"Shall I turn your runes to strength? Let my hand rest upon you for but a moment.

Share them with me - your thoughts, your ambitions, the principles you would follow."

I would follow… I would follow the natural path of righteousness, though so many before me have said much the same and instead carved a trail of ruin.

If this were not enough, I would follow…

… my ambitions. While it may sound of a hunger for power, a desire, my ambitions… I would follow them.

My ambitions to make gentle the life of this world.

For the people, for the good. For mankind and brotherhood.

My ambitions to become Elden Lord.

The knight's hand exited that of his bodiless travelling companion, though the sensation of the spectral touch loitered there for a second longer. She'd been alongside him all of this time, but presented herself scarcely. They were something akin to friends, he imagined, and she'd been so generous as to bequeath Torrent unto him. Traversing Limgrave on foot would have been a long journey, though he was no stranger to the adversities of a wayfarer.

Grace jutted from the soil as a golden stake, showing the way one site at a time. Its hue was, despite the morning sun having just reached its peak radiance, the most grossly incandescent aspect of the environment.

"What do you make of this so far, Melina? Already it has been quite an experience in these lands, and I have yet, even, to step very far beyond Castle Stormveil. Do I live up to your expectations as an ally by pact, the Tarnished who vowed to bring you to the Erdtree's base?"

The pseudo-maiden Melina turned to look over the cliffs for a brief second.

"... as I told you once before, I previously wondered whether you were fit to face the challenge set before you by the guidance of grace. I'm convinced now of your measure. You have since come into possession of a fragment of the shattered Elden Ring - the first step of many towards Lordship. You are fit to seek the throne, if only you continue to walk the path."

Knight Arthur shifted to peer over those cliffs, as well. Mist, a thick veil of it, covered what must have been a hundred trees.

"Well, thank you. I shall try in earnest. I imagine the path ahead of us spans greater than that facing our backs; the struggle has only just drawn the curtain on its first act…"

He made a grand gesture indicating the sheer scale of this new land.

"... or perhaps we remain in its midst."

Melina did find it endearing, her ally's vigor in pursuing the title set out for all Tarnished to earn. Too many Tarnished were content to sit down and die rather than fight with every ounce of passion in their heart. She felt she had chosen well at nearly every step of the way, as his one-man crusade against wickedness unfurled before her eyes.

He had built an array of unconventional friends - a brawny half-wolf, a domineering witch from the Academy in the lake's midst, a warrior jar whose temperament complemented his perfectly, a meek demi-human tailor and a fellow Tarnished knight - which showed that he certainly was a man of no discrimination. She took a small pride in the fact that, regardless of who he befriended, there'd never be anyone else like her on his side, able to give him unparalleled strength…

… with one exception.

That girl.

The blonde-haired maiden with that silk-and-leather garb who whispered sweetly in his ear. Even when out of sight Melina remained by Arthur's side, though not literally conjoined at the hip, and she knew everything. The girl, Roderika, was a distraction from the quest of her Tarnished to seek the crown of Elden Lord.

A distraction from the woes and miseries that would send other Tarnished careening off of the path. A distraction that the Kindling Maiden was, secretly, overjoyed Arthur had.

Runes into strength from one… heart into strength from the other.

Strength all the more, strength to challenge the demigods of old.

"It seems that the continuation of this journey is nigh… we had best hurry to meet it. I sincerely hope that this region does not have any grafting Lords, as I have had quite my share of those lately. One is enough. Perhaps we can find a rowboat somewhere to travel… the title 'Liurnia of the Lakes' inspires little confidence that we shall remain dry. … imagine, though, if Godrick had a boat large enough for him, and all ten of 'his' arms were on the oars! I dread to think how fast he could catch up to us."

The knight viewed his circumstances with the enthusiasm his companion knew would benefit him. No man could be entirely serious and entirely sane.

"Ah, right, you are burned and bodiless. Spectral. I recall. You can simply… do as spirits do and leave all of the splashing to myself and the rusting to my legwear."

That (and the boat comment) proved enough to earn a smile, as soft and silent as it was, from Melina. If he had the fortitude to remain jovial through these horrors, he had fortitude enough for the trials ahead of them.

As the lakeside breeze grazed Arthur's face and effortlessly passed over hers, he secured the sheathed flamberge over his back and stood. She arose as well.

"Well, it is my supposing that this is where you fade into the sunrays, just as Torrent will materialize from them once more. Farewell until the next bit of respite, Melina."

Golden rays pointed towards land to the side of the lake. Maybe he could avoid wet feet, after all.

Making his way down the path, he was on the verge of summoning Torrent when he caught sight of a very… familiar woman. Like an imagination-figment from the corner of his eye, only when he snapped his head to glimpse her she did not vanish.

He stilled completely, his mouth agape.

Her.

"Irina? You… is it you, truly? How do you live still? You were… dead in the road…"

She simply looked at him dumbly (well, her head turned to face him, as her eyes did very little looking).

"Hello? Is someone there? My name is Hyetta, and I'm journeying in search of the distant light."

Impossible. Without a doubt… it is her…

"Have you… forgotten yourself? Irina, it is I, Arthur."

To prove himself, he removed his helm. His face, though very slightly obscured at the top by bandages, was still very much his own.

It had no effect.

Wait… she cannot see. Fool!

Had there not been more pressing matters at hand, he would have palmed his face with said hand.

"We spoke in the South of Limgrave, and you sent me to retrieve your father from Castle Morne. Do you not… recall?"

What was visible of her expression, uncovered by the large blindfold, turned into a confused and semi-frowning countenance. 'Hyetta' shook her head briefly.

"I don't know who you speak of, but… I'm not her, sorry to say. Again, my name is Hyetta."

"..."

"..."

"... sure. Alright. You are… Hyetta. Hello, 'Hyetta'. I am Arthur… Knight Arthur, of the Roundtable Hold. I seek to become Elden Lord. As you may have surmised, I am a Tarnished, and better yet, I see grace."

Beneath his steely exterior, both of demeanor and attire, Arthur was… disturbed by all of this. He knew this to be Irina. She was identical, yes, identical in every aspect. Her voice even resembled the girl's, though that of 'Hyetta' sounded a fair bit lighter in pitch.

Moreso, he knew that Irina was dead.

He had found her hacked open with an iron cleaver, as had her own father, and mourned her as best as any man could mourn a stranger. An innocent, and a sweet one, but a stranger nonetheless.

"I see. Maybe you've come across some Shabriri grapes in your travels. If I might be so bold as to ask... would you donate any to me? My eyesight has been weak since birth, you see. I can't tell which way I'm supposed to go next, but… when I eat one of those grapes, I can feel a distant light in the back of my eyes. It will lead me to my true duty as a Finger Maiden."

"Shabriri grapes? Well… I have never heard of those. I know it may be somewhat… difficult for you, but… could you, perhaps, tell me what they look like?"

She didn't hesitate. Her craving for the things was apparent… as was her familiarity with them.

"They are rather squishy and soft things that burn in my mouth. I can make out only the bare details with my weak eyes, but they're shaped more like perfect circles than ordinary grapes are, and there's a very textured, shriveled part of them that surrounds the grape itself. A very dark, circular spot is always on the front of the inside. They're a sickly yellow color, and they ooze a str-"

"That sounds like a rotten eyeball. Why would… why would I possess such a thing? Why would you eat such a thing? Just the thought is stirring my breakfast within me…"

Revulsion spiked in Arthur. It only barely subsided as she spoke again.

"They help guide me to my true duty as a Finger Maiden, as I said. To you they may sound… disgusting, but their burn is truly sweet… they sear my tongue, yet they're delectably tender. I doubt they're eyeballs as you say."

"... well, regardless of what they are or are not, I do not have any of these 'Shabriri grapes'. If I did, I would certainly rid myself of them by handing them over to you… though my better judgment would advise me to stomp them into the ground instead."

The expression of 'Hyetta' remained sweet and rather unassuming. By now Arthur had begun to consider the possibility that, perhaps, this was some innocent (albeit strange) woman with a freakish resemblance to a dead girl.

Still… she… she wears the same dress, and the same gloves, and the same blindfold! The exact same; I know it. Her hair is precisely as I remember it, as well. There is… no possible way, though. Dead is dead…

"I see. Many thanks to you anyway. May the blessing of the Fingers be upon you."

Arthur was going to nod, but remembered midway through that she could not see him.

"Of course, 'Hyetta'. The same goes for you. Do be well on your journey."

As well as one can be eating eyeball-fruits…

The knight stepped away from the odd woman. Just a small ways further down the path, the remains of another church were visible… hopefully with a baptismal basin. Perhaps he could wash himself clean of the mental image conjured by not-Irina's 'Shabriri grapes'.

Unlike most other places of worship he'd encountered, no grace lingered within. Something better did, though - a sane human being. ('Sane' is defined, in this case, as "not attempting to kill me".)

In contrast to the somewhat-ragged dress that 'Hyetta' wore, the bald-and-bearded fellow sitting by what he assumed to be an idol of Marika was garbed in fine robes of blue-and-red. They were the same as those of the sorceress Sellen, only not complemented by a kindly-looking stone mask.

"Greetings. There is quite wonderful weather in this region, is there not?"

The presumed-sorcerer looked up and responded with a weary smile.

"Indeed. You're Tarnished, aren't you?"

Knight Arthur nodded.

"I most surely am."

"Then… perhaps you could spare some runes? Believe it or not, I studied glintstone sorceries at the Academy of Raya Lucaria. For a small donation, I'd be happy to share my knowledge."

"The Academy of Raya Lucaria, you say?"

The man nodded.

He must be of the same ilk as Sellen. What a small world! It hardly feels so small as I traverse it, though…

"How fortuitous. Here… I have quite the collection of runes, so it is only right to share."

The knight held out a sizeable brown pouch.

"Well, bless you, bless you. You are a true saint. My name is Thops."

Knight Arthur's left hand removed his steel helm, and as he rested it between forearm and chest, his right travelled forward again - this time to shake that of Thops.

"That is higher praise than I would afford myself, but… you are very welcome. I am Arthur… Knight Arthur, of the Roundtable Hold."

It still does not come naturally, introducing myself as a 'knight'. This will change in time, I imagine. Someday, I will be a knight in title and in spirit.

The two men smiled as they shook hands. Immediately, each knew the other to be a good sort - a rarity in dark times such as these.

"I should have expected no less generosity from a knight. Bless you again."

"Err, thank you. You… said something about sorceries, did you not? As it turns out, I, myself, have studied some glintstone sorceries under a woman I met in Limgrave. She is named Sellen, and she mentioned being within your Academy as well. Do you know of her?"

Immediately at the mention of 'Sellen', the sorcerer perked up, almost as though that name were of importance.

"You've taken an apprenticeship with Sellen? Well, that is something. Sellen was well known… the most promising sorceress in the history of the Academy."

"That sounds about right. She is, indeed, a bright woman."

Thops' weary smile grew a bit fonder as he recalled past days…

"I followed her at school, but there may as well have been an ocean between us..."

… and then darkened slightly at that same recollection.

"… but Sellen was expelled from the Academy, accused of unthinkable treatment of certain sorcerers under the name of the Graven Witch."

Arthur's eyes narrowed, made to do so by the sheer surprise. His teacher had not struck him as an evil witch, as some may put it. 'Unthinkable treatment'... such a description, so vague yet so definite in its severity, was worrying.

"She… what?"

The sorcerer shook his head.

"I still don't believe the accusations. The illustrious Sellen would never do such things…"

"Well… nor do I. "

On the subject of Raya Lucaria… it was odd for Arthur to see a student of the Academy simply sitting around in a church. Surely they had many universal unknowns to study, even now.

"Why do you not remain in the Academy? Have you come out here for peaceful contemplation? If so, then this church was not the worst place you could have chosen, I do admit."

A small laugh and a shake of the head came from Thops.

"Oh, no… its doors have been closed for quite some time now. After they declared they wouldn't interfere with the Shattering, the Academy cast repelling seals on the East gate leading to the Capital and the South gate leading here. As you might have guessed, the seals are still active, making entry to the Academy impossible without a glintstone key. And so I'm stuck here. A fledgling sorcerer, with little chance of acquiring a key. When they cast the seals, I'd just popped out, and now I'm uprooted from my place of learning."

He sighed, but was not particularly downcast.

"Presuming you're interested, I can teach you sorceries, as promised… only, none of them are particularly great."

"Of course. That sounds wonderful. I am a bit of a… a dullard in the field of spellcasting, but I do enjoy the studying aspects very much. I only had the faculties to grasp what she called the 'glintstone pebble' and 'glintstone arc', but then again, the session wasn't entirely comprehensive. Quite an interesting experience. For once I poured my focus into something other than swinging or guarding, and the sensation in my hands was… almost ethereal. I held the very stars and forces of the universe in my mortal grasp, if only for a second… it was wondrous."

Such optimism for magic from somebody so obviously married to the ways of a martial warrior was refreshing. It reminded the man of the one-in-five or one-in-ten peers at the Academy whose passion did not abate even after a stunning success or an impassable roadblock.

Such optimism was something he did not feel properly equipped to foster.

"Well… as I said, none of my sorceries are anything special. They're… rudimentary, really. I imagine you've already found a far better teacher in Sellen. I'm a bluntstone; I don't even have a pebble's worth of power, so I'm afraid I can't help you. I'm sorry I'm so useless; I truly am."

"Thops, you… oh, you are far better than you believe. Do not cast yourself down so… you must be something far higher than a 'bluntstone', if you managed to get into a school of sorcerers. You have a vast, vast array of power in you… if you will only seek it out and trust that it exists."

An encouraging smile spread across Arthur's face. Thops was caught by surprise; in the past, his self-scorn was only ever heaped upon by his peers at the Academy. The inadequate do so often relish in the pain of the kind.

Still, such an insecurity as that in oneself can not be so easily dispelled. It can be, however, soothed… if only for a time.

"Thank you… thank you dearly, friend."

That smile on Arthur's visage only widened.

Friend.

"What sort of man leaves another to hang by the noose that strangles his potential? No man at all, I imagine. Think nothing of it. Simply… battle hard against those thoughts which would drag at you like millstones. It is all we can do, as mere men in a world of gods… mere men whose greatest efforts can be made to feel wasted by even the thoughtless acts of the ascended."

Though Arthur was not exceptional or even fully competent in the field of sorcery, he was undoubtedly intelligent and wise… that was what Thops thought, at the very least, from the words he said and how he said them. Perhaps in a less scholarly manner more suitable for a throne than a desk, but intelligence comes in many different forms.

Of the Tarnished he had met, Thops expected Knight Arthur to become Elden Lord most.

The subsequent lesson in a spell known as 'starlight' was… rather productive, despite the less-than-magically-inclined nature of the student. His teacher was still not convinced of his own competence, but he was convinced to try… the first step is just as vital as the last and as every one in-between.

"I have never carried a staff, as opposed to a greatsword, but… this will prove helpful without a doubt. My gratitude, Thops, is all yours, for your time and your patience."

The student surprised the teacher with a reverent bow. The sorcerer returned a courteous nod to the knight.

No man is a failure who has friends. Arthur had plenty… and with Thops, 'plenty' grew larger yet.

As joyous as these times are, much of brotherhood is spent separated, bound more by memory than presence. The Tarnished knight and Academy sorcerer each had their own paths, whether destined for a crown of Erdtree gold or of Carian glintstone.

Arthur prepared to depart once again.

"... wait a moment."

At this, he turned back.

"Take my staff with you… where you're going, you certainly must have more use for it than I do sitting in a dilapidated church. Besides, you can hardly cast sorceries without one."

That generosity stunned Arthur slightly.

"Are you… sure? I would loathe to deprive you of an item most useful. I imagine staves are to your kind what swords are to mine - their icon, way of life."

Thops nodded.

"For the first time ever you've allowed me to play teacher, even if only for an hour, when for all of this time I've been just a fledgling student. This is the least I could do to repay that."

He held out his staff horizontally for the knight to take, presenting it from his palms almost like it were an offering to a beloved liege. Arthur took it into his hands, and he looked it over. It was a wooden staff of rather prestigious make, a turquoise glintstone crowning its peak. To take such a thing of beauty as this from anybody, especially one who had so little, felt wrong.

Still, respecting the wills of others is equally as important as believing in your own.

"Thank you. Truly."

"One more thing… if you're Tarnished, you surely seek the Erdtree. Why not… find yourself a glintstone key? Without one, you can't pass through the academy, and you'll never reach the Capital. … and if you find an extra glintstone key, perhaps… once you've tied up all your loose ends - and I can be very patient - would you consider donating it to me? I know it, I'm a bluntstone, nary a hint of talent for sorcery… but still, my place is at the academy."

Without taking even a brief period to think on it, his reply came.

"Thops, the first key that I find will be yours. I swear to you, I will have you returned to your rightful place of study!"

"No… if you find yourself a key, I certainly couldn't take it from you. It would belong to you. By rights, you should use it for yourself. It's true, I wish to return to my place of study, but that's no excuse to impose upon others."

The knight began to reply, but didn't get his words out in a timely enough manner, so the sorcerer continued.

"Head to the Academy of Raya Lucaria. Carry on with your journey. Press forward with your fight. Don't bother holding yourself up for a bluntstone's sake."

Enough.

"You are no 'bluntstone'. I find you very sharp, as a matter of fact. … but very well. When I return, I will have two glintstone keys in hand, and Raya Lucaria shall open for us both!"

This was no simple statement, but a guarantee.

Bound willingly under my oath as a knight… I uplift the downtrodden. Such is my duty - no, my privilege. This is a trial to prove that I can go the distance. I will not fail now!

To the right of his encounter with new friend Thops, several masses of gravestones had their own space. Intrigued by the sight, he brought Torrent to a trot and then to a walk as they passed between the stones. A scenic view of the whole region, from stone cliffs jutting upward and the Academy of Raya Lucaria to the misty, water-floored forest between them, was gotten by standing upon this vantage. There laid an encampment below, surrounded by a series of palisades. Perhaps some reasonable fellows could be found there to help him become acquainted with the region.

Some decidedly unreasonable fellows arose from behind, their cursed-to-undeath bones seemingly assembling themselves into human shapes from disordered mounds and piles.

The knight had no reason to turn around in confusion, for he knew exactly how prevalent skeletons (or 'Those Who Live in Death', as the Hunter had called them) were. He dismounted and sent Torrent away to that space unseen by earthly eyes, his right hand grasping the hilt of his flamberge all the while.

These boneheads should pose more challenge to die by than to kill.

…

This is an opportunity.

They numbered only three, and he was familiar (through several encounters in other graveyards and catacombs) with the behavior of their kind. A relatively safe environment to determine the worth of combat sorceries.

Arthur recalled every tidbit of knowledge from Sellen and time seemed to slow, if not halt entirely at his whim. His left hand's fingers clenched around the staff and the whole of the universe's workings manifested their power, their otherworldly power, in his palm. He grasped them just as he did the staff and willed them forth. Every mortal being would bow or be bowed before his very will, let alone his power. He was, for this moment, power manifest.

The glintstone pebble feebly impacted the foremost skeleton's ribcage, fragmented and then shattered into a million-or-more infinitesimal shards.

He was being charged by a large skeleton with a scythe.

Oh.

Where focus failed, bodily instinct took the reins, and he slammed the bottom end of the staff against the skeleton. Immediately after, he dropped it and used the temporary initiative to bring down his greatsword. A downward swing with both hands caught midway in the crevice between scythe-blade and haft. The skeleton used a horizontal guard that reminded the knight very much of his own technique, adopted in lieu of carrying a shield.

Pulling back, he issued a second strike that broke the grave-scythe's rotten handle into equal halves and continue down to crash into the being's shoulder, for moderate effect.

With a final, horizontal swing, he knocked the skull from its vertebra - not by sharply cutting through, but by the sheer physical force of the assault. As he raise up his foot to bring down a steel stomp upon the loose head, he felt the malison of a terrible spirit rush into him from behind.

He turned his head in irritation and spied a second skeleton, performing some sort of casting with its scythe.

"What… oh, I see the way of it! You would like some, too, woul-"

Another came from a third direction. These attacks, skulls that appeared to guide themselves through the air directly into him, were not particularly harmful so much as they were mildly distressing. He had obviously seen skulls before, yes, but the accursed aspects of their contact was… disconcerting, to say the least. That, and bizarre - the wandering, feeble nobles who'd cast glintstone pebbles at him were one thing, but having skulls homing in was quite a new experience.

"Alright… have at you!"

The fight didn't last much longer, and ended with the full force of three coup de grâce stomps smashing open decaying skulls.

As the very minor rush of an insignificant battle wore off, he took his gaze downward to Thops' staff on the ground.

The way of a spellsword may not be for me... at least the staff will look elegant by my bed.

Torrent shot past the graveyard as afternoon broke. Every once-in-a-while twigs cracked apart beneath his hooves and, between those whiles, his rider felt soft wind piercing through his helm's visor.

The military checkpoint, a circle of tents and palisades, was little more than a temporary obstacle easily overcome. Even with magic at their disposal, mad guards are still mad guards.

Not far past, the dirt and stone beneath them was increasingly supplanted by water. The knight plunged the flamberge into the lakewater and watched as soldiers' blood was cleansed from its blade. He dried it off so as to avoid rust.

As the galloping hoofbeat turned into a heavy splashing, he thought back to the river Siofra.

Beneath the heavy steel armor, he still felt the weight of Roderika's smaller body suspended in his arms as they went. He still felt her peering over his shoulder at the stars all around, arms looped around him for support.

He still felt the elation of those mythical words made real - "I love you".

He still felt a bright light in his heart from that most tender of moments, beneath the stars. His dream would be among the countless hanging far above… and so would hers. He'd place them up there even if he had to wrestle with gravity itself.

This was no time for dreams, though; the waking world demanded his attention.

I will see her soon enough!

"Onwards, Torrent!"

The lake, speckled with a great many trees, was bigger than any he'd seen before. He recalled encountering his very first dragon while traversing Lake Agheel in the Southwest of Limgrave. It felt like so long ago, having been near the very beginning of his voyage through the Lands Between, but was in actuality less than a month prior.

Standing before a dragon, there's a marked difference between a wise knight and a brave knight - one of the two has the proper sense to flee when he's completely outmatched and there's nobody to martyr himself for. The other ends up having a fort named in his honor and giving his foe a stomach-ache through digestion of the plate armor.

It's no riddle to figure out which choice Arthur made in the moment. That was in the past, though; he had beaten Godrick after being nearly immolated by his grafted-on dragon arm, which must count for something. If he came face to face with another dragon, surely he would battle bravely!

A good bonfire is often prone to light flames of brilliant thoughts. This was certainly one of them.

These quiet moments by the fire were all the more peaceful when Arthur was in the company of a friendly face. Melina was chief among them, appearing often when called upon, but the merchants that had supplied much of his provisions were fine fellows in their own right.

On the shore of the Lake, two men rested in silence. One made his living peddling wares in quietude, and the other gallivanted around like some sort of story-book hero. It's the greatest of differences that often bring people together.

This was only a temporary stop on his journey, as there still was much daylight to be burned, but it was a nice thing even if fleeting. It would be nicer still with Roderika.

Everybody needs tender periods for themselves, no matter their fight… if I have these small prizes all along my way to the throne, I just may endure…

"Farewell."

Hooves' impact drove water to splash again and the merchant looked upon the departing knight. He might not have known it, but he saw a Lord in the making.