Chapter 11: Of Hunts and Haunt Intrusions

Wyndham, 2 Weeks Later

Daniel Theisman watched from atop Shadowdanse as the nobles in the distance chased after a fox that their hounds had chased from a dense grove of trees. The nobles that drove after it were young, or at the very least energetic. Here, though, he simply waited at the perimeter, watching the highborn men frolic around as if there weren't a care in the world.

He looked up to the top of the hill and saw the king, surrounded by his usual retinue. He didn't know quite what they were saying, and at the moment, he didn't really care. His eyes drifted toward Lord Julius, and the man behind him with the crossbow, following his gaze to Griffith and Princess Charlotte.

"Hey, here it comes," Judeau said, shaking Daniel from his thoughts as he saw the fox, and all it dragged along with it, dashing toward them.

"Damn it all!" one of the closer noblemen shouted. "It'll escape through that thicket!"

Daniel glanced over as he saw Guts begin to move his horse, the man shouting at the fox as it crossed his path. The fox yelped as it turned away, the nobles cheering as the chase carried on past the group of Falcons.

As the nobles passed, Guts gave a weary sigh. "We stand guard while the nobles goof off. It's ridiculous."

"Well, it's part of the job. Can't exactly be helped much." Judeau said with a shrug. "Besides, at least we aren't on a battlefield somewhere yet. We've still got some healing left to do."

Guts nodded. "Maybe… but swinging this sword feels more natural to me."

Corkus scoffed, Rickert shying away next to him as he looked at Guts with no small amount of scorn. "For god's sake, is that all that's in that thick head of yours?"

"Come on, Corkus…" Rickert began.

"Let me finish!" Corkus nearly shouted. "This isn't just some noble play date, in case you were wondering. This is an event that's been kept safe by the most distinguished nobles in Midland before now. We spent years and blood on battlefields for a moment like this… and you call it ridiculous?"

Daniel looked over at Corkus with a discerning gaze, Corkus noticing after a moment spent looking around him. "What? Gonna defend your kid?"

"What was your life like before the Falcons?"

Corkus was taken aback somewhat. "Why should that matter?"

"You'll understand once you answer. So, what was it like? Any family, friends?"

Corkus' brow furrowed. "Well, I had a mom and dad, obviously. I had friends. Kept some bad company, dragged me into crap that doesn't matter anymore since Griffith dragged me out of it. What's it to you?"

Daniel walked his horse over to Corkus', pausing as he looked over at Guts meaningfully.

Guts shrugged. "He's probably not going to believe you anyway. Might as well tell him."

"Try me!" Corkus scoffed, shying away somewhat as Daniel returned his gaze to him.

"I was a member of the Thunderbolts, working for the Tudors," he began. "One day, on our way to a siege, our band stopped to gawk at a hanging tree. A washerwoman found a baby boy in the guts of his mother. A corpse birth."

Corkus' eyes, along with those of everyone else around, went wide. "You're kidding me."

"Would I lie?"

Corkus' gaze darted between him and Guts and the other Falcons for a moment. "Unless something's changed recently… or you're putting on an elaborate joke…"

"A joke?" Daniel's voice went quiet such that only Gaston could fully hear him, and it cooled almost dangerously. "A mother killed by Midlandian rogues in front of her child's eyes? A commanding officer unfit of associating with the title of a father trying to kill him at the ripe old age of 12? If those are jokes, then this is bad comedy."

The air was tense for a moment, broken as Casca rode away from them. Daniel looked after her, then back at the hill, seeing Griffith chatting amicably with Princess Charlotte.

"Alright," Corkus said, clearly at least somewhat subdued. "I'm going to make sure that Casca has some help with the eastern perimeter."

With that, he rode off, and Daniel sighed quietly as he looked back at Guts. His face was, almost as always, passive. His eyes, however, gave away more than he was sure he thought. "My apologies if I said more than you might have wanted."

Guts shrugged. "If there's anyone I trust telling my story, it's you. But I'm sure we've got better things to worry about."

He looked over at Rickert. "Tell me, kid, heard anything new recently?"

Rickert, their resident storymonger, grinned at the chance to ply his wares, so to speak. "There's been some crazy stuff happening since we got cooped up here in the capital. Some of the soldiers coming back from the front say that, at night, there's been all sorts of glowy spirits popping in and out of view."

"Spirits?" Pippin said, drawing everyone's attention to the rather soft-spoken giant. "What does that mean?"

"Well, big, glowing butterflies, for one." Rickert rolled his eyes. "Weird thing to be seeing, blue and green butterflies floating through the air, but combat makes you see weird things sometimes, I guess."

"Is that all?" Daniel asked, his interest piqued.

"Well, there's other things they say are out there too. Ghost boatmen blowing horns that raise skeletons that fall apart when they disappear. Must have been a bunch of sailors that saw them."

"I see," Daniel said, cupping his chin thoughtfully for a moment. 'Are these from the Echo merging with this one?' he pondered. They sounded familiar. Where…

"There's a more real thing that people have been talking about too." Rickert continued. "These people with swords that apparently could act like whips ran into a patrol at one point. One soldier brought a few here and swore up and down that what he was saying was the truth. Must have been drunk, though, cause no one's ever made it do much of anything. Besides being a sword, of course."

That stirred a memory within him, and Daniel fought to keep his expression level. 'That's what's coming. Aw, hell…'

"So where are these swords kept, then?" he asked Rickert. "Do you know?"

Rickert shrugged. Before he could get any further though, a loud squeal and a rustling of brush from up the hill presaged a startled yelp, and all eyes turned to see Princess Charlotte's horse bolting away from the boar that had spooked it. Griffith wasted no time going after the princess' out-of-control horse.

"The poor horse." Judeau chuckled. "At least now Princess Charlotte's blood should be pumping."

"Well, let's make sure Griffith doesn't get into any trouble," Guts said as he urged his horse after them. "Casca'll give us a royal chewing out if he does."

They made their way toward the duo, and Daniel kept a sharp eye through the trees for the man that would be waiting for them. The gaps were few and tight, only offering glimpses as they rode by…

There! A man in a mottled cloak and clothes, blending into the forest as he took aim at Griffith.

Before Daniel could say anything, the man fired, ducking behind the upturned roots of a fallen tree. The bolt flew true, and Daniel caught the sight of the bolt punching through Griffith's ceremonial armor from the corner of his eye.

"Griffith!" he heard everyone shout at once, Guts stopping his horse as he dismounted. Casca was just that little bit faster, dashing past Guts through the small ankle-high inlet as she came to a stop by Griffith. Daniel dismounted at the edge of the grove, taking his swordspear and slipping away as everyone kept their attention on Casca, Griffith, and the princess.

"Griffith! Are you okay? Hang on, please!" Casca shouted as Daniel made his way to the edge of the small grove they'd ended up in, going from tree to tree as he watched the man to make sure he wouldn't catch him. Sure enough, the assassin peeked over to keep an eye on Griffith, not noticing Daniel as he made his way behind him.

Daniel flipped his grip on his swordspear, taking aim for a point where the cloak rested on the roots away from any limbs. He didn't have much occasion to throw such a weapon, slightly sharpening his reflexes to ensure the throw flew true.

Then, through a gap in the trees, he loosed, the blade burying itself halfway into the roots as the assassin jumped from the shock of it, Daniel not wasting the opportunity to dash through the trees as he drew his sword.

He was on the assassin in an instant, blade pressed to the man's throat as he clamped a hand around a wrist with a dagger, stopping it cold. "I'd suggest not trying that again," he whispered. "Falcons are a sturdy lot."

The assassin scoffed. "Your leader's dead now. Doesn't matter where I hit him."

Daniel squeezed, causing the man to drop the knife before he pulled him out of cover, tearing his cloak in the process. "Are you sure about that?"

Daniel watched the assassin's eyes go wide in shock as Griffith's chestpiece came off, and his body was spotless. "It was this," Griffith said, holding up the Crimson Beherit. "It acted as a shield."

"Impossible." the assassin whispered, awestruck.

Daniel's jaw clenched, and he could almost see the invisible fingers of the Godhand nudging things just so. "No, it's not."

Daniel pulled the man into the grove, the gathered Falcons turning to face them as he shoved the assassin to his knees in front of him. "Here's your culprit. Looks like someone isn't too happy about Griffith's popularity." Daniel nearly spat as he heard the sound of approaching hoofbeats.

Guts' eyes flared with rage as he approached, his sword coming off of his back as the man beneath him quailed. "You bastard!"

Daniel held up a staying hand. "That's enough! He might be useful. And be on your guard. We don't know if he has collaborators."

The other Falcons spread out, making a perimeter as Griffith stood, the notch on the Crimson Beherit just barely visible as he turned to look up at Charlotte. "Are you alright?"

Charlotte nodded, then looked up past Griffith as the king, Lord Julius, and a fair number of the noble hunters came to a stop. The king had a wild, worried look in his eyes. "What happened here? Is my daughter safe?"

Griffith nodded as he stepped forward. "She is safe, my lord. You have my word. This man," he gestured at the assassin, "attempted to take my life."

The assassin looked up at Julius, who looked at the king in seemingly righteous indignation. "This scoundrel might have even been after the princess, sir. Might he be a Tudor mark, looking to cause chaos?" Julius asked.

'He can cover his ass, I'll give him that.' Daniel mused as the assassin tried to get to his feet, Guts kicking him back down. "My lord, please. I've only done as you asked…"

"Silence, liar!" Julius said, dismounting as he drew his sword. "I have nothing to do with your base schemes!"

Julius strode forward through the water, and though the Falcons moved after a moment, Julius plunged his sword into the man's chest, leaving it in him as the assassin slumped to the ground.

"That bastard…" Julius clenched his jaw, then took a deep breath and shook his head. "Forgive me, Adamar. My rage got the better of me."

He returned to his horse, beginning to depart with most of the nobles and leaving the king alone with the Falcons. Daniel could almost hear the whispers beginning to pass between the other nobles.

Daniel turned his gaze to Griffith and Charlotte, the latter of whom had dismounted from her horse and bowed her head to Griffith. "Please, excuse me. If I were able to better control my horse, this would never have happened."

"It's no matter," Griffith replied. "Part of our duty is to keep you safe as well."

"Well," Judeau said, looking down at the now-dead assassin. "I guess Lord Julius did our work for us."

Guts shook his head. "I'm still unconvinced. I'll take Daniel and Anna, as well as Gaston, Jordel, and Fin, and we'll make sure there isn't anyone else around."

"I'll come along," Corkus said somewhat unexpectedly as the princess, who had been helped back onto her horse, rejoined her father and began to depart. "I've got a good eye for nooks and crannies that you hammer-headed tin cans don't."

Guts shrugged. "Whatever makes this quicker. Let's go!"

As they departed, Daniel glanced back at Griffith and caught him looking at who he was sure was Julius. His stare was intense, the gaze seemingly almost able to pierce through the man's heart if given the strength to. It made Daniel shudder as his commanding officer held up the bolt that had so narrowly avoided taking his life.

"Such a high price to pay," the man said quietly, "for this poison."

. . .

Lord Julius of the house of Halbard paced in his personal chambers as he fumed, Minister Foss sitting on a luxurious chair as he took a midday snack.

Julius gripped a cup in his hand, his knuckles white as his hand shook before he threw the vessel to the floor. What little wine was left in it splashed onto the tile as the metal cup clattered. "Damn him. Damn them both!"

Foss sighed as he sipped from his own cup of wine. "You do recognize that people listen to you, I'm sure," he said levelly after a moment. "Being that it comes with your station and all."

"It was supposed to be speculation in the heat of the moment!" Julius shot back. "Now the tale's likely going to spread from the nobles down to their servants and out to the rest of the people."

Julius' lips twisted into a sneer. "How the brave Sir Griffith saved the princess from a Tudor assassin," he said mockingly before scoffing.

It was silent for a moment before he took a deep breath. "At the very least, no suspicion rests on any of our shoulders. We have that much to be grateful for."

Julius went over to the large window, looking out over the west wing of the palace and beyond. "If I were to find the bastard that forced my hand… I'd have his neck in my fist as I drive a sword through his gut." he clenched his fist at the flight of fancy, a slight smile at the sight of some damnable soldier's eyes bulging before the light left them.

He turned to look at Foss and saw the apprehension in his expression. "What? Do you think that I can't find whatever low-born cur spoiled our plans so thoroughly?"

Foss' expression changed, and Julius found himself somewhat shocked to see the fear flickering behind his heavy-lidded eyes. "Not that you can't. But that perhaps… you shouldn't."

"Why not?" Julius shook his head. "What power should constrain a nobleman of Midland?"

"It is not that we would be hampered in our own efforts," Foss assured. "Simply… that Griffith would have fewer interested parties intent on his removal."

Julius' brows rose before he began to chuckle. "The commoners squabble amongst themselves. And how did you find this out?"

"It is not for me to say." Foss still had that frightened look in his eyes. It was beginning to make Julius uneasy. "It is simply that we must go about our own work, and let them go about theirs. And ensure that our only target is Lord Griffith."

Julius stalked over to a chair, taking a seat in front of the window behind his desk. "Griffith…" he muttered.

He remembered looking back as he retreated from disposing of the assassin. "I saw his eyes," he said absentmindedly.

"Lord Griffith's?" Foss asked, and Julius cursed his overt musing.

"Yes. For the briefest of moments. It was… insulting. As if he were sizing up something utterly below himself. Waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Like a beast hunting prey. Like… the eyes of a falcon…"

He trailed off before shaking his head. "But it couldn't have been. It was all too brief. And there was no way he could have known. There wasn't any proof."

Julius shook his head. "There wasn't any proof," he repeated. He hated how much it sounded to him as if he were trying to convince himself.

. . .

Daniel and Anna consulted the map that they'd been given, leading to an armory that was in the northern part of the city. The mighty palace, the Court of White Carnations they'd heard it called, looked majestic in the setting sun, the shadows cast on its intricate architecture making it almost something out of a painting.

Such lofty, romantic notions were far from Daniel's mind as they approached the armory, the two men standing guard straightening to attention before one of them approached them. "Halt," he said, clearly at least somewhat bored. "State your name and business."

"We are Sir Daniel Theisman and Lady Anna of the Band of the Falcon. We're here to try and see the strange swords that got captured recently and brought here." Daniel replied, both of them showing the guard the insignia of the winged sword on their shoulders.

The guard's gaze lingered a moment on Anna before he shrugged. "You're allowed to pass. They're here, but I'd hardly expect them to work like you might have heard they have."

Daniel and Anna passed by the guards into the armory proper, racks of swords, spears, pikes, and bows along the walls, with stands of different kinds of armor clustered in the center of the large room. Surrounding them, spaced evenly apart, were tables, around which several men cleaned blades or lacquered hafts. In a stone corner, a forge fire burned, the heat that emanated from it causing all within to sweat.

One man, a little taller and somewhat more heavyset than the others, walked around the room, a leather apron tied at the waist hanging off his neck as he inspected the work of several men, giving quiet advice to a few before moving on. They watched as, with a heavy sigh, he walked over to a group of what was likely a few of the man's apprentices, shooing them away from a table they were clustered around.

"Go on, then. You've all got better work to do than gawking at these damn things," he said gruffly, shooing them off to other tables. One of the apprentices put down a silvery sword, one of two, its blade sweeping in the shape of a crescent moon.

The man turned to look over at Daniel and Anna and sighed quietly as he made his way over to them. "What can I help you with?" he asked, his tone only somewhat brusque at their intrusion.

"We're here to see the strange swords that were captured recently," Daniel said. "We were told that they were being kept here."

The man sighed as he rolled his eyes. "You and every other damned soldier in this city." he nodded over to the table where the two swords sat. "Come on."

He led them over to the table, and Daniel studied the swords with a critical eye. The hilt was a rather ornate thing, ridged metal making for a decent enough grip that joined into a stubby crossguard, the blade that met it broad before it tapered off into its scythe-like shape. The metal of the blade itself contained some hints of a darker hue, patterns swirling throughout the blade like waves of water or ripples in a log of wood.

He picked it up, the hump sweeping toward him as he ran a finger along the blade. It felt much like any other blade, tempered quite nicely. If he pushed just hard enough…

The place where he pushed began to dimple slightly, returning to its original form as he stopped pressing his finger in.

"You seem somewhat familiar with it." the master of the armory said.

"It's reminiscent of some Kushani weapons I've seen before," Daniel replied. "Not quite the same, but even still…"

He looked over to the master of the armory. "Is there a training ground that we can take this to in order to try it out?"

"We have one in the back that you can use." the man shook his head slightly. "You aren't the first person to try at swinging that thing like some of the soldiers have been saying it can be swung, and you won't be the last. Just try not to break it."

"Thank you." Daniel and Anna made their way out the back door into the open-air sparring ground, several training dummies up against a stone wall to their left and right. It was empty, the ending day driving those who might be here to other activities.

Daniel looked back at the door as it closed, Anna regarding him with a somewhat guarded expression. "So," Rhia said, now back fully in control of Anaa'ri, "I would guess this has something to do with what we saw on our way here?"

"Indeed it is." Daniel trod carefully for the moment. Rhia was still somewhat miffed at being left out of the loop of the conversation that Nimira had had with him. "You heard what Rickert was talking about at the hunt earlier today, I'm sure."

"What of it? Based on the information you relayed to Nimira, such creatures wouldn't be terribly out of the ordinary."

"Yet. That's the operative word here, Rhia." Daniel stood in front of the furthest training dummy he could find, further than the shotel in his hand could seemingly reach. "Many of those fantastical beasts and spirits won't appear until years down the road. That something like them is appearing now is not only noteworthy but indicates that what you saw is another Echo, another world, converging on this one. The only question was which one."

"And that sword gives you the answer to that?" Rhia asked as Daniel slipped a glove onto his left hand and gripped the seemingly fragile blade.

"It comes awfully close." Daniel squeezed gently, feeling the blade beginning to give under his fingers. "The butterflies and the boatman could, but really shouldn't, be written off as visions, this world's underlying layer brushing against the surface. But this…"

Daniel pulled gently, but quickly, and the blade stretched in his hands like taffy, the middle beginning to drip toward the ground. Releasing the blade, he flicked the hilt forward, the blade flowing toward the dummy. The tip made contact once, twice, then a third time as Daniel kept the now whip-like blade moving, long gashes sending bits of hay and cloth flying before Daniel stopped.

As Daniel paused, the blade slowly began to retract, the blade scraping across the ground as it flowed back into its former shape. After a moment, it was as if the blade hadn't changed at all.

"This is a blade from a city and people known as the Nox. And they are very much not native to this world." Daniel said quietly, now seemingly ancient images flashing through his mind. "Whatever happened to have them tumble into Midland likely has something to do with the Echo you guys saw colliding with this one."

"What's going to happen as these two… Echoes collide?" Rhia asked, Anna's brow furrowed in concern.

"Well, things are going to appear more and more frequently, the worlds blending together and reshaping themselves in order to not completely destroy one another. Once they are finished merging, this world will be utterly unique in all of Reality."

"But will its people survive such a process?" Rhia asked.

"That depends entirely upon the reaction of those people," Daniel said as he looked up at the setting sun. "And what they decide to do. Sometimes, a newly fused Echo can get along peacefully. But more likely than not, with this world and the world of the Elden Ring…"

Daniel's mind began to spin with the wondrous, terrifying possibilities before he pulled himself back to the present. To what was likely about to happen. "There will be bloodshed."