"Ho there, knight of gold!" He called out as he made his way down the cliff side trail.
The mounted knight, a tree sentinel, he remembered, turned quickly towards him. Urging his steed into a cantor the large man leveled his shining halberd at Owain. Not ready for such an attack, Owain rushedly donned his helm and shrugged his shield from his shoulders. Listening to the thundering of hooves, he braced for a blow that never came. Instead, Owain heard the heavy thuds of armored feet dismounting from the horse.
He lowered his shield to see the knight kneeling before him, helm removed. The man's skin was gray and his eyes shone only faintly with faded amber. "M-my lord." The voice, astonished and raspy from long disuse broke into a heavy cough. "My lord, Owain. It is I, Oswald."
Owain planted his spear haft in the soft dirt and once more removed his helm. Oswald. His squire. He knew this man personally. He stared down at the man's hopeful face for a few hard moments. The knight appeared to be almost fighting against something, perhaps Owain was not the only one whose mind had decayed. "Rise Oswald, it would seem we have much to discuss." As he helped the man to his feet he was surprised to see that Oswald was almost as tall as he.
Owain looked about for somewhere to repose and spotted a decaying church some distance away. "Come, let us apprise each other of news in yon church." Oswald only nodded and fell in behind him while leading his horse.
A thin man, caped in bright red, scrambled to his feet at their entrance. Owain raised a hand in greeting, judging by the pack mule it was likely this man was a merchant. "Fret not, good merchant. We shall not trouble you. In fact, I would be obliged for some tidings, if you would share them."
The merchant made his way over to he and Oswald warily, coming to stand before them as they took seats side by side on a crumbling stone bench that sat just inside the entrance. "You are tree sentinels, yes? You are no friend to my people. It would be folly for me to think I could outrun you, however, so I will give you what tidings you ask in exchange for my life. I am Kale, traveling merchant."
Why would this man fear death on mere sight? Owain frowned. "I am Owain, this is Oswald. My mind is largely bereft of memories but you speak true that we are tree sentinels. Though, you need not fear us, as long as you do not mean harm, neither shall we." He gave Oswald a warning look, satisfied when the man nodded his agreeance. "Please, Kale; go enjoy your repast. We will join your fire, if it is amenable, in a short while. We must confer first."
Kale only nodded stiffly before making his way back across the vast ruin of the church. "My lo-lord Owain, do you truly not possess your memories?" Oswald's voice was growing stronger, but Owain could tell it had been a long while since he spoke at any length.
"Aye, save for a few scattered moments and disjointed facts. I would rely on you for regainment of much knowledge you might view trivial."
Oswald heaved more dry coughs. "You are Lord Owain. Lord Commander of the Tree Sentinels, Highlord of Leyndell's defenses." Owain nodded, though Oswald seemed hesitant to continue. "You were…slain on the night of black knives. Fallen in protection of Lord Godwyn."
A gasp ripped through his chest, his heart hammered so loudly he could not hear his own thoughts. He was being dragged into yet another memory.
"Do you think Fia will like it, Wain?" A beauteous man with long golden hair, turned from the painting that he had almost finished. They stood together in a circular room, opened to many windows. Golden leaves breezed through gently.
A laugh slipped from his lips. "I'll not confess to knowing what dragons care for, but the Lady Fortissax does care greatly for you, my lord. I think any gift given earnestly will bring joy to her heart."
The man, Godwyn, laughed heartily. "And you say you are not to be trusted to council in affairs of romance. I might dare to call you soft, Owain."
"Mine own endeavors are going rather poorly, my lord." He sighed out.
"Nonsense! She can not stay angry forever! You know her feelings, and how proud she is. It is only her stubbornness that stills her." Godwyn clapped him on his unarmored shoulder.
Owain brushed his hand away with laugh. "If you truly wished to comfort me, you would convince your queen mother to grant me the leave needed to go to my princess' side. Remind me why I so oft spend my free hours with you?"
"You are love sotted! Poor Wain, unable even to go and grovel for his lover's forgivness. He has to ask his big brother for such sad favors. Be not afeard, little one, I shall see it done." Godwyn chuckled, patting Owain's head. He swatted away the arm, "And how could my dear friend say such a heartless thing? You know how much I need your excellent counsel."
"I am ever grateful for your aid and counsel, my most magnanimous of lords" Owain rolled his eyes.
Owain shook his head vehemently, these visions were verily quite disconcerting. "-y Lord? Are you alright?" Owain raised a shaky hand.
"A moment, Oswald. Oft do these memories seem to be overtaking me." He nodded once more at Oswald, enough interruptions! "What is the night of black knives? How did you and I end up here, so very far from L-" He sputtered for a moment. "From Leyndell?"
Oswald's thick brows furrowed in concentration. "Forgive me, sire. My mind is…it has been a very long time. "The night of black knives began the shattering, when destined death was stolen, Queen Marika disappeared, the elden ring destroyed, and you and Lord Godwyn slain. When the first siege of the capitol ended, I brought you here to entomb you in yon chapel. I have been bid by King Morgott to watch over this region and coordinate the sentinels within. Any tarnished I see is to be slain on sight, lest they seek to steal away a great rune."
Every answer he received only bred more questions. The elden ring had been destroyed? How? Faint stirrings at the back of his mind promised understanding but they remained just out of reach. His heart ached. This had all happened in large part due to his failure. Godwyn…dead. Countless memories that he shared with the man swarmed him. Damnit! Not again! "A moment, Oswa-"
"My lord! My lady! I bid you rise! There are intruders!" Owain narrowly ducked out of the way of the gleaming blade one of the attackers thrust at him. His spear shone golden as it slammed through the woman's middle. She had underestimated his speed. "My lord!" He cried to the closed door behind him. Where were his men?
Owain could not go to Godwyn until he had dealt with the third of these fiends. He'd heard tell of them, these black knives, but he had thought they served Queen Marika! The woman before him would not speak but he saw the desperation in her silver eyes. As she lunged forward, he flung out the haft of his still buried spear, catching her sword mid stroke.
"Surrender, knave! You are outmatched!" He bellowed.
They traded several more furious blows, she clearly wished to avenge her two fallen sisters. As he caught her wrist he heard crashing noises from his lord's room. Damn, he needed to finish this! He clenched his fist until the woman's wrist snapped, wrapping his other hand around her throat. She cried out as she buried a hidden dagger in his side through a gap in his armor, he gasped in pain but it was too late. Her neck snapped with great finality.
Owain flung the assassin atop her fellows and drew his spear from the other's carcass, sending the corpses tumbling together down the curved stairs of the entryway. Turning with a bellow, he crashed through the intricate wooden door to his lordship's chambers.
Lady Fortissax, clad in nought but a shift, contended against two invaders, incanted claws holding black blades at bay. Lord Godwyn, in bloodied sleep pants, was slumped over the bodies of three assailants with another just leaping to pierce his back.
Owain had not a moment to spare, he flung his great spear with all his might, skewering the assassin along its haft against the far wall before the weapon blasted through into the void of night. "My lord! Wait a moment and I shall render aid!" He need assist Lady Fortissax first, he could see she was beginning to flag, now facing six foes. He thundered over, delivering several heavy blows with gauntleted fists to the two nearest him.
The next few minutes were a blur of frantic combat, he had not his spear but his great shield was weapon enough. Where were his gods-damned men? He would flog Reginald for this negligence! He broke the skull of one enemy under the rim of his shield and was just turning round when he heard Lady Fortissax anguished cries behind him. "Godwyn, my beloved! No!" she screamed hoarsly. Ragin mana began to fill the air and Owain stumbled as he turned.
His greatest fear was confirmed when he beheld his lord Godwyn's form, held aloft by four more of the fiends. They stabbed him relentlessly with their black knives, seemingly disregarding all else. The sentinel roared his fury, heaving his great shield in a spinning arc to decapitate three of the nearest wretches. The others scattered, their dark deed done. He leapt over the large bed and gathered the sobbing Lady Fortissax behind him, she was too incoherent to be of use in this fight. "My lady, I will make clear the way to the window, you must flee the capitol, it is not safe here!" If these knives had crept so deep into the palace, nowhere in Leyndell was safe for Lady Fortissax. His breath was coming in great gasps now, adrenaline not quite overpowering the grievous wound in his side.
Soft blows rained down upon his back, the spent fury of a grieving wife. "Thou hast failed us, Owain! This is thine fault!" Her magic was spiraling out of control and he would soon be unable to even stand.
His shame would have him fall upon his own blade in time but he could not dwell upon it now! "My lady! You must flee, make ready." Owain eyed the encroaching assassins, it was eerie how they made no noise. Their hooded faces watched him cautiously, he was unarmed, but they knew he was not defeated. Owain grasped his Lady's wrist gently, squeezing it in what he hoped was reassurance.
With a powerful surge of movement he swept forward toward the open window, he need but fling the dragon into the sky and she would be safe. Then he would deal with the rest of the villains. In a few steps he had shouldered half the foes, taking countless wounds in the process. He scooped up Lady Fortissax and threw her mightily out the window, relief coming a split second later as he saw the massive form of a dragon before turning to face the assassins. He barreled through them once more to stand over his lord's body protectively. Owain's vision was beginning to blur.
Too many wounds did he bear, their black knives had been only for Godwyn, but the rest of their blades he had too oft felt the fell sting of. Owain stumbled as his ragged breath wretched up blood. They would pay for this grave sin. More and more of the hooded, black garbed women were flooding through the windows and destroyed door. Owain glanced down at his lord, shocked to see the man reaching up for him.
"Wain." Came the scratchy whisper. "Fia?" Owain grunted his affirmation without taking his eyes off the ever closing assassins. "Thou -st done thine duty, brother." Broken coughs, weak and phlegmy.
He jabbed at the nearest assassin, making her leap back. "I swore to you my service-" Owain dragged in another breath, "And my life, my lord. You shall have both ."
Lord Godwyn did not respond, but Owain would not have been able to hear him anyway. As one, the assassins pounced, and he was swept into a sea of black. With each swing of furious fists he felt a satisfying crack or crunch but soon he could feel nothing at all, he was losing far too much lifeblood. It was with a ferocious snarl that his helm was yanked off his head. He thrust forth a struggling arm crushing the throat of one last coward with a enfeebling grip. He roared his hate at the knife before him, why did she hesitate now? Owain hoped she felt every last bit of his total loathing. He bared his teeth, gasping as silver blade slashed across his throat. Cravens! Vill-villains! Owain's dimming eyes would not leave the knife before him, she would know his hatred. He fought off death for but a few moments more, but it was no use. Owain, Lord Commander of Tree Sentinels; Highlord of Leyndell, was slain. His princess' smiling face was the last thing he thought of as his world cut clean to harsh black.
His eyes found the high noon sun as it crested the ruined roof of the church. Once more he lay on the ground. Owain thought that perhaps that was where he belonged. Oswald was shaking his shoulders, speaking to him but Owain ignored him. What grief this was. What horrible grief. He had thought himself a man of repute when he first laid eyes upon the Erd Tree but that could not be further from the truth.
He had failed in his duty.
While his mind was still not restored, broad swaths of the past were now returned to him. His daily life in the palace, his lifelong friendship with the prince, his last conversation with Lord Godfrey before Marika had banished he and his soldiers. Owain's father, a crucible knight, had been among their number. He remembered his mother's tears, and her blasphemous curses towards Marika. He remembered the first time the treacherous thought that perhaps the eternal queen was not infallible had crept into his mind.
"Oswald." He said tiredly. "Why did I fight alone in defense of Godwyn?"
Oswald sat heavily on his rear beside Owain. "You would not have known, sire, but most all of the palace sentinels had been summoned by Lord Maliketh to search for they that had stolen away destined death. Vice-Commander Reginald left you to your shift against the wishes of Lord Maliketh." Oswald would not look him in the eye, only staring down at the dirt. This revelation only further broke Owain's heart. No shadow would act without their empyrean's word. Queen Marika's hands were stained in this farce, the black knives did serve her.
He held up a hand, offering it to Oswald who took it with great reluctance. "And the demi-gods? How many yet live?"
A fanciful dream he knew, but Owain desperately hoped that they had not warred overlong and slain each other in a mad bid for power. Marika had told him once that the weight of the elden ring was akin to carrying the sky. Surely it's shards brought with them their own strain. "Lord Morgott is King of Leyndell, and Lord Mogh yet lives, I hope. "
Owain felt silent tears slide down his upturned face. "What of little Melina? Young Messmer?"
"I know not their fates." Oswald replied gravely while regarding him with an odd look of pity in his eye.
Owain squeezed his squire's hand as he pulled himself to a seat, releasing his squire. "Lady Malenia and Lord Miquella?" Owain held his breath, those two were so pure, he dearly wished they yet lived.
"Lord Miquella I know not, Lady Melania…it is believed she fell in combat to Lord Radahn, who is now long lost from the rot, as is most of Caelid." Alas! The rot had been released? His little brother lost to its curse? What would he tell Ranni? Lightning seemed to strike his chest.
Ranni .
Did he dare hope his beloved yet lived? "And Ranni? Rykard?" He whispered.
Oswald looked away, swallowing nervously, "Aside from the initial battles, Lord Rykard has remained in Volcano Manor, I know not his current state." Oswald looked away.
"What of Ranni, Os." Owain could scarcely breathe.
"I know not what became of her." Fie! As soon as he made sure that the twins were safe, he would make for Caria Manor to see for himself what had become of his beloved Starlight.
"One last question, Oswald. Then I will rest."
The longer they spoke, the more animated Oswald became. Like the spark of his old duty was beginning to flame anew. His squire looked to him with eyes unmarred by conflict. "Yes, sire?"
"How long has it been since my death?"
