His king's blade met his with a flash of brilliant sparks. "Your strength has hardly diminished, my lord." Owain laughed brightly as he side stepped a particularly swift jab.

Morgott smiled widely as he parried another blow. His face possessed such youth now, it brought Owain great joy. "My burdens hath only lessened since thou were't revived, Wain. I feel as a young man again, I feel free! I wish only that Mohg were yet here to partakest in this rebirth as well."

Owain batted aside another of his lord's thrusts, he was glad to see Morgott had upheld Owain's training so rigorously. He wiped the forming grimace from his face, that they may enjoy just a few more days of unweighted contentment. "He will, my lord. Be not afeard. I need only find him." Morgott's smile dimmed slightly but his attacks renewed in fervor, as if he was making clear his dedication.

In discussing his lord brother on their journey from Caria with Morgott, Owain had been disappointed to find that Morgott had not the faintest idea whereto Lord Mohg had fled. In the chaos that was the many assaults on the capitol, Mohg had suddenly disappeared one day with little more than a note left to his brother beseeching him not to worry. Owain had yet to disclose the discomforting knowledge he'd gleaned from Yura; he wished to make sure of its veracity before relaying it to his king.

They spared for a few more minutes until Owain could see his king was flagging. Owain called for a draw with a raised practice blade. "That is enough for today I should think, my lord. You must accustom yourself to this new form slowly."

Morgott wiped away the sweat from his brow with a tower offered from one of the many watching knights. "I thank thee, Wain, for thy continued instruction. I am in clear need of it after so many years." Owain disagreed with that assessment, his king was quite skilled. He was sure in a few more months when he had fully attuned himself to living without the weight of his crucible blood, and had mother Rennala see to him; King Morgott would be a foe few could face.

He too, took a towel from a waiting knight. "It is my honor and joy, my king." Owain pretended not to see the small frown that tugged at his lord's lips when he heard the title.

Instructing the man in the ways of war was wonderfully nostalgic for the sentinel. With all their many spectators and willing assistants, Owain was currently experiencing a rather intense spell of deja vu. He and Godwyn, with occasional attendance from Lord Godfrey, had taught all of his lord's younger siblings how to use most every variety of martial tool. Owain had been beyond honored when Morgott had first shown him the spell that mimicked his great own spear.

Their party had arrived at Stormveil to resounding fanfare and a very excited Lady Nepheli. The woman had actually run from the gateside where she waited to greet her new found little brother. Owain had not seen his lord so flustered since he was a child. Owain as well, could not contain his excitement, that his precious king had one more supporter on his side.

The coronation of Lady Nepheli as first princess of Leyndell would occur on the morrow. Owain pitied the warrior as Ser Haight was putting her through some rigorous last minute etiquette training. She had decried the various lordly outfits he'd tried to force her into in the name of regality. Owain could share the sentiment.

The fortress was a hive of frenetic preparation. To mobilize so many took a vast amount of resources, and Owain's scouts had reported that Caelid was inhospitable in the extreme. Sellia remained stalwart in their defiance of the rot, and the Redmanes worked tirelessly to contain it to the sub-continent, but the land itself had been cursed bone deep.

Ranni had been seeking an answer to the scarlet plague alongside her other researches and had come up with little. Only that, for some reason, the weapon's Iji forged were unrotted to a piece. Said sorceress was currently using his knee as a support as she scribbled down notes into a journal.

He maneuvered her so that she was sitting between his knees, laughing at her grumbles. When he had been a boy, his mother had taught him to braid his sisters' hair. It was a skill that he'd not expected to utilize later in life. Imagine his surprise when his beloved actually preferred his braidwork to her own. He hummed as he spun through her vibrant mane, there was much on his mind.

There was a deep feeling of dread in his chest that had slowly been growing in intensity.

Owain feared the chance of his coming death.

Ranni would be destroyed should he parish at Radahn's hand, and he did not know how he was meant to subdue the man without killing him. Over their long friendship, he and Lord Radahn faced each other in friendly bouts countless times. The Carian was one of two men that Owain could readily say had him beat in raw strength. Owain's victories had mostly come from clever surprises or, if they allowed the use of magic, the bolstering of many layered incantations. The solution on how to defeat such a foe who teetered on beastly rage and rotting undeath had yet to come to him.

Blaidd had finally sent word that he had found the weapon Ranni sought after months of scouring through the underbelly of the continent. He'd informed them he would meet them at Redmane castle, alongside a few new acquaintances. There was to be a 'festival' as Ser Jerren called it. Ranni was entirely unamused and had sent scolding words to await their arrival.

Even with the aid of others, even with his ever growing strength and skill from the return of his memories, even with the might of the great rune of binding; Owain was uncertain of victory. Radahn was one of the strongest warriors to ever live and Owain did not count himself in such high standing; the victories he'd had against the man had been in friendly spars.

In his brooding, he'd finished Ranni's braid without realizing. She levitated her journal and quill to their bedside table, leaning back into him with a long sigh. "I can sense thy rumination, Wain. Shareth with me thine burdens, that I may lighten thy load." She spoke softly into his throat.

He slowly enveloped her in his arms, nosing into her hair. "Me? 'Ruminate'?"

She saw through his tease, of course she did. "We wilt save him together, my dear. With thy might and mine magic, even brother could not stand against us." She floated them under the covers, depositing her ever cold toes under his legs with a small yawn.

Owain only smiled indulgently, wincing as she bit his shoulder. Were it so easy. "You know best, Ranni."

"Aye." She agreed primly. "I dost."

Ranni woke him with joyful kisses and gentle hands. "It is quite novel, thou knowest. To wake before thee, my slumberous Sunbeam."

He pushed her laughing face away with a chuckle. "Always with the morning jokes you are. Yet, you get so very testy when I make a single-"

"If thou so much as breathe any phrase that contains some variation of 'my moons', I swear, Owain." Her eyes flashed.

He breathed out heartfelt chuckles as he rose from their bed. "Alright, alright. I would not dare, O' most powerful and beautiful of witches."

He could feel the glare she shot him without looking and it made him smile.

She gifted him her final surprise just as their attendants finished adorning them in the finery they had brought for the coronation. Owain regarded the overlarge crate placed atop their bed curiously. "Well, open it!" Ranni was so excited she was quite literally floating around his head.

The crate popped apart easily in his hands and Owain was left wholly speechless. Within lay the very greatsword Ranni had bequeathed to him when Queen Renalla had accepted their betrothal. Only, almost gone was the blue coloring, leaving a mostly white blade. "Ranni…how did you- no, I should never doubt your ability to astound me."

She finally stopped in her hovering to alight at his side, eyes shining in joy, smile exceedingly smug. "I had Morgott bring it with him from thy chamber in the capitol. Iji reforged it whilst thou were abed. No longer is it a blade of the cursed dark moon. It is the New Moon Greatsword, to celebrate our new lives and our renewed futures." She pulled him into a ferocious kiss. The look she gave him sent heat flooding through the whole of his being. "I would arm my husband with naught but the best, that I shalt never be parted from him again."

A smile stole across his face and some of the weight that had been building in his heart fell away. "Thank you, my love. It, and you, are perfect. Fear not our parting. 'Where thou goest, so shalt I', remember?" Her gaze glittered in amusement.

"Good boy." She said clemently as she pat his head. Owain rolled his eyes.

The coronation was a grand affair. A city in truth had sprung up outside the castle walls, with thousands upon thousands cramming within the keep itself just to catch a glimpse of royalty. Lady Nepheli had forgone any finery, wearing instead the traditional garb of her people. Ser Haight maundered on for a while until at last King Morgott appeared to ascend his elder sister to her rightful seat as a princess of the lion's line. Morgott had spent much of the last few days at Nepheli's side, learning about the adventures of his father's youth; the two had become quite the pair. Owain tried to hide his grin in an effort to appear lordly, but he did not think he succeeded.

The feast they held that night was grander than that of Caria but Owain did not partake in any drink. He noted that none of his men did either. Ranni was not so deterred, despite her vehement proclamations of forsaking all alcohol. His princess was currently snoring into his shoulder, seat edged as close to his as possible.

"Will you not retire, Owain? Do not tarry on my account, my friend." Nepheli chuckled at Ranni's sleepy muttering. He and the warrior had spoken in depth, she was ready to maintain order whilst he was away.

Owain matched eyes with several of his captains, they knew to be on their highest guard tonight. "A wise idea, my princess. One I shall heed." Her expression muddied at the mention of her new title, but Owain was nothing if not a creature of courtly manners. Though he had been relaxing the habits with his Lord Morgott, Lady Nepheli should experience the prestige that accompanied her station at least for a short while. She sighed exasperatedly and waved him off.

"A goodnight then, Wain." Morgott called with a smile. Owain nodded at his king, eyes warm. He chuckled at Ranni's murmured protests that she could walk on her own as he carried her to their chambers.

Lady Fortissax, who had been missing from the ceremony, appeared at the door of his chambers as Arista was readying Ranni for bed. Owain knelt at the realization of his guest's identity, the four sentinels at the door scrambling to a knee as well. "I would borrow your ear for a while, commander." The dragon said softly.

He rose with a nod. "Aye, my lady, lead on."

She led them to the very balcony of the divine tower that he and Godwyn frequented often on his visits to Stormveil. The night air was hot and the winds did little to cool his skin. The dragon did not speak, leaving Owain with much time to wonder at the coming conversation. At last, they sat at Godwyn's old chess table, the ancient stone long weathered by rain. "I found Rogier's corpse in the elder ruins. A growth of deathroot, the largest aside from the original source, sits beneath this keep."

Owain knew little of the plant besides what one of the roundtables tarnished had yammered at him in passing. Owain misliked the man, so he'd taken his words with little weight. "I am saddened to hear of the man's passing. I counted him an acquaintance."

She rested her chin atop intertwined fingers. "I counted him a good friend, a fine servant, and an exceptional researcher."

"And what was he researching, my lady?" He stopped the nervous tapping of his foot. Lady Fortissax always had a tendency of making him feel just a little uneasy, even before the shattering.

Her gaze flickered amber as she breathed in deeply. "My golden one. Godwyn, prince of death."

His breathing hitched. Surely he'd misheard. "Wh-what?"

She leaned forward slightly, trapping him in the intensity of her stare. "Your lord Godwyn, his body is the source of all death root, his still living flesh, the cause of the rising undead."

"I-" He sighed. "You are sure?"

"I placed his body in the deep root depths beneath your tree for safe keeping. A few of your father's order have watched over Godwyn since the great war. His body has grown and shifted, malformed into…into something else."

This was most distressing news. He clenched his hands to halt their shaking. "Perhaps Ranni will know-"

She snapped her teeth. "I'll have your witch nowhere near his body. Her mother will suffice."

Owain cast his head low. He must do what he could to save Godwyn from such a macabre fate; alas, his hopes were despairingly low that he would succeed. "I…I will beseech mother Rennala to make the journey, but I am unsure if she shall. She has forsworn the golden city since lord Radagon's departure."

"If there are any among the glintstones who would yet be of aid, it is her. She must go, Owain." Her unwavering stare unnerved him.

"Then, I will ask her to accompany us when I make for the capitol. I would not trust her safe travel to any save myself." Lord Moongrum was formidable, but even still, Owain was over cautious when it came to the Carian queen's safety. He wished they could travel by portal stone as they used to, but the passages had long fallen into disrepair.

Lady Fortissax rose, resting spread fingers atop the near stone banister. "That is…acceptable, Wain. Do not spend overlong in Caelid, your true lord needs you now more than ever." She leapt from the balcony, form shifting to that of her hidden nature.

Owain buried his head in shaking hands. "Aye, my lady." He spoke miserably to the chess table.

His goodbyes to Morgott, Melina and Lady Nephelli were short, but heartfelt. Owain both dreaded the coming work and wished for it to begin as soon as possible. The movement of his army across Limgrave was a slow and plodding thing. They had supplies, smiths, healers, all varieties of craftsmen; everything such a force would require for a campaign as momentous as theirs. This meant his cavalry had to move at the pace of the slowest walking man, instead of the swiftest horse.

Owain rode astride Osgalath, for though Torrent was a steed without compare, the sentinel had raised Osgalath from foaling and they had been through much besides. Owain had charted Torrent with a task of great importance, one the steed had taken up with cheerful excitement; to keep his princess safe at all costs. Ranni now rode atop the spectral mount; both she and he arrayed in newly forged armor of the highest quality ensorcelled silver. Iji had certainly outdone himself, Ranni looked every bit a princess set off to war, Torrent the lordliest of war horses.

His bride kept true to her word and stayed ever at his side, Owain had tried to entertain her with travel games but she had taken to reading instead, Torrent wise enough to mind his own pace. Those sentinels nearest them quickly became Ranni's biggest supporters as she cast many spells of cooling winds to combat the summer heat. After weeks of orderly marching, it was with an aching mix of anticipation and acceptance that his forces arrived at the ever burning border of Caelid.

The morning of their advance saw his lines of sentinels at attention, mounts stamping in impatience. Ranni and Torrent sat in the middle of thousands of sentinels that would gladly die for their lord or his lady. She had expressed her annoyance at such a position when they had woken with some vehemence, but Owain would take no chance with her being at his side until she grew more accustomed to the battlefield.

His eyes looked out over the deathly fields of red and rot before them. For leagues upon leagues he could see the shambling, rot infested, undead; with all manner of corrupted beasts as well. All would need to be culled before they could see to healing the land itself. The Redmanes held tight, the border and the road to their castle, but that was all. They had been in a losing battle against the encroachment of the rot for many years.

Owain raised his spear, hoping his men would not notice he could not alight it with its normal holy wreath. "My golden host!" He bellowed out across the line, thankful at Ranni's enchantment to amplify his voice. "My lordly warriors, my champions of purifying sun!" He bade Osgalath into a gallop down the line, he need rouse the spirit of his men as high as he might before the coming death. "Through great effort, we have brought safety and joy to many of our once downtrodden people. From Caria to far Mourne, there is peace and there will be plenty!" His sentinels began to pound their halberds against the hard packed earth in excitement, he saw many ignite their armaments.

"Through greater effort still, will these lands be righted whole! Through golden light and iron will shall we see what was broken, restored!" His voice was rough with emotion, after such struggle, he was asking his men to fight yet harder. Their cries of joy strengthened his own resolve, he wheeled Osgalath around with a rallying shout. "Caelid too has been thrown to darker gods. Caelid too, needs our hands and our blades to set it true! We are the light that burns clean! We are the beacon that all shall follow! With me now, O honored ones! With me, they who shine brightest! With me, sentinels of the golden tree!" The thunderous roar of so many thousands thrummed through his core, the stamping and the screaming of man and horse alike shaking loose the dust of the ground. As he rode at the head of his glistening cavalry, the light of thousands of hopeful souls gleaming at his back, Owain tried to banish the thoughts of just how many of them he would lose.