"This way, Milady."
Malenia breezed past the Cleanrot Knight, shoulders hunched. Allowing her general to pass, the soldier turned to fall in line behind her, prompting Malenia to glance over her shoulder.
"No, Emma. Stay here," she ordered curtly. "Stand guard with Finlay and Orthis."
The knight's footsteps halted.
"You would attend the meeting alone?" she inquired. Her soldierly hardness did little to mask the worry in her voice. Malenia nodded.
"Retreat to the entrance of the manor," she instructed. "Do not go further. Herd in anyone who dares venture into that blasted artillery."
"But, Milady, what if this is all a setup?" Emma pressed.
"Ranni is the only Empyrean beyond Lord Miquella and I," Malenia said. "If she harbors sinister will towards us, she will be far too powerful for anyone except myself to handle."
"And what if you cannot? What if some scheme—"
Before Emma was even finished protesting, Malenia held up her one remaining hand, signaling the knight to stand at ease. Then, bringing it towards her prosthesis, she unlatched her katana. It slid like water from the grasp of her golden hand; she caught it and held it out to Emma.
"Take this," she ordered. Emma was quiet for a moment, then took a slow, cautious step towards her general.
"You are… giving me your sword?" she asked, quizzically.
"If I do not return, round up our men and retreat. Do not engage the enemy," she added with heightened severity. "Return to Elphael, and send for the equerries. Bring them my sword. They will understand, and they will know what to do."
The same stunned, subdued silence from before returned. Emma's movements to take Malenia's weapon were so slow and ginger that the blind demigoddess could barely hear the shuffling of her armor.
"As you wish, Milady," Emma breathed. She wrapped her hands delicately around the golden katana, careful not to nick herself on the impossibly sharp edge. Malenia's grip on her armament eased, and Emma withdrew with the sword in hand. Before she turned away, she said, "Go well, honored general. In the name of unalloyed gold."
"In the name of unalloyed gold," Malenia nodded back.
She waited until the knight's footsteps had faded before turning and walking up the hill. In the distance, she heard the low, unmistakable rumbling of a dragon. Likely Adula, the knight Ranni had said was in charge of guarding the way to her keep. She followed the noise, ignoring the tension building in her stomach at the prospect of approaching the beast. Pursing her lips, she shook her head slightly and reinforced her stride. If she had to fight through the last few feet of the journey to get to Ranni, then so be it—
"Halt!" A gravelly, masculine voice caught her ear. She did as was directed, though not out of obedience. Fixing her blind gaze in the direction of the voice, she stood on high alert as heavy, armor-clad footsteps thudded and clanked towards her. They came to a sudden stop a few meters before her, and then the mysterious man spoke again.
"General Malenia, I take it?" he inquired. She nodded.
"I was summoned to this manor by Princess Ranni herself," she declared, keeping her voice level.
"Rest assured, I'm aware. Come, I'll take you straight to her. My Lady has been expecting you."
Malenia said nothing as the man turned tail and strolled away. She followed suit, towards the rumbling breaths of Adula.
"The name's Blaidd, by the by," the man piped up. The name sparked a matchstick of familiarity in Malenia's mind.
"Ranni's shadow," she observed.
"Yes," Blaidd affirmed, mild surprise lightening his tone. "You know of me?"
"I learned of you long ago. Through Miquella."
"Ah," Blaidd mused. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."
Adula was right over them now. Malenia felt, more than heard, the dragon shift its glare down towards her. The throaty growl that ensued made the earth beneath her feet vibrate.
"At ease, knight!" Blaidd barked. Then, "Pardon us, Adula has never been the trustful sort."
Malenia did not reply. The two of them fell into a heavy silence as the half-wolven guard led her up the twisting tower of Ranni's Rise. Up a flight of stairs, then a magic-powered lift, and then another flight of stairs that sat open to the air, until they arrived in a small, roughly circular room.
"Lady Ranni?" Blaidd called softly. "She has arrived."
There was a shuffling, followed by a soft, ethereal whoosh. From the other end of the room, Ranni's voice sounded.
"General Malenia," she observed. "I have been expecting you." The aforementioned swordswoman's fingers twitched as she fought to stand still.
"So I was told," she replied curtly.
Ranni's next comment was not directed towards her. "Blaidd, my dear, do give us some privacy," she implored. "My next words are for Malenia's ears alone."
"Yes, my Lady," Blaidd replied, before hastily retreating back down the stairs. Malenia turned a quarter ways to follow him with her blind gaze until his footsteps were gone, and then righted herself to stare straight at Ranni.
"I hope your journey was safe," Ranni remarked. Malenia held up a stiff hand.
"Dispense with the formalities, sister," she bit, curt tone bordering on snappishness. "Wherefore dost thou summon me?"
Ranni was silent for a moment. Malenia could almost feel the witch tilting her head at her. Then, "Hmph. Very well. Let us not dither, then. I have summoned thee here today to broker an alliance between my kingdom and thine—but chiefly, between thee and me. I will lay mine intentions bare: I seek thine aid."
Malenia scoffed. "Mine aid?" she repeated. "Thou hast nerves of steel to beseech my good grace after what thou hast done."
She took a step forward. Her golden foot brushed against an ornately-carved chair leg. Placing a hand on the back of the thing, she leaned upon it, closer to where Ranni sat.
"For centuries now, Miquella hath declared thee a sworn enemy of Elphael," she growled. "It is only by mine own patience that I even deign to grace thee with my presence sans sword by my side and at your throat!"
"Calm thyself, sister!" Ranni demanded, though her dainty voice had not risen. "I am not thine enemy. I never was."
"Thou murderedst Godwyn!" Malenia bit back. "One of the noblest men the Golden Order hath ever known! Elphael's greatest ally beyond our isolated branches! Our family hath not once ceased their mourning for his loss!"
"Who is thy family, sister? Miquella?"
"Trifle not with me, Ranni," Malenia snapped. "Thou mayest possess no qualms with abandoning thy blood ties, but my father and I shared a bond that no duty could unravel."
"Thou believest I felt not the loss of my father?" Judging by the tightening of her tone, Malenia's words seemed to have gotten under Ranni's skin. "He was the one who walked away from us, beguiled and stolen by the allure of Marika and the Golden Order."
At that, Malenia let a single, mirthless laugh. It rang curtly off the stone walls.
"Beguiled?" she repeated. "Stolen? Thou knowest not the half of it."
Ranni huffed. "Our minds wander, sister," she rallied. "I assure thee, the murder of Godwyn was not an act against Elphael. It brought me no victory. He was never a target, but rather a tragic casualty."
"Then why?" Malenia challenged. "Why didst thou slay him, on the Night of the Black Knives?"
"I had no choice," Ranni said. "When I slew my flesh to free myself from the throes of my Two Fingers, the Rune of Death required a soul to enact the deed. Godwyn was that soul."
"But why him?" Malenia pressed. "Why not Godrick, or Rykard, or anyone else?"
"Circumstance." was Ranni's terse answer.
"So that's it, then?" she asked. "That's all Godwyn was? Circumstance? Lunulae in the story of thy rise to power?"
"This was never a rise to power," Ranni countered. "This hath always been about upending the tyranny of the Golden Order. The very Order to whom thy Haligtree standeth in opposition."
"And thou seekest to supplant that Order with one of thine own," Malenia accused.
"Yes," Ranni concurred. "One that lieth so distant from its people that it cannot be seen, heard, felt—the Order existeth to ward away the encroachment of foul-breathed Outer Gods that seek to occupy the recession the Golden Order leaveth behind."
"Why help us, then?" Malenia drilled. "Miquella and I—we are Empyreans, just as thee. Untapped Order incarnate. I stand in opposition by nature to thy godless landscape."
"When thy kingdom bid the hawkeyes of the Golden Order farewell, they chose you to lead in the Greater Will's stead," Ranni observed. "Such is the Order I envision. One where the people are free to choose what cometh next. No one else. In nature and spirit, thou standest against Order—and, I hope, with me.
"Please, Malenia. My half-sister," Ranni went on. "Thou thinkest that chair lay before you haphazardly? Rest thy feet, and hark."
Malenia's fingers squeezed around their hold on the back of the chair. The crackling silence that followed Ranni's words was so thick, so total, that one could have heard the wood beginning to creak and splinter under the Blade of Miquella's vice grip.
A few moments later, and that silence was shattered by the chair screeching protestfully along the stone floor as Malenia yanked it back towards her. Circling around it, she sat heavily down, only briefly pausing to be sure her dress and the trailing chainmail underneath were not caught beneath her. Her hands folded themselves over her lap, legs bent at the knees as she sat straight up with her chin held high.
"'Tis better than having come all this way for nothing, I suppose," she remarked. The dry, chill room was nearly made dank by the sarcasm dripping from her voice. Her prosthetic hand came up, gesturing with an open palm towards Ranni.
"Proceed," she invited, though her voice carried the air of a challenge.
"Gramercy, sister. I will give this to thee abjectly: I am in need of thy bladed hand."
"Thou wishest to make a sellsword of me," Malenia wryly observed. "For what purpose?"
"My fate, and the fate of all the Lands Between, lie astride the stars. But with the stars halted, I cannot continue. Without the dark moon by my side, I am powerless."
Before Ranni could even conclude, Malenia felt her stomach grow hard. Her jaw opened, and hung there dumbly for a brief moment before she spoke, interrupting her sister.
"Thou sayest not what I think!" she exclaimed. Any pretense of contempt in her tone was flushed out and filled in with shock.
"I am afraid so, sister. I need thee to slay Radahn."
Once again, Ranni was mid-sentence when Malenia stood straight up from her offered seat.
"No," she declared in a voice as hard as a rock. Turning towards the exit, she went on, "I will not slay my brother in thy name, witch. Find another to carry out thine insidious bidding."
She stormed towards the exit, placing a hand on the arching frame to feel her way out. Her stomach churned with horror and disgust. To think she'd wasted all the time and energy of hers and her men's, trudged all the way out to this decrepit shell of a manor, simply to be faced with the offer of being made into a pawn in the games of a scheming little serpent like her so-called sister. Days of trekking, lavished as if the whole of the land weren't totally war-torn. What a bootless errand. She would loiter here no longer.
"Shouldst thou reject mine offer, Radahn remaineth thine enemy," Ranni said. Malenia paused, if only to scoff at her sister.
"Radahn knoweth not of Elphael," she rebuked.
"For now. But what if, sister? Radahn is a general of utmost power, with an army eager to follow him to the ends of the earth, and a lust for battle befitting Godfrey. Canst thou rest thy helm when such a contingency lieth just under the surface?"
"Thy fearmongering will not tempt me, Ranni," Malenia muttered.
"Fear is what drove Miquella, was it not?"
There was a hearty whoosh of wind as Malenia spun around with the force of a hurricane.
"Do not act as if thou couldst ever know my brother!" she barked. "Miquella possesseth more wisdom and knowledge than thy feeble mind of venom could ever dream of! Driven by fear? Be not so quaint!"
"Miquella hath the knowledge to anticipate such threats," Ranni pressed. "Why else would he demand a bastion such as Elphael, swept under the snowy rugs far to the north? Had he been not afeard of the wrath of the Golden Order—surely thou understandest?"
Malenia remained silent. Her prosthesis clenched the blade of a sword that was not there. She was beginning to regret parting with it now, for ignoble reasons.
Taking her silence as an invitation to continue, Ranni pressed, "There is no shame in shadowing one's face from the purview of the Golden Order. Wouldst thou truly think I would stoop to such hypocrisy as to scorn thee for thine elusivity? Marika's peons are a frightful thing, Malenia. I know this, as does Miquella."
"So, what, then?" Malenia growled. "Thou wouldst have me compromise us? March across the Lands Between and instigate the Golden Order's ire?"
"The Golden Order is in shambles," Ranni countered. "The Greater Will hath abandoned its kingdom. Should Radahn fall to thee, there will be no one else whose ire thou'lt have drawn. And when the stars resume their trek across the sky, and I stand tall atop the corpse of my Two Fingers, all eyes will be on me. Elphael will not once pass the minds of our enemies."
"Even should I believe this tall tale, why would I lend my aid?" Malenia challenged. "What have I to gain?"
"There are resources at my disposal to which thou mayest take a liking. But dost thou not yearn for freedom from the Golden Order?"
"Miquella hath found his own freedom—"
"That tree is no freedom." Ranni caught Malenia before she could even begin. "It is a mere shelter. A hideaway, for him to build his kingdom in solitude. The Haligtree is a bastion of asylum for those spurned by the Golden Order. Nothing more."
Malenia's prosthesis ran its thumbs along her fingers. She licked her lips. Her jaw grew hard.
"Miquella cultivateth that tree in the hopes of gleaning so much as a fighting chance against our common enemy," Ranni continued. "But, mayhap he doth not need enact such a long-winded scheme. Mayhap the Haligtree's capacity for revolt be not needed. Mayhap… Miquella can return to us from his slumber."
Malenia's breath caught in her throat. She felt her heart rise in her chest. At once, images of Miquella flashed in her mind. His joyful, smiling face, looking up at her with all the love in the world. His pale hands, gently grasping hers as he guided her through the slow loss of her vision. His captivating work as he forged and honed her sword from pure gold. Images aplenty, and sounds, too. His chipper voice cheering her on as he spectated her sessions with her blue-garbed mentor. His somber machinations as he laid bare his grandiose expectations of his beloved sister. His wizened, resolute, but pained farewell right before he drifted off into his slumber–the last she'd ever heard from him. Hundreds upon hundreds of years ago by now.
Miquella. Her dear brother. So close at hand, yet always so far away.
Malenia bit down hard on her lower lip as she worked up the nerve to breathe again. She let an exhale out through her teeth, one that issued softly and shakily from her lungs.
"H-How…" she murmured, trying to gather her thoughts. "How knowest thou of Miquella's dream?"
"Hast thou forgotten?" Ranni asked. Such a question should have been mocking. It should have. Malenia would have expected nothing less from this snide bitch. But it was not. It was only… confused. "The times shared by the three of us, in our earliest days. When thy brother–our brother–learned of my mounting resentment towards the Golden Order, he agreed. Earnestly, and conflictedly. His admiration of our father's powerful incantations only carried so much weight, when such healing could do nothing for his dear sister."
Malenia did remember. She remembered being allowed to visit Caria Manor, accompanied by all manner of royal guards, from those strange golden knights to the hulking Tree Sentinels. Back in the days when Miquella's childlike form was nothing out of the ordinary. She remembered the long, colorful talks her two siblings had, if only vaguely. She realized, with a slight flush, that she had blocked out nearly all of what was said during those discussions in favor of watching her brother like a hawk. Even long before she'd first held a blade, her instinct to protect her brother drove her near every move.
"Miquella and I conspired together long before the Shattering," Ranni asserted. "Long before the Night of the Black Knives." She gave pause for a long, tense moment, during which Malenia fought to control her breathing; when the Lunar Princess spoke again, her tone had shifted into something… wistful. "I had come to know him, in time. Though there lay rueful borders between us, I felt him closer family than even my father."
"Thou wishest for his brotherhood, as well?" Malenia murmured under her breath.
"I beg thy pardon?" Ranni inquired. Straightening up, the swordswoman hastily shook herself out.
"I knew of none of this!" she exclaimed. Her tone had risen slightly. "Miquella would never keep such secrets from me!"
"He feared your implication, should he be caught," Ranni replied. "Even as a mere child, he was a noble soul indeed. I believe the natural good in man to be fickle, but Miquella… Miquella remaineth a stark exception."
"My brother is…" Malenia began, but trailed off when she realized she was at a loss for words. What could she have even said there? Her brother is the noblest of souls? The most powerful Empyrean of all? Her closest, most dear ally?
"Have faith that I will bring the chill night to the whole of the Lands Between," Ranni proclaimed, breaking Malenia out of her thoughts, "and it is my sincere hope that, underneath the gaze of the cold, unreachable stars, Miquella may slip free from the bonds of his slumber, and rule unfettered over those who anointed his virtue."
"And thou believest, by my sword, that such a rule would be ushered in?" Malenia asked.
"Precisely, sister."
Malenia fell silent after that. Her mind raced with thoughts of Miquella. Of the life they once shared. Of how agonizingly distant it was.
Could he really come back to her, here and now? Was she a fool to even entertain such thoughts? Surely the foul witch before her was toying with her. But she spoke with such heartfelt melancholy of her memories with their shared brother. Could a cold, emotionless serpent fake such poignancy?
She missed Miquella. The thought gnawed at her even as she tried to bolster her mental guards. She missed him so much. No one understood her like he did. No cheered her on like he did. No one so unwaveringly saw the good in her like he did. No one made her feel like something more than just a putrid vessel of decay like he did. She imagined returning to him as the stars hung over Elphael, rousing him from his slumber and informing him that his greatest enemy had been eradicated. She imagined the joy on his face when he realized the two of them could be together again. She imagined how proud of her he would be that she had brought his and Ranni's plans to fruition.
"Hast thou… hast thou no forces with which to contend the Redmanes?" Malenia mumbled, feeling for any possible clincher with which she could have cornered Ranni.
"My 'forces' are pitifully few," Ranni replied. "On their own, they stand not a chance against the whole of Radahn's army… but, you are free to employ them in such endeavors."
Suddenly, Ranni snapped her fingers. Immediately, the atmosphere in the room shifted. Malenia's ears pricked at the barest hint of a sound issuing forth from the walls around them. A sound that, she realized, comprised several brisk rhythms, operating in perfect unison. The sound of footsteps.
The mercenaries approached from all sides. Malenia counted four of them, but their noises were so soft, so barely perceptible, that such a read was more a hazarding guess than anything else. She needed not ask who these men were–or rather, these women.
"Black Knives," she observed, halfway to herself.
"These formidable assassins have served me quite well," Ranni remarked. "But, in the name of the Dark Moon, they would agree quite readily to turn themselves over to thee."
Malenia did not reply. Her heart was pounding, hard enough that for a brief moment she wondered if the others in the room could hear it bashing her ribcage. She glanced around the room, at the assassins whose gazes she could sense piercing into her, even shackled as she was by her blindness. She licked her lips, and in sealing her mouth shut realized how silent the room was without her jittery breathing.
A sound like air gliding over a river met her ears. One of the assassins stepped forward.
"We have heard many a tale of your warrior prowess, fair Valkyrie," she said, her voice as ethereal as a spirit's. "We have faith that, with the whole of the noble Cleanrots at your heels, ye would make a fine army–one which we would be honored to aid."
There was a soft, delicate shuffling of cloth and scales.
"Shake my hand," the assassin beseeched. "Mark this deal as struck, and we will pit every last shred of wit we have against Radahn. Together, we can meet his measure–"
Malenia's prosthesis shot out like a hornet and snatched the assassin's scaled glove in its grasp. The Numen issued a soft grunt as Malenia squeezed her hand in a vice grip. The golden limb trembled slightly as it clasped her.
"Crosse the golden plateau, to a town in the far north," she ordered tersely to the assassins. "Guarde it with your lives. Ye will be better as sentries than frontlinemen."
Her grip on the assassin's hand relaxed. When the mercenary pulled away, a palm-sized circle, like an oversized coin, came with it. A miniature medallion, to unlock the Rold Lift.
"Understood… General." The assassin's voice twinkled with some air of satisfaction.
The assassins flowed like water from the room in a matter of moments, leaving her alone with Ranni once more.
"Thou wilt not regret this." was all Ranni said before Malenia began a slow backpedal. The swordswoman's features hardened.
"See to it that I do not," she growled. Then, she turned to follow the Black Knives.
Malenia's fists were balled up as tight as wrought iron as she descended the steps to the entrance of Caria Manor. At once, Emma rushed up to meet her.
"Milady, you are safe!" she exclaimed, voice washed with relief. It was short-lived, however, for immediately after proclaiming such a thing, questions flew from her mouth.
"What happened up there?" she gabbled. "Wherefore did Ranni summon you? Why do those hooded women proclaim themselves our aides?"
Malenia thrust her prosthesis out to the side, palm upturned and fingers spread wide open. Emma fell silent and still for a moment, before shuffling to drop her Lady's golden blade into her grasp. Malenia squeezed the hilt and deftly maneuvered it until it clicked back to place within her unalloyed arm.
"Send for the equerries," she ordered Emma. "We go to war."