Crimson blood soaks and stains dark cloth beneath the confines of dull metal armor. The Ashen One releases a shaky, shivering breath beneath his helmet, his adrenaline fueling a tired engine within his heart and driving heat through his veins. With a trembling hand, he tightens the leather strap of his shield, securing it closely to his left arm.
His sword hand was empty, like a fool he must have dropped it in the chaos. He would have to go back to find the longsword later; he'd used up too much titanite in strengthening it to just leave it behind completely.
Well, all of his titanite really, which regrettably wasn't much.
He dares to exhale again, as quiet as possible, so as to not give away his position. His shoulder aches in pain and he can feel the warmth of his blood flowing down his torso.
He'd been traversing the High Wall of Lothric; slowly and methodically, cautiously luring enemies away from larger groups so as to be more easily dealt with. He'd been careful. Confident, even, for the first time since he had first awoken in the graveyard. Perhaps that had been his downfall. Even with what he thought was a cautious eye, he'd simply ventured too far, too deep into the unfamiliar, far too sure of himself to turn back and recoup when he had been doing so well.
The sound of heavy footsteps on wooden floorboard rings in his ears, as if to confirm his thoughts.
He'd been ambushed in the dark, stabbed in the shoulder by the dagger of a hollow he had failed to notice. With a scream it had jumped onto his back in a mad scramble, securing itself by the blade lodged inside, and the sound of their struggle alerted others nearby to the Ashen One's location.
He'd managed to pull the damned thing off, but the fight that followed was far from elegant, he'd been caught on the backfoot; injured and unprepared, and the hollows; as mindless as they were, still posed a grave threat in numbers. He'd swung his sword in clumsy sweeps, his arm responding slower than usual due to his new injury and only managing to cut through a few enemies.
Not nearly enough to buy him some space, and as more approached he persisted in swinging his sword, continuously growing more desperate and panicked as the situation deteriorated.
In a hopeless gamble, born more from fear than any real sense of strategy, the undead simply ran, plowing through hollows with his shield and dropping his sword with a weakened grip.
He exhales again at the recent memory, his breath slowly growing shallower each time he fills his lungs. Maybe the wound had been deeper than he thought, he numbly recognizes. The adrenaline by now was wearing off, and he had run out of estus even before the ambush.
There'd be no survival if he didn't reach a bonfire soon.
With that thought, he slowly begins to rise from his position, peeking out from behind an upturned table in the corner of the room. There, among the few corpses that litter the rotted floorboards, a larger hollow stumbles about with a massive halberd held within its hands, clearly searching for his escaped prey.
The Ashen One grits his teeth in frustration. These types were already hard enough to deal with, even with a sword.
He knows that if he fights now he'll die.
Another death.
It's a concept he still hasn't grown comfortable with, part of him hopes he never will.
So with a deep inhale, he vaults the heavy table, his eyes set on the nearest doorway, and he runs as fast as his tired legs can carry him. The massive undead, caught in surprise, is too slow to respond, and Ash crosses half the room in a desperate speed that surprises even himself.
Hints of an elated grin begin to grow beneath his helmet as he nears the doorway, the hollow too far behind now to catch him before he can reach it.
Until something catches his foot, and Ash falls face first onto the floor.
'Huh?'
In a daze, he looks back to see another hollow, bisected in half and laid across the floor, hidden previously amongst the corpses, gripping tightly onto his ankle. His heart freezes in terror at the sound of heavy footsteps, and he cranes his neck upward.
Only for the axe head of a rusty halberd to split open his skull.
…
Ash awakens with a startled gasp, his hand attempting to clutch the rapidly beating heart beneath his armored chest.
'Ah… Just a dream.'
It'd been so long since he last slept, he forgot he even could dream.
Hints of sunlight peak through the curtains of the manor's guestroom, and Ash, still fully armored, gets off the luxurious mattress he had taken a short rest in. He hadn't fully had the intention to sleep, but the lack of anything to due as he waited for the night to end brought a deep sense of boredom he was unused to. He doubted the residents of the manor would feel very comfortable with him wandering the halls throughout the night, so he made sure to wait in the room so graciously provided to him until it was appropriate to leave.
Ash takes a seat at the edge of the comfortable bed and begins to gather his thoughts. He'd been moving from one place to another since he arrived in this curious world and hasn't had much chance to take stock of his inventory. Without a bonfire, he'd be unable to access his bottomless box, a magic container able to hold a seemingly infinite number of items. It was truly a wonderous invention and without it, he doubts he ever would have held onto his dwindling sanity during his time in Lothric.
The technical details of how it exactly functioned was a little out of his depth, as he had never really been one for such advanced sorcery, but he understood that it connected his inventory across bonfires he visited.
As an unkindled, and an undead for that matter, he himself was connected to these bonfires as well, his soul and body together reforming itself in its flames after every death.
'I wonder what fate would befall me if I were to die now?' he wonders. He hasn't noticed one since he arrived here, and if the world of Lothric was truly gone…
Would he arrive at its empty ruins? Were the bonfires there even still burning without firekeepers to maintain them?
He shakes his head at the thought, it would do him no use to speculate now on such things.
He would just have to do his best to not die.
And for now he'd have to make do with what little he had on him. 'Let's see…'
After taking a few moments to gather his inventory together, he began to make a mental list.
'So for now, I'm left with the set of armor I gathered from the late Sir Vilhelm after his defeat, my titanite infused knight shield of course, and…'
Ahh, you are brave indeed. To face your duty alone. I would do well to learn from you. May the flames guide your way.
…
'The straight sword I received from Anri.'
His fist tightens his hold on the grip of the sword for a moment at the thought, before releasing in numb resignation.
Ash shakes his head again to free his thoughts, then continues his task.
As he always has.
He pulls his estus flask from his belt and holds it up to his eyes for closer inspection. The molten glow of liquid fire shines bright in the morning twilight of the guestroom, even with only half the flask still containing it.
'I'll only get a few more uses out of the poor thing, I must be sure to remain conservative with it.'
He only hopes he won't have much need for it in the coming days.
His blue ashen estus flask is still in a similar state, though thankfully it hasn't had to serve much use. It would have to do for now, in any case. He then checks the remaining contents of the small pouches on his belt only to find himself wanting.
'A few green blossoms, a bit of repair powder, some small clumps of blooming purple moss and mossfruit, and oddly a singular homeward bone.'
When did he become so brazenly cavalier on maintaining emergency rations? His easy access to bonfires over time must have made him more reckless than he had realized.
A quiet knock on his door shakes him from his thoughts, he quickly gathers his small collection of consumables and puts them back in their respective pouch, but before he can stand and answer the door; it opens, revealing the short statures of the mansion's twin maids, Rem and Ram.
"Excuse us, dear guest," they both say in unison with a short bow.
After retuning to a straight, formal stand they both take note of the armored man sitting before them… and the ruined bedsheets of the mattress he clearly occupied.
The once pristine white sheets were caked in a layer of dirt and grime.
Did he seriously sleep on the bed in his full armor? In a flash their cold gazes turn back to the knight in question, still sitting upon the bed with his sword and shield resting atop the sheets, surely adding even more layers of filth with their presence.
Ram's polite smile strains, and her eye begins to twitch.
"Dear guest…" Rem begins to speak evenly.
"Yes?" he simply replies, evidently unaware of the worsening atmosphere.
"Why did you deem it necessary to ruin the bed we allowed you?"
His head tilts to indicate his confusion. Ram chimes in theatrically with the loudest whisper she can muster. "Sister, sister, I'm not sure our guest is aware of how disgusting he is."
"Sister, sister, he must truly be the height of ignorance in that case," Rem confirms with a sad nod while mimicking her sister's tone completely.
"…Disgusting?" At this he takes a better look at the bed he had previously slept in. "Ah."
It has been a while since he last cleaned his armor, he realizes. He quickly stands, removing himself and his weapons from the mattress. "Thou hast my most sincere regret, Ram and Rem. I hadn't been mindful of myself," he apologies with a short bow.
The twin sisters take a glance at each other, both with a clear hint of suspicion toward the man in front of them. Armor itself by this point had become a little old fashioned, with stylish coats and regal clothing replacing it as the symbol of knighthood in the modern era, but it still wasn't entirely uncommon for those who wished for extra protection.
Though even that could be seen to some as a symbol of weakness; the lack of confidence in one's own strength and skill to defend themselves without it,
And going so far as to wear a full set even whilst sleeping…
Ram scoffs. He was either weaker and more cowardly than Emilia had initially led her to believe…
Rem's eyes narrow.
…or he had something to hide.
The true stench radiating off him at all times did little to dissuade the blue maid's belief in this; a nauseating miasma that shakes her to her very core. Her teeth grit together for a moment before she steadies her face to hide her reaction, returning instead to her usual chill of neutrality.
Ash doesn't notice, too busy fumbling with the bed sheets, clumsily pulling them off the mattress with the intent of somehow washing them himself.
Ram interrupts him with a dramatic sigh. "Allow Ram to wash these, it's improper for a guest of the house to clean after themselves."
"You'd only ruin them further, I'm afraid, dear guest," Rem continues.
Ash relents easily, allowing the pink-haired maid to grab the soiled sheets from his hands. "…not that it isn't justified in this instance, but is thy vitriol allotted to every guest of the manor?"
"Rem doesn't know what you mean, sister is the pinnacle of civility."
"Ram doesn't know what you mean, sister is the peak of politeness."
At the sight of the two maids speaking in eerie unison, Ash can only stare. "…indeed."
Entirely unbothered by the dry, nonplused response, the relentless maids continues jabbing at the knight.
"Rem, Rem, I don't think our guest appreciates our hospitality."
"Ram, Ram, only a brute would disregard such peaceful maidens."
Before the knight can attempt to defend himself from their verbal assault, Emilia walks through the open doorway entering the guestroom. "Ash! Good morning," she interrupts politely with a well-mannered smile.
Completely thankful for the half-elf's intervention, Ash sighs in relief, then responds, "Good morning to thee as well, Lady Emilia. Has Puck still not awoken?" he wonders out loud.
As if on cue, the cat in question floats up from behind his daughter with a dramatic flourish. "Aw, were you really thinking about me?" he asks with a performative blush, his paws reaching up to his whiskered cheeks as he squirms in the air, "I'm so flattered."
Ash chuckles lightly at the scene. "Yes, good morning, Puck."
Puck smiles brightly then taps on the oddly subdued Emilia's head, pushing her to speak. She stands there for a moment, dressed now in a more casual pink nightgown of sorts, fiddling with the hem, seemingly nervous. Ash tilts his head at her timidness and her eyes dart to the side, unable to make eye contact with the knight, even with his eyes still entirely obstructed. "U-um. Would you like to join us for a walk, Ash? Just for a bit!" she asks.
Puck throws one of his paws up in victory at his daughter's bravery.
Ash simply nods his head in affirmation. "That would be nice, Lady Emilia, though should I not soon speak with the lord of the manor? It feels as if I'm intruding upon his home without his blessing."
"Dear guest, Lord Roswaal is still away, he's not expected to return until later this afternoon," Rem informs him.
Ram shakes her head in disappointment. "It seems your freeloading will go unpunished for now, dear guest."
Emilia frowns. "Ram, be nice, I'm the one who invited him here."
"Of course, my sister apologizes, Miss Emilia," Rem apologizes in her sister's place with a polite curtsy.
"Ram is sorry, Miss Emilia," the pink haired maid unenthusiastically confirms, the soiled sheets still bundled together in her arms.
Emilia, only now noticing the sheets, asks, "What happened to your bed, Ash? Is everything okay?"
Ash turns his head away in embarrassment. "Ah, there was a bit of a mishap, unfortunately…"
"Our dear guest slept in his armor like a brute, Miss Emilia."
"Our dear guest seems to enjoy playing in mud, Miss Emilia."
Emilia looks confused for a moment before turning red in exclamation. "Ah! I'm so sorry! I must have forgotten to give you fresh clothes to sleep in." Her face turns downtrodden at her own perceived blunder.
Puck intervenes with a light-hearted giggle, "Still, you could've just slept in your birthday suit, Ash."
"…I thought it clear I didn't bring an extra suit, much less a commemorative one."
Puck's giggles grow into full laughter at the dry response.
After the maids leave to continue their morning duties, Ash, Emilia, and Puck begin to wander the manor together, without a clear destination in mind. The walk is quiet, awkwardly so, at least from the perspective of the silver haired girl. Over the course of yesterday's events, she's grown to trust the knight beside her, more than she even thought possible from someone who's practically still a complete stranger to her. She doesn't know much about him after all, though as she turns her side to the side to peek at the man occupying her thoughts, she can't help but feel she'd like to learn as much as possible.
Was that strange of her? She's always been a curious person, she feels, just not for people she's still barely acquainted with.
She opens her mouth with the intention to speak, to start up a conversation of any kind with the knight, but no words seem to escape her throat. Socializing really hasn't ever been her strong suit. Her hands return to awkwardly fumble with the hem of her nightgown.
Floating just off the side of his daughter, Puck can easily read her social discomfort and attempts to throw her a bone. "Sooo… Ash, where are you from exactly?" he asks. There! An easy conversation starter, now he just needs her to pick up her que.
"Oh, yeah! You said something about 'Lothric' last night, right?" Emilia immediately joins in, Puck grins in victory.
"Hm? Yes, that's right," he confirms, "I do hail from the kingdom of Lothric."
The silence resumes.
Puck watches the pair in deadpan despondence. 'That's it? He's just as bad as she is!'
"…although… I don't believe I was born there," the knight resumes after a few moments of thought.
'I'm sorry I doubted you!'
"You don't believe so? So you're not sure?" Emilia asks in confusion.
"Yes, regrettably I'm unable to recall much of my life before my time there. Sometimes, rarely, I'm gifted vague memories, but it's been some time since I've been afforded even that much," he casually responds.
She halts in her steps at his words and holds a hand to her chest. "Ah, is that so?"
'Just like me,' she immediately realizes.
Ash, noticing her falter, stops just ahead of her and asks, "Is something wrong, Lady Emilia?"
She shakes her head lightly and smiles at him. "It's nothing," she denies, "Come on! Let me show you the garden outside. Rem has been working hard to maintain it." She resumes walking, now with a more jovial spring in her step. Ash stands alone for only a moment in perplexity, then continues forward to join her.
Puck watches the scene from behind, somewhat torn between fatherly pride and worry for his daughter.
It doesn't take much time for the trio to reach the garden outside the manor and although Ash had previously passed through it when he first arrived, the lack of bright moonlight had done it little service. It truly was massive, possibly similar in diameter to the mansion itself, not to mention the obscenely long lawn stretching both sides of the stone pavement from the home toward the front gate.
This man, Roswaal, though obviously not quite reaching the level of domain of a Lord of Cinder, must still be of true importance to the kingdom to warrant this level of wealth.
He looks to the girl walking alongside him. 'Well, he is housing a candidate princess after all.'
He must admit he's never been much of a fan of royalty; his experience with such people being only violence and bloodshed, of kingdoms in rot and ruin, and horrific abominations.
The half-elf beside him excitedly points to the flowers and flora they pass as they walk, attempting to regale him with their names and origins to the best of her immediate knowledge. He hasn't known her for long, but already he can't help but feel she'd be a gentle exception to what he's grown so painfully accustomed to.
"Tell me, Lady Emilia… why dost thou wish to become King?" the knight asks, his voice catching up to his thoughts.
She pauses her steps, and the two stand together among the flowers with Puck still floating closely to his daughter. Her face falls at the question, clearly hesitating in her answer.
"Ah… well it's selfish really."
"How so?"
She hesitates for a moment more, and Puck frowns at the conversation's clear trail. He shifts his gaze to Ash with a quiet warning.
"My people… the elves from my home… they've been cursed; perpetually frozen. I'm the only survivor of the calamity. Roswaal found me there in the forest and promised me that this path to becoming King could free them."
Her eyes glisten with unshed tears and she turns away in shame from the knight beside her. Puck, intimately aware of his daughter's feelings, glares at the knight for resurfacing bad memories.
"Selfish? I fail to understand… thy goal is incredibly noble, is it not?" he earnestly asks.
She looks surprised for a moment before shaking her head in denial. "No, there's nothing noble about it. I only want the crown to save them, I have no goals for the kingdom itself."
She sighs in dejection. "Frankly, I'd be a terrible ruler, and the people already dislike me."
Ash lifts his hand to her shoulder in comfort and she squeaks in surprise at the physical touch.
"Emilia, I believe we have vastly different interpretations of the word selfish. What desire could possibly be more honorable than saving thy people?"
"But… I'm not doing it for anyone else, I'm doing it only for me, isn't that wrong?"
Ash chuckles at her question. "Ah, selfishly grasping selfless ambitions, how malicious of you, Lady Emilia, truly."
She turns to him fully, her face flushed with a pout of indignation. "You're making fun of me."
"Indeed." She squawks at his immediate confirmation, and he chuckles some more.
Her face reddens further in a fluster, and she shakes loose from his hand. "It's not funny, Ash! I'm trying to take the crown from people who could do some real good with it! There's absolutely nothing noble about that!"
The knight pauses from the frustration of her tone.
'She really does feel strongly about this doesn't she?'
Emilia, seemingly embarrassed at her own outburst, turns away from the knight fully.
"I'm the worst," she quietly mutters.
Puck, now too concerned to let his daughter fall further into dejection, attempts to comfort her. "Let's just go back inside-"
"Emilia," Ash interrupts, now gently grabbing both of her shoulders to turn her back toward him, "I apologize, sincerely. I may not entirely understand thy frustrations, but I have no right to make light of them."
She gapes openly at him, again shocked at the ease of physical contact, and Puck matches her expression entirely, unsure if he should feel upset at their closeness.
"I know better than most that the seat of lordship is a heavy burden, one entirely unsuited to many; those who reach out only for the sake of their own vanity. Caring so deeply for the sake of others… I believe that thou already walk the path well with an open heart. Certainly, I may not be able to speak for every citizen of this kingdom, but they would be fools to disregard such kindness so easily."
Every word of praise from the knight is spoken with such blatant honesty that it's hard for even Emilia to dismiss them entirely, and as the words strike deeper into the depths of her heart, heavy tears form within the confines of her eyelids and threaten to flood her pale cheeks.
"Why… do you think so highly of me? We barely know each other," she questions.
"My home was not a kind place, Lady Emilia, far from it. Even those I would consider my allies often held their own share of selfish desires… and I was no exception," he quietly admits.
She looks upon him in worry at his confession, but before she can delve further into its meaning, he continues, "A desire to save others is far from monstrous, Lady Emilia, the opposite in fact."
As much as she wishes she could believe his gentle words so easily; to let go of the drowning burden of her own self-doubt and rise above the raging currents, they simply aren't enough to dissuade her completely, years of agonizing guilt preventing such an escape.
However… it's clear to her that at the very least he believes what he's saying.
And maybe that's enough for now, to have someone who so innocently trusts her.
It's more than she deserves, yet even still; she can't help but lean a bit further into his comforting grasp.
Truly, the height of her greed must carry no peak.
Hours later, after being pressed back inside the manor by a confusingly agitated Puck, Ash is met again in its halls by the pair of maids, now with imperative news.
"Dear guest, our lord, Roswaal has returned to the manor. We were sent to summon you for dinner, by his order."
A/N: Kind of an odd spot to end the chapter, I'll admit, but I wanted to finally put something out for this story. It has been a year after all. (Whoops.) I've already started on the next chapter, so don't expect another year break from me, finally getting to a better position to write more consistently I hope. I've been averaging at about 4k-ish words per chapter, not sure if that's too short but my shamefully short attention span seems to appreciate it. I'm incredibly thankful to all the support that I've received for such a short story, especially considering my complete inexperience in writing. Honestly, I find myself enjoying it more every time I get the motivation for it, I'd really like this to be a nice hobby that I can turn to more often. Constructive feedback, of course, is always welcome.