life to the noble, I was awakened by the call of grace and was compelled to leave my place of origin."
Disgust swelled within Harry as he rose from the bed. "So that's the reason D left in such haste."
"You may leave now in revulsion, but I sense that circumstances will draw you back to me," Fia stated with an air of certainty that echoed through the room. Harry shook his head in denial and exited the bedchamber, making his way toward the Roundtable. However, before he could reach the Sign of Grace, Sir Gideon Ofnir intercepted him.
"Ah, fellow Tarnished. I am fortunate to have caught you before your departure," Sir Gideon Ofnir greeted, extending a scroll to Harry. The parchment unfurled to reveal a detailed map of Liurnia of the Lakes, marked with a distinct cross.
"Why would I need this?" Harry questioned; his curiosity piqued.
"The Academy of Raya Lucaria is shielded by potent magical wards that deter external visitors. To penetrate these defenses, you will require a unique key known as the Academy Glintstone key. The map will guide you in locating this key," Sir Gideon Ofnir explained, his tone laden with a sense of purpose.
"Thank you for this, Sir Gideon Ofnir," Harry responded, securing the map within his mokeskin pouch. However, he was not finished with his inquiries. "I do have another question."
"Ah, you've made a wise choice to seek answers from me," Sir Gideon Ofnir remarked with a patient demeanor.
"Why do you allow Tarnished like Fia to reside here?" Harry inquired with a touch of frustration evident in his voice.
Sir Gideon Ofnir paused for a moment, regarding Harry with a thoughtful gaze before responding. "The Roundtable Hold stands as a sanctuary for all Tarnished, regardless of our affiliations or objectives. Regardless of who we are or what we represent, this haven remains open to our kind, even accommodating individuals like Fia."
Harry's expression twisted into a grimace, torn between the principle of refuge and the disquiet Fia's presence instilled within him. With a shake of his head, he dismissed himself from Sir Gideon Ofnir's presence and approached the Sign of Grace at the Roundtable. Holding out a hand over the Sign of Grace, he concentrated on his destination and vanished in a swirl of colors.
AN: Hi, all. I have another chapter ready for you. I know that it's not much plot progression and just a lot of talk, but next chapter, the action starts moving forward again. Please enjoy, read, and review.