The Outer Lord
Chapter 4: The Fingers and an Oath
Millicent couldn't remember the last time her sleep was so peaceful. The Rot ensured that every moment she spent asleep was plagued by horror. Nightmares of landscapes inundated with Scarlet Rot, expanses that dwarfed the entire Caelid region both in scale and in the insane abominations it spawned while something at the edges of her mind taunted her with promises of. But it was as she awoke, she realised that she hadn't had any nightmares at all. She hadn't dreamt either. It was pure, restful sleep, deep and blissful.
The sky was brighter than it had been. It had been night when she'd fallen asleep, so if she was correct, then she'd slept through the entire night. That... almost never happened. Not a night went by when she wasn't awoken at least once by the incessant whispers of the Scarlet Rot. She moved to rub her eyes, but by habit attempted to use her dominant arm. She looked, seeing that it was gone. She remembered then that in her desperation, she'd cut it off. The blood, the pain, her screams. All of it returned as the realisation came. This was it, then. She'd have to make due without it. As she looked at the bloody sleeve feeling the fabric on her skin. Wait, skin? There should have been a wound there, not skin. There was no pain either. She chanced a feel of her shoulder and nearly jumped when her fingers gently pressed fabric onto fresh, sensitive skin.
Millicent sat up and Talos' hooded cloak slipped off of her, pooling on her lap. Said Tarnished was humming a tune as he rummaged around in a plain wooden box. However, what caught her attention was the pile next to him. Weapons, armour, plants and other things that she could only guess at. They didn't... they hadn't come from the box. Had they? He held one up to the light, a regal sword made of white iron. He looked at it for a while, sighed, then put it back gently as if it were fragile. As he went to take another weapon, he saw Millicent looking at him. She flushed in embarrassment at having been caught watching him.
''Good morning. Did you rest well?'' Talos said and she nodded. He lacked the cloak she'd seen him wearing beforehand, then she looked down at the one that had been over her. ''It gets cold here at night. It was the best I could do.''
''No, please, I appreciate it,'' she said quickly, ''I did not expect you to remain here.''
''I wouldn't leave unless I'd known you were well. That and your wound needed treatment. With an open wound like that, it was only a matter of time until a more mundane infection took root. Or you'd have bled to death. Whichever came first,'' he said with a shrug. He was, self-admittedly, quite backward when it came to medicine before going to Yharnam. He had never heard of things like germs before Iosefka had explained the concept. He knew wounds left open to the elements could get infected, as it was the death of many a soldier if he survived the battlefield. But she had a theory that unclean surfaces like dirty clothing carried and spread small, infectious lifeforms that attacked the human body through cuts and gashes. It mostly went over his head initially, but he had merely been ignorant, not stupid. With no better explanation and given to him by a professional in an age far in advance of any he'd been to before or since, he took her words to heart. Even if she were wrong, there was no point in risking it. So he kept his wounds clean when he could, and so far, no infections.
''But... there is no wound. How? What did you do?'' she asked in astonishment. She'd never heard of such a thing being possible. Of course, there were tales of people with that kind of power, but she thought they were just stories.
''A bit of sorcery, that is all,'' that was a lie. Explaining Miracles from unknown gods sounded like too much of a headache, so he chose a convenient lie. ''You didn't answer my question. Sleep well?''
''Oh, yes. I did. Normally, my nights are fitful. It's the Rot, you see. It is as much a blight on my mind as it is my body. Most nights I am fortunate if I only wake screaming once. But since being pierced with that needle, I slept... well, I have never had a better night's sleep. For once I feel that I can think properly, and I am not plagued with fatigue.''
''I'm glad,'' she could hear the smile in Talos' voice, ''you hardly stirred. If I weren't so focused on keeping an eye on you, I may have forgotten you were here,'' he joked. ''If you don't mind, could you tell me how you came into contact with the Scarlet Rot? I haven't seen many who have it that are as... intact, as yourself.''
Millicent looked away uncomfortably. By habit, she would have held her left arm with her right hand, but only the phantom sensations followed her command to her missing right arm.
''I don't really know what to tell you. I was born here, like my sisters. Gowry found me and the others as babes deep within Aeonia. I am the youngest of my sisters, them being fully grown by the time I was found, yet only I was touched by Rot. I suppose that makes me the runt of the litter, doesn't it?'' she gave a brittle smile that quickly died. She couldn't find it within herself jest.
''I wouldn't be so sure,'' Talos said. He could feel something about Millicent that was anything but weak. There was a quiet endurance to her that was beyond most others. She'd lived in this hellish place for her entire life and battled the Rot within her the whole time. Weaklings didn't do that. And within her eyes was the will to live. She was driven by something, even if it wasn't quite evident to herself yet. He had eyes like that once. Talos walked away from his pile of treasures and knelt next to her. ''You are strong to come as far as you have. And now with the needle, I think you can only get stronger from here.''
''You have my thanks for saying so, but how? I no longer have my sword arm,'' her eyes narrowed as she unconsciously gripped the stump of her shoulder.
''I believe you will forge a path regardless. That's just how you are. I see it even now. The light in your eyes will not allow you to give up. You know it as keenly as I,'' there were aeons of weight behind his words. Millicent knew she couldn't simply give in because she was missing an arm. The pull to her goal was too strong, and it was becoming clearer to her by the second, like a dense fog being lifted from her thoughts. However strong the compulsion was, it did not make her method of traversing her path any clearer. She felt lost without a sword. She tried to see the eyes shadowed by his visor in search of an answer, but saw nothing.
''How can you be so sure? To say those words with such conviction. I do not mean offence, but we have only just met.'' To that, Talos chuckled dryly.
''Experience, mostly,'' saying nothing more on the matter, he addressed something else. ''Pardon my saying, Millicent, but your ordeal has left you looking a mess.''
She took no offence to his statement. She was perfectly aware. Her crimson hair was disheveled and obstructed her vision in her right eye. It was still slightly damp with sweat as it clung to her face and neck. She knew she looked awful. Still, her cheeks coloured at him pointing it out. He didn't have to be so blunt about it. As uncaring of her appearance as Millicent was, she was still a lady.
''And what would you have me do? I don't suppose you have a comb and an extra hand do you?'' she said, her tone a little more petulant than she'd intended.
''As a matter of fact,'' he dug out an ivory hair comb from a pouch on his hip, ''I do.'' Millicent caught sight of the comb, seeing that it was delicately decorated with lettering of a kind she didn't recognise. There was an image carved into it, depicting the face of a beautiful woman, her expression serene and hair of gentle waves framing her face.
This and one other item truly belonged to Talos, unique to him. Everything else in his collection was either bought, scavenged or looted from the dead. But this was his and his alone.
He set about his task with utmost diligence, settling down behind her and began combing her hair, working the knots out. Millicent had expected rather rough treatment, but to her rather pleasant surprise, he was very gentle. It was clear to her that Talos was a warrior through-and-through, forged in the crucible of war and honed on the grindstone of hardship. How else would he have survived Caelid as intact as he had? His technique was a bit rough to begin with, but steadily, it improved like an old skill relearned. Millicent stayed silent, embarrassed but luxuriating in it. Only her sisters had done something like this for her, before she was the only one left.
''It has been,'' Talos began wistfully, ''a long, long time since I've done this,'' he sounded different, like he was somewhere else. There was a note of mixed emotions in his voice, but he controlled it well enough that she couldn't map it completely. Longing was the dominant note. ''I used to do this for my daughter, you know? She would come home with her brothers, all covered in dirt and scrapes. All three would have big, beaming smiles when they greeted me. Well, that was until my wife saw them. Then I'd have to pretend to be angry at them and scold them for getting dirty,'' he gave a small laugh, made tinny by his helm. ''Of course, they knew I didn't mind so long as they were safe. My boys, little rascals, they knew I let them get away with too much. So while they were getting an earful from their mother, I would brush the dirt and twigs from my girl's hair. Long and black as raven feathers, just like her mother's.''
As Millicent listened, she could hear the subtle pain laced within each word. She didn't know why he was telling her all of this. Was he even talking to her, or was he lost in memory? She wanted to hear more. It was an alien concept to her, to imagine a father doing this for his daughter. Gowry never did anything of the sort of her or her sisters. Just enough to keep them alive. That was his way. The rest of his nurturing was focused on turning them into fighters and teaching them sorcery and the means to survive. There was a stretch of silence before Millicent spoke.
''What was her name, Talos?'' she asked hesitantly. It was clear whatever memory he was recalling was bitter-sweet. She spoke hurriedly, fearing she'd upset him, ''You needn't answer if you do not wish to, I am just-''
''It's fine. It's in the past now. I have...'' he paused, ''…I have made peace. Her name was Abella. She was the sweetest little girl in my homeland. The spitting image of her mother. Little imp at the best of times, but I'm sure that's my fault,'' he chuckled. He didn't know why he was being so candid. Something about this situation just seemed to spur some long-buried paternal instinct in him into action. Millicent was a confused young woman, set upon by a cosmic disease that she didn't understand. She grew up in possibly the worst place a child could with a father that didn't seem interested in her as a daughter or a person, but as a placeholder for something else.
Talos had felt the taint of the Scarlet Rot on Gowry, too. It was only because that man had a use that he hadn't cut the bastard in half already. None of her sisters were present, and if his intuition was correct, they hadn't been for a long time. He knew she was scared, despite her impressive willpower. Right now, she was alone in the world. Millicent needed someone. Recalling how calmly Gowry told him about Millicent, it was like he were describing a stranger, not someone he claimed was his daughter.
She didn't ask anything else. She counted herself lucky that she hadn't trod any subjects that were too sore. Millicent wondered how it would have been, having a father like that. Having one that truly cared. There was always a clinical, detached way Gowry approached caring for them. In particular, he'd sing her praises, talking about her potential and 'blooming' into something great, but even that felt like it wasn't necessarily for her. Not Millicent, but something wearing Millicent's face. Nothing like what she was experiencing now.
''Tied back?'' Talos suddenly asked. It took a moment for her to process the question.
''O-oh, yes. Please,'' she stammered, ''I have a spare hair tie,'' she held out her arm, showing him a thin leather cord tied around her wrist. Talos undid the small knot and took it, gently gathered her hair and lightly pulled into shape before tying the leather cord close to her scalp, forming a ponytail. He moved over to her front to inspect his work.
''Much better,'' he said. The Rot had tried to steal her looks from her, evidenced by the splotches of white scarring spread out across her face. Still, he couldn't help but make a fuss when he saw some dried blood and dirt on her cheek. He reached out and rubbed it away with his thumb. Millicent didn't move or protest, merely sitting still as her cheeks coloured again. ''Pretty as a painting,'' he stood and offered a hand. Millicent took it without hesitation this time and carefully stood, testing her balance and the strength in her legs. Satisfied that she wouldn't fall, she offered a grateful smile to Talos.
''I cannot thank you enough for this,'' she sniffed, emotion coming unbidden, ''oh... this is unexpected,'' she rubbed her eyes. Millicent couldn't intelligently state how touched she was by kind gestures from what amounted to a stranger. Yet not even a full moon's rotation had passed and she felt like Talos could be trusted implicitly. She knew the ruthlessness the desolation of Caelid bred in its inhabitants, and as far as she knew, the rest of the Lands Between wasn't much better. He could have just as easily been someone else, only intent on slaying an easy mark. Yet he'd given her the means to quell the Scarlet Rot, and without any prompting or real necessity, he'd combed her hair and shared himself with her. She felt a burning need to offer something in return, but her intuition warned her not to bother. He'd only refuse. But what was the harm in trying?
''I don't know if I can ever repay you, but I would like you to have-'' she stopped when he held up a hand. Ah, so she was correct.
''Unnecessary. I did not help you in hopes of a reward, Millicent,'' he gestured to the pile of weapons and armour behind him, ''I've trinkets enough. What matters to me is that you are alive. If you wish to repay me, then leave this place and make something of yourself.''
''I... had been considering that. I want to embark on a journey,'' she said, ''with the needle embedded in my flesh, I have begun to recall, but dimly... my destiny.''
''Whatever it may be, strive for it and let nothing stop you,'' he moved to his belongings and started putting them back in the box. Millicent didn't voice her confusion at the spectacle, seeing objects that had no business fitting into the box disappearing into it without issue. Just what kind of box was that? ''I must take my leave now.''
She didn't let her disappointment show. She'd enjoyed this brief time with Talos. He'd been warmer to her than anyone since her sisters. But just like her, he had his own destiny to meet.
''I pray fate permits us to meet again,'' she said hopefully.
''We will. I promise.''
As promised, Talos accepted Melina's invitation. He took her hand and quickly found himself at the Roundtable hold, gathering place of vaunted Tarnished. Or so he had been led to believe. What greeted him was indeed a round table, with massive weapons embedded in its surface and surrounding a site of Grace that dwarfed all others he'd yet seen. Dotted around the room were an assortment of Tarnished, each as different as the last. Misfits. Not champions.
There were two figures Talos immediately recognised, those being Nepheli and Roderika. The former was coming through one of the hallways, while the former was stood by the sole fireplace in the room. Both noticed his arrival, with Nepheli nodding with a small grin, and Roderika gently smiling and waving.
''Talos,'' Nepheli greeted, ''about time you made your way here. Took your time saving maidens, didn't you?''
''Maidens?'' Talos asked. Ah, now he remembered. Melina had said that he already had some friends at the Roundtable Hold. So Irina must have been there too.
''I chanced upon the blind girl and her father a few days ago. They both told me about you, and the description matched. And then, Roderika showed up not long after,'' Nepheli said.
''It's a pleasure to see you again,'' Roderika said, ''I can't thank you enough for what you did for me.''
''I'm glad to see you both well. Tell me,'' Talos began as he gestured to the room around them, ''what is this place?''
''I believe I can answer that,'' a new, aged and gruff voice cut in. Nepheli looked to the source of the voice and knelt in deference.
''Father,'' she said hurriedly. The man raised a hand dismissively. He wore storm-grey armour of a unique design, with eyes embossed into the metal, while ears formed a kind of frill around his neck where they'd been forged meticulously into his helmet. A decorative sceptre was held in one hand as he held it like a cane, but Talos could tell at a glance it was just as capable a stave as it was a walking aid.
''Enough, Nepheli. Be about your business,'' she nodded and stood, sharing a glance with Talos before retreating back the way she'd come. Roderika went back to gazing into the flames of the fireplace, clearly ill at ease. Talos looked into the darkness of the man's helmet. So this was the father Nepheli had spoke of. ''So, you're Talos. Nepheli sang your praises when she returned. Said you took down Godrick the Grafted with ease and claimed his Great Rune.''
''She's a capable warrior herself. She made getting through Stomveil much easier,'' Talos said.
''Funny. She said the same of you. But while I have you, I'll introduce myself. I am Gideon Ofnir, leader of the Hold. As a Tarnished and prospective Elden Lord, I bid you welcome. This is a safe place, so you can ease your guard.'' Gideon gestured to a pair of large open doors, leading to a spacious, dark chamber. ''Those doors opened very recently. I believe the Two Fingers knew of your impending arrival since you are in possession of a Great Rune. If you wish, we may discuss more later. For now, however, I would advise receiving the wisdom of the Two Fingers.''
He didn't wait for a reply, instead turning and walking back to a room that he had claimed as his study. Before Talos went into the chamber, he made the rounds and met with the other Tarnished gathered there. There was Diallos Hoslow, a man in rather marvellous armour with dark hair. Talos had his measure quickly. He'd met a few men like him. His armour was too polished, worn more for show than protection. The look in his eyes was one of a man in over his head. Even his manner of speech evoked distant memories of an old friend, Ariona Allant, or Ostrava as he preferred, the prince of Boletaria. He made a note of something Diallos had said. The young noble had lost contact with his servant, Lanya. Talos told him that he'd look into the matter.
There was D, a hunter of Those Who Live In Death. His armour encompassed him from head to foot, but it was among the stranger sets Talos had seen. Made of dull gold and shining silver, it was like two bodies intertwined. In fact, it reminded Talos rather starkly of Lautrec of Carim, whose golden armour bore two arms wrapped around his torso in an embrace. He said little, and that suited Talos just fine.
Corhyn was as most priests had been. He was mild-mannered and softly spoken, utterly devoted to his faith. His attire was simple as he wore an off-yellow robe, a blindfold across his eyes, a cartwheel around his neck and a brass bell on his hip.
Talos decided that catching up with Roderika could wait. He would speak with her, but first, he needed to see the Two Fingers. Since arriving, he'd felt a kind of itching on the inside of his skull, and that filled him with the same apprehension he'd felt on the Night of the Hunt. The sensation only made itself known when he was in the presence of something... otherworldly.
He licked his lips as he approached the large doors, steadying himself. Then, he went inside.
Fia kept herself removed from everyone else within the Roundtable hold. She had no aspirations to be Elden Lord, and those that did treated her with disdain. A Deathbed Companion. That was her role. In her homeland, it was a noble profession, but everywhere else, it was seen as little more than degeneracy. To lay with the dead so they might rise again was an unnatural act to an unnatural end. Whether or not it were the case, Fia accepted her role wholeheartedly.
She occupied one of the larger chambers of the Hold for herself, and it was perhaps the most comfortable. It had a large bed, a fireplace, a dresser and a mirror. Everything a woman could need. And so she was content to stay there and sup on the vigour passing champions. Through the echoing halls, she heard the arrival of a new Tarnished, and she heard that his one was particularly mighty. He was a Shardbearer, one who had slain a Demigod and claimed their Great Rune. Oh how she wanted to imbibe some of his strength for herself.
There was a small period of calm. Then it was broken. From the chamber of the Two Fingers, a place that none of the others occupying the Hold had been into, they all heard this new Tarnished fly into a rage unlike anything they'd heard before. She stood and left her room, coming to a halt just at the threshold to the round chamber where the others usually gathered. She didn't dare venture too close, not with D present. They'd all turned, baffled by what was happening. Even that old goat Gideon Ofnir had managed to pull himself from his books to come and see, closely followed by that ghoulish bodyguard of his, Ensha.
''What's that bloody fool doing?'' Gideon grunted. That was a good question, Fia had to admit. She noticed someone else nearby. Nepheli had come to a stop beside her, her eyes firmly locked on the dark doorway. Rather than speaking, everyone listened.
''Do they know what you are, creature? Do they?'' Talos raged, ''You, a masquerade meant to shepherd these blind fools while your faceless master hides amid the cosmos!''
A brief silence.
''Blasphemy!? You dare speak to me of blasphemy? I see no divine being here, abomination, only the extension of a greater monster! You gorge yourself on the worship of those you have bewitched!''
Roderika, Nepheli and even Fia, who'd had minimal contact with the two exchanged a glance. He was talking directly with the Two Fingers? Not only that, but he was repudiating it, scorning its very existence. Another quieter voice chimed in, though they couldn't clearly here it.
''Oh, spare me your sermons, crone. You're hardly in a position to lecture me, complicit with this thing's crimes against mankind as you are,'' Talos snarled, ''Heed my words, Two Fingers, I deny you and all of your bastard kind. I've slaughtered your ilk before and shall do so again!''
The quieter voice came quicker, more insistent.
''I am not shackled by the Greater Will. It holds no sway over me! No god will control my fate again, I will not allow it! All you do is bring ruin and misery, spawning cycles of unending suffering. And it always falls to mortals, your chattel, to pick up the pieces. No more!''
The power behind Talos' words was no metaphor. They actually shook the Rountable Hold, sending dust down from the ceiling as the floor rumbled. No one dared move. The air was thick as an overwhelmingly oppressive aura seeped out from the chamber. It stank of blood and fire.
''Count your days, for they are numbered,'' his voice was a hiss of hot anger, of suppressed murderous need, ''I will hunt your god and feed it its own black heart. Send me your worst and I will break them. Everything it stands for and has built will die in flames. That is my promise to you. Two Fingers, Greater Will, whatever else dares try to wrap its vile hands around mankind's throat!''
Fia couldn't help herself. She didn't care that D could very well strike her down then and there, she had to see this for herself. She had to see the man who spat in the face of the Golden Order, and in the presence of the Two Fingers no less. She ascended the stairs but didn't enter. There, bound in bands of light with runes floating and fading out of sight, was Talos, his arms compressed to his sides. He didn't struggle. He merely stared down the withered crone and the enormous, alien Two Fingers with righteous fury practically boiling off of him.
''Tis a great shame one as strong as you are unfit to serve the Fingers. Begone, Tarnished,'' the diminutive, withered Finger Reader Crone intoned from her seat beside the monstrous Two Fingers.
There was a bright glow and a deafening ringing that made everyone wince and instinctively back away, until with a percussive boom, the binds holding Talos shifted to his front, coalescing into a single point. It shot into his chest and blasted him from his feet and out of the chamber, mere inches over Fia's head. As this happened, the doors slammed shut. Talos crashed into the far wall and finally hit the floor, landing on his front. He smashed a fist into the floor, and much to everyone's surprise, left a fist-sized crater in the stone. Talos' breath was ragged, each exhalation was a growl that set everyone on edge.
Everything was silent for a time. Talos calmed himself and straightened. His body was still rigid with tension as he stared hatefully towards the now closed doors to the Two Fingers. Nepheli watched him carefully, torn between being on-guard and and asking him if he was alright. Roderika looked bewildered, unsure what to think. It was Fia who took initiative. She needed to speak to Talos before anyone else had the chance, especially Ofnir.
''Talos,'' damn, too slow! Talos looked to see Edgar standing behind Roderika and Nepheli.
''Edgar,'' Talos fought his anger down and gathered what calm he could, ''it is good to see you. I trust Irina is well.''
''She is. Come, she would like to speak with you.'' Edgar was no fool. He felt the stifling atmosphere and knew its source. In his time amongst the other Tarnished, he knew that D and Cohryn would not take kindly to Talos' outburst against the Two Fingers. To reject them was to reject the Golden Order, and those two were strict adherents to both.
Talos sucked in a calming breath. He chastised himself for losing his temper. But how could he not? He knew what those things could do. Yarnham was proof enough of the malignant power of these so-called gods. Whether they were of the same cosmic breed or not, the fact of the matter was that they were dangerous. All too happy to bend mankind to their wills, to use humanity's curiosity and industrious spirit for their own ends. Only Kos escaped his ire, but only because she was long-dead before he learned of her. To ensure nothing like the Night of the Hunt happened again, or prevent mankind from reaching too far only to be burned, man either had to die, or the gods did. And Talos wasn't about to make humanity extinct.
''Lead on, then,'' Talos followed Edgar further into the Hold, past a large Misbegotten who single-mindedly toiled at his anvil, muttering critically to himself as he worked. They went down a flight of stairs, where there was a set of large metal doors to the left. Edgar placed both hands on them and pushed them open on grinding hinges.
''Apparently these doors have been closed for quite some time. Took some work to get them open again,'' he huffed with the exertion once they were open, ''there's a few doors like this in the Hold. I should see about opening them, too.'' The room beyond the doors was where Edgar and Irina had claimed for themselves. Inside was a fireplace and a couple of beds, with a table in the middle. There were bookshelves stocked with dusty tomes, and a few weapon racks held spears and swords at the far end of the room. ''Irina? I've brought a guest.''
Her consciousness was fractured and adrift. Her body was broken. She languished within the Erdtree, punished by the Greater Will for her transgressions and doubts, but she remained firm as she held herself together.
Queen Marika the Eternal had no concept of time from within her prison, but she knew that ages had passed since her imprisonment. She was aware this would happen, but accepted her fate willingly. As the vessel for the Elden Ring, she would never be allowed to die. Yet through the guidance of Grace, she knew that her plan was still in effect. The Tarnished were still active within the Lands Between, though she was beginning to fear that her gambit had failed.
In ages passed, the Tarnished were mighty warriors, fearsome contenders for the title of Elden Lord. Then, as time went on, what were once champions of the battlefield had slowly become vainglorious wretches, weak of mind and conviction. Many were simply disinterested in pursuing lordship, while others mired themselves in power to destroy others with no regard for their status as Tarnished. That didn't mean others didn't try. They failed miserably. The closest to becoming Elden Lord was a single Tarnished, Vyke of the Dragon Cult. But even he finally succumbed to mortal follies.
It was difficult to remain even remotely positive. She was imprisoned and immobile with her mind splintered. Her children had proven themselves unfit to become Elden Lord, as had the Tarnished. She had sacrificed and betrayed so much to unseat the Golden Order, yet so far, it all seemed to be in vain. Marika had wondered if Godfrey would return to take the throne. Yet if he did, she was unsure if she could meet his eyes again.
It came as a shock when she felt something new emerge in the Lands Between, its presence sending ripples through tangled weave of influence that the Greater Will had imposed upon the land. At first, she couldn't determine what it was. She could feel its power and the alien nature that was at odds with the natural order. Threads of fate were severed in its wake as it wandered the land, making changes that the Greater Will was beginning to notice. It didn't appreciate this intruder's meddling, but being the absentee entity that it was, it had yet to react. But it would, in due time. Soon it would start fighting back, using its power to make an already hostile world even more so. How satisfying it was, to see the Greater Will grow concerned. Right now, however, it was watching and analysing, but its passivity wouldn't last long. She learned more as time passed.
The foreign presence on this world was a man, one that had no ties to the order of the world. He was completely free of the Greater Will, and thus was not beholden to its whims. That made him dangerous, and even better, unpredictable. He was essentially a blind spot in the omniscient view that the Greater Will had. Marika took quiet delight, not that she had a choice, in this man having the guidance of Grace. He would be eligible for Elden Lord, and more than that, he could reject the Golden Order and the Greater Will in their entirety. Through the sites of Grace, she heard his words and watched him as he rested. It hadn't escaped her notice that the leaves of the Erdtree burned upon contact with him. Could it be that he was the antithesis to the Golden Order? It could very well be that he was the one truly meant to tear it all down. Whatever the case, Marika was eager to know more.
This Tarnished, Talos, was akin to an eternally burning kiln of power, more so than even Godfrey had been. It was perfect. His coming here was perfect. All of her scheming against the Greater Will was finally paying off. Within arms reach was a weapon to finally put the Greater Will to the torch.
However, she needed to get a better view, and that would certainly take some doing. It would be difficult and rather taxing, especially with the leal hound Radagon watching her every move. But she was a goddess, and she was nothing if not resourceful. Not just anyone could orchestrate what she had, after all.
Let it never be said that Marika let opportunities slip. With her mind already splintered, she pieced together enough of herself to formulate a plan that could hasten Talos' arrival at the Erdtee. The guidance of grace was just not enough in this instance, and so she took it upon herself to be more direct. Radagon might notice, but by the time he did, it would already be too late for him to stop her. She counted it as a blessing that while they were twinned entities, they didn't share each other's thoughts. Had that been the case, the Shattering wouldn't have happened, or if it did, it would not have been a smooth undertaking.
Marika focused as hard as she could, drawing in as many disparate shards of her consciousness as possible. She pieced them together, moulding them into a projection of herself. It wasn't perfect, but it would serve its purpose. Aiming her intent at the Rountable Hold, she found Talos easily. He was a burning pyre amongst tiny flames in her mind's eye. And then she released it. A sizeable portion of herself was now gone, sent to the Tarnished that her hopes now hinged upon. Her mind became muddled and murky, and on the outside, her body bore fresh cracks.
''Talos? Is something the matter?'' Irina asked. They'd been talking for a while, sharing the apparently endless supply of wine and telling Talos how they'd settled into the Hold. Talos had been recalling his travels through Caelid, when he went silent mid-sentence. Edgar and Irina had waited for him to continue, but he didn't. Instead he stared ahead as if distracted by something.
It was that sensation again. The same sensation he felt when one of those things was nearby. The incessant itching on the inside of his skull. It was different this time. He was familiar enough with it to know. It was like something had entered the room, a presence yet unseen and unfelt by the other two occupants. Then, an ache began to spread behind his eyes as what felt like a migraine took root. It was like something was boring its way into him, worming into his very being. It felt like an intimate violation that made his stomach churn violently.
''Nothing,'' he finally said, resisting the urge to remove his helmet and rub his eyes, ''you'll have to excuse me for now. My apologies for cutting this short, but I have business to attend to.'' Gods above, he felt sick.
Edgar said nothing, but he wasn't convinced. Irina looked concerned and disappointed, but she knew that being idle wasn't the lot of those intent on becoming Elden Lord.
''Well, far be it from us to stop you. Take care, Talos,'' Edgar said with a nod.
''Yes, please be safe,'' Irina added. Talos stood with stiff movements. He nodded to them both and swiftly left as he began to sweat and his mouth rapidly became dry. What was this? He'd been poisoned countless times, and while they'd been horrible experiences, this felt different. Worse. It was so sudden. Was it the wine? Was even his godly constitution lacking in the face of alcohol after so long without it? No, that couldn't be the case. Was this place always so warm? Talos hurriedly made his way up the stairs, ignoring Fia as she called out to him from her doorway and moved towards the site of Grace in the centre of the round table. He didn't care where he went as long as it wasn't here.
Warping out, he found himself in Limgrave near Mistwood. He fell to his knees and and clawed at his helmet, desperate to get it off. With the buckles unfastened, he ripped it off and tossed it aside. He gratefully sucked in cool air and let it wash over his clammy skin. He fought the urge to retch as he took an Estus Flask from his hip and doused himself in water. Talos looked around and saw the ruins of a church around him. He'd been here a while ago when Melina recited some of Queen Marika's words to him. Where was Melina anyway?
''My apologies for the intrusion, Tarnished,'' a melodious voice spoke. Talos looked to the source and saw her. Stood beneath the statue of Marika was an inhumanly tall woman with golden hair in a single long braid, holding him under her golden gaze. Her body was adorned in a fine black dress, hemmed in gold and showed more skin than Talos thought appropriate. A segmented belt of gold hugged her wide hips, while golden bangles ringed her forearms. Talos noticed that the wind did nothing to disturb her clothing, utterly still in the night breeze.
''What...?'' Talos asked as the disorientation began to abate. Though he couldn't find his words, he knew this was the one responsible for his current state.
''I hadn't expected thee to react so poorly to my arrival. Again, I apologise. There was no way for me to forewarn thee, and such a thing is a first for me as well,'' she walked closer, her gait graceful and measured. Shadows shifted from her face, and when it met the moonlight, Talos was met with arguably the most beautiful face he'd ever seen. She seemed crafted from the most fantastical dreams of the most masterful artist. The golden eyes that had burned molten in the shadows retained their glow even in the light. It was a fatal kind of beauty, bewitching and splendid. Great men could be and likely had been driven to ruin over her.
''Who are you?'' Talos growled, ''what have you done to me?'' he stood slowly, anger bleeding through his movements. She knew she was the target of anger belonging to an entity whose nature was unknown to her. There was no telling what he could do when provoked, and it was clear to her that he did not appreciate her intrusion upon his soul in the slightest. Marika had made the briefest contact with his soul upon her entry, and it was a terrible, wrathful thing indeed. To her credit, the woman's impassive face hardly moved, with only a slight upward curl of her lips.
''Guide thine eyes to the statua before thee. It barest a resemblance uncanny, dost it not?'' she said coyly. Talos looked to the statue at the back wall of the church and saw what she meant. This was Marika. Well, this was certainly unexpected.
''Do you make a habit of attaching yourself to others, phantom?'' Talos hissed.
''Noticed, didst thee? Thou art certainly perceptive, Talos. But please understand, I hath very good reason for this unwelcome union betwixt our beings,'' she said sympathetically, ''I know the unpleasantness of having one's soul fixed to another.''
''And misery loves company,'' he grunted.
''Thy scorn is noted. There is no malice in my actions, rest assured.''
''Get to the point. You are Queen Marika. What business do you have with me?'' Talos' eyes narrowed. With his helmet removed, Marika took note of his appearance. Talos looked to be a man of middle-age, grizzled with very little black remaining in his short, greying hair. Age lines were like crags in his face, while a silver beard of stubble lined his jaw and dusted his hollow cheeks. Most striking were his eyes. They were deep set, but in the shadows cast by the moonlight, Marika saw burning rings of orange around his pupils.
''Thou dost not prostrate thyself before me. Good. I hath ill need of sycophants. The point, then,'' she stalked closer and stopped just beyond touching distance, ''I know not what thou art or from whence thou came. But it matters little. What matters is that thou hast caused the Greater Will to become disquieted. 'Tis a placid and slothful, yet jealous overlord. It cannot perceive or control thee, and that frightens it, like a child in the dark.''
''I believe I told you to get to the point,'' Talos said. Marika's phantom merely chuckled.
''Such impertinence. Quite refreshing, honestly. But thou art justified in thy haste. I took great risk in this endeavour. Radagon, my quite literal other half, watches my every move. But even the most vigilant of lapdogs grow weary eventually. I gathered what I could of my splintered self, and through the power of Grace that I bestowed upon the Tarnished, I latched my spirit to thine own. Such is the reach of Grace. 'Tis of my own creation, and all Tarnished are inextricably linked to me. A simple concept, but the execution was most taxing.'' Marika said.
''So you used the mechanisms by which Grace and the Tarnished are connected as a means of attaching yourself to my soul like some kind of gold-spangled leech. Am I correct?'' Talos' irritation was growing. ''You talk a lot yet say little, so I will ask why. And speak plain.''
''As thou wishest. Put simply, thou represent an opportunity I'd not had before. Anomalous thou art, beyond the sight of the Greater Will. When I banished Lord Godfrey and his legions, they became the Tarnished. Divested of grace, they were exiled so that they may seekest adversity and grow stronger. They were my weapon against the Golden Order, and 'tis upon them I made my gambit. Alas, 'tis not a perfect plan, for no plan is, but I hadn't expected thee, Talos. Thou art a foreign existence, yet Grace guides thee. Thou art Tarnished. Whence other Tarnished were to become a mighty hammer with which to shatter the Golden Order, thou art the knife in the dark to slit the Greater Will's throat.''
''Bloody hell, woman! Stop stalling!'' Talos' choler was reaching its boiling point. Marika blinked slowly.
''I hath attached as much as I could of my fractured self to you because I believe that with my direct guidance, thou and I can deal the decisive blow against the Golden Order and cast the Greater Will's influence from this world. With someone as uniquely positioned as thineself within the grand scheme, I could not stomach passivity any longer,'' she explained calmly. At that, Talos raised an eyebrow, his sneer becoming an amused grin.
''Oh? You believe you, a goddess, can help me? I've never needed help from your kind before,'' he said indignantly.
''Be that as it may, thou lackest knowledge. Knowledge that I hath in abundance. There art yet more gods I would bid us drive out,'' her eyes softened, ''prithee, Talos, ye of great strength and grit, let us aid one another. The Lands Between and its peoples hath suffered enough. I will ensure passage to the throne, and thine claim to the title of Elden Lord is assured.''
''Promises can wait. The Scarlet Rot is borne of one of these other gods, I know,'' as Talos said it, Marika's face looked pained.
''Yes. A cursed scourge from the cosmos. It hath taken root and yet festers within my dear daughter, my poor Malenia. 'Tis a cancer upon creation. Miquella, my dear eternally young son and twin of Malenia, toiled endlessly for an end to her malady,'' her golden eyes narrowed and their glow intensified, ''I would scour the stars and cast the Goddess of Rot into eternal flames for her transgressions.''
As a parent himself, Talos could sympathise. He would feel the same. The rage he felt when he heard about the fall of Boletaria was one of his clearest memories. His loyalty to King Allant went up in flames when he discovered what was left of his family amid the ruins of his once-beloved kingdom. He had avenged them, but the wound in his heart never quite healed.
Talos relaxed himself. Marika was a goddess, true, as well as the one responsible for the current state of the world. But their goals aligned. Both of them would see the world purged of the malign machinations of the Outer Gods and the world returned to its equilibrium. Perhaps hearing her side of things would answer some of his questions. That didn't mean he trusted her, though.
''Fine. Tag along if you must,'' before Marika could utter a word, Talos suddenly seemed much larger, like his presence became magnified, ''but if I suspect even the slightest treachery from you, I won't hesitate to tear my own soul apart to remove you. Am I understood?'' the ember glow of his eyes seemed to intensify. It felt like to full weight of his existence bore down on her in that instant, and she nodded. Then suddenly, it was as if he were the same unassuming stature he'd always been. The overwhelming aura he exuded receded back.
''I hath terms I wouldst make known before we journey together,'' Marika said. Talos frowned but let her continue. ''I will bequeath unto thee my knowledge of the Outer Gods. I cannot be of much aid besides in my current state. But I would like something from thee, Talos.''
''And that would be?'' Talos was immediately suspicious. Marika found his suspicion tiresome, but understood his reticence. Even now, she was learning more and more about him through the bond she'd forged between them. She needed him, and for their mission to be a success, he needed to learn to trust her.
''When we enter the Erdtree and find my remains, I want thee to awaken me. I will be of more help to thee with my corporeal flesh restored. And as Elden Lord, thou wilt need a consort,'' Marika said.
''Resurrection and a marriage. It would make for an eventful day, I will grant you that,'' Talos replied flatly.
''Come now, Talos, thou shouldst know the workings of lordship, no? 'Tis not uncommon for royal unions be devoid of emotional attachment. If thou wishest, ours would be purely of practicality. Thou wouldst secure our rule, while I secure our lineage. A simple yet vital transaction, so long as we maintained appearances.''
''I know how it works,'' he groaned at what he thought was condescension, ''And with no alternative, it is something I will take into consideration. Happy?''
Marika shook her head, ''Unfortunately, that will not do. I need an oath from thee. I will swear upon all I hold dear that my loyalty to thee and our shared goals is eternal,'' she swallowed and knelt before an increasingly confused Talos, ''shouldst thou find me wanting, then prithee, taketh my head and be done with it. If thine disgust with the divine runneth that strong, then I will not resist.''
Talos was taken aback. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, but not with intent to execute the God-Queen, but in preparation for trickery. Surely she wouldn't willingly leave herself at his mercy just to prove a point. There must have been some contingency in place, some fail-safe that meant his destruction as well as hers. But Talos had a discerning eye. He knew deceit when he saw it, and in the goddess' eyes wasn't cunning or spite, but an earnest plea for his help. What was in this for her? She retained her rule, of course, but was her disdain for the Outer Gods akin to his own? Of course, the Outer Gods ruled this land and one even had purchase in her daughter, Malenia. More importantly, if she was some kind of phantasm, would cutting her head off even do anything? As he pondered, her eyes bored into his as she awaited his answer. She looked so earnest, desperate even. Dammit, he wished she wouldn't look at him like that!
''Oh...'' he drew the sound out then sighed, ''...fine. Now get that look off your face. And stand up. You look pathetic,'' he ground the words out. She took his barbed words in stride, a serene look overtaking her face as she bowed. It wounded her pride, but she was ultimately a practical woman. She wouldn't let it get in her way. While he wasn't a hot-blooded young man anymore, Talos fought to keep his eyes from wandering as she bowed low. He instead gave his oath to distract himself. He drew his sword and held it upright, mere inches from his face
''I pledge my loyalty and everything at my disposal to our cause. Where my blade falls, evil will sunder. Where my lightning strikes, monsters will be illuminated. Where my sorcery flies, the vile gods will learn to fear us. I will be the purging fire that expels the Outer Gods. Mine will be the hand of judgment that makes the land right once more. This is my binding oath, my word to you, Queen Marika,'' he lowered his sword and met her eyes, ''but know that betrayal will be followed by swift and terrible vengeance.''
Marika smiled beatifically, like a weight had been lifted from her. ''Of that, I hath little doubt, but thine concerns of betrayal are misplaced. We will be working closely from now on, and I will show thee my worth. Now, my Consort,'' she added cheekily, ''we hath tarried long enough. I will be with thee shouldst thou needeth my assistance.''
As quickly as she'd arrived, she was gone, retreating into the recesses of Talos' soul. He picked up his helmet and stared at it for a while, then he brought it and his forehead crashing together with a hollow clank of steel on bone. There, he felt slightly better now.
''First Greyoll, and now bloody Marika. Who else is going to lay claim to me before this is all said and done?'' he sighed and rubbed his eyes before putting his helmet back on, ''she'll be a headache. Of that, I'm certain.''
As Talos decided where his next destination would be, there were two questions on his mind. Where was Melina? And who the bloody hell was howling!?
Millicent begins her journey and Marika has directly involved herself, quite the deviation from canon. So, for the part with Millicent, after she puts the needle in and you rest at the site of grace, her hair is in a ponytail. I wondered how she did that with one hand, so I thought it would be nice if Talos helped her with that and use that to add a bit of characterisation to him. I don't see many Elden Ring/Soulsborne fics that feature protags with much established history, so I thought making him a husband and a father would be a good choice, as well as establishing that he isn't a young character through his appearance. Most of the most powerful characters in these games happen to be old/older men, with Talos being more like Godfrey rather than, say, Gherman, so I think it fits.
With Millicent, I'm going with something I haven't seen done before. It isn't the waifu route, this is the daughter route. Poor girl needs a better father figure than that wretched creature Gowry.
I know that for the most part, the Great Ones aren't evil as we would catagorise it, and the events of Bloodborne come from humanity pushing too hard with things they don't understand. From Talos' perspective, despite knowing this, I believe witnessing and experiencing the Night of the Hunt would heavily skew his opinion of the Great Ones and make him despise them. Learning from Aldia from Dark Souls 2 about Gwynn's mistakes dooming the world to the never ending cycle would have only been the spark that ignited his hatred of gods, and the events of Bloodborne would only add fuel to that hatred. But all of that will be addressed in later chapters. For now, with the Outer Gods who so far are truly malicious entities, they're just more gods for Talos to hate.
As for Marika, well, I don't think anyone knows what's going on with Marika while she's imprisoned. She's a goddess and the Tarnished are her creations, so I think a bit of creative liberty can be used here. I think if she were aware of Talos and what he is, she wouldn't just sit and watch as she would with any other Tarnished. I think she'd leap at the chance to take as much control of the situation as she could to leverage the power of someone like Talos. After all, he is the perfect weapon against the Golden Order and the Greater will as he is completely outside of their influence. Also, I just think Marika would be a fun character to bounce off of Talos. I think there's room for growth for the two of them if they stick together.
Next chapter: Meeting Blaidd, Ranni and Alexander, then taking the first steps into Liurnia. If you liked this chapter and the story so far, feel free to fav, follow, or even review. The feedback has been helping me keep this going, and I haven't run out of steam yet. Until next time.