Kingdom of Sacrifice - CinderFlower (2024)

Chapter 1: Pledge

Chapter Text

Throughout Lothric’s childhood and into his adolescence, High Priestess Emma devoted herself to him almost entirely, leaving Lorian’s care to the other wet nurses. Lothric was perpetually sick and frail, often confined to his room unable to move from his bed, meaning he was forced to typically take his studies in his room under the tutelage of High Priestess Emma as well as several scholars sent from the Grand Archives by King Oceiros.

Lorian, on the other hand, was growing strong, sturdy, and devoted. He knew by now, as the whole kingdom did, what was expected of Lothric and the sacrifice he would be forced to make. Though he also knew that unless a true miracle occurred, Lothric would never be capable of carrying out such a task on his own and living to tell the tale. So Lorian took it upon himself to train and prove himself worthy to his father, who believed him to be useless when compared to his brother who had been born with the cursed dragon-kin traits. But beyond his father's approval, Lorian wished to become strong enough to protect Lothric, who could do nothing but suffer the consequences of his father’s imposed hubris.

The ideal of sacrifice was inscribed in every corner of the castle. It was a part of the culture since Gwyn had first committed to linking the fire, and the tradition had continued ever since. All across the castle were various homages and tributes to the art of self sacrifice. Statues of knights that held their own blades to their throats. Basins of blood. Paintings of men engulfed in fire. The message was clear: to sacrifice oneself for the sake of others was the noblest death of all.

For the majority of their childhood, Lorian and Lothric rarely saw or spoke to each other as Lothric was confined to his room by sickness and by the King's order in hopes that Lothric would grow stronger. Eventually Lothric had more good days than bad and was able to make his way through the castle unassisted most days, but Oceiros gave up on his hope that Lothric would recover into a healthy child. He resigned himself back to the Grand Archives to continue his research. Though Lothric would still be the Lord of Cinder, Oceiros would continue his search to make the perfect heir.

With Oceiros absent and the Queen of Lothric away from the kingdom, the castle became much more relaxed, no longer finding a need to impose the King's demands of confinement. In the evenings, after training with the various knights under the command of Knight General Godwyn, Lorian would retire and join Lothric for dinner. Some days it was in the great hall, other days it was in his room, all depending on how much Lothric could will himself to move that day before tiring or falling ill.

“Hello, dear brother,” Lothric greeted, already seated at their table in the great hall. His words were soft though emotionless, near a whisper as they scratched out of his throat. Lothric’s head gently rested atop one knee, his leg curled under him in the chair. Entirely improper posture for a Prince, but no one would dare speak out against it, least of all Lorian who cared not for such formalities when he knew his brother would likely be in more pain if he sat properly.

“Brother,” Lorian replied, bowing his head slightly in greeting as he took the seat across from Lothric. “How fared your studies with Master Orbeck and Mistress Kriemhild today?”

“They are teaching me such fascinating things,” Lothric replied, his lips contorting into a smirk as he caught Lorian’s eye. "Tell me, were you injured at all during your training today?”

Lorian took a moment to consider, before answering. Most of the wounds he had from training were inconsequential -- bruises, sprains, and the like. Recently he had insisted on training with real blades and armor to better prepare himself for a true fight in the world. “A shallow cut on my forearm, but it will heal quickly.”

Across from him, Lothric held out his hand expectantly, “Show me.”

Without hesitation, Lorian rolled up the sleeve on his right arm and placed his wrist in his brother’s open hand. The wound had already scabbed over and any trace of it would likely be gone in a few days time. He watched as Lothric placed his other hand atop the wound and dragged him closer.

Lothric bowed his head, chanting words under his breath just quietly enough that Lorian could not hear them. As he chanted, a white light collected in his hands along with a feeling of warmth. The light sank into his arm beneath the skin on Lothric’s hands, and soon Lorian felt the warmth crawl up his arm and spread to every part of his body, though most of the warmth coiled around his chest and settled. He looked at Lothric as his brother let go of his arm. Where the wound used to be there was now only unbroken skin - as if the wound had never occurred.

Before Lorian could begin to ask, Lothric spoke, “Miracles. Ironic feats of magic, only possible from worship to the very Gods whose fumbling grasp at a continued existence and power is the shackle to my grave.”

"And yet you choose to learn them?"

“Dear brother, I will learn them because they will give me power where I otherwise have none. You and I both know I will never rightly wield my holy sword.” He practically spat the words out of his mouth. “Indeed if I am to fulfill my duty and complete my sacrifice, I will still need to confront the Soul of Cinder to prove myself worthy to kindle the flame. I must have some means.”

“You will not have to take on that burden alone, Lothric,” He said, withdrawing his hand so he could begin eating properly. “When that day comes, I will fight by your side.”

“You are naive to think Father will allow you to accompany me - to taint my sacrifice with your lack of worth.” Lothric’s words were harsh and would have cut deep if he had spoken them with even an ounce of emotion. But his words were hollow, simply a parroting of their Father’s words spoken time and time again.

“I will prove myself worthy.”

“To whom?” Lothric asked as he slowly ate; his clawed grip on the utensil was clumsy, but after so many years it hardly phased him anymore. He waved it dismissively as he continued, “Father has left with the Crystal Sage on a search for knowledge, he would be unable to stop you even if he desired to. And in his absence, I suppose I am the highest authority here.”

They ate in silence until Lorian set down the last of his now empty dishes and tilted his head slightly in thought. “Then I will prove myself worthy to you.”

Silence weighed heavily between them as Lothric stared at Lorian, the utensil paused at the corner of his lips for several moments before his lips curved and trembled as a dry laugh escaped him. He grinned at Lorian, a spark of life in his eyes that Lorian rarely ever saw, “My dearest brother, you do not need to prove anything to me. But, I will humor you if that is what you desire. Now tell me, how will you prove your worth to me?”

“What would impress you?” Lorian asked.

“Firstly, an escort back to my chamber would suffice. Though I was strong enough to make my way here, it seems I overestimated my strength today.”

He waited and watched as Lorian stood and made his way around the table to Lothric’s side, extending his arm. “Can you stand?”

“I believe I will manage.” Lothric agreed, wrapping his arms around Lorian’s elbow, leaning the majority of his weight against him. Slowly they began making their way through the castle back to his room. “Traditionally, a King has his champion display his strength by killing a strong foe and presenting its corpse. I care not which beast, or if it is a beast at all, or indeed if you slay anything. This is simply the first thought that presents itself.”

They eventually reached Lothric’s room and Lorian pressed the door until it opened revealing an empty chamber. Some evenings there would be Emma or another servant awaiting their frail Prince’s return, but not this night. As he approached the bed, Lorian shifted and lifted Lothric up, holding him for a moment before gently setting him on the bed. While Lothric made himself comfortable, he called out, “Forgive me, Lorian, but I am weary. Let us speak more tomorrow.”

“Sleep well, Lothric,” Lorian said quietly from the doorway as he exited the room.

He knew Lothric wasn't serious when he suggested such a task, but he still couldn't shake the thought as he tried to sleep that evening. In all his years growing up, he had followed the same routine. He would train with Godwyn in the mornings, and study with Emma in the afternoons. The evenings were either more training, silent studies in his room, or on rare occasions like this evening, he would be able to see his brother. Now, Lothric had opened his mind to the possibilities outside of his routine. No one could stop him if he decided to leave at this very moment.

And now he had a reason to leave.

He had purpose.

Chapter 2: Destiny

Chapter Text

When Lothric awoke the following morning, it was Emma who was at his side, water at hand as it always was. He reached for it and greedily drank it down, not caring about the excess that spilled down his chin. Each morning he awoke, parched and sweating, regardless of the temperature or whether or not he had had water the evening before. While the cause could truly be anything given the state of his health, Lothric enjoyed imagining it as fate’s cruel mockery of his future to come: engulfed in flame perhaps indefinitely, parched and sweating.

“Good morning, Prince Lothric. Did you sleep well?” Emma asked, as she did every morning.

“As well as I always do,” he replied. A truth, as he always slept terribly, never feeling more rested upon awakening.

“Mistress Kriemhild is awaiting your session this morning and Master Orbeck will arrive this afternoon. Where shall I send her to wait for you?” Emma asked as she assisted him out of his bed and towards the bathing chamber.

Lothric glanced outside, seeing the sun crawling its way up the horizon. It would be a lovely day, he mused before replying, “Send her to the gardens.”

“Very well.” He eased himself into the lukewarm water, sinking until his face was half submerged, and letting his hands dangle over the edge of the tub. From his periphery he watched Emma bow low, “I will escort Mistress Kriemhild and return shortly.”

Lothric spent most of the time simply soaking, only spending a fraction of the time actually washing himself and his hair. By the time Emma returned the water had started to grow cold, and he was thankful to return to the uncomfortable prayer robes and what little warmth they provided. He would be in the sun soon enough as he allowed himself to be led by Emma to the gardens.

The space was well tended and looked after as it had been one of Oceiros's favorite places and had also quickly become one of Lothric’s. At the edge there was a group of trees with a collection of blankets and pillows awaiting beneath. It had become one of Lothric’s favorite spots to study as he could enjoy the outdoors in relative comfort. It was also in part due to the fact that there was a platform in the center where Knight General Godwyn insisted on having Lorian’s training -- distinctly away from the rest of the knights. It allowed for them to be close enough for them to each keep an eye on the other while still maintaining their seclusion - at least, when Lothric was well enough to study in the gardens.

Already seated beneath the trees was Mistress Kriemhild. She was a simple woman, dressed in charcoal robes that she claimed were those worn by a Fire Keeper. Though she was not herself a Fire Keeper, she had started down that path at one point. She had been with the kingdom for a very long time as a pupil to the Crystal Sages, following her mentors when they came to study in the Grand Archives. King Oceiros had invited her to become Lothric’s tutor, to teach him everything he would need to know in preparation of becoming a Lord of Cinder.

When she saw Lothric approaching, she stood to greet him. “Good morning, Prince Lothric,” she said with a slight bow before offering her arm to him to help ease him into the blankets. He graciously accepted her assistance and sat amongst the pillows. Emma bowed as well and left them alone.

Lothric couldn’t help but let his gaze wander to the platform at the center of the garden, which was suspiciously empty. Beside him, Kriemhild spoke, “I was surprised to see Prince Lorian leaving the castle this morning by himself. I was under the impression that in the King’s absence, you were both in charge.”

Ah, so that was where he had gone. Lothric couldn’t keep the smile from stretching over his lips. “My brother is wasted in this castle. He seeks his own destiny now.”

“And what might that be?” A fair question. After all, Lorian was not given a birthright, responsibilities, or even a curse. He just simply, was. Free to exist in any way he saw fit. Free of any expectations, noble or otherwise. Truly, Lothric envied him.

And yet--

I will prove myself worthy to you.

Lothric smothered his grin and said, “I suppose we will have to wait for his return to find out.” He turned back to his mentor. “What great secrets of my impending demise would you have me learn today?”

He watched as Kriemhild squirmed at his question, pleased that it still made her uncomfortable as it did so many others. Especially as a former Fire Keeper-expectant, she above all others had it ingrained that to link the flame was an immeasurable honor, and for one such as himself to outright slander the ritual was nothing short of heresy. But he also knew that none would challenge his words - except perhaps his father - as they each knew that they would never be the ones shouldering this burden, doomed to throw themselves to the flame so that it may cling to life for a few years more.

“As you know,” she started, “Fire Keepers are linked to their respective Firelink Shrine, a place where time holds no jurisdiction and which is only revealed to both the Keeper and the Lord of Cinder upon the first tolling of the bells. Though King Oceiros guards and maintains the Firelink Shrine not far from where we sit, the one you encounter will likely not be thus. And remember, my Lord, the Fire Keeper's fate will rest entirely in your hands. After all, Keepers do not take their duties lightly as they are more weary than the rest of us, seeking for the rekindling of the First Flame so that they can be rid of the undead curse long enough to pass from this world.”

“Do you wish for it?” Lothric asked, gaze turned skyward.

“My Lord?”

“Death,” he said simply, “an escape from the curse that brings you closer to becoming hollow with every undying death you suffer.”

She grew quiet beside him. “I thought I had - once. It was why I sought the guidance of the Keepers.”

“What changed?”

“I suppose it’s the same thing that urged Prince Lorian away. A desire to seek my own destiny, whatever that may be.”

“Have you found it in your studies with the Sages?” He asked, shifting his gaze to her from the corner of his eye, watching as her fingers plucked at a loose thread on the blanket. Kriemhild said nothing. He opted to spare her from this conversation further. “How will I know when the first bell has rung?”

“You will know, my Lord. Legends say that the sound of the tolling bells is mystic in nature, with the sound carrying across the lands, able to reach even those lurking deep underground in places like the Profaned Capital where Yhorm the Giant presided over before becoming a Lord of Cinder. For the one destined to be a Lord of Cinder, it is said to resonate within you, your heartbeat in sync with the tolling of the bells: your life inextricably linked. The bell will toll three times. The first will be to you, and all those who have strength to kindle the flame, or are tied to the First Flame - a summons. The second will be to the previous Lords of Cinder, should you fail to rekindle the flame. The final bell summons the Unkindled, waking them from their eternal slumber and guiding them to reignite the flame."

“A death knell.”

“For the First Flame, yes.”

“And for me.” Lothric stated, for that’s all it could be. A statement. He had been born with this fact engraved into his very soul. The sky is blue, the grass is green, and he would die giving his life for the First Flame. Yes, these truths Lothric accepted long ago. “Tell me, Kriemhild, why are Fire Keepers blind?”

“Sight is forbidden. There has only been a single Fire Keeper to keep her sight, and that was the first Fire Keeper.” Kriemhild lifted her hand to her eyes, though whether it was a conscious movement, Lothric could not say. “Rumors say the eyes corrupted her, leading her to try and betray her duties, and so they were removed from her. Gouged out and hidden away so none may be so tempted again. That is why all Fire Keepers are blinded the moment they take up the mantle.”

“Were there any rumors as to the location of where the eyes have gone?”

“I’m afraid I could not say for certain my Lord, but perhaps I can inquire on your behalf, if it pleases you?”

Lothric nodded his head slightly. She smiled in return, still absent-mindedly plucking at the thread. “Very well, I will see if I can find any mentions in my old teachings.”

She continued her lessons, speaking until the sun reached its peak in the sky. Lothric had begun losing interest as he reclined against the cushions and stared up into the sky. Briefly, he wondered how his brother was faring on his journey; what mighty enemy would he seek to kill in Lothric’s name?

At the edge of the garden a new figure approached, with Emma standing not far behind, pointing in Lothric’s direction. Master Orbeck, originally a student from the Vinheim Dragon School, was hired to be another one of Lothric’s tutors by King Oceiros. Because the teachings of the Dragon School were said to be derived from that of Seath the Scaleless, Oceiros had permitted and even encouraged the man to come in exchange for access to some of the knowledge held within the Grand Archives - he was never allowed to enter himself of course, being an outsider, only given access to whatever Head Scholar Wulfred allowed.

At one point, however, Lothric knew sorcery did not hold the same reverement as it did now. A scholar, Sulyvahn, had worked for King Oceiros at one point and was renowned for the drastic leaps in knowledge to the point where after he had discovered the Profaned Flame; King Oceiros had a statue constructed in his honor. Then one day, Sulyvahn left, and with him the wealth of sorcery knowledge in the kingdom, only recently reappearing with a new title as Pontiff in Irithyll.

Noticing his gaze, Kriemhild stopped speaking and observed the man. "Forgive me for speaking out of turn, my Lord, but I find it curious that the King would hire an outsider to teach you sorcery when there are so many just as capable already in his service."

"Like yourself?"

"I, well, yes. If you find Master Orbeck's teaching lacking or seek a different perspective, I would be more than happy to share my knowledge of sorceries with you."

Lothric hummed, pretending to be deeply considering her offer; in reality he would happily accept her tutelage, a chance to understand the sorceries his father would have kept away from him. "Your offer intrigues me. Let us discuss it more in our next session."

“Until our next session then, my Prince. When I see you next I do hope to have news regarding the matter we discussed.” Quickly, Kriemhild stood and left, keeping her distance from Orbeck as they crossed paths.

“Hello Orbeck,” Lothric greeted with a lazy wave of his hand.

The other man bowed in greeting. “It is fortunate that you should want to meet in the gardens today. Since I have taught you the only Miracle I know, today I intend to teach you a handful of offensive sorceries, if you feel up to the task.”

“Oh? What sorceries would you have me learn?” Lothric asked, sitting up and training his eyes on his tutor.

“A handful of ranged magic based sorceries that will hone in on your desired target, attacking them for you. As you are quite aware, you are in no condition to pursue close range combat, but these sorceries at least will give you options to attack from afar.” Orbeck reached into his robes and pulled out two scrolls and passed them to Lothric.

“Let us begin then, Master Orbeck.”

Perhaps with this Lothric will not be so helpless after all. He still would never be able to wield the magnificent platinum sword forged in his honor, but at least he would be able to fight in his own right. Perhaps someday he would be able to fight alongside Lorian, the two of them against the guardian of the First Flame. He hoped that day was still far, far away.

Chapter 3: Worthy

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When Lorian originally set out, he thought he at last had a sense of purpose, but realized he had no true goal to reach. While there were many creatures that had reputations for being formidable and would no doubt make a fine prize, none of them were at the level Lorian wanted to pursue.

He had been travelling through the outskirts of the land overseen by Lothric castle, which was primarily filled with farmland and peasants who couldn’t even imagine a life like the one Lorian had been privileged enough to live. When they saw him, a young Prince adorned in brass armor he didn’t quite seem to fill out, they hesitated to approach him. But they were kind enough after the fact. They allowed him shelter, sold him food, and ensured that at the very least he would not perish out here due to missing basic necessities.

The sun had started setting by the time Lorian approached the next village. At a distance it seemed no different from any of the other villages, but as he drew closer, Lorian could not shake the sense of dread he felt. The villagers were oblivious to everything, even as he approached. There were no lights on in any of the buildings, and several of them appeared to be clumsily boarded up -- or had been previously, as it seemed several barricades had already been torn down.

Lorian drew his sword as he approached the nearest peasant, noting the pitchfork in his hand. As soon as he was behind the man, Lorian placed his free hand on his shoulder and the man contorted and howled, incoherent as he - no, it - twisted itself around, faster than Lorian thought possible, and shoved its pitchfork towards him. Lorian countered with his blade as quickly as he could given the suddenness of the attack but felt the bite of metal slip between the plates of armor.

He quickly moved backward, this time readying his blade and easily blocking the pitchfork during its next swing, following with a slash at the creature’s throat. Lorian watched as its head fell to the ground, rolling a few feet before stopping and the body falling to the ground in front of him. The creature was emaciated and clearly once was human but had long since hollowed. So this was the undead curse. The fate of those doomed to lose their very sense of self, nothing better than mindless beasts in the end.

From around him, Lorian could see and hear several more approaching him. It seemed he would finally get to test his skill in combat after all.

As the first group drew nearer, Lorian took note of the weapons they had. For the most part they seemed to only carry the tools they’d had prior to becoming hollow -- pitchforks, scythes, saws, and the occasional dagger. So long as he was careful, their weapons would pose little threat if he could prevent them from swarming.

Lorian moved forward, baiting the two closest to him to rush towards him. The one on the left would reach him first. Lorian steadied his sword, balancing the grip in his left hand as he thrust it forward, barely waiting for it to pierce the skull before he kicked his right foot out, staggering the other hollow and causing it to stumble backwards. He pulled his sword free and cut down the second one as quickly as the first.

The blood and adrenaline that was coursing through him practically sang in Lorian’s ears.

He knew these enemies were hardly worthy opponents, but the experience of fighting against a real enemy - as opposed to sparring tutors trying to train him without true killing intent in their blows - was incomparable.

This is what he was meant to do.

With a grin creeping onto his face, Lorian made quick work of the rest of the hollows, cutting down the last one as the sun faded over the horizon. It would be foolish for him to try to move to the next town at night, so Lorian looked through the buildings and found one that looked the most habitable before he made his way inside. He searched through every room, checking to make sure no hollows were holed up inside before barricading the door.

It was a modest building, with a fireplace in the small kitchen area and a bed that hadn’t seen use in quite some time nestled in the corner beneath a window. In a stroke of luck there was still firewood stacked neatly beside the fireplace, which Lorian quickly placed inside and set fire to with the help of a loose stone and his sword.

Lorian was suddenly very grateful he had paid attention to his tutors when they took him along on the long hunts that required them to camp out in the forests.

Now that he was convinced of his moderate safety for the night at least, Lorian began the process of unbuckling and removing his armor, setting it beside the bed. He ran a hand through his hair, realizing consciously for once just how long it had gotten. It fell down just above his shoulders, and would undoubtedly only grow longer while he was away from the castle.

Though Lorian was just on the cusp of adulthood, he was larger than the average peasant by a significant amount. Many attributed it to his heritage, the genes of his mother and father were declared royal afterall. His mother’s presence in particular had been said to be larger than life, in more ways than one. With that in mind, Lorian understood that he was a poor fit for such a bed, but laid down upon it anyway, both legs hanging over the edge.

He closed his eyes, slinging a loose arm over them to block out the residual light of the fire he had stoked to life. As he willed himself to sleep, he let his mind wander. Lorian wondered how his brother was faring back at the castle without him; wondered what his tutors were teaching him; wondered if Lothric was thinking of him and what Lorian had set out to do.

It was only in the most recent years, after Oceiros began leaving with the Sages on more frequent travels, that Lorian and Lothric had begun to grow close. As children, Lorian would sneak into Lothric’s room to check on his brother and they would talk for hours until Emma returned and sent him away, but even those moments were far and few in between.

Lorian was grateful for his brother, and he knew Lothric felt the same. Without each other, they had each been doomed to a life of solitude within the castle’s walls, each being sheltered and secluded for separate reasons. It was especially trying to be each other’s only peers, yet unable to see one another and interact. They were each surrounded constantly with tutors and servants; any chance at a true childhood had long since been lost.

Lothric was the only one who looked at him without pity. Not like the others who viewed him as though he was branded with his father’s shame. He knew Lothric envied him, despite being the heir; he told Lorian as much often. What I would not give to be free of this curse, to be free like you; I would rather endure Father’s shame a hundredfold, he would say. On some days, Lorian wished he had been worthy enough for the flame - sometimes for the sake of his own glory, sometimes for his brother’s peace of mind. On other days, he wished the flame had never existed at all.

These thoughts carried him into a light slumber as he lay in the too-small bed, far away from home. He dreamed of the castle, of the training yard where he trained and fought against his father’s trusted advisors. But in the dream he had no sword while the others did., clamoring around him with deadly intent in every strike they sent his way, and it was all Lorian could do to dodge.

From beyond them, in the distance, he could see Lothric in the garden, surrounded by his tutors. Lorian spared glances between the strikes aimed at his person, watching as one of them held out a flame, a tiny ember, not much more than a spark in the wind. He watched as Lothric grasped it and the ember burst into a raging fire, consuming him whole. Shock racked through Lorian as he screamed, and he grew careless, blind to the blade that was rushing towards his chest until it was about to pierce and--

Lorian woke up.

His hand was extended out in front of his chest, gripping a blade that had been about to sink into his heart. Distantly he realized his hand was bleeding, and watched for a heartbeat, mesmerized by his blood dripping down onto his chest. He pulled the blade forward and to the side, dragging his assailant towards him, wrapping his free arm around the intruder and flipping them off the bed onto the ground. The stranger dropped the blade, which Lorian took for himself and pressed to their throat.

“Who are you?” Lorian growled, pressing the blade into their flesh hard enough to draw blood.

“Ah, forgive me,” the intruder - a man - pleaded, trying desperately to maneuver his head away from the blade, “I meant you no harm. I saw the hollow outside and assumed that you must be one as well, or at the very least just as mad for holing up here surrounded by corpses.”

Warily, Lorian removed the blade, stood up, and repeated his question, “Who are you?”

The man stood as well, hands raised in front of himself. He was fully armored including a full face helmet, so Lorian couldn’t read the man’s expression. “I beg your most humble apology, my name is Ser Alva. I was simply looking for a place to spend the night when I stumbled upon you.”

“Are you alone?”

“Regrettably, or perhaps fortunately. Yes. For the time being at least.” Alva sighed in relief as he watched Lorian lower his sword, and Alva lowered his hands in turn. “I bear no ill will or ill intent, I am simply searching for a cure for someone very dear to me.”

Lorian nodded understandingly. If there was a chance there was a cure for what ailed his brother, he would have gone searching for it long ago. Though he had no basis for trusting this man who had just tried to kill him in his sleep, his instincts led him to believe he should. So far on his journey it was rare that Lorian encountered anyone with ambitions beyond surviving the day. “It seems we are travelling similar paths. You may stay for the night; I will be leaving in the morning myself.”

“You are too kind. Please allow me to heal your hand to repay you for the misunderstanding.” Alva held one hand outstretched, the other pulled out a small cloth item from a pouch on his waist. Lorian extended his bleeding hand, curious.

Similar to what Lothric had done not long ago, Alva began to chant something under his breath and a light soon wrapped its way around Lorian’s hand, mending his flesh back together and closing the wound. Unlike Lothric’s miracle, the one cast by Alva did not have warmth and did not linger; instead the miracle quickly began disappearing before it fully finished healing him.

Alva shrugged sheepishly as he put the cloth talisman away. “Unfortunately I’m not very familiar with miracles. I usually stick to the more understandable world of metal and steel.” He gestured over his shoulder to the corner across from the bed. “D’you mind if I rest over there for the night?”

Lorian shook his head, sitting back down on the bed as he watched the man walk over to the corner and sit down. He didn’t remove his armor and he left his sword beside Lorian, clearly trusting Lorian despite having almost stabbed him mere minutes ago. Lorian was still exhausted, having been woken from his sleep too suddenly. He settled back down in the bed and stared out the window above him for awhile.

“You said we walk similar paths, friend.” Alva called out softly from across the small room. “What exactly are you searching for?”

“Worthiness.”

He heard Alva hum thoughtfully. “How will you know when you’ve found it?”

“He will tell me. Perhaps not in words, but I will know all the same.”

“He?”

“Yes.”

“Not much for talking are you?” Alva asked.

“Not with someone who tried to kill me recently enough for the blood to be fresh.” Lorian answered.

Alva laughed, “Fair enough.”

Silence fell between them and Lorian listened until Alva’s breathing even out before he shifted his attention from the window to the fireplace. The fire flickered softly, a shadow of the crackling fire it had been when he first settled into this building for the night. The image from his dream crawled back into his mind, beckoned by the fading flame. He could still see it if he looked closely enough. Lothric, body enshrined in flames, mouth open in an eternal scream as he burned and his body turned to cinder.

“My lord,” Alva called out, clearly not asleep like Lorian had once thought, “Forgive me if I’m wrong but you’re one of the sons of King Oceiros aren’t you?”

Lorian did not look away from the fire. “I am.”

“There’s a rumor going around that there are entire colonies of wyverns out there. Not many, but enough. They’re supposed to be out beyond Irithyll at a place where dragons are still worshipped. I had planned to go there once, from the rumors that the curse could be cured with dragon’s blood.” Alva’s tone grew sour. “But I believe that’s just desperation to pin a cure on the impossible, knowing it will never be achieved. Worthiness, though. That may be able to be found in a dragon-kin. After all, the Kingdom of Lothric was known and respected in the past for being Dragon hunters, was it not? What better way to prove your worth?”

Lorian couldn’t stop his laughter at the thought that he would go through all this to please a father who had seen him as worthless from the moment he was born. A father who had resigned from his family and locked himself in with his books. At the same time, he considered his father’s reaction upon learning that his worthless son had slain a dragon-kin.

And, more importantly, he imagined Lothric and had no doubt that his brother would see the irony and the worth in bringing back such a prize.

“Thank you. For the advice.” Lorian said, honestly. As Lorian fell into an uneasy sleep, he considered his future, knowing that when he awoke he would be setting off to slay one of his Father’s precious dragons.

Chapter 4: Reprieve

Chapter Text

In the years that passed after Lorian departed on his journey, the kingdom of Lothric had come back to life. King Oceiros had returned along with the Queen shortly after news reached them that Lorian was no longer at the castle. Lothric supposed that despite his title and the praise lavished upon him, his father did not entrust Lothric alone to rule in his absence.

Attending to the Queen was a new handmaiden who called herself Gertrude. If he was being quite honest, Gertrude bore a striking resemblance to his mother - far more than either himself or Lorian who bore closer resemblance to Oceiros - and he was well aware of the practice of having daughters of Queens serve them as handmaidens.

But that was none of his business, not truly.

Though the King had also returned, he was as reclusive as when he was locked in the Grand Archives, rarely leaving his chambers. It was hardly an improvement from when Lothric himself was ruling, which begged the question as to why his father had bothered to return at all.

Lothric was currently settled in one of the studies nearest to his room; his tutors had each departed on their own accord around the time the King had returned. Orbeck had claimed he had taught Lothric all he knew and now needed to search for more knowledge as Wulfred would not grant him access to anything else, while Kriemhild had finally uncovered a lead on the location of the Fire Keeper’s eyes. Eagerly, Lothric had sent her out to find them and bring them to him. She had only been gone for a little over a year, and Lothric was expecting to hear from her soon as she sent letters regularly to keep him informed.

In their absence, however, it meant he had to fill the time each day on his own. There were always some requests from the people at least, which he responded to promptly. Lothric was grateful the people were content with written responses from him for the most part, given most knew of his condition. Afterwards, on good days, he would spend his evenings practicing the sorceries he had been working on with Orbeck and Kriemhild. Though the balance of his days had once again shifted towards more bad days than good ones.

At that moment, Lothric had been replying to an inquiry from the Cathedral of the Deep, requesting more supplies be sent to them. He was partway through the letter when the castle bells began to toll, and Lothric couldn’t help but press one of his hands to his chest as he did every time the bells rang, waiting to hear the moment the ringing of the bells matched the beat of his heart.

Outside the study he heard the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching and turned just in time to see Gertrude appear in the doorway. “You’ve been summoned by the Queen, my Lord. To the courtyard, quickly.”

Lothric sighed and moved to stand. Gertrude moved to his side offering her hand for support. Since arriving, she had not once been prompted by him for assistance, it was just something she did automatically, as intuitive as breathing. “Should I assume this has something to do with the bells?”

“I believe so, my Lord.”

“It was the pattern indicating a guest - has the Queen finally taken on the foolish task of trying to find me a wife? For I fear that if that’s the case, she will be sorely disappointed.” Lothric gave the girl a wry smile, “After all, who would dare be wed to a cripple who is all but dead already?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know why you’re being summoned.” She paused for a moment and bit on her lower lip before continuing, “And you treat yourself unfairly, my Lord. I think you’ll live and find someone who cares deeply for you.”

Lothric grinned at her and leaned in closer, whispering, “You know, even the thought of allowing me to live would be considered heresy, dear Gertrude. You would do well to consider who you say such things around.”

“Forgive my saying so, my Lord, but perhaps there should be more heretical talk.” She cast her eyes down after she spoke, pursing her lips shut. Lothric said nothing in reply; it wasn’t as though he necessarily disagreed with her.

As they drew nearer to the courtyard, they were greeted with more than just the Queen. It seemed people were spilling out of the castle from every station - cooks, knights, servants, and even some scholars - all were gathered and talking amongst themselves. A space had naturally formed around the Queen and King out of respect and perhaps fear. Lothric would not blame them, considering the appearance of King Oceiros.

Where once a man had stood, tall and imposing, there was now a deformed husk. He was half man, half mutated beast as his appendages twisted unnaturally at places, his neck elongated, and his hands formed into claws similar to Lothric’s own. It seemed whatever his father’s research had led him towards was also leading him down a path which Lothric suspected there was no returning from.

He took the spot beside his mother, using her as a barrier between himself and his father. “Hello Mother.”

“Hello Lothric, are you feeling well?” she asked softly, her voice as kind as he remembered.

“Today is one of the better days. For what reason are we all gathered here?”

His mother turned to him and merely smiled. “You will see in a moment.”

As though summoned by the will of her words, Lothric heard the crowd in the front start to quiet as a figure began crossing the bridge towards them. Behind them were several horses, dragging a large object wrapped in cloth, and Lothric knew at that moment that Lorian had finally returned home, and with a tribute, as promised.

Lorian reached the courtyard, and Lothric took in the sight of his brother who he had not seen in several years. Time had treated his brother very well. Where before he could claim that standing they were roughly the same height, now Lorian undoubtedly towered over him. His brother who had left lanky and not yet fully grown in armor which had seemed ill-fitting before, now fit him perfectly and had clearly seen years of use and wear. The brass was stained brown in places where the dirt (or was it blood?) had collected over the years.

The horses came to a stop, and the rotten smell of decaying flesh quickly overwhelmed the courtyard. All around him, people were pulling out handkerchiefs and fans, trying desperately to keep the stench away from them.

At last Lorian looked at them; Lothric only barely caught the flicker of surprise on his face at the sight of their parents. He met Lothric’s gaze and gave a quick smile before falling to his left knee and curling his right arm, placing his hand in front of his face. It could be mistaken for a bow, but Lothric recognized the stance of fealty his brother took. What could Lorian have brought to elicit such an action, Lothric wondered.

“Prince Lothric,” Lorian called out, “I have completed the task as I swore when I first departed. A mighty beast, slain in your honor.”

Lothric took a sharp breath. It appeared Lorian had grown more than he thought in his time away. To address Lothric directly instead of the King or Queen who also stood in front of him - it was a sign of the utmost disrespect for them. And yet that was also the exact reason that it caused his heart to beat so quickly with excitement. The Lorian that had left had still planned on proving himself to his father, but this Lorian had spent years focusing singularly on a goal to prove himself worthy to Lothric.

“Show me.”

He watched as Lorian drew his sword, cutting the ropes that the horses had been dragging the corpse by and pulled off the blood soaked sheet.

Beneath it was the head of a wyvern, the rest of the corpse apparently abandoned. Oh yes, Lorian knew exactly how to prove his worth. “Magnificent,” Lothric whispered, moving closer until he was able to place his hand on the beast’s scaled head. “We must find a place to display it.”

“No!” Came a cry from behind him, a voice Lothric only barely recognized as his father. Whatever curse or mutation he had brought upon himself had deepened his voice and given it a strange tone. “As King, I will be taking it to further my research. It could have told us so much in life…”

Lothric calmly watched as his mother cast her gaze elsewhere while his father trailed off into fitful muttering to himself before turning his gaze back on Lorian who had risen back to his feet. In an instance, Oceiros lurched forward, his eyes crazed as he snarled, “By what right did you have to kill it? How dare you!”

He raised a mutated hand as if to strike at Lorian. On instinct Lothric placed himself in front of his brother and stood as tall as he could manage. He made for a poor shield, he admitted, the top of his head only barely passing Lorian's chin. But it was enough.

Oceiros's strike made contact, tearing through the flesh of Lothric's cheek, leaving a streak of blood in its wake. But it seemed to be enough to bring his father back to his senses. “To be able to defeat and bring back such a rare creature is an incredible feat, Father, surely you see the value in what he has accomplished?”

Behind him, Lorian added, “The original intention was always to bring the creature back alive.” A lie, but one that slipped so effortlessly from his brother. Oh how proud Lothric was of him. “But as I'm sure you understand from your research, Father, dragon-kin are prideful creatures. It would only surrender in death.”

Oceiros deflated in front of them and moved to the head, placing a hand on its forehead. As though in mourning. “Yes, of course. You're right. Well done Lorian, for bringing home this prize which will undoubtedly bring great knowledge and prosperity.”

Lorian bowed in response as a gesture of his humility and respect for the King.

“If I may be so bold, Father, I would ask to keep a piece of this tribute.” Lothric requested.

Oceiros opened his mouth and stuttered out a few incoherent words, his voice sharp with anger, before he turned his attention back to the wyvern. “Very well.”

Lothric turned to the crowd, searching for their apothecary who he had spotted earlier. “Master Aelfric, would you be so kind as to bring your amputation instruments?”

The man nodded, “at once my lord!” and hurried inside.

Aelfric returned with his tools - sharp blades and a saw sturdy enough to cut through bone. They were crude tools, and rarely used when miracles were so prevalent, but they had proved useful in the past. He calmly instructed Aelfric, “I desire a pair of teeth from this beast.”

At his command, Aelfric pulled out his tools and began the process of removing two of the largest teeth and handing them to his Lothric. Lothric took them greedily, one in each hand, straining slightly as with everything else about the wyvern, its teeth were massive.

Oceiros looked as though he was about to protest, so Lothric reassured him, “Worry not, Father. The beast has more than two teeth. But should you require to view these particular teeth for your research I will make them available for you. I have every intention of preserving them.”

"A kind memento to remember your brother by," the Queen added as she set a hand on Oceiros's shoulder to calm him.

“Lorian, would you please escort me to my chambers so I may store these where they belong?” Lothric asked. At his words, the others gathered realized that the spectacle was over and began to disappear back into the castle, many looking all too grateful to be away from the stench of the rotting corpse.

Together, Lorian and Lothric walked past their father who had gathered various knights to begin moving the remains to a better location. On their way, the Queen intercepted them, wrapping her arms around Lorian’s shoulders and pulling him into a deep hug.

He seemed to melt right into her arms at that moment, Lothric thought.

“Welcome home, my son,” said the Queen warmly.

“Thank you, Mother.” Lorian said quietly, pulling away from her embrace.

“Tomorrow we will celebrate your return with a feast,” she said, smiling brightly.

“I would like that.”

“Now go on, we shall have plenty of time to speak later. You must be exhausted.”

As she walked away with Gertrude and her other handmaidens following behind her, Lothric wrapped an arm around his brother’s elbow like he used to do before Lorian left. With little effort he led Lorian through the halls to his chamber, taking one of the teeth from his brother and placing it on the table beside his bed. He gestured to the other tooth, “I wish for you to keep that one. It was your victory after all.”

“I will be sure to cherish it.”

“Now, let us stop by your room and then continue on.” Lothric said dismissively, dragging his brother with what little strength he had.

“Continue on?” Lorian asked.

“In case you have failed to notice in your time away from civilization, you, my dearest brother, smell nearly as foul as that corpse.” He waved a hand in front of his face in an exaggerated motion. “I am taking you to bathe.”

Luckily for him, Lorian’s room was on the way and was hardly a moment’s pause for them as they set aside the tooth, grabbed a set of clothes, and continued to the bathing chambers. It seemed one of the servants had the foresight that this would be a stop for the returned Prince as the tub had been recently filled with warm water.

"Do you need help?" Lothric asked from the doorway as Lorian tugged at the clasps on his armor.

"I believe I will manage," his brother replied as he tossed his gauntlets aside and began removing the breastplate next even as his eyes turned to Lothric and he frowned. “You need not have placed yourself in his way. You know he would not have harmed me with such a blow.”

“And allow him to disrespect you and the tribute you brought to me? I would sooner endure a hundred of his blows than allow him to disrespect you so.” Lothric leaned heavily on the doorframe, “I knew the moment I saw the beast that it would anger Father. But, that is why you chose it, is it not?”

“He has always placed more dedication and care towards his research into dragons than into his own sons,” Lorian sneered. There was genuine anger in his voice. “Look at what that research has brought him - only madness. And for what he did to our mother, what his deranged methods did to you--”

Lothric sighed. “I have grown accustomed to this accursed body of mine, and have even found ways to make it useful. Watch.”

He took a step back, making a quick motion with his hand as light appeared from above them and runic symbols appeared on the ground beneath the pile of armor. In an instance, there was a flash of light and the armor had disappeared entirely.

“One of Master Orbeck’s sorceries he taught you?”

“A miracle of my own creation.” Lothric grinned at the surprised expression on his brother's face. He had long speculated that such a feat could be possible and spent countless hours willing a book across the room until suddenly, it had happened.

"You have grown much in my absence it seems."

"In parlor tricks only, I fear." Neither needed elaboration; Lothric's condition was still plain for all to see.

"You give yourself too little credit." Lorian scolded as he pulled his tunic off and Lothric could make out a jagged scar in the center of his chest and another scar - faint and nearly impossible to see - on his hand. Lothric moved out of the doorway, back into the hallway to allow Lorian some semblance of privacy even as he continued the conversation, “You have barely changed in the years I have been gone, I am grateful.”

“Whereas you have gone and changed far more than I could have anticipated. Which God blessed you to grow so much?”

Lorian laughed at him, “Being our mother’s child, I suppose. She is still taller and larger than I am, even now.”

A servant passed by and gave a quick bow to Lothric. “The scar on your chest… tell me what happened.”

“That was from an encounter shortly after I defeated the wyvern. For all of Father’s madness and obsession, his respect for the beasts is well-founded; they are powerful beyond comprehension. When I followed the rumors to the wyvern’s lair, it had surrounded itself with twisted men nearly as powerful as the wyvern itself. I encountered a second dragon-kin after I slew the wyvern - it had looked as if there was a figure atop its back as a spear of lightning sang across the skies. I underestimated it, thinking it too far away and it struck it’s mark true, right over my heart.” He paused and Lothric could barely make out the quiet sound of shifting water. “Even with my armor, the power of it bled through, still managing to scorch my flesh and leave its mark.”

Lothric hummed in response, “And the others?”

“There's one on my shoulder: a strike from a deranged hollow, tainted with power from the abyss.”

“How frightful,” he murmured, "and the one on your hand?"

“That was from a man I encountered several times on my journey. The first night he found where I was resting, he thought I was hollow and attempted to strike me down as I slept.”

“Pray tell, brother, how does a sleeping man stop a blade intending to kill him while he sleeps?”

“I dreamt--” Lorian paused, closing his eyes and breathing deeply before continuing, “I dreamt I was fighting in the training yard, unarmed. Before I awoke, one of the figures in my dream thrust a blade toward me and I reached out to grab it.”

Lothric peered around the corner to glare at his brother. “Even in a dream I dare say I suspect you would not be so foolish without cause. Perhaps it was your body’s natural attempt to react to the attack it sensed, or perhaps you are avoiding telling me something. You have never been good at lying to me, Lorian, not even lies of omission.”

Lorian turned away from him, his gaze landing back on the water in the tub, “I dreamt that you were in the garden, tending to the spark of the First Flame. The moment you touched it, it engulfed your body entirely. You were in agony beyond imagination, and I could do nothing.”

“Oh, Lorian…” Lothric sighed, ducking back around the corner and leaning his head back against the wall as he shut his eyes, all too familiar with what Lorian was describing. “To think that we would share such similar dreams.”

"How often?"

“Near nightly,” Lothric shrugged, “what other future do I dare dream about?”

After a long pause, Lorian spoke again, “That man who tried to kill me was the one who first led me on the path to the wyvern. He thought my intentions were to impress Father. Perhaps because that was who I was expected to impress.”

“And yet, here we are with Father oozing madness and anger. But I have been entirely impressed, brother."

"Then I can rest easy knowing I have accomplished my task." There was the sound of moving water again, presumably as Lorian exited the tub.

"Are you clean then?"

"It is the first proper bath I have been afforded in a very long time," Lorian agreed as he emerged from the bathing chamber, dressed awkwardly in his old clothes that no longer fit properly.

"You look ridiculous," Lothric said with a grin as he reached forward, grabbing his wrist and teleporting both of them to Lorian's chambers.

From beside him, Lorian stared, clearly impressed. “You can teleport people as well as items?”

“It is a relatively simple concept. Once you understand how it applies to objects, living things are hardly any different.”

“We could have simply walked.”

“Ah, but then how would I regale you with my newfound skills?” Lothric grinned.

He watched as Lorian began searching through his old clothes, looking for any that may be a better fit. Lothric tired of standing and moved to sit down on Lorian’s bed as he watched. Eventually Lorian found a slightly larger tunic which he traded for the one he was currently wearing.

Lorian sat down on the edge of the other side of the bed, collapsing backwards into the sheets and closing his eyes. “It has been a very long time since I have been able to sleep in a bed large enough to lie on comfortably.”

“Do you plan to go back out there?”

“Eventually, yes. I will have to keep reminding Father and everyone else why I will be the one to accompany you when the time comes. Just as you will prove them all wrong by returning alive.”

Lothric snorted. “What beasts will you fight to prove yourself capable of such a miracle?”

“I have heard rumors of a creature called the Demon Prince that lingers where Chaos was born, feeding from it. It is said to be incomparably formidable and ruthless; even demons fear to tread near him.” Lorian slung an arm over his eyes in exhaustion as they talked and his voice became more subdued. “As it stands now, I am aware I am not yet strong enough to fight such a monster. So I will go after other, lesser prizes. But one day, I swear to you, I will bring you that foul creature's head.”

It was as though he could already feel Lorian slipping away from him again, despite the fact that he was still very much here, beside Lothric. “I will go with you next time.” Lothric declared. “After all, if we are to eventually have to travel and fight together, we should practice first. But we must depart before Father inevitably leaves back for his studies, dragging Mother along with him.”

“Perhaps we should do something less dangerous to start with. After all, you have still never ventured outside the castle grounds.” It wasn’t a statement meant to wound Lothric, but it was a fact which was a sore spot for him regardless. “Perhaps a hunt?”

“And what exactly would we hunt?”

“There are plenty of boar and deer in the area, and it is not uncommon for hunts to occur, particularly at this time of year. But they will try to stop us, for your sake.”

“To keep me in my gilded cage, safe from harm,” Lothric sneered. He knew they would. But this would be a good first step. If he could prove that he could handle a hunt, there was a marginal chance that they would allow him to venture out with Lorian the next time he left. “They should have no reason to fear me leaving this time; not with the worthy Prince Lorian watching over me.”

"Just because you see value and strength in what I have accomplished, does not mean that Father has," Lorian countered.

"Then Father is a fool," Lothric declared, and was about to continue with other choice words when the sound of a woman clearing her throat caught his attention.

Lothric rose from the side of the bed and turned to look at their uninvited guest; in the doorway was the servant in charge of delivering Lothric all his letters as well as any urgent messages, staring straight down at her feet.

“Forgive the intrusion my Lords, Lady Emma suggested you both might be here or in Prince Lothric’s room as you were no longer at the bath chamber. My Lord, you instructed me to inform you at once as soon as word was received from Mistress Kriemhild, no matter what you may be doing. A messenger just arrived with a letter from her.”

Of course when Lothric had first instructed her of this, it was before he had known that Lorian would be returning. However, he realized that the task he had set Kriemhild out on may in fact serve a greater purpose in the long run than his reunion with Lorian. “Where is the letter?”

“Here, my Lord.” She held up a rolled up sheet of parchment which he took from her.

He moved to her, taking the letter as he skimmed the contents of the message. It appeared that Kriemhild had at last found a promising lead, but her journey would be leading her far beyond the kingdom of Lothric’s domain to the ruinous city of New Londor. She was requesting aid on her task, which Lothric could certainly provide her. At the rate she was proceeding, the retrieval of the eyes would take awhile, but more importantly she was his only solid lead. He needed to ensure she was protected on her journey above all else if the legends of the eyes were true.

For a moment, he glanced to Lorian. His brother would undoubtedly be able to keep her safe, but he did not want to entangle him into this; not yet at least. Lothric turned back to the servant. “I will send a reply at once, please find Albert and Kamui and send them to my study.”

The servant bowed, excusing herself from the room to do as he requested.

“Apologies, Lorian, I must attend to this matter. We will speak again tomorrow, and request permission for the hunt. Sleep well.”

Both Albert and Kamui were hunters that followed the orders of the Black Hand - an elite group of warriors, assassins, and spies who swore fealty to the Lothric royal line, serving whatever role was needed from them. They assisted the current leader of the Black Hand, Gotthard.

By the time he reached his study, the two were already waiting inside, each bowing as he entered. “Thank you both for attending to this with such little advance notice. You are each aware of Mistress Kriemhild, yes?”

“She was your Fire Keeper tutor, but also the apprentice to the Crystal Sage, was she not?” Albert asked.

“That is correct. As such I have sent her on a task to retrieve a rare artifact that I hope to use in the future when the bells finally toll.” He paused, giving them time to absorb what he was saying before continuing, “Her task will take her to the abandoned city of New Londo, where I fear she may encounter that which she is not equipped to deal with. I will be relying on the two of you to keep her safe.”

“As you command, Prince Lothric.” They both said in unison.

Lothric nodded appreciatively at the two of them before sitting at his desk where he wrote a brief response to Kriemhild giving her permission to continue to New Londo as well as explaining that Albert and Kamui would be joining her for the duration of her task. Lothric quickly rolled it up and sealed it before passing it to Kamui. “You both leave at once.”

“As you command, Prince Lothric.” They both repeated while saluting before leaving the room.

Lothric sighed once they were gone, sinking back into the chair at his desk where he caught sight of the letter he had been drafting earlier before Lorian’s return. Seeing as how he was already here, he may as well finish his response to Archdeacon McDonnell. It was only a single letter that sat on top of an entire stack awaiting his response.

Resigned to his fate, Lothric hunched over his desk and began drafting responses until late in the evening.

Chapter 5: Hunt

Chapter Text

Despite Lothric’s promise that they would speak more the next day, it became apparent that Lorian’s return had caused more of a stir than either had predicted. Lorian had spent the entire day with his former tutors, only being relieved when the time of the feast began to approach. Apparently his recent accomplishments had raised him in Knight General Godwyn's eyes enough that his training was held in the barrack's training grounds with all the other knights. They were not subtle as they gawked and stared at him, whispering when they thought he could not see.

Even during the feast he didn't get a moment's break, having to play the political game in conversations led by his mother and various other key figures of the kingdom.

Lothric, from what he could see, was similarly engaged, especially considering the role he had played in their father's absence. Most of the nobles and knights seemed to hold a deep respect for Lothric, evident in the way they spoke, even in spite of Lothric’s poor tone and nihilistic humor that never seemed to fade.

The morning after the feast, Lorian had every intention of finding Lothric and speaking to their father to ask permission to go on the hunting trip. Instead, as soon as dawn broke he was called to the training grounds again where Knight General Godwyn's knights mercilessly attacked him. The sparring felt closer to the battles he had actually experienced than the training he had had when he was younger. He had to pay attention to make sure he did not strike a fatal blow by mistake as he let himself fall into the rhythm of fighting and self preservation.

This gruelling schedule of training from dawn till dusk continued for nearly a month. The man he was fighting, Allric, was one of Gotthard's hunters. Allric knew his strengths and weaknesses, and tailored his fighting style to punish Lorian. Where Lorian depended on raw strength and a wide area of attack his greatsword allowed him, Allric countered with his speed and flexibility. Each time Lorian thought his strike would connect, the man would seemingly disappear, rolling out of sight behind Lorian where he immediately followed with a blow to Lorian’s back.

But they had been at a stalemate for nearly an hour and Lorian was starting to figure out exactly how he needed to change his timings to counter Allric’s moves. They were currently strafing in circles around each other, and Lorian had noticed that more often than not, Allric rolled towards his left side since Lorian held his sword in his right hand primarily.

Lorian raised his sword, aiming as though he was planning to swing his sword around himself towards Allric, who rolled to avoid the attack. As soon as the man hit the ground however, Lorian had already anticipated his move and countered by raising his sword and slicing it downwards like an executioner's axe. It hit the ground close enough to catch Allric’s clothing, slicing it clean apart. In a real battle he could easily follow up with subsequent attacks that would seal his opponent's fate. But this was just a spar.

“Well done, Lorian.” Allric said with a nervous laugh, still lying on the ground. Lorian raised his sword, resting it on his shoulder, and offered a hand to his tutor. Behind him he heard the faint sound of clapping.

“Yes, well done, Lorian,” said his brother who sat at the edge of the training grounds. “I feel safer already. Come now brother, gather your things. We leave at once before Father changes his mind regarding this hunting trip.”

“He accepted?” Lorian asked, genuinely surprised. Their father was loath to put Lothric in any position that may threaten his life, fearful that he would be cut down before he served his purpose. And especially since Lorian had not had time to speak with Lothric or his father, he had begun to assume there was no hope for the hunt.

“Why do you think you have been battered in such a way from dawn to dusk each day? Father would only agree once he was satisfied you would be suitable enough protection.”

“Perhaps it slipped your mind to inform me.”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps I thought it unnecessary. If I needed to warn you that your training would dictate the outcome of the proposition, then I would never have entrusted you with my wellbeing to begin with.” Lothric smiled warmly. It was rare that Lorian saw his brother in such high spirits and it was clear that he had placed a great deal of faith and confidence in Lorian and his abilities.

Lorian walked to Lothric's side and began leading him toward the main gate. “There's no need to prepare anything. The best way to prepare for a hunt is to be unprepared. If this is truly a test to see how we would fare with only each other to rely on, then we should only bring each other.”

“Oh?” asked Lothric, glancing at Lorian from the corner of his eye, his tone and expression playful and amused. “Very well then. I entrust the details of surviving this hunt to you. I only request that I get to determine where we go.”

They made their way out the main gates into the streets, now officially further than Lothric had ever been before. He didn't seem particularly perturbed however, still walking alongside Lorian, just barely leaning on him for support. All around them as they passed, their various knights and townspeople whispered and saluted out of respect. It reminded Lorian very much of the last time he had ventured out.

“Did you have a particular destination in mind then?” Lorian asked.

“I did, in fact. I decided we should go to Farron's Keep.” As they passed a group of knights, Lothric lowered his voice, “I have heard rumors that there is a worthy beast worth hunting there. As well as some unappreciated and terribly feared kin of mine.”

The Abyss Watchers. Lorian was familiar with them as he had passed through Farron's Keep before. As a collective they had taken it upon themselves to kindle the First Flame, elevating themselves to a Lord of Cinder. He narrowed his eyes at Lothric. “So we are not simply hunting boar or deer then.”

“Of course not. Why waste this opportunity considering there is no telling when I will be allowed to do something so ‘reckless’ again.” Lothric scoffed, “It was a painful enough process convincing father to release me on the premise of a simple hunt. When he learns what we have truly accomplished I fear I will lose any sliver of freedom granted to me, so I refuse to squander it.”

Lorian frowned. Part of him had been rather looking forward to a relaxing hunt, but another deeper part of him was excited. Excited at the chance to show Lothric just how strong he had become; excited to witness perhaps for the first time the skills his brother had been working these past several years to perfect; excited to be away from the castle and the prying eyes.

They had settled into a comfortable silence as Lorian guided their way beyond where workers had begun their work to construct a wall at the edge of the kingdom, and he let his mind wander. He glanced at Lothric who, despite his condition, was almost as tall as Lorian and knew how to leverage his height.

They walked in silence until midday when Lothric finally broke the silence. “How far will we reach before we need to stop for the evening?”

“There is a small village ahead. If we continue as we are, we will make it before dusk.”

“I would prefer to stay out of the villages if possible. I have heard troubling rumors from the Cathedral of the Deep and the surrounding villages.”

Lorian had heard nothing about any of this. “What sorts of rumors?”

“A new sect has appeared, and their ways of spreading the faith seem to be rather controversial to say the least. It supposedly involves rather wicked methods of showing faith.” Lothric was not so quick to anger, but his tone spoke volumes of his disgust. “I have received one letter complaining of villagers disappearing shortly after a visit from some of the Cathedral’s Evangelists, and others complaining of finding half-charred corpses covered in lacerations.”

“Do you truly believe they would dare to harm you?”

Lothric was silent for several moments as he considered this. “If their faith has been warped to something more closely resembling heresy and renouncement of the fire, then I believe I may be their most desired convert.”

It was a troubling accusation for Lothric to even suggest as a possibility. The Cathedral of the Deep had been steeped in the worship of the Way of the White for as long as Lorian could recall. If such a shift was occurring, then Lothric was more than justified in his concern. “Then we will avoid the villages apart from a brief supply run.”

They continued on their way with Lorian listening as Lothric recounted the news he had heard from his various sources for the current happenings in the world. Lorian contributed with his experiences, having witnessed some of the rumors first hand during his hunt for the dragon. Time passed quickly and the sun was beginning to set by the time Lorian caught sight of the village on the horizon.

Lorian stopped, moving in front of Lothric as he kneeled. “In the event we encounter one of the Evangelists and need to leave quickly it will be faster to carry you on my back. Keep your hood up as well. The less attention you draw, the better off we will be.”

“I could simply wait for you outside the village.”

“I would prefer to keep you close.”

With little hesitation, Lothric moved behind him, circling his arms around Lorian’s neck, leaning his weight over Lorian’s right shoulder. Lothric’s legs hooked around his waist, holding himself up for the most part. Once Lorian was satisfied, he stood up and began heading into town. Without even needing it to be suggested, Lothric tucked his head towards Lorian’s neck, though the angle was just enough that his face was mostly obscured while still being able to observe everything around them. To the casual observer he would simply appear as someone sick that Lorian was assisting.

Thankfully, the village seemed relatively unchanged since Lorian’s last visit, with some of the villagers even recognizing him. He wove his way through the streets until he came across a small building, slightly better kept than the others due to the fact that it was where the only merchants in town sold their wares. They went inside and Lorian quickly began skimming through the items for what they would need. He grabbed a few blankets, waterskins, and some tattered clothes that could perhaps be used as bandages should the situation arise. To store their supplies he also grabbed a sack clearly intended to hold vegetables, and a rope to seal it shut. He passed a handful of coins to the old woman that was watching over the wares and departed.

Once they were outside, Lorian spoke quietly, asking, “To Farron’s Keep still?”

“Yes.”

Lorian nodded and they continued on their way back out of the village and headed towards the treeline of the forest. The sun had almost set by the time they reached a clearing suitable for the night.

From his back, Lothric let go of his grip and slid back down to the ground, landing gracefully on his feet. “Lorian, start the fire. I will catch something for us to eat.”

“Stay close by, and if you are in any danger--”

“I will call for you. Worry not, dear brother, I have no plans to get close to any creature that could pose a threat.” And with that Lothric vanished into the trees, his dark robes blending into the night seamlessly.

Lorian did as Lothric requested and began collecting suitable wood and kindling to start a fire, feeding it slowly until the embers grew into a steady flame. He set the blankets down beside the fire and pondered how long he should wait for Lothric to return until he went after him. A few more moments passed until a blinding light appeared a few feet away from him. Lothric appeared along with a deer with a bleeding wound over its heart; it was a surprisingly clean kill all things considered.

He made his way over to the animal, admiring it as Lothric moved to sit by the fire. Lorian drew a knife he had clearly learned to keep on himself for situations such as this one and began the work of skinning the animal. “How did you achieve such a clean kill?”

“A simple homing sorcery. Once I set it loose on a target it does the rest. A useful sorcery taking into consideration my lack of mobility at times. Master Orbeck was a more thoughtful tutor than he had first appeared.” Lorian wasn’t watching his brother, instead focusing on the delicate task of setting aside the skin and dividing the carcass to be cooked. From behind him, he sensed rather than saw the sorcery his brother sent his direction. He held himself still, watching as it shot past his head and struck something at the edge of the forest which immediately deflated into a haze of smoke.

Lorian skewered parts of the meat and moved back to the fire, passing one to Lothric to begin cooking. “How did you see the basilisk?”

Lothric shrugged in response. “There was no need to witness it with my own eyes. I set a sorcery over the area that will attack anything that reaches the treeline and is hostile.” It was astounding, the things Lothric could do, and Lorian couldn’t help but stare at his brother with an expression of unmasked admiration.

They sat around the fire after cooking and eating venison, silently enjoying each other’s company. Lorian wasn’t clear on what exactly Lothric was truly out to accomplish, and he suspected his brother would not tell him until whatever aim he was after revealed itself. Rather than ask directly, he decided to ask about Lothric’s cover story. “You mentioned there is a beast in this area worth hunting. I have not heard of anything in Farron’s Keep worth slaying aside from the Abyss Watchers, but I suspect we are not intending to kill that particular Lord of Cinder on this hunt.”

“An astute observation. No, I do not intend to engage with the Abyss Watchers at all if it can be helped. I intend for us to go after the source of the titanite scales our Father collects so obsessively.” Lothric was sitting across from him on the other side of the fire with its glow casting soft shadows on his face. He continued speaking, unprompted by Lorian, “They originate from draconic creatures that are typically harmless - the crystal lizard. This beast is created when that small and once insignificant crystal lizard gains an affinity for consuming souls. It contorts into a beast and fuses its body with the souls.”

“Something that poses a true threat and something that Father would appreciate; it makes for a believable cover story.”

“Speak your mind, Lorian.”

“I do not claim to know your true purpose for coming to this place, but the circ*mstances point to an ulterior motive. When we first spoke of this hunting trip, you seemed content with a basic hunt.”

"Perhaps now I simply seek something more exciting."

“Are we traveling to Farron's Keep because of the message you received from Mistress Kriemhild?” Lothric pursed his lips and said nothing. “What purpose could she be serving to draw you out so far and require you to send two hunters to escort her?”

Across from him, Lothric sat quietly, seemingly deep in thought as he considered his answer carefully. “Had Father stayed out of the kingdom on his travels, none of this would be necessary. But I fear he will try to intercept Kriemhild and the artifact I have sent her to collect before she is able to meet with me. I sent word ahead to Albert and Kamui to meet me at Farron's Keep as soon as I received permission to go on this ruse of a hunt.”

“What artifact could be worth such an effort?” Lothric was not one for keeping secrets, particularly not from Lorian, and so he could only imagine the worst.

“It is an artifact which may in the future grant me options I do not currently have. Or it may simply be an artifact to serve as a reminder of the inevitable. I have no way of knowing until I see it for myself.”

Kriemhild’s specialty lay in her knowledge of the Fire Keepers, meaning whatever this artifact provided, it was related to the kindling of the flame. All his life, Lorian knew they both had been told the only outcome was the linking of the flame. There were no other options. If Lothric was searching for other options then he understood why his brother did not want word of this getting out. Regardless of whether or not Lothric acted upon this artifact in the future wouldn't matter. It would be considered treasonous. A dereliction of his duties.

“Do you trust Mistress Kriemhild?”

“She is the one who told me of the artifact. I have no reason not to trust her in this.”

“And the hunters? Albert and Kamui?”

Lothric smirked, “They have been more loyal to me in these past few years than they have to Father. I have no doubt if sides were to be drawn, they would be on mine. Now let us speak no more of this; fate will play itself out soon enough.”

*

At the pace they were maintaining it took them over a week to reach the Keep’s perimeter. They spent their days either walking in silence or talking of anything and everything that came to mind - with the exception of the artifact Lothric was after.

At the entrance to Farron’s Keep was a tall and imposing gate that Lorian was doubtful they would be able to open unless the Abyss Watchers willed it. He turned to Lothric who had perched on part of the ruins that had collapsed, “You have no intention for us to try and enter the Keep itself, do you?”

“No,” Lothric replied with a lazy wave of his hand, “Supposedly the beast roams at the perimeter since most of the complaints are from those who attempted to get into the Keep itself. It is also where I instructed Albert and Kamui to meet us, so if they are not already here then we should not stray far.”

“Then we should hunt.”

Lothric reviewed everything he knew of these ravenous crystal lizards: how they consumed souls, where their preferred territory was, and everything else he found through his studies.

With that knowledge, Lorian led the hunt, searching for areas where there would be a high concentration of souls that the beast could have fed on. There weren't many as it turned out, given that Farron Keep was relatively abandoned aside from the Abyss Watchers within. Most of the nearby villages had long since been abandoned out of fear of the Abyss Watchers, as they were infamous for destroying entire cities if there was so much as a rumor of abyssal corruption.

They reached the edge of the marsh and Lorian knew this would be troublesome terrain, even for him. He knelt for Lothric to climb onto his back just as he had in the village; Lorian didn't mind carrying his brother who weighed practically nothing.

It took them far longer to move through the mud and marsh than Lorian could have anticipated with each step sinking deep into the ground as he struggled to keep his footing. All around them were low growls, though whether from monsters or men he couldn't tell which. In front of them was another section of the ruins collapsing in on itself. There was one section however that remained an open path that would be as similar to a cave as they had encountered.

As Lorian started heading towards it he was suddenly blinded by a flash of light; the same sensation of warm energy flooding through him as he was now several feet from where he had just been. There was a large man standing where they had just been, wielding large planks barely holding together in the form of a crucifix.

The man turned towards them; his jet black hair was unkempt and hung in his face, his skin sallow and pale, and where his eyes once were was now only an eerie red glow. Whatever humanity he had once had was now gone.

Lorian started to kneel in an effort to put Lothric down, but Lothric’s hand gripped his hair and pulled, causing Lorian to stagger back to his feet. “Do you trust me?”

“With my life.”

“Then prepare your sword and let me handle our maneuvering. In this filth you have no mobility, but you will have no need for it.” He let go of Lorian’s hair, curling his left arm more tightly around Lorian’s neck and extended his right arm out towards the man. “Raise your sword, brother, and aim straight ahead.”

He glanced at Lothric for a moment, seeing the intense concentration on his face as he stared at the abyss tainted man. From his fingers burst forth a flurry of magic that sang across the marsh towards its target. Lorian raised his sword and started to swing. As his blade arced over their heads, they vanished again, and when they emerged from the light the man was directly under Lorian’s blade. There wasn't even a chance for him to try dodging as the blade sank into his flesh and he let out a ferocious howl.

The abyssal man gripped the wooden crucifix and lunged forward, but before his strike could connect they were already gone. In his ear, Lorian heard Lothric’s frantic whisper, “Left.” As soon as they re-appeared once again, Lorian was already maneuvering his blade, catching the man across his stomach. He staggered, trying to strike again but Lothric was too vigilant. With another barrage of magic, Lothric let it distract the man as he teleported them further away.

While they had been preoccupied with the abyssal man, the crystal lizard had exited the collapsed ruins. As soon as it spotted them, it curled into a ball and began hurtling towards them. Lorian only had enough time to turn, putting himself face to face with the beast and thus placing Lothric out of harm’s way, and holding up his sword to block as much of the attack as he was able. The beast unfurled and whipped its tail toward them.

Its attack connected with Lorian’s sword, knocking him back from the impact, but the crystal tip of its tail extended past his blade and dug into his side. Lothric was finally able to teleport them away just as the lizard was lunging for a follow up attack. It gave Lothric and Lorian a chance to steady themselves, before chaining into another series of teleports. “Right, then left.’

They began a convoluted pattern of attacks, with Lorian blindly aiming where Lothric directed him and he fully entrusted Lothric to continue maneuvering them out of the way of the attacks. It worked rather well, to Lorian’s great surprise. Though this battle was rapidly becoming draining as his sword continued to chip away at the crystals on the lizard’s back rather than making any true progress. His inability to damage the lizard in a meaningful way combined with the fact that he was also trying to be cognizant of the abyssal man’s attacks made it an increasingly frustrating battle.

“Focus on the abyssal man.” He said, knowing Lothric would hear him. “An attack from behind.”

Before waiting for any sort of confirmation, Lorian lowered his sword, drawing it back and thrusting it forward at the exact moment Lothric teleported them. His sword drove deep and true into where the heart of the abyssal man should have been, cutting through his spine and piercing through his ribcage. With his right foot, he pushed the corpse off of his blade and turned to face the lizard once again.

All around their feet, crystals began to grow - slowly at first but then rapidly shooting upwards, piercing through the armor on his legs as if it hadn’t been there at all. Lorian grit his teeth and used his sword to break the crystals currently impaling him. As soon as his legs were free, Lothric teleported them far enough back that the beast didn’t immediately pursue.

“Can you continue?” Lothric asked, and Lorian could hear the tightness in his voice.

“I am fine.” A lie. It was taking nearly all his effort to remain standing and ignore the pain that was crippling his legs. “Do you have any sorceries that could help? Any weaknesses we can exploit?”

“This creature has no known weaknesses and is regrettably fairly resistant to magic.” Lothric’s weight was a comforting presence on his back even as he told Lorian things he did not want to hear. “Surely this cannot be more difficult than killing such a ferocious creature as the wyvern you slew.”

Lorian closed his eyes, and focused. Lothric was right, though this beast was aggressive and left few openings - and despite the fact that its crystals were almost as strong as the wyvern’s scales, if not stronger - at the end of the day even dragon-kin would die if beheaded or disemboweled. He opened his eyes again and looked toward the lizard which was hunched low, leaning menacingly forward on its front legs.

“I’m going to bait out its rolling attack.” Lorian announced, moving forward, ignoring the sharp and agonizing pain that came with every step.

As he moved closer, the beast began to growl before curling up and rolling towards them exactly as Lorian had planned. The moment before it reached them, Lothric did as Lorian trusted, moving them out of the way as Lorian aimed his sword. Without even needing to ask, they teleported again as soon as they heard the crash of the lizard hitting the ruin wall.

Rather than slicing downwards with his blade, Lorian instead started low, dragging the blade close to the ground before cutting it upwards directly into the lizard’s chest and throat, but failing to make it all the way through the crystals on it’s back. It shrieked in its death throes before collapsing to the ground, the weight of the crystals naturally causing it to roll onto its back.

Lorian collapsed to the ground, taking the pressure off his still profusely bleeding legs. Lothric clamored off beside him, teleporting both themselves and the lizard to the area of the perimeter where they had started. At least here there was enough left of the perimeter ruins that they could rest comfortably out of the mud. Lothric began breaking apart the crystals and ripping off the armor from Lorian’s lower legs. From what Lorian could see his brother was sweating profusely, his brows furrowed as he concentrated. Clearly, though the teleportation strategy had worked exceedingly well, it had come at a great cost.

With a hand placed on each of Lorian’s legs, Lothric began to chant under his breath and a soft white light engulfed Lorian’s legs as he felt nothing but warmth. It was the same as that time so many years ago when Lothric healed such a minor wound from Lorian’s training. This was on an entirely different level from the sorcery, or miracle he supposed. The flesh on his legs began closing and the blood flow from his legs slowly stopped.

It hadn't healed him completely and the wounds would still undoubtedly scar, but he could use his legs again and for that Lorian was grateful. Beside him, Lothric had all but collapsed, leaning into him heavily. He had clearly overexerted himself and the healing pushed him over the edge.

“You should burn that body, you know,” came a weary sounding voice from behind them.

The man was wearing the armor of the Abyss Watchers - how long had he been there? Lorian stood, using his sword to leverage himself up before training the blade on the Watcher.

Despite being an Abyss Watcher, the man hardly seemed a threat. He was sitting on the ground, arms resting on his knees with his sword still sheathed at his side. As soon as he saw Lorian aim his blade at him, the man raised his hands in a gesture of peace.

“Ah, don't worry, I have no intention to attack you. Neither of you have been tainted by the Abyss. On the contrary, you've rather done me a favor by killing that one,” he gestured toward the abyssal man they had slain, “I've been hunting that one for weeks now.”

“You do not strike me as a Lord of Cinder.” Lothric called out, still slumped over on the ground.

“No, I suppose I wouldn't.” The man turned his attention to Lothric but kept an eye on Lorian who had still not lowered his sword. “You may call me Hawkwood. I was a Watcher once, or at least I thought I was. The Watchers were all joined by blood before they decided to link the fire. When that time came, the fire fused them. Now they're but a single morphed soul, partially tainted by the Abyss and undead. Doomed to die and kill the poor corpse that revives with the tainted part of the soul. But I had not performed the joining ritual before they linked the fire, and so, here I am. Chasing down abyssal creatures on my own.”

“The flame is powerful enough to join souls?”

Hawkwood merely shrugged in response. “The joining ritual had connected them all before they linked the flame. I believe the flame simply strengthened the bond that already existed.”

“Why stay near this place then?”

“I suppose I've nowhere else to go, yet. Perhaps one day that'll change. Now you know why I'm here, why don't you tell me why you're here, Prince Lothric?”

Lothric gestured towards the lizard’s corpse. “I came for this creature we have just slain.”

“Surely one of your many knights could have accomplished that in your stead.”

“I also came to practice fighting alongside my brother.” He paused and stared at Hawkwood, tilting his head slightly. “Were you witness to the Abyss Watcher's trials to link the fire?”

“Ah,” Hawkwood chuckled. “If you've come to get a sense for what must be done for your destiny I'm afraid I have no insight, and neither do any of the Watchers within the Keep. They’ve long since hollowed and lost all ability to do anything but act on the instincts that drive them.”

“A pity. Then I suppose my business here is done, though we do intend to remain here a few days more, if you might be so gracious as to permit it.”

“As I've said, I'm no Watcher anymore. I hold no power here.” Hawkwood stood up, his posture slouched and hardly that of a warrior. “I'd be wary though, there's another group lurking around here, looking for something.”

He raised his hand in a gesture of farewell as he jumped off the ruins and slunk back towards the Keep. Once he had disappeared out of sight, Lorian lowered his sword and sat back down beside Lothric. “I suspect the other group is Mistress Kriemhild and the others.”

“I do hope you are correct about that,” Lothric said. “I tire of the wilderness.”

They sat in silence for several minutes before Lorian managed to gather the strength to stand again. He started to leave, making his way towards the trees nearby.

“Going somewhere?”

“Gathering firewood. If your group is observant, they will follow the smoke to us.”

By the time he was able to get the fire started, the sun had begun to set. Lothric spent the time dozing against Lorian who himself was cleaning and sharpening his sword. He was also keeping a watch on their surroundings for either Lothric’s group or any enemies that may attempt to attack them.

Just before nightfall, Lorian finally saw three figures cautiously headed towards them. He gently reached over, shaking Lothric’s shoulder to wake him. “They have arrived.”

Kriemhild was the first to reach them, her voice was strained as she spoke, “I must deeply apologize, my Prince.” She collapsed to her knees before them until her forehead was pressed against the ground. “It was in New Londo as I was told, at a long abandoned shrine. We had them and then-”

“What happened to them?” Lothric asked, interrupting her.

“We were passing through the outskirts of Irithyll when we were stopped. He took them, said he would return them to you at a later date and not to worry.” She seemed to curl in on herself even more with each word. “I'm so sorry, I've failed you.”

“Who took them?” Lothric’s voice was shaking with barely restrained rage. Clearly whatever this artifact was had even more importance to Lothric than he had originally led Lorian to believe.

“Pontiff Sulyvahn.”

By then the other two hunters had joined her and Lorian could see they were relatively unharmed. “You did not put up a fight against him.”

Albert was the one who stepped forward to answer him, “No, we didn't. We did not intend to provoke a conflict between Irithyll and Lothric, particularly after he gave us reassurance that he would be scheduling a visit to Lothric to return them personally.”

“He swore on his life,” Kamui added, “and gave us information. He has told us of Aldrich, locked in the Cathedral of the Deep, and the strange occurrences that have been happening there. He did not tell us much more than that but promised it would mean something to Prince Lothric.”

“Then he appears to be telling the truth.” Lothric replied. “I have been monitoring the shifting dynamics of the Cathedral. If what he is alluding to is true it would explain the what, though not the why. Did he give any information on when he would return the artifact to me?”

Kriemhild shook her head. “He only said that you would know when the time comes.”

“Then we should prepare to head back to the castle at first light and deliver this dragon-kin to my Father for his studies.” Lothric frowned in thought, looking to the ruins where they had fought earlier. “We should also bring the man. Though dead, his body may yet still shed an interesting light on the Abyss that taints him.”

Chapter 6: Discovery

Chapter Text

It took several years of research before King Oceiros made a discovery from the various dragon-kin and abyssal corrupted corpses he had acquired. In what had since become a daily routine, the King had gathered with Lorian and a group of his knights in the courtyard where he conducted his trials. Lothric was sitting on the outskirts, as he always was, watching his father's experiments with morbid curiosity.

Oceiros had not continued transforming much more than he already had when he first returned to Lothric. His skin had grown rough and sickly pale and while his limbs had not distorted further, Lothric suspected this was only due to Oceiros waiting for a breakthrough.

With the remains of the lizard corpse they had brought - long since rotted away - the knights and Lorian stood in a circle around it, weapons readied as a precaution. Beside the lizard corpse was a hollowed peasant from the outskirts who had begun to display signs of abyssal corruption. She was chained and bound, unable to do any damage unless her shackles were released.

In Oceiros's hands he held one of the titanite scales, distorted with additional runes, and Lothric could sense one of his father's sorceries coiled around the scale. Oceiros placed the scale in the hollow's hand and took a step back. Whatever sorcery he had placed on the scale was powerful, Lothric could tell by the way his skin crawled from it, even at the distance he was at. Within moments she began to wail - black abyssal slime oozing from every orifice on her face and rupturing forth from her back. Lorian and the other knights drew their blades, training them on the transforming hollow. The black ooze congealed and slowly started to form into a disfigured, serpentine shape on her back. Like the abyssal man they had fought, the ooze had glowing red streaks for eyes that turned on the knights as it howled.

“Ah!” Oceiros gasped in excitement. “The Pus of Man. Come now, show us your strength and control.”

As the disfigured hollow turned toward Oceiros, the lizard corpse also rose and turned toward him. Lothric stood up, fascinated. Reanimation? Magic? A miracle? He couldn't be certain - he would need to look at the scale later.

“Lorian. Engage the dragon-kin, but do not kill it.” Oceiros ordered.

Lothric watched as his brother did as he was told, stepping forward towards the lizard while remaining out of reach of the hollow. It instantly lunged for him despite being a shell of a corpse that should be unable to move. Lorian easily blocked the attack, but Lothric remembered its moves intimately. This was no simple reanimation; the hollow was not controlling the lizard consciously.

“Magnificent. Now, strike the hollow.”

Lorian glanced at their father once before sidestepping the lizard and moving toward the hollow. It shrieked as he neared and grabbed for him, the claw-shaped mass colliding with his armor and knocking him back. The knights closest to him started to ready their swords but stopped when Oceiros raised his hand. Clamoring back to his feet, Lorian moved more cautiously towards the hollow, baiting its attack and ducking into its blind spot. The mass lurched forward, driven by momentum as it failed to hit its target. In that opening, Lorian was able to drive his sword through the center of its chest. It began to collapse with a bone chilling screech and Lorian casually stepped out of the way, moving back to his original position.

The hollow collapsed and ceased moving and beside it the lizard’s corpse followed suit.

Seeing as the danger was now gone, Lothric moved closer to the corpses, walking past his father and brother until he was standing in front of the lizard’s corpse. He knelt down and examined the creature before realizing just what his father had learned how to do - or at least the closest theory he had. Lothric turned to Oceiros. “You tethered the remaining scraps of souls that the crystal lizard had consumed to the abyss in the hollow?”

Oceiros beamed at him, all jagged teeth and glassy eyes; it was unnerving. “More specifically the fragment of the dark soul within the hollow. The power of the abyss amplifies the power of the dark soul and helps it burst free. In certain specimens such as this one, it is enough power to even reanimate something long since deceased.”

“Only Men suffer the Undead curse because of their humanity. Because of the dark soul. So the binding of two such as these simply extends the curse to a creature that would otherwise never suffer from it.” It made for a frightening discovery. The implications could lead to a terrible number of things, and knowing his father, it undoubtedly would.

“Precisely! However, once the host soul dies, the parasitic soul dies as well. But no matter, for now we can accomplish what has never been possible before. It is derived from the same theory that Seath used to bind his soul to the primordial crystals.” Oceiros was animated as he spoke, waving his arms around as he paced. He directed his attention toward Lorian, “You must go. Back to where you found the wyvern. Take a regiment of knights with you as well. Bind the souls and you will have no need to kill the wyverns; they will be tamed if my theory proves true. Then bring them back to me.”

Lorian spared a glance to Lothric, seeking… his permission? He nodded, almost imperceptibly, but it was enough that Lorian saw. His brother knelt before Oceiros, pressing his fist to his chest in a formal salute. “As you command.”

Oceiros turned to the knights, taking a moment to survey each of them before calling a group of them out. “The kingdom of Lothric was once that of Dragon Tamers and will be once again! Elwin, Rimilda, Agnes, and Romund - come with me. You will be the vessels to control the wyverns. Come, come, preparations must be made.”

Lothric noted that Lorian was thankfully spared from the role of dragon tamer as he watched his father and the four knights walk off. The other remaining knights set to work disposing of the corpses while Lothric made his way to Lorian’s side.

“I suspect you will be gone for quite some time.”

“Not as long as the last time, I hope. I should return within the year.” He linked their arms as they usually did when walking around the castle. Lothric led them across the grounds, mostly in an aimless wander.

“You will return with a fleet of wyverns in your stead if Father has his way.”

“He has had more lucid days than those of madness recently. Perhaps he is finally recovering,” Lorian offered, hopefully. Naively.

“I dare say it’s just the opposite. Once you return with those wyverns, I fear our Father will be truly lost.” Sad though it may be, Lothric could not quite bring himself to care about his Father’s fate. After watching his descent into madness over the years, the man was but a husk of his former self anyway. “After all, he will finally have the closest thing to what he has always sought out. Several live and tamed dragon-kin, ripe for his studies.”

“Should that happen, I believe the people would be pleased to serve under your rule again.” Lorian turned to look down at Lothric, slowing their pace as they entered the gardens. “I, for one, would prefer it.”

“A treasonous phrase, dear brother. What would happen if you were overheard by the servants or Father’s advisors?”

“They would agree,” Lorian said defiantly. “Our Father has not inspired any feelings but fear and trepidation since his return. The people no longer see the man he was, only the twisted creature he is determined to become. You on the other hand-”

“I am the blessed sacred lamb led to the slaughter. The only would-be ruler with a death sentence. They care neither for my policies nor what my rule provides them. They care only about the fact that my sacrifice will bring back the fire and set the undead at bay for a few more years.” The words were bitter in his mouth as Lothric spoke them. He was being petty and unreasonable, he knew, but he could not help but voice them all the same.

“That is untrue.” Lorian countered. “Those who work closest with you see you as the authority figure that has kept the kingdom from ruin in the King's absence - and oftentimes in the King's presence as well. They lay praise at your feet and behind closed doors for the work you have done. Your fate may have earned their admiration, but your actions are what earned their respect.”

On their stroll they had managed to reach the trees in the gardens where Lothric once studied. He grabbed Lorian’s arm and pulled down until they were sitting amongst the cushions and sheets that remained there for him. “Even if what you say is true, it changes nothing. Father will continue to lead himself and his people on this path until he has damned us all. Whether or not the people would prefer my rule matters none. I will protect them where I can, but he will continue being King and I will die.”

“And if there was a way to avoid death?”

“You mean to embrace the undead curse, doomed to accept a fate no better than the Abyss Watchers? I would sooner beckon death upon myself. And moreover, I would never allow myself to be shackled to a hollow in such a way.”

Lorian was silent. It was rare that his brother was so quiet and thoughtful in their discussions. Lothric would never describe Lorian as brash, but he was opinionated and always spoke his mind around Lothric. Whatever he was thinking about must be weighing a great deal on his mind. It almost felt unfair, to have what in theory would be the answer to their dilemma of linking the fire dangled in front of their face, knowing it would never be attainable.

“What do you think it feels like,” Lorian started, his eyes focused on the sky, “to have your soul bound to another?”

“I would like to think it depends on who or what you end up bound to. An abyssal hollow for instance, I imagine would be terrible indeed. I pity the knights that Father chose to bind the wyverns. I am grateful he did not assign such a fool’s task to you.”

“I believe I would not mind it, if it was you.” Lothric snapped his head to the side to stare at Lorian.

“I would never expect anything from you that would place you in harm's way. Certainly nothing so cruel as to bind you to this fate of mine.”

“You sent me away to slay a terrible creature to prove my worth.” Lorian accused.

“It was merely a suggestion. But you survived, and managed to provoke Father at the same time,” Lothric declared, elbowing Lorian lightly in the side.

“So I did," Lorian said, reaching over and ruffling Lothric's hair in retaliation.

Lothric swatted his hand away and stood; Lorian rose as well beside him but made no move to follow him. “I am afraid I must go, undoubtedly the servants are already searching for me to deposit another pile of letters on me. Be well on your trip; I await your return.”

Chapter 7: Riders

Chapter Text

With minimal time to prepare before they were forced to depart, Lorian did what he was able in the time he had to coordinate with Elwin, Rimilda, Agnes, and Romund. Of the four of them, Romund and Rimilda had the most experience with the knights under their command while Elwin and Agnes were each newly promoted and had only done a limited amount of patrols with the knights under their command who were largely recruits.

They all knew and agreed that this task was unsuitable for knight recruits, so Lorian had inquired at the barracks for any knights with more experience that would be willing to go in the recruits' stead. Many were apprehensive, but a handful volunteered. The most senior by far, outranking even Agnes and Elwin were a pair of knights called Eadric and Wynfrith. They brought with them several of their companions - enough to replace the recruits with. Wynfrith agreed to help Agnes while Eadric would be working alongside Elwin.

It was a blessing in disguise that Lorian had found the dragon sanctuary on his first foray into the world, and it helped that this time he was well-equipped. Simply knowing the way and riding on horseback cut their travel time down significantly, but time meant nothing to the keepers of the sanctuary. As they grew closer, they were frequently ambushed by serpentine men and soon all their horses had been killed leaving them with only the prospect of a long walk back to Lothric unless they could truly tame these wyverns. The other knights had never encountered any creatures like these before, and so they were hesitant at first, they made mistakes. One of the knights - Brynstan, Lorian thought his name was - had been killed by one of the larger serpentine men, having underestimated the strength of the axe it wielded. In a single strike, it had cleaved straight through Brynstan’s shield and armor.

Thankfully, Brynstan had not been one of the four designated knights set on the task of controlling the wyverns, and neither were any of the other knights that fell before they reached the sanctuary. Though as far as Lorian could tell, the designated dragon tamers did not fare much better. The four of them had been feverish from the outset; Lorian wasn’t aware for certain of what his father had done to them, but he had his suspicions. At night, Agnes would cry out, her voice was different - changed. A side effect of the abyssal corruption Oceiros had forced them to undertake no doubt, if Lorian’s guesses were correct.

Lorian sat guard most nights, often finding that he didn’t need as much rest as the rest of the knights that travelled with him. Occasionally he would see some of the others awake, huddled together and talking by the fire toward the center of their makeshift camp.

At times, Lorian found himself wishing for the companionship of Ser Alva, his part-time companion. Usually it was the other man who held the conversation, telling Lorian of the next rumored cure he was chasing down, and how the previous one had once again resulted in nothing. He wondered, distantly, where the man was at this moment, what foolish cure he might be chasing.

“Sitting guard again tonight?” Came a voice from behind him. From the corner of his eye, Lorian saw one of the knights who volunteered moving to take a seat beside him. “Oh, right. Knight Captain Wynfrith, at your command, Prince Lorian.”

Lorian took a moment to regard her before nodding in answer to the question. She was entirely plain and unremarkable - her black hair, gray eyes, and round jaw indicating that she was likely from one of the villages on the outskirts where he had seen so many similar faces before. “What reason brings you here?”

Wynfrith shrugged. “The others seem happy enough to take advantage of your watch, but it feels ungrateful to me. I figured I could keep guard tonight in your stead, or at the very least perhaps offer some conversation.”

“I appreciate the gesture.”

They sat in silence for a while before Wynfrith realized he had no plans to retire and she spoke again. “Shame about Brynstan. He was one of mine, only recently got promoted. I tried to convince him he wasn’t ready yet,” she sighed, “but he wouldn’t listen to me. Kept saying how he was going to prove himself. Idiot.”

Lorian could have mistaken her words for cruel if he did not see the glisten of unshed tears in her eyes as she looked away and stared at the ground.

“You knew him well?”

“Hardly at all,” she said, shaking her head. “But we’ve been losing more and more recently. Easy patrols that were once good for the new recruits to manage have gotten too dangerous. It seems like everywhere has gotten more dangerous.”

“Is that why you volunteered?”

“I suppose to an extent, yes.”

“What other reason is there?” Lorian asked, genuinely curious.

Her gaze fell on a tent at the edge of camp. “Eadric and I joined together. Both of us were doomed to grow up in our little village on the outskirts where we would till the fields until we died - one way or another. We joined up because Lothric was the only place that would keep us fed, warm, and for the most part, safe. We seem to have a knack for surviving against all odds, so it stands to reason that we would be of more use than knight recruits who have barely learned how to properly hold a sword.”

She paused before turning and smiling at him, “But, I suppose there is another reason too. You see, we joined shortly before you went hunting that wyvern, which meant we were regularly assigned patrol routes in the outskirts, and you were far from unknown to the villagers in the area.”

“I rarely entered the villages. They should have had little to say of my presence.”

“You fought all variety of monsters in the areas you travelled through, did you not?”

“I did.”

“Some of those creatures had been plaguing those villages for months. Time and time again, Eadric and I were dispatched to patrol and investigate creatures in the area, but by the time we arrived, whatever monster had been plaguing them had already been killed. By you.”

Lorian was silent at that.

“So, in a sense, you’ve been watching our backs for years now. It’s only fitting we return the favor. And,” she continued, tone lighter, “I wanted to see if all the rumors of the mighty Prince Lorian were true with my own eyes. I’ve seen you spar, but a spar is not a fight.”

“Then I hope I do not disappoint.” He replied with a faint smile before looking out to the horizon. From the edge of the camp came a ragged scream of pain. Lorian recognized it by now as Agnes.

Wynfrith stood at the sound of the scream. “I should check on her. Make sure she is going to survive until we manage to find a wyvern at the very least.”

Lorian watched as she disappeared into Agnes’s tent. After a while, the screams faded and Lorian was left once again in silence.

*

It was on their third day in the sanctuary that they finally encountered one of the wyverns. It was a white wyvern, but smaller and seemingly frail when compared to the one Lorian had fought on his first trip here. They had little time to come up with a strategy before it landed on the ground in front of them, rearing back to spit out its flames.

“Agnes! This one is yours!” Lorian called out as he grabbed her cape and dragged her behind one of the statues nearby. “You have everything you need?”

She stared at him wide-eyed and panicked. “N-no! King Oceiros gave me a sorcery - he said I would need to channel the bond through a scale of the wyvern I intend to bond with. We have to get a scale first!”

“Stay here,” he ordered before moving out from behind the pillar, sword in hand. The other knights had scattered behind various forms of cover, but there was still one group close enough to hear him. “Romund! I need to get close to the wyvern; keep its attention on you and your group!”

Without waiting to see if he would listen, Lorian sprinted forward toward the wyvern. It turned its attention on him, and Lorian knew this would be a far more difficult task than if they had simply intended to slay it. This would also be far easier if Lothric were here, a simple teleport to the right location and that would be enough. But Lothric wasn't there and the other knights had never fought a wyvern before.

The wyvern drew closer, rearing back and slamming its front claws into the ground in front of Lorian. On pure instinct he had managed to time a swift dodge closer to the creature, rolling beneath its chest. In the distance he could hear Romund barking orders and trusted the knight was doing as he asked.

Sure enough upon losing sight of Lorian, the wyvern turned its attention to the next threat of the other knights. He used their distraction to sprint toward the back of the beast with the goal of grabbing a scale from its tail.

Careful of the wyvern's feet, Lorian approached the tail, found a scale and wedged his sword behind it and pulled. The scale loosened but didn't fall free before the wyvern screeched and whipped its tail, slamming into Lorian’s side and knocking him off his feet.

Still enraged, the wyvern took to the air, the gust from its wings preventing Lorian from getting back to his feet. It reared back its head and Lorian realized the creature intended to engulf them all in flame. His father would undoubtedly want the wyverns uninjured and tamed, but the alternative appeared to be Lorian’s untimely death by fire.

With little time to spare but the decision made, Lorian grabbed his sword and struggled to stand. He was out of time and options; the longer he waited to act the closer he got to being stranded in the wyvern’s flames. He leaned back, sword poised in his hands like a spear, and threw it at the wyvern - it was still close enough to the ground that he had a chance. Lorian watched it soar through the air before striking the wyvern in its lower abdomen, causing the beast to throw its head back, spitting the fire airborn as it collapsed to the ground.

"Don't just stand there! Move!" Came a shout that Lorian realized belonged to Wynfrith. She wasn't shouting at him, however, she was shouting to the knights around her as she sprinted out of cover towards the wyvern. Romund and Eadric were a few steps behind her, and behind the two of them were the other knights.

Out of nowhere, an urn went careening overhead, landing at the wyvern’s feet and crashing into an explosion of lightning. The wyvern screeched and crumpled low to the ground. “The lightning urns! Use them!” Wynfrith shouted, apparently having been the one to throw it.

Swordless and with the scale almost free, Lorian knew his only chance was to get his sword back while the wyvern was temporarily distracted. He stared at the massive creature before him, still dazed from the lightning, and rushed towards it. Lorian only watched for a moment as Wynfrith, Eadric, and Romund coordinated an attack on the wyvern's front legs and head before focusing back to his task at hand; he was focused on the creature's stomach where his sword was lodged. He grasped the handle and pulled - the sword had embedded itself deeper than he had thought - finally pulling it free before moving back to the tail.

Out from one of the statues nearby, Agnes sprinted towards him. “Where's the scale? I'll pull it free.”

Lorian gestured to the bloody patch of scales. “There. I will anchor its tail while you grab the scale.”

“Anchor it? How?”

“More lightning!”, Lorian called out before he lifted his blade and slammed it through the center of the wyvern’s tail using every ounce of strength to push it into the ground beneath. It wouldn’t hold long, but they didn’t need long. Agnes was already at work using her own sword to wrench the scale free and the other knights had gathered some of the urns and were throwing it at the wyvern to keep it stunned. Lorian struggled to keep his grip on the wyvern which was one move away from knocking them all aside.

With a victorious cry, Agnes sheathed her sword and held the scale in both hands. Her eyes shut and brows furrowed as she concentrated and when she opened her eyes again, they were the ghastly red of all abyssal corrupt creatures. The black abyssal pus oozed from her eyes, staining her cheeks like tear drops. She climbed on the wyvern’s tail and scaled its back where she sat between its wings and pressed her head to the back of its neck.

The wyvern calmed and bowed its head, mimicking her motion. Lorian hesitated, but pulled his sword loose from the creature’s tail and stepped back to where the other knights were gathering. They all stared in awe at the figure of Agnes on the wyvern, her eyes a haunting pit of red as she stared back at them.

She pointed to her regiment of knights and beckoned them forward, gesturing for them to climb on the creature beside her. Wynfrith, who had been assigned as part of Agnes’s regiment, turned back to Lorian. “My Lord, as discussed, we’ll proceed back to Lothric and report to the King.”

“Keep an eye on Agnes, and inform the King that I was the sole one here to wound the wyvern if he inquires.” Lorian wasn’t entirely sure of how abyssal corruption worked - if the host could still hear them and react accordingly, or even whether the change was permanent. But he trusted Wynfrith and the others with his words, provided they could return safely.

“As you command.”

Lorian and the other knights watched as the wyvern raised its wings and slowly ascended. His father would undoubtedly be pleased with the results if not slightly perplexed. The scale of what they had seen between the crystal lizard and the corrupted hollow was worlds away from what Agnes had achieved with the wyvern. Had Oceiros known it would turn out this way?

From the group of knights, Romund stepped forward. “What do we do now?”

Among the knights, Lorian could see several were injured and would undoubtedly need rest to recover before they track down the next wyvern. He himself was suffering from what felt like several cracked ribs; if not broken entirely.

“We set up camp here for the night. This is the general area where the wyverns tend to congregate at. With any luck the next three will come to us.”

“And if they don’t?”

“They will. Start setting up camp, I will find water and wood for the fire.”

“Need help?” Romund offered.

It couldn't hurt to have an extra set of hands. “If you insist.”

The two of them set off towards where they had initially entered the sanctuary. Though they were high up on a mountain, Lorian recalled there were streams nearby that they could gather water from. The trees in the area were also plentiful in supply, though old and many already dead.

They walked in silence for a while before Lorian spoke. “You did well out there; I am fairly certain at more than one point you saved my life. Thank you.”

“I can hardly accept your praise, after all, we barely did anything. You were the one who did most of the work. All we did was try not to die.”

“The others were hesitant, they would rather have remained hiding behind the various pillars and statues than face the wyvern directly. You managed to rally them into a coordinated attack.”

“You really believe that, don't you?” Romund laughed and slapped his hand on Lorian’s back. “They didn't do it because of me. They did it because of you, you crazy bastard. The moment they saw you running headlong toward that monstrosity they about sh*t themselves in fear. We all thought you were dead. Then you called out for us, and I promise you every single knight in my group would have happily died for you back there.”

“Would you?” Lorian asked, guardedly. He wanted to refute Romund's words, but in truth he had never seen the knights engage anything in combat like they had in that battle.

“Willingly. Happily. You're an inspiration to us, you know? It can't have been easy growing up the way you did - the king all but disowned you straight out of the womb and your brother is set to be the savior of this land and holds all the power. You don't have anything like that.” Romund stopped and jabbed his index finger to Lorian’s chest. “But when you came back from your trip after most of us thought you were dead, dragging a wyvern's head behind you… you were the talk of the barracks for months. We all could see you were destined for greatness. The King's mad for not being able to see it.”

Lorian was silent. What could he even say to such words? He had spent his whole life believing in his father's narrative that he was unfit for greatness - that was Lothric’s destiny after all. To hear someone other than Lothric validate his worth... Lorian was humbled. “Thank you.”

“If I may be so bold? I'd like to ask a favor.”

“Ask.”

“I’d like to be the last one to bond with a wyvern.” Romund grew quieter as he spoke, turning away. “What happened to Agnes… It'll happen to all of us. The King told us all as much. We've all already got it, you see. The abyssal corruption. The King infused it with his own magic and that's how we're supposed to activate the bond.”

“Can it be reversed?”

Romund gave him a wry smile. “If it could, it would also break the bond with the wyvern and the beast would perish. The King won't allow that to happen.” He sighed and crouched at the edge of the riverbank they reached. “I've already accepted my fate. I'd just like to enjoy the time I have left as long as I can. It's already affecting the others - the corruption that is. Agnes's fits at night? That was it. Elwin and Rimilda aren't faring much better. Elwin's slightly worse off; he should be next.”

“I noticed. Very well, I will allow you to be the last and will inform Elwin that he is to be the next to bond with a wyvern unless yours or Rimilda’s conditions deteriorate further in the interim.”

“Thank you, my Prince.”

They each filled up the various water skins for the remaining knights, collected firewood, and returned to their camp. Rimilda and her group had apparently gone hunting and were at work skinning what they caught as Lorian and Romund worked on starting their fires.

*

Lorian found himself speaking with Romund often to pass time while they waited for the next wyvern to appear instead of sparring as he usually would. It gave his ribs a chance to heal and also gave him insight into the lives of the knights he often worked with but never had an opportunity to speak with.

It was apparently just as Romund claimed, the knights did look up to Lorian. As a way to show off, they forced him to remain on the sidelines when the next wyvern appeared, coordinating their attack so they could distract the dragon and create an opening for Elwin to bond with the creature. Elwin and Eadric had realized he could skip the step of prying the scale free and mounted the wyvern instead to reach the same end.

Rimilda ended up doing the same when the third wyvern appeared, leaving only Lorian, Romund, and his remaining group of knights to wait for the final wyvern.

Each night, Lorian and Romund travelled to the river together to collect the water, holding a light hearted conversation as they went, which only made it all the more apparent that Romund had something on his mind when he was silent. Lorian supposed it was only fair, given the circ*mstances. It would be difficult for anyone to come to terms with their impending loss of their sense of self.

“Do you mind if I call you Lorian? I mean no disrespect by it, but I feel like we've reached friendly enough terms. And who knows, tomorrow I may never have the chance again.”

“If you wish.”

"Then, Lorian, if I could ask another favor?"

"It depends on the indulgence you seek."

Romund looked away for a moment before turning back to Lorian with a renewed sense of determination in his expression, "I only ask that you make sure that the King doesn't make anyone else do what we've done here. This fate, this sickness, I wouldn't wish it on anyone."

It was not a promise Lorian could keep, he knew that already. But he could at least attempt to give the man peace of mind in the time he had left. "I swear I will do everything in my power to prevent it."

"Thank you," Romund said, practically deflating as he kneeled by the river and they worked together to fill the waterskins once more.

It turned out whatever instinct had led Romund to seek Lorian out that night had been correct as the following day the final wyvern they needed appeared. This one was closer in appearance to the first that Lorian had encountered alone, with crimson scales and tattered wings.

The battle went quickly with Lorian carving a path to the wyvern for Romund to follow. In an instant, the wyvern was tamed, and Romund was consumed. Lorian and the others climbed on the beast’s back beside Romund and settled in for the journey back to the castle.

As they departed, Lorian saw another wyvern off in the distance, with what appeared to be a rider upon its back. The wyvern began flying towards them when Lorian saw a light emanating from the beast’s back before it was flying towards them. It was the same as when he had defeated the wyvern all those years ago, but Lorian didn't have time to consider it before Romund deftly dodged the bolt and they flew harder and faster than they had before, until the figure was completely out of sight.

They managed to return in only a few days, with Romund landing the wyvern in the courtyard where they each dismounted. Wynfrith hurried to them and bowed to Lorian. “My Lord, if you'll allow it, I have orders to take the wyvern and its bound knight.”

Lorian took one last glance at Romund who remained on the wyvern. Over the course of the trip back, Romund had managed to regain some sense of himself, though the corruption was still rooted deep within him. It was sobering to watch the man who had been so incredibly alive now a shell of the man he had been only a day ago. Lorian nodded to Wynfrith and moved out of the way for her to climb onto the back of the creature.

“Prince Lorian,” called out a voice he did not recognize. “I am glad to see you returned safely. And with quite the prize.”

Lorian turned to look at the figure and was greeted by a tall and imposing man. The robes he wore were derivative of the Cathedral of the Deep, yet entirely different, with a sword at either of his sides. One glowed a soft lilac color and the other was somehow burning despite no obvious source of fuel for the flame to burn from. Behind him stood an equally tall and imposing woman; her entire body was elongated and slightly hunched forward, with a similar pair of swords at her sides.

Beside the man stood Lothric, in his prayer robes as he always was, hands clasped in front of him. It looked as though this was one of his better days as he had some color in his cheeks. He met his brother’s gaze as Lothric smiled at him fondly. Lorian would leave a thousand times to be greeted with such a sight.

Behind Lothric stood Kriemhild and the two hunters they had met back at Farron’s Keep. Lothric’s face and mannerisms were outwardly calm but Lorian could tell this entire situation had gotten under his skin.

“Pontiff Sulyvahn, I presume? I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“The pleasure is all mine. I was just speaking to Prince Lothric when we heard your wyvern approaching in the distance. It is a truly magnificent creature.”

“Welcome home, brother,” Lothric said. “Join us inside. There is much to discuss.”

Chapter 8: Prophecy

Chapter Text

Sulyvahn had insisted on seeing the spectacle of the wyvern's arrival for himself, leading them out to the courtyard which is where he spotted Lorian as he staggered off the wyvern's back. Lothric watched as his brother regarded the Pontiff calmly, figuring out who the man was before Sulyvahn had a chance to introduce himself. More often than not, people tended to underestimate his brother, which made it that much more enjoyable when Lothric saw the flash of surprise cross Sulyvahn's face.

Lorian looked past Sulyvahn and met his gaze; he was still wearing his brass armor, his hair was windswept and his cheeks reddened from his trip flying on the wyvern.

Wynfrith took the wyvern away as Lothric had instructed and he beckoned the group back inside. They returned to their seats around the vast wooden table where Lothric sat at the head, Lorian to his right, and Kriemhild to his left. Sulyvahn sat at the other end with the monstrous woman poised behind him. “Shall we begin then?”

“If it pleases you, my Lord.” Sulyvahn bowed his head, the smirk on his lips never fading. He reached into his robes, pulled out a small black box, and slid it across the table to Lothric. “As promised.”

Lothric held the box in his hands, turning it over carefully. Once he opened it and the discussion began in earnest, he knew there would be no turning back. He also knew the repercussions that could come if this conversation was to ever leave the room. “Albert. Kamui. Please wait outside. If we are in need of your assistance, we will call for you. Allow no one to enter without my explicit permission.”

The two hunters bowed and exited the room, taking up their posts in front of the large wooden doors. They knew the artifact Sulyvahn had taken was significant and related to the Fire Keepers but they didn’t know the specifics yet and Lothric intended to keep it that way.

“Open it,” Sulyvahn urged.

Lothric pulled the box open, revealing the eyes within. At a glance there appeared to be nothing remarkable about them aside from their dull silver hue. Lothric passed the box to Kriemhild who looked carefully for a few moments before nodding to him in confirmation.

“For what reason did you take them?”

“They would have been dangerous to have in your possession while King Oceiros was watching you so closely. You are not the first to hear the rumors of the eyes; Oceiros also heard of them, many years ago, and sent a team of scholars to not just find them, but to destroy them. Imagine what he would do if he were to find them in the future Lord of Cinder's belongings? I could not risk such a valuable artifact being lost to such senselessness.”

“It is true my Father is not here at the moment, but he has sworn he would return as he had in the past. So why have you brought them now?”

“Even if Oceiros returns, he will not be the man he was. He has spent too much time engrossed in the teachings of the Paledrake. Like those before him that studied the dragon, he will lose all sense of self. He will be nothing more than a puppet dancing on the strings of a dead dragon.”

“I fear you may be right.” Shortly after the first wyvern returned, Oceiros had achieved what Lothric could only assume was the breakthrough he had been striving for. In the weeks between the first wyvern's arrival and the second, his Father had continued his gruesome transformation, his limbs mutated beyond recognition as being human and his face malformed. He summoned the Queen and stole her away into the night in a fit of madness. No one knew where he had vanished to or whether he would even return.

Sulyvahn was silent as he regarded Lothric. “It’s been truly terrible recently, has it not?”

“Yes, I suppose my Father has been rapidly declining--”

“Not your Father. The sense of dread growing in the pit of your stomach. The unease of knowing your time is running out.”

Lothric froze, staring at Sulyvahn. He could feel every pair of eyes in the room staring at him. It was true. Lothric had been sleeping terribly these past months and he felt weaker each day he woke. Each time the bells tolled he wondered, was his time finally up?

“The writing is on the walls, if you know where to look: the increase in hollowings; the rapid spread of the abyssal corruption; and the sun does not shine as bright. Time is running out, Prince Lothric, but how you handle the situation to come has not yet been decided.”

“On the contrary, everyone has known how the situation to come will be handled since the moment I was brought into this world.”

“If that was true, you would not have gone to such lengths to acquire the eyes.” Sulyvahn smiled. “According to the legend, any Fire Keeper that turns her back on her duties and gazes through the eyes will see the world as it was intended to be, before the cycle was corrupted and the dark soul was tied to mankind. The age of fire was never intended to last for this long. It is a pitiful spark at this point, artificially extended at the cost of terrible sacrifice; not just those who become Lords of Cinder but also those who could never survive the flames. All are fed to the fire as kindling in the hopes that it will continue and with it continue to prolong the lives of those who call themselves Gods.”

“Yet to let the age of fire pass and welcome in the age of dark would be a death sentence to all except the undead.”

“Your suggestion is that we do nothing?” Lorian asked.

“No,” Sulyvahn replied, “My suggestion is that you act deliberately in opposition to the fire. When the time comes, Prince Lothric, present your Keeper with these eyes and allow her to snuff out the remains of the flame. I believe there is more beyond the age of darkness, as a dear friend once told me. Beyond the age of darkness is the age of deep seas, dark and vast. A disruption of the cycle.”

A silence fell upon the room. It was clear that Sulyvahn truly held these beliefs and he thought that there was a chance Lothric might heed his suggestion, otherwise he would not be here. “And if I was to ignore the calling entirely?”

“A slower means to reach the same end. Though it also leaves the opportunity for another to usurp you as Lord of Cinder and link the flame in your stead.”

Kriemhild interjected, “The Keeper also would not be bound to the vision the eyes show her. No matter which path you follow, my Prince, there is a chance your decision will be undone and the fire linked regardless. But… it means you have a choice.”

Lothric pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache arise. “You have all given me much to consider. I will need time to deliberate my options.” He lowered his hands. “Pontiff Sulyvahn, will you enjoy our hospitality for a few more days?”

Sulyvahn nodded his head, once. “I can make arrangements to stay for another day, but then I must return to Irithyll. You are not the only thread on this tapestry I am weaving, your Highness. However, should you require my consultation in the future, you need only ask.”

“Thank you, though I should hope this is the last time we meet to discuss such matters. Mistress Kriemhild, will you escort the Pontiff and his guest to their rooms for the evening?”

“Of course. Please, follow me.” She stood and led Sulyvahn and the woman with him out of the room, leaving just Lothric, Lorian, and the eyes.

Lothric leaned back in his chair, steepling his hands over his eyes as his mind raced. In his heart, he knew the decision he would like to make, but what he wanted and what must be done were entirely separate things. There would be consequences no matter which path he chose.

“You should consider his alternatives.” Lorian said as he set his hand on Lothric’s shoulder.

“No matter what I choose, all paths lead to my demise. The only difference is how long I am allowed to live before it occurs and how those closest to me are affected.” Lothric lowered his hands and pulled the map of the kingdom towards them along with the figurines they used for outlying their strategy during a siege. He placed two figures on the map in the center, then four larger ones, and lastly several pieces representing regiments of knights.

“If I do nothing when the bells toll, the people will be nervous at first, but that will soon turn into fear. While I am expected to confront my mortality at all times, the people will grow terrified the moment they realize my inaction may indicate their demise.” He shuffled several pieces towards the castle from the kingdom. “They will turn on me, siege the castle, and kill me - that is if my own knights do not kill me first.” He knocked the piece representing himself over. “If you attempt to stand by me, they will kill you too. If you will recall, they now have four wyverns they control. You may be the strongest warrior in my command, but even you will be overwhelmed. ” He surrounded their pieces with the four larger ones before he knocked over Lorian’s piece. “They will find another to link the flame and our deaths will be meaningless.

“If I choose to use the eyes and instruct the Keeper to snuff out the flame, we can never return here.” He stood their pieces back up and set their pieces outside the map. “This is of course in addition to the fact that the world will be destroyed shortly thereafter by the dark soul, and we will die anyway. If we are even able to survive extinguishing the flame - which I sincerely doubt is possible.” He knocked over their pieces once more. “And everyone else will also perish except the undead. A land overrun with hollowed monstrosities.

“The final option is the role I was born to fulfill.” He stood up their figurines one last time, placing Lorian’s in the castle and his own outside on the outskirts. “I seek out the First Flame and link it.” He knocks his own piece over one last time. “You remain here, alive and well. You rule the people until you grow old and die; they celebrate their kind and honorable King while I fade into no more than a memory.”

“There is another option you failed to consider.” Lorian picked up their pieces and placed them on the outskirts of the map. “When the bells toll, if not before, we leave this place.”

The mere suggestion of it filled Lothric with dread. “Impossible. They would send the Black Hand to kill us. We would be hunted for the rest of our lives. But, more importantly, with Father and Mother both gone they will never allow for us both to leave.”

“Then we will make a reason for them to allow it. I can handle any of the Black Hand who would dare try to find us.”

“And what of the people? Will we allow them to suffer in the hands of Father when he inevitably returns as a husk of the man he was; driven mad by his obsession?”

“Mother will keep him in control, she will watch out for them,” Lorian countered.

“She left Gertrude here when she left and told me to watch over her.” Lothric bowed his head, “If I am correct, she has no agency any longer.”

“One of the advisors then.”

Lothric shook his head. “It is not so simple!”

“Then explain it to me.”

“This kingdom is being held together on hope and a belief in my title to become a Lord of Cinder.” He lifted his head and stared sadly at his brother. “It is as Pontiff Sulyvahn said, there is an increase in the number of hollows that exist. Not a day goes by where I do not receive a letter telling me of a new region witnessing hollowing that is becoming more and more difficult to contain.

“The Cathedral of the Deep has gone silent entirely aside from the Evangelists that are infiltrating all the villages and towns nearby. I have been told that they are carting villagers back to the Cathedral in droves and each knight Godwyn has sent to investigate has failed to return.

“Irithyll and Anor Londo have also gone quiet after the rise of the Pontiff to power. None of my emissaries have been able to cross into its borders for months now. I have not heard from Gwyndolin or Yorshka either, and I can only assume the worst at this point.

“And to top it all off, yesterday I was informed that there was yet another demon sighted on the outskirts near Farron's Keep. From what my scouts have reported, the demons are being forced out from their refuge underground out of fear of the Demon Prince.

“Do you know I spend each day writing letters and missives to placate the masses and to try to retain some level of alliance between our kingdoms? Some days I feel as though my hand may fall off if I am forced to write another letter. Do you understand, Lorian? I cannot trust another to maintain this fragile balance I have managed to create; least of all Father or one of his incompetent advisors!”

Wordlessly, Lorian leaned forward on the table and placed a hand on his shoulder, "Tell me how I can help.”

“There is nothing you can do.”

“No.” Lorian countered, “There is one thing I can do to help. Do you remember what I said after I brought you the wyvern's head? When you asked how I would continue to prove my worth to you?”

Lothric raised his head in disbelief, “You only just returned.”

“I swore to you I would bring you the Demon Prince's head. If that is what will bring you some peace, then allow me to go.”

“You also said then that you knew you were not yet strong enough to fight it.“

“Do you have faith in me?”

“Of course, however--”

Lorian shook his head, cutting him off, “Yes or no?”

“Yes. Yes, of course. I have trusted you since I was old enough to know what trust is and I will trust you 'til my last breath, but know that if you do not return, it is almost a guarantee that I will follow you to your grave soon after.”

Lorian was disturbed by Lothric's statement, but knew deep down that it was likely true. Lothric's political maneuverings could only do so much. Left alone with no one to fight on his behalf… "On your life, I swear to return.”

“Then promise me you will stay, at least for a while.”

“If things are as dire as you say, then it is for the best if I leave immediately.”

"And if I told you that things were not as dire as they seemed?" It wasn't true, of course, but he had always felt safer when Lorian was around. And he had been gone for so long already.

Lorian's expression clouded over as he rose to his feet, "I would implore you, brother, do not lie to me or treat me merely as a pawn in this. Of all people... not you."

Without giving Lothric a chance to apologize or explain, Lorian stormed out of the room.

Chapter 9: Compromise

Chapter Text

Lorian was of half a mind to leave to hunt down the Demon Prince right then and there. He expected others, his father, Godwyn, even Lady Emma to an extent, to lie to him to manipulate him - but never Lothric. But in spite of his anger, he would not leave Lothric alone to deal with Pontiff Sulyvahn. Lorian couldn't place where his distrust stemmed from, but each word the man spoke seemed to be hiding his ill intent. Though he doubted Sulyvahn had any other business to accomplish before he left, Lorian would feel better being around to watch over his brother.

“Prince Lorian,” came a voice. Lorian turned to see the man himself standing there with the same woman from earlier. “You seem rather tense. Would you entertain me with a spar? I've heard you are the most accomplished warrior in all of Lothric, and I did promise this one a fight before we departed.”

Lorian sized up the woman beside him, and considered the proposal. He was still worked up from his encounter with Lothric; all his energy now had nowhere to go. He inclined his head, “Let us spar at the training grounds then.”

“Excellent,” Sulyvahn said, clapping his hands together. “Lead the way.”

Together they walked through the castle beyond the courtyard to where Lorian spent most of his days. For whatever reason, whether it was due to the commotion with the wyvern, Sulyvahn's arrival, or his Father's departure, the training grounds were nearly empty aside from a few of the knight recruits whose scars on their necks from their initiation ceremony had not yet healed. When they saw his approach they quickly stopped their exercises and saluted. “Welcome back, Prince Lorian!”

Nodding to them, Lorian drew his blade. “You may stay and continue training if you wish, but I cannot guarantee your safety if you do.”

They looked between each other before sheathing their blades and moving off to the side. It seemed they would have an audience. The woman took her stance across from him, only one of her blades drawn, ablaze with fire that had no source just like the Pontiff’s.

“What is your name?” Lorian asked, as was customary before any spar or duel held between strangers. She said nothing, only tilting her head slightly as she presumably stared at him before shifting her focus to Sulyvahn. It was difficult to tell with her face covered.

Sulyvahn laughed, “You may call her Dancer of the Boreal Valley or Outrider Knight. Whichever pleases you.”

Lorian couldn't be sure what had led her to this position, but judging by the cruel smirk on Sulyvahn's face, he imagined it couldn't have been anything pleasant. He bowed low in respect of the duel as the outrider reciprocated the movement.

She made no immediate move to pursue him, moving languidly to the side with her burning sword held loosely in her hand. Her movements were unlike any that Lorian had seen before; her grotesquely elongated limbs allowed her to take longer strides than a normal human would be capable of. Lorian counter strafed, moving clockwise towards her left side, waiting for an opening.

The outrider suddenly swayed forward, lurching towards him with her blade arcing over her head. Lorian raised his sword to block when she took another step and the blade was suddenly aiming low for his side. Barely able to switch his stance in time, Lorian staggered back from the blow, but the outrider was already moving again, slashing towards him with another low angle.

Though her strikes were not terribly hard, they were relentless. Each time he blocked a blow she followed through with more, never giving him a moment's rest to counter. Lorian blocked blow after blow waiting for the strike from above and when it came, rather than blocking it, Lorian dodged to the side and followed through with a blow to her back.

It connected, though just barely and she swayed out of the way, placing distance between them. The outrider reached down and pulled forth her other blade and moved back toward him. She slowly stood upright the closer she got, blades poised behind her and ready to strike. When she started collapsing forward, Lorian started to step back. She was still too far away to hit him at the distance, so if he kept moving back he would be able to dodge it.

He watched her body contort low to the ground extending her reach far beyond what he had anticipated and her blades crossed on either side of him, lacerating his sides as she pulled them closed. Lorian continued trying to move backwards, but her terrifying control of her body allowed her to pursue him as she spun with her blades, bringing attack after attack down on him.

“You anticipate too much like a warrior, Prince Lorian. She does not fight like a warrior.” Sulyvahn called out when Lorian finally managed to place some distance between them. Dancer of the Boreal Valley he had called her. In a sense her movements were like a morbid dance; it was a fitting name. “Feel the rhythm of her dance.”

This time he watched carefully as she approached him, watching her feet and her arms, and tried to predict when she would strike. With his tutors, they had always moved aggressively but mostly straight forward, each move indicating the next move to follow. With the dancer, she telegraphed each move with the movement of her feet. Lorian took the time to block another flurry of her attacks as he watched her footwork, while also trying to ignore the burning of his sides where he was losing blood.

Left foot forward, right foot stepping to the side, Lorian saw her move before she made it and parried her blow. The dancer staggered back as he followed through, hitting her on her right side then following through with a blow to her left side. It was petty payback but it was effective.

And then everything he had just observed no longer mattered. Frenzied by the blow against her, the dancer came after him with a renewed vigor, and Lorian lost the ability to anticipate a single blow. They were back to where they started, with Lorian barely blocking each blow sent his way.

He needed to end this quickly if he was to have a chance at all, but at the pace the dancer was moving at, Lorian was at a loss for an opening.

His vision went white, and suddenly Lorian felt weightless, something he had not felt since--

Ah.

He raised his blade, and as his vision returned he was behind the dancer. The blow connected, striking her shoulder, and Lorian watched as she moved to get away, but he was already being moved again. She would be on his left, he predicted, and surely enough she was there, and his next blow connected with her leg.

Blow after blow, the dancer was unable to avoid his strikes and she fell to her knees. From where he watched, Sulyvahn clapped his hands. “Enough!” Lorian lowered his blade, breathing heavily as he tried to ignore the sharp pain from the wounds in his sides. “An excellent fight, Prince Lorian, though it appears you had help.”

“As did she, Pontiff.” From the barracks, Lothric approached the training grounds, hands clasped behind him. “She has long since had her powers, her abilities, and even her body altered by you. Am I wrong?”

“You are correct.” Sulyvahn smiled, wicked and cruel. “You fight well together.”

“We have always complemented each other, your Eminence. Though in this instance my help was merely to ensure no further harm came to my brother in this spar. He has already sworn to take leave to fight another, more powerful foe. For that, I need him in peak condition.” Lothric waved his hand and several hooded figures in robes, chimes in hand, rushed forward to the dancer’s side. “My servants will tend to your knight in the meantime, and I will see to your departure at first light if that is still your intention?”

“It is.” Sulyvahn bowed, “I am grateful for your hospitality, Prince Lothric.”

Lothric approached Lorian’s side and nodded to the Pontiff before teleporting them both away. Lorian looked around, realizing they were in Lothric’s room, before gazing down at his wounds. “Your carpets will get blood on them.”

“It will do well to serve me as a reminder, to watch you more closely when I foolishly speak out of turn.” Lothric began to roughly pull at Lorian’s armor, discarding it to the side without a care. “You are a fool.”

“I am the fool, brother?” Lorian spat as he ripped at the buckles of his own armor. "Perhaps I am, given how easily you believe you can lie to me."

“I admit it, it was foolish! Had you not stormed out I intended to apologize. Though it seems I need not have bothered as you are determined to get yourself killed.”

“It was a spar!”

“As always brother, you fail to see the larger picture.” Lothric cast the last piece of armor aside and hesitated as he stared at Lorian’s tunic which he knew was drenched in blood. Lorian was fairly certain he was still standing by the grace of pure adrenaline and anger.

“To what end would the Pontiff benefit from killing me? He had seemed rather pleased to see me arrive earlier.”

“Precisely,” Lothric reached forward and ripped Lorian’s tunic open to reach the wounds. “Are these the only wounds?”

“Yes.”

Lothric nodded and placed his hands on Lorian's sides and soon the light found its way into the wounds, searing them as it never had before. Before him, Lothric stood, brows knit together in concentration as beads of sweat collected in his brow, and Lorian almost felt guilty. His wounds slowly closed, though the skin came together loosely, and would likely scar.

“What were you thinking engaging in a duel with the Pontiff’s knight with none as witnesses except for recruits? Had I not intervened, she would have slit your throat, Sulyvahn would have called it an accident, and the recruits who know nothing of how the world works would have agreed. You are a fool, Lorian.” Lothric repeated as he moved a step back, leaning against the side of his bed. “You asked what benefit the Pontiff would gain by killing you, yet you sat in the same room as I did when he told us his plan. Think.”

“He thinks by killing me, it would convince you to do as he desires and extinguish the First Flame.” Lorian frowned, all his anger quickly evaporating as he stared at his brother. “Would it?”

Lothric turned away. “I would… hesitate.”

“You align your life so closely to mine, yet still treat me as though I am inferior.” Lorian stepped closer, towering over Lothric.

“I hold nothing but the utmost respect and admiration for you.” Lothric stared up at him defiantly, and Lorian could feel his anger on the rise again. “Why can you not understand that?”

“Perhaps because you cannot find it within you to be honest with me. First the deception on the hunt, now this."

“Lorian--”

"I do not ask much of you. Only that you are honest with me."

"Then I ask your forgiveness, Lorian. It was never my intention. Things are dire, perhaps more than I led you to believe," Lothric sighed and cast his gaze aside, "I only wished to keep you here longer. It is… lonely. When you are not here."

Lorian sighed, "If that is what you wish, then you need only ask."

“It is not only what I wish. We are equals. I will accept nothing less.”

Lorian felt a swell of pride at the statement, even if he did not believe it to be true. His brother was still destined to be the Lord of Cinder after all, not Lorian. "Then if we are to be equals, I ask that you respect my decision to leave in the morning."

"I--" Lothric started to protest before falling silent. "Very well. Then I should leave you to rest."

Lorian nodded and turned to leave the room, "Thank you, Lothric."

*

As dawn broke, Lorian had just finished dressing in his armor when there was a light knock on his door. He opened it only to see Gertrude standing in the doorway. “Prince Lorian, forgive the intrusion, Pontiff Sulyvahn will be departing shortly. Prince Lothric asked that I escort you to meet him in the courtyard.”

"Thank you, Gertrude, but I can manage my own way there."

"Of course," she said with a bow before heading off back into the halls of the Keep.

True to her word, he could see Lothric's hooded form standing in the center of the courtyard, gazing at two figures not far off that Lorian recognized and Pontiff Sulyvahn and the dancer. Lorian approached, calling out, "Ready then, brother?"

Lothric took his arm and nodded. “Ready to be rid of the Pontiff. Not nearly as ready to watch you leave again.”

“If all goes well, then I pray this will be the last time I leave for a long while.”

The Pontiff and the dancer each bowed low as they approached after Lorian arrived.

“Prince Lothric, I thank you sincerely for your gracious hospitality. I do hope you will consider our discussion.”

“I assure you, I will. I am grateful you came all this way to personally deliver the relic.” Lothric inclined his head. Lorian wondered how his brother could handle dealing civilly with such detestable people like the Pontiff on a daily basis.

Sulyvahn turned to him, and Lorian hardened his face, determined not to give any of his emotions away. “Prince Lorian, perhaps we will meet again and I might spar against you myself.”

“I look forward to the day, Pontiff Sulyvahn. Safe travels back to Irithyll.”

The Pontiff turned back to Lothric, smile still plastered on his face. “If you require anything at all, you need only say the word. You are only a few days travel away after all.”

It was as much a true offer of support as it was a threat, Lorian realized. A reminder of how close their borders were, and how simple it would be to overwhelm them if he deemed it necessary. He watched as they departed, waiting until they were well out of sight and earshot before turning to Lothric.

“You said the most recent demon to emerge was outside Farron's Keep?”

“Nearby, yes, and headed towards our borders it appears.”

“There are several entrances underground in that area; it could have come from any of them. But it is a good place to start, though its proximity to the Abyss Watchers and the supposed location of the Profaned Capital is not a welcoming coincidence.”

“My alliances with those regions are in relatively good standing at the moment. You should not face any difficulties in the area. Because if you do,” his voice grew darker, “I will not hesitate to order their lands razed to the ground.“

Lorian placed a hand on Lothric’s shoulder. “Then let us hope it does not come to that. The world is crippled enough with the dying flame as it stands.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“It is difficult to say. Not a satisfying answer, I am well aware, but it is an honest one.”

“Allow me to send someone with you,” Lothric said. “They do not have to assist you in your fight, but should the worst come to pass, they will be able to return with the news.”

“Who would you have accompany me?”

“The knight who took your final wyvern away; Wynfrith I believe her name is.” Lothric turned behind him, summoning Kamui who was standing nearby, though clearly trying to be discreet. It was common for the two of them to have various members under the command of the Black Hand tailing them.

Kamui approached them, “Your orders?”

“Fetch the knight called Wynfrith. Bring her here along with two horses and enough supplies to travel.”

“As you command.” The hunter said before vanishing.

Lothric turned back to Lorian. “Return swiftly to me, dear brother.”

“If anything should happen in my absence, send word and I will return at once.” Lorian said. He doubted his brother would do so even if something were to happen, the last few years had proven that time and time again - Lothric was stubborn and selfish to a fault. But then, Lorian supposed, so was he.

“The most dangerous plan I have is an attempt to put someone in place to keep an eye on Father and send back reports.”

“Try to find out what his plan is for the wyverns,” Lorian said. “And make sure the creatures and their riders are taken care of, Gods forbid the wyverns begin to starve.”

“Easier said than done, as you well know.”

Lorian grunted in agreement. Though he wasn’t aware of all the intricacies involved with keeping the Kingdom running, he knew at the rate of the hollowing and the interference of the Evangelists in the outskirts that they were rapidly losing whole villages that had been providing crops and livestock. Perhaps it was something he could help deal with. A short detour to a few of the villages to temper the Evangelists and the hollows may help sustain them for a while longer.

Dragged from his thoughts by the sounds of hooves on stone, Lorian turned to see Wynfrith approaching. Her face was flushed and her armor seemed to be hastily thrown on - it appeared she was not expecting to be called upon so early. “You summoned me?”

Lothric beamed at her. “Yes, excellent of you to make yourself available on such short notice. Thank you, truly. I am sending you to assist Prince Lorian on his next journey.”

“But my Lord, he only just--”

“I am well aware he has been back for less than a day.”

“This is a pressing matter.” Lorian offered. “I insisted.”

“You would be doing me a great service by accompanying him.” Lothric said.

“The honor is all mine!” She smiled at Lorian, all too eager to please and he couldn’t help but remember Romund’s words.

You're an inspiration to us, you know?

“Lorian. I have but a single order for you.” Lothric said, suddenly serious. “Return to me. Alive.”

Lorian stared at him before kneeling. A pose used by knights to pledge their fealty. “As you command.”

He felt Lothric’s disapproving gaze; they were supposed to be equals after all. But Lorian knew that would never quite be true. He stood, giving Lothric one last look, as though to commit his every feature to memory, before mounting the horse beside Wynfrith.

Nothing more needed to be said. He rode out of sight, unsure this time if he would return after all. But he knew one thing for certain - he would die trying.

Chapter 10: Diplomacy

Chapter Text

Once Pontiff Sulyvahn had returned to Irithyll, the region had grown silent once more. Each and every emissary that Lothric sent reported the same thing: as soon as they reached the bridge that led to Irithyll, they were simply stopped, just as before.

Clearly it was a sorcery of some sort. But one that could protect an entire city? It was truly powerful. Lothric knew he was fairly talented in sorceries but he was decades away from being able to accomplish such a feat. Though he was well aware he would never be able to achieve something at that level, not if his condition continued to deteriorate.

He had not quite let Lorian on to the whole truth during his brief return.

“Another bad day?” Gertrude asked as she let herself into his room.

Lothric was sitting on his bed, various letters and missives strewn about him. With his mother gone and Lorian tending to matters outside the kingdom, Lothric had come to rely more and more upon Gertrude.

“One of the worst in many years,” Lothric lamented. “I had thought, once, that I might have even been recovering. Do you remember when I went hunting with Lorian?”

“I do.” She said, perching on the edge of the bed beside him.

“We were away for nearly two weeks, and though much of the time Lorian assisted me and at times carried me, I was able to make it through most of it on my own two legs. Now look at me,” he scoffed, “as crippled as when I was a child, unable to even leave my bed.”

It had started creeping up on him slowly at first, when they returned from the hunting trip. Then in recent months it had begun to rapidly progress until Lothric was back to being bed ridden more often than not. He wondered if he would be cursed to get worse and worse until he was nothing but a wisp of his former self. No one knew what ailed him, or why it affected him the way that it did. There were whispers, of course. Whispers that spoke of his mother eating petrified, rotten dragonflesh and primordial crystals before his birth.

At the rate things were progressing, whatever rotten curse he was born with would kill him before the First Flame could claim him.

“High Priestess Emma cared for you back then, did she not?” Gertrude asked, pulling Lothric out of his thoughts. "Why is it she is not around as much?"

"Contrary to how it may appear, I have in fact become fully grown, dear Gertrude. She has long since put aside her role as my wet nurse and tutor and now serves solely as High Priestess."

Gertrude leaned over and plucked a letter at random from his pile. “You're keeping Emma at a distance so she will not interfere when you don’t link the flame?”

Lothric said nothing, reaching over and pulling the paper from her hands and setting it back on the pile. He knew Gertrude’s belief lay more on the side of heresy, but he was certain he had not told her anything regarding his decision to link the flame.

“I still intend to link the fire.”

“For now,” she said, tone deceptively sweet, “until you find a compromise you’re satisfied with. That’s why the Pontiff brought you the eyes, isn’t it?”

“How--?”

Gertrude reached into her robes and pulled out the small black box. The same one the Pontiff had given Lothric with the eyes. “You should truly be more careful with such things, it was still lying on the table in the council chambers, beside the strategy maps.”

“Why did you not return it to me sooner?” Lothric asked. He reached over and snatched the box from her hands, holding it gently in his lap.

“Why did you not inquire about it sooner? For something so important, you must have been quite distracted to forget about it.”

“Even so, how do you know what these are?”

“I ran into the Pontiff shortly after I found them. He was rather eager to explain their origin to me as well as what they could be used for.” She placed her hand on Lothric’s knee. “He has such magnificent ideas. He believes, like I do, that there is something greater than the First Flame. Something more magnificent than the ancient dragons. We existed before we found the flame. The world existed before the dragons. Surely there is something greater out there to explain why.”

“You would do well to be wary of his words, dear Gertrude. I suspect Sulyvahn does not speak what he believes to be true, but rather what he believes you would like to hear the most.”

“Maybe so." She pulled her hand back, folding them in her lap. "Have you received any word from Prince Lorian? He has been gone for several weeks now. Surely you would have heard something by now.”

“Neither from Lorian nor Wynfrith, but I have received word from several smaller villages towards the outskirts that they have been sighted in the area. Apparently Lorian is assisting the villages with the Evangelists' threats and also helping to relocate the hollows.”

Gertrude frowned in thought. “Why would he prioritize the villagers over the Demon Prince?”

“Lorian pretends he does not understand the intricacies of governing; most of his lapse in understanding my management of Lothric is simply because he is away so often and I prefer to handle such things myself. But he has surely noticed how sparse food is becoming, and he understands that the outskirts must be protected. I have already dispatched knights to assist and establish patrols in the villages Lorian has cleared.”

“You two complement each other quite well.” She smiled and picked up the same letter from before. “Need help with these? I have no true duties since the Queen left other than to help you however I'm able.”

“Are you able to write?”

“Quite well. The Queen taught me to read and write at a young age. It was important to her.”

“Almost like a mother might.” Lothric probed. She had not admitted to being his mother's daughter yet, but he was interested to see if she ever would.

“Perhaps.” A small smile. As telling as if she had confirmed it directly.

“Very well. Leave room at the bottom of each letter. I will sign and seal them appropriately.”

Lothric reviewed her letters as she wrote them. He was impressed by her handwriting and command over words - it was reminiscent of the few letters he had received from his mother in the past. He suspected that at least a handful of them may have been written by Gertrude in her stead.

She replied to most of the letters to the commoners, focusing on placating their concerns. Lothric had the less desirable task of sending yet another letter to the Cathedral of the Deep. Though what Lorian was doing would be beneficial in the long run, it also placed them in a precarious position with the Cathedral. None could say yet whether the Evangelists were a splinter group of the Cathedral or if they were fully sanctioned, and therein lay the problem.

If the Evangelists were acting as a splinter organization, then Lorian would be in the clear to handle them as he saw fit. But if the Cathedral acknowledged and legitimized them, then Lothric would have to retaliate accordingly. Stopping any aid being sent to them. Withdrawing any knights stationed within. It would be a nightmare of policy to deal with on top of everything else.

*

Thankfully, after several weeks, Lothric stopped receiving reports of Lorian in the villages. The last he received was from the Watcher, Hawkwood, who they had encountered in Farron's Keep. He confirmed a handful of other demon sightings in the area as their activity increased. Apparently, since they did not show signs of abyssal corruption, the true Watchers were neglecting to deal with them.

Hawkwood had strongly recommended that Lothric send more knights. Apparently the situation was more precarious than they had all previously understood. From Hawkwood's description the demons were moving as a collective group, which meant this was not simply the case of a handful of demons fleeing the Demon Prince. This was coordinated.

Lothric had full faith and confidence in his brother, but even he was just one man against a potential army of demons. If he was to succeed in taking out the Demon Prince, he would require support. Knights that could focus on taking out the lower ranking demons to allow Lorian to focus on reaching the Demon Prince.

In order to move the troops on such a scale, Lothric would need approval from the Three Pillars. He detested dealing with their politics, but since he was not officially the King he did not have the sole authority to command them. Dealing with the politics of the Three Pillars would need to be done carefully.

Leading as the High Priestess was Lady Emma. She would be the easiest to deal with since she raised Lorian, even before she raised Lothric, and he knew she had a soft spot for him. As long as the maneuver would ensure his safety, Lothric was certain he would be able to convince her.

There would be no chance to convince the Head Scholar Wulfred as he along with the other scholars had committed to assisting Oceiros's studies of Seath the Scaleless and were quickly succumbing to the same madness that had taken his father. He would be sure to be present for the vote but Lothric knew it would only count against him. After all, if they were swayed by his father's logic then they would hold firm in their belief that their troops and resources were better used elsewhere.

Knight General Godwyn was a loyalist to King Oceiros as well and had been tasked to devote his time to training the wyverns and their riders, neglecting his duties to the rest of the kingdom. He disliked Lothric in part due to his condition which prevented him from ever wielding his sword, and in part due to Lothric’s political maneuvering over the years. Several times Lothric had bypassed Godwyn's permission and leveraged Lorian’s good standing with the knights to accomplish his goals, which was indeed a disrespect to the man, but Lothric did not deem the man worthy of his respect.

The last, though not a true pillar known to the commoners, was the Pillar of the Hunt led by Master Hunter Gotthard of the Black Hand. The hunter's vote was not formally counted but it was weighed into consideration and often held a very influential sway over the final decision. The others knew the Black Hand had spies in every facet of the kingdom and often had additional information which could occasionally sway decisions.

After Lothric placed the summons that he was seeking to convene the Pillars, it still took several days before they all arrived. Gotthard and Godwyn had each been out of the kingdom's territory on business. They convened in the council chambers, the same room where Lothric had met with Sulyvahn only a short time ago.

Lothric sat at the head of the table with Emma and Gotthard to his left and Godwyn and Wulfred to his right.

"Thank you all for your prompt response to my summons," Lothric began, looking around the room. Emma and Gotthard seemed relatively relaxed and curious about the meeting while Wulfred sat stoically avoiding looking at Lothric, and Godwyn fidgeted in his chair, clearly upset at being summoned.

"And why exactly are we here?" Godwyn asked, leaning forward on one arm.

"As you are all aware, Prince Lorian took up the task several weeks ago to deal with the demons approaching our border accompanied by Knight Captain Wynfrith." He paused, waiting for everyone to nod in understanding before continuing, "I have received word from a trusted source in the area that the demon's movements are not only more in number than we had anticipated, but I believe are also coordinated."

"We've never faced a coordinated threat from the demons before," said Emma, "what cause could possibly unite them?"

Gotthard leaned forward in his chair, placing steepled fingers to his chin. "The Demon Prince?"

Lothric nodded.

"Demons aren't intelligent enough to coordinate some infernal attack," Godwyn sneered. "Dispatch the ones that have dared to crawl out of their caves and that'll be the end of it."

"In the past that may have been the case, Godwyn, but not this time." A subtle jab at the man's inability to adapt from his old mindset. Lothric watched the man grind his teeth together. "There have only been sightings of a handful of demons above the surface, which I'm told Prince Lorian has taken care of already. But for each one killed, more appear to replace them, and their destination is always the same: our borders."

"Let them come. We'll spare ourselves the effort and kill them from our borders." Godwyn said. "There's no need for anything else."

"No. demon's are not like us, Godwyn, you of all people should understand this." Lothric fought back a smirk. Emma always had a way of making people feel like a child being scolded. "They are false creatures, created from Chaos, the false flame. Kill one and they can replace it with two more."

"We have no proof of that." Wulfred said. "What we have learned over time is that the Chaos Flame cannot create demons, it can only transform existing creatures into demons. The Witch of Izalith learned this first hand, as according to the texts, her body was morphed into the terrible figure of the Bed of Chaos and her children were all mutated as well. All occurred because of her misuse of her Lord Soul which she foolishly sacrificed to create the Flame of Chaos."

"It is still far more of an option to create more soldiers than we have, Scholar Wulfred. The Lord Souls as they once were are but a shadow of their former strength, having been fragmented as gifts as in Lord Gwyn's case, or corrupted and destroyed as happened to the Witch of Izalith." Emma said. "We can never create more Godkin, and the lineage of the Lord's Soul, it seems, has its limitations as well."

Everyone in the room cast hesitant glances at Lothric at those words. He smirked, knowing the discomfort he brought to them, "I pity the thought of any children born to me. Though I suspect the flame will claim me long before that is a reality, so perhaps I should consider them blessed instead."

Emma's face twisted into a sorrowful look of regret. "Prince Lothric--"

He held up his hand. "Emma is right, Wulfred. We do not have an endless supply of soldiers. The nobility has driven their families to near extinction, the commoners are too fearful to bear more children, and the peasants are hollowing at a pace we simply cannot keep up with. Even if the demons cannot replenish their troops as fast as Emma fears, they still have the option."

"So you would rather we risk everything on this damned suicide mission? Unacceptable!" Roared Godwyn as he slammed his fist into the table. "All you would do is bring us to our deaths faster."

Lothric sat back in his chair, hands folded in his lap. He knew the calmer he appeared the more riled up the general became. "What would you have us do then, Godwyn? Cower in our kingdom and await death? Not a heroic way to die."

"We wait for them to come to us. We fortify our defenses. We continue the work on the High Wall."

"With what labor? You have already allocated the majority of the slaves to the task," said Gotthard.

"Bring in the peasants."

"That risks our entire food supply," Emma countered.

"Surely there are peasants that aren't farmers."

"They will die long before the wall is complete with the amount of labor still required," said Wulfred.

"Prisoners then. If we're forced to keep them alive we may as well put them to work. Or does that disagree with your sensible nature, Prince Lothric?"

Lothric bit back a smile as the man, now desperate for any sort of a victory, haggled with him. "And who will oversee these dangerous prisoners?"

"Bring out the wardens, and I will supplement their authority with a selection of my Knight Recruits."

"Very well. You may use the prisoners for the labor on the wall."

"And the Demon Prince?" Gotthard asked. "No matter how high we build the wall, no matter how reinforced, given enough time a demon will break through. I can send a scouting party to confirm that the Demon Prince is the cause for the demon's activity and if it is true we can guide teams of the Knights in to begin the process of his removal."

"I can send priests to assist. They can heal the scouts and knights should they need it to ensure we do not lose more lives than necessary," Emma added.

The two turned to Godwyn, who had turned a marvelous shade of crimson realizing he had been cornered. "Fine. Have your damned war. I will allow the knights to provide support in whatever capacity you require. However," he pointed at Lothric, "I will not order them to engage the enemy until the scouts have confirmed what you say is true."

"You will be overseeing the operation then?" Lothric asked.

He watched in delight as Godwyn sputtered over his words, face growing redder and redder as he was forced to agree. "I suppose I will."

"I will be going as well." Gotthard announced, offering Godwyn a small smile.

"Excellent. Then all those who give their support?" Lothric asked.

Emma and Gotthard agreed immediately. Godwyn hesitated before also giving his support. That only left Wulfred. Technically he did not require the Head Scholar's permission, but he could be punished if the operation failed and it was revealed there had been a dissenting vote.

Wulfred tilted his head as he faced Lothric. "You should consider using the wyverns, Prince Lothric."

"Do you have sufficient control over them?" Lothric asked, focusing on both Wulfred who had led the effort from the theoretical and Godwyn who had been overseeing the rider's training.

"They're stable and will get the job done. Like training guard dogs it was," Godwyn proudly boasted.

"They will be useless for the demons that remain underground, but they should be more than sufficient at destroying the ones that make their way to the surface," Wulfred added.

Lothric nodded, "That will ensure the troops do not overexert themselves before they reach the Demon Prince and his main forces. What is the state of the riders?"

"They will serve their purpose. Both of them." Wulfred said.

"Both of them?" Lothric asked. "I was under the impression we had four wyverns and four riders."

"You misunderstand," Godwyn interjected. "We have two riders per wyvern now."

Lothric narrowed his eyes at them. This was the first he had heard of such a decision being made. "When was this decided and for what purpose?"

Wulfred folded his hands on the table in front of him. "Stability. The wyverns were beginning to overpower the bond with their riders. We determined a second rider should be designated for each wyvern to control them."

"Who? Knight recruits?"

"Commoners."

"A commoner would not have the necessary experience to lead a wyvern into combat."

"Correct." Wulfred said. "You remember the first experiment King Oceiros conducted where you witnessed the Pus of Man emerge?"

Lothric nodded.

"Our riders were beginning to show the same signs and symptoms. By leveraging the commoners, they will be the ones to bear the burden of the Pus of Man rather than the rider."

"If the commoner dies, so does the wyvern." Godwyn added. "Just like with the riders. So we've got them quartered within the barracks near the castle under my protection."

"Will they need to travel with the wyverns?" Lothric asked, choosing not to focus on the fact that he was not consulted about this decision. It appeared his father had had a hand in it and he would not win that argument. Not yet at least.

"No. They will be safe to remain here." Wulfred said.

"Then I permit the use of the wyverns."

"Excellent. Then I freely give my support for this endeavor, Prince Lothric."

"Thank you. Begin making the necessary arrangements to depart as soon as possible. Time is of the essence. You are all dismissed."

They each stood and began to leave, but before Gotthard left the room, Lothric caught his eye. The Black Hand lingered after the others left, shutting the door behind them.

"You require something from me, Prince Lothric?"

"You said you will be going along on this mission."

Gotthard nodded.

"I have a message I would have you deliver to my brother, if you are able and willing."

"It would be my honor."

Lothric hastily scrawled a brief sentence on a piece of parchment and rolled it up before handing it to Gotthard. "For his eyes only."

"As you command," Gotthard said with a salute before he disappeared from the room.

What he wrote in that message would likely change all of their futures should Lorian understand and carry out the order. The way it was written was not a direct form of treason - in fact to the casual observer it would almost appear to be a genuine comment which is why Lothric risked writing it at all. But Lorian would understand, as he always did. Provided Gotthard could find him in time.

If all preparations went well, Lothric expected they would be able to depart before the week's end.

*

It was the day before Godwyn and his men were scheduled to depart that Lothric was summoned from his chambers and all but dragged out to the construction site of the High Wall by a handful of the general's knights. There the man stood, large and ruddy faced as he stared at the prisoners that were being guided by the wardens. There was a distasteful look of glee on his face as he watched the wardens use slightly more force than strictly necessary when the prisoners stepped out of line.

"You requested my presence, Knight General Godwyn?" Lothric used the man's full title in an attempt to placate him and have this meeting done with as quickly as possible. If things went as he intended, he would not have to deal with the man much longer regardless.

"Yes, I did." The man never turned to face Lothric, still watching the prisoners. "We've got a problem. At the rate this construction continues, they'll be out of supplies long before the wall is complete."

"What supplies do they need most to continue their work?"

"Primarily? Rocks. But large rocks are a commodity hard to come across, and even more difficult to transport in large amounts." He turned at last to face Lothric. "If I can't be guaranteed that the wall can be finished without me and my men's intervention, then I might be forced to keep my men here."

Lothric clenched his fists in the sleeves of his robes, out of sight of Godwyn. He would kill the man where he stood if Lothric knew he could get away with it, and that he could accomplish it. "You intend to neglect your duties you swore to in front of the Three Pillars?"

"I agreed on the condition the wall would be built. I would be neglecting no duties, at most I'd be delaying my support in taking care of the Demon Prince."

"I will acquire the supplies they need to continue their work."

"How can I be sure of that if I am out fighting demons? To ensure these men have the supplies they need to construct the wall, my men and I will be more useful here.."

"You flirt with treason, Godwyn," Lothric cautioned.

"As highly as you regard yourself, you're not King, and you never will be."

Lothric's mind raced for an eloquent solution to the problem. He had a handful of sorceries at his disposal but most were offensive, and Lothric was not intending to kill the man or incite a coup. The last thing he needed right now was for the knights to be divided in their loyalties.

But he had to make a show of strength somehow.

"Let us come to an agreement then and talk in the meeting chambers. Bring a handful of your men to guard the doors." Lothric didn't wait for the man's response before heading back into the castle. He stood next to the table, breathing heavily from the effort of even such a short walk.

Godwyn followed shortly after, saying something under his breath to the knights that remained outside, before closing the chamber doors. "It'll be impossible to find the suppliers needed anytime soon. If you were smart you'd call Prince Lorian back and wait until we move in force to support him."

"You intend to neglect your duties and let Prince Lorian die, is that correct?" Lothric hardened his voice. They were alone in this room after all, it would be Lothric’s word against Godwyn and Godwyn had a reputation for being irritable and sad*stic whereas Lothric did not. It was a bet Lothric was willing to take.

"His recklessness will get himself killed. I won't even need to lift a finger." Godwyn crossed his arms over his chest and smirked.

"Even if you get my brother out of the picture, how do you intend to deal with me?"

"I'll outlive you."

"Perhaps." In an instant Lothric lurched forward grabbing Godwyn's armor from the front, teleporting them both. In a blinding flash of white they were out of the chamber with Godwyn precariously perched on the edge of one of Lothric Castle's highest rooftops adorned with Gargoyles. "But you will go to the border, and you will provide support for Prince Lorian. Is that understood?"

Godwyn struggled to keep his footing, grabbing onto Lothric’s outstretched arms like a child clinging to its mother. "You wouldn't dare!"

"Not right now, no. This is simply a warning. If you continue to defy me, you will eventually find yourself in a rather tragic accident."

"My men will turn against you! I'll take you down with me!" he desperately prattled off every excuse he could think of.

Lothric grinned, cruel and malicious. "Why, Godwyn, what would your men think to see you so fearful of a cripple?"

"All right, all right! I'll do what you want! Just take us back!"

"If I hear a single word about you conspiring against myself or my brother, I will not be lenient. Do you understand?"

"Yes!"

"Good." Lothric teleported them back, tossing Godwyn to the ground as soon as they were back in the meeting chamber. "I will continue my work to acquire the necessary supplies for the High Wall. I am counting on your support for a successful deposition of the Demon Prince."

The man nodded, face still red from anger and exertion. Lothric mimed, holding a hand up to his ear. Godwyn sighed and grumbled," As you command. We will depart at first light."

"Very good. You are dismissed."

He waited for the man to leave, delighting in the slam of the door as Godwyn exited before collapsing into one of the chairs in the room. Walking out to the edge of the wall and back combined with the effort it took to teleport another person such a distance seemed to have put Lothric at his limit for the day.

Gotthard had the letter that would neatly solve several of his problems. He only hoped news made it in time and that Godwyn did not choose to simply hide in a tent for the duration of the campaign. The man was many things, but he was usually not a coward. And that was exactly what Lothric was depending on.

Morning came quickly with Lothric still as exhausted as the day prior. He was here only as a formality, and to ensure that Godwyn held true to his word.

It was a magnificent thing to witness, and it had been too long since the knights had assembled in such a fashion outside of drills. They stood in rows with Captains and Commanders on horses at the front. Behind them were the priests in the bleak black robes with their chimes in hand. They were few in number, but a single good priest could easily heal a whole regiment of knights. At the back were the work horses carting the various supplies that would be needed to feed the troops during the campaign, flanked by another regiment of knights for protection.

Godwyn sat atop his massive black steed in front of all the troops, shouting to be heard. He was giving a speech about how they would be heroes for defeating the evil Demon Prince. Lothric could respect his ability to rouse his troops despite knowing the man did not believe in the cause himself.

After the cheering died down, Godwyn gave the order to move out. Slowly, row by row, the knights began their march out of the courtyard and out of the castle walls.

The die had been cast. Now all that was left to do was to wait and see where it fell.

Chapter 11: Warfare

Chapter Text

Lorian was glad to have Wynfrith's company on this trip. She had proven herself to be not only an exceptional warrior, but an invaluable resource for strategy and at times just someone to speak with. She had been the first to realize that the demons were moving as a group and not as individuals.

Shortly after they killed the first handful of demons on the surface, they ran into Hawkwood, the Watcher who had helped Lorian several years back now.

"Will the Watchers be able to assist in fighting the demons?" Wynfrith had asked.

"Not a chance. Unless they're corrupted by the Abyss, but I've never seen a case of it before." Hawkwood had shrugged.

"Then might I suggest they take precautions? There is a large group on the move, with even more who haven't yet come above ground. As strong as we might be, we might not be enough."

"Shall I send word along to Lothric then?"

"If you think it best."

A little prod in the right direction where they weren't directly reaching out for assistance. If an unbiased outsider was to make the request, Lothric would have the sway he needed to make the request for additional reinforcements.

Lorian was aware that certain members of the Three Pillars would never agree to a request made by the two of them, but even they would be pressed to respond to a request made by an outsider - especially a Watcher given how feared they were.

While they waited for reinforcements to arrive, Lorian and Wynfrith did what they could to curtail the growing force of demons in the area. It was important that he keep her safe, but he didn't coddle her by any means, allowing her to engage the demons on her own, often dividing the ones they were hunting between them.

Most of the demons had been small scale demons at first, but then the larger and more violent demons began appearing. Lorian and Wynfrith spent the evening battling a Taurus demon, trying to fight carefully so as not to get too injured, but it meant the fight dragged out far longer than it should have.

Lorian wished they had a healer or priest with them.

By mid-afternoon the next day they caught their first sight of the knights as they matched across the landscape, banners in hand, tiny dots approaching from beyond the hills.

"Have we always had so many knights?" Wynfrith asked.

"Never assembled in such great numbers before," Lorian replied. "None have been foolish enough to try and push our borders."

Still, Lorian couldn't help but marvel at the sheer number of knights assembled. Lorian knew Godwyn was a stubborn and prideful man that would never put himself or his position at risk until his hand was forced. He also knew the Knight General only typically took orders from Lorian’s father. What had Lothric had to do to get his support, Lorian wondered.

"Let's start a fire, so they can find us." Wynfrith said, not even waiting to hear his reply before darting off to gather wood and kindling.

At the rate they were moving the knights wouldn't reach them until dusk, so Lorian helped Wynfrith gather the kindling needed to keep the fire going long enough and took turns tending to the flames and watching their progress as they slowly crawled over the landscape, growing larger and larger.

As dusk approached, Lorian could finally make out the riders in the front. Leading them was Knight General Godwyn himself, followed by the next highest ranking regiment leaders and finally the knights themselves. Lorian scanned the group, spotting priests and even a few hunters of the Black Hand.

"Prince Lorian?" came the quiet voice of Gotthard beside him. Lorian hated how the members of the Black Hand could so easily hide their presence. He was fairly certain Gotthard in particular was the reason he got in trouble for so many things he did as a child when he was certain no one else was around.

"Gotthard. What brings you here alongside Godwyn and so far ahead of the group?"

"Word from your brother. Your eyes only, I'm told." the man reached into the brim of his hat and pulled out the furled piece of parchment before handing it over.

Lorian opened the letter and read the single sentence written: Knight General Godwyn is not the fighter he once was, take care to watch over him with Gotthard's help.

Without delay, Lorian tossed the letter into the fire watching the edges catch aflame and burn away. He observed the other man who clearly did not know the contents of the letter. So why did Lothric believe he would help? The implication of the letter's true meaning was treason, Lorian knew his brother well enough to know that much at least. Ever since they were young, Lothric had harbored resentment over how Godywn treated Lorian during his training and it seemed that grudge never went away and instead escalated.

"And what are you doing here other than the letter?"

"Officially? I'm here to lead a scouting party to confirm the demon's movements and confirm the Demon Prince's presence."

"And unofficially?"

"As always, I serve the Royal Family in any capacity you may require." He gave a small bow for dramatic flair. "I suspect the letter may have had some task for me?"

Lorian hesitated only for a moment. He had no reason to suspect Gotthard would act against Lothric’s wishes, especially after all this time. "We are to take care to watch over Knight General Godwyn since he is no longer in his prime."

Gotthard hummed thoughtfully. "I would say the safest place is fighting alongside the two of us then, wouldn't you agree?"

"How will we convince him of that?"

"Leave that to me," Gotthard said with a smile. "Until then, Prince Lorian. The troops have begun to arrive and we need to lead them."

"Have Godwyn and his highest ranking knights join us -- I assume there is a strategy tent?"

"Of course. We will convene there once it is set up. In the interim, I have already sent a handful of my scouts to investigate underground to find out what they can before we meet."

Lorian watched the man leave and turned back to the troops that were arriving. It was a decent area to set up camp, a nice clearing next to a forest and out of the way of the swamps and marshland that plagued the area.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Wynfrith sitting on a tree stump sharpening her sword and realized how close she was; it was likely she had been close enough to hear his conversation with Gotthard, which Gotthard would have undoubtedly been aware of - meaning he allowed to conversation to happen with her so close by. Lorian decided it wasn't worth the time or effort to puzzle over why that might be.

It took several hours for everyone to finally arrive, but as each regiment reached the clearing they began assembling their tents and organizing the area. Of course, it was protocol and had been drilled into them since they swore themselves into the service of the kingdom, but it was quite a sight to behold.

In the center of the clearing, Lorian could see a handful of knights working together to raise a significantly larger tent, presumably the tent where they would meet and coordinate their strategy.

Beside him, Wynfrith stood up. "Think they brought any cooks?"

"I assume so."

"I'm going to grab some food then. Want me to bring you anything?"

He waved his hand dismissively. "Later, perhaps."

She nodded and headed toward the tents, easily disappearing into the group of knights. It was probably time he headed to the tent to begin planning anyways he realized and started making his way through the tents.

At first several knights, not paying attention, bumped into him muttering a half hearted apology under their breath until several of them realized who exactly he was. Lorian watched, fascinated, as the knights all dropped their supplies and hurriedly faced and saluted him as he walked by. He nodded in return and approached the tent.

You were the talk of the barracks for months. We all could see you were destined for greatness. That was what Romund had said, and even then Lorian hadn't believed it. But now even Lorian couldn't deny the sheer amount of respect these men and women held for him. It was humbling.

One of the knights pulled aside the entrance flap to the tent as Lorian approached and made his way inside. Standing at the strategy table were Godwyn and Gotthard, talking quietly amongst themselves until they noticed Lorian enter and the conversation died out.

"Just in time, we were just about to begin discussing how we should proceed tomorrow morning," Gotthard said as he relaxed his stance, folding his hands behind his back.

"Prince Lorian," Godwyn greeted him with a nod.

"Knight General Godwyn," Lorian nodded in turn. "Report?"

"We have over 500 knights ranging from recruits to commanders in our ranks as well as 20 priests, 30 hunters of the Black Hand acting as scouts, and several commoners for logistical support. I've been told the wyverns will be arriving shortly. Now, what exactly are we up against?"

Gotthard stepped forward. "From the preliminary scouting reports I've received it seemed there was indeed reason for concern. There are a remarkable amount of demons congregating nearby, just underground. The scouts saw several hundred at least and caution that they suspect more."

"And the Demon Prince?" asked Lorian. After all, that was his whole purpose for being here. Whether the demons were congregating out of fear of the Demon Prince or whether the creature was coordinating them intentionally, the end goal was still the same. Take out the Demon Prince and the rest become inconsequential.

"One of my scouts is tracking down its location as we speak. I hope to hear back within the next day or so."

"Then we should wait for their return before we act," Godwyn said as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"I disagree," countered Gotthard, "I believe now is the perfect time to strike. They don't yet know we're here, we have the element of surprise."

"We would be fighting in close quarters underground in their territory."

"They're large creatures, they would be the ones at a disadvantage in that kind of terrain." Gotthard turned to Lorian. "What do you believe we should do?"

On one hand, Lorian did agree with Godwyn. It would be reckless to send so many men underground to fight the demons. On the other hand, Gotthard had a point, the demons weren't aware of their presence yet.

"Gotthard, did your scouts say how spread out the demons were?"

"They were fairly centralized."

"Then we should find some way to disrupt them before we send our knights down there. The more spread out they are, the more we stand a chance at minimizing casualties on our end. We will want to disperse them above ground for the wyverns to handle, and with enough knights below ground they should have the advantage in tight quarters."

"I can send a team of scouts to monitor the demons through the night to ensure that they remain where they are, in preparation for a morning strike," Gotthard added.

"The wyverns will be able to make quick work of the demons as they come up from below ground. We should make that our priority," Godwyn said.

"We will not have that much control over where the demons choose to go. The most we can guarantee is a disruption," Lorian replied.

"And what's the disruption going to be?" asked Godwyn.

"Caves have never been known for their structural integrity," Gotthard offered. "I'm sure a few directed attacks against the right support will bring the entire cave system crumbling down."

"That would compromise any paths to the Demon Prince that your agents might find," Lorian countered, "as well as force the demons that survive to seek another exit that we will have no way to know of. The risks are too great."

"What if we send some of the knights or scouts down as bait?" Godwyn asked. "Have them stir up the nest of demons and then scatter. The demons will have to split up to follow them all."

"It's as good as a suicide mission, Godwyn." Gotthard accused, his eyes staring the larger man down. "Why should any of them volunteer to risk their lives for such a cause?"

Godwyn gaped, opening and closing his mouth several times before squeezing his lips into a hard line, saying nothing.

"I will convince them," Lorian said, confidently. "We raised them on the notion of sacrificing themselves for a greater purpose did we not? They swore their willingness to sacrifice themselves when they completed their initiation ceremony. We all were raised knowing there is no greater cause to lay your life down for than the kingdom. And we should show our commitment by volunteering."

Godwyn scoffed. "Ranks exist for a reason, Prince Lorian. If any of the three of us are lost, that is a more significant blow to the kingdom than if a recruit dies."

"No," Gotthard shook his head, "I believe in this instance Prince Lorian is correct. We should offer ourselves. We will go together, of course, and lead a handful of other groups to assist with the distraction."

"I don't like this plan," Godwyn glared.

"Don't worry," Gotthard placed his hand on Godwyn's shoulder and smiled, "We'll keep you safe."

Lorian watched Godwyn's face turn several interesting shades of red before he smacked Gotthard's hand from his shoulder. "More like I'll be the one keeping the two of you safe."

"That's the spirit!"

"Gotthard, how many entrances have your scouts found? We will want to station regiments accordingly." Lorian asked, switching the focus of the conversation back on task.

"We've discovered at least 6 since we've arrived that haven’t already collapsed and I suspect more by morning."

"Then we will begin planning with that estimate and adjust accordingly once all your scouts return, hopefully with news of where the Demon Prince is."

They shifted easily enough into discussing the logistics of which knights would pair together and how the underground corridors were currently structured. Lorian and Gotthard were in agreement that they, along with Godwyn, would be taking the central chamber entrance - much to the Knight General's dismay.

Lorian wasn’t under the delusion that he would be able to get Godwyn out of the way so easily. On the contrary he was hoping this first burst into battle would prove to the man why he should instead trust both Lorian and Gotthard as they progressed forward against the Demon Prince and its ever growing army.

By the time Lorian exited the tent, night had fallen and most of the knights were asleep with the exception of a handful of scouts and a few scattered patrols. As he walked through the camp he barely noticed when Wynfrith fell in step beside him, hands behind her back.

“You missed dinner,” she accused.

“I had other matters to tend to.”

“Excuses don’t fill stomachs," Wynfrith chastised, pulling a small metal plate from behind her back and shoving it towards him. Lorian nodded his head in thanks, taking the plate from her. “Your tent’s over there by the way.”

Lorian looked where she was pointing off towards the edge of camp closest to where they had originally been camped out before Godwyn and the rest arrived. He hadn’t expected his tent to be so close to the edge.

“They originally were trying to set you up in the center of camp,” Wynfrith said, as if reading his mind. “I knew you wouldn’t like that. After all, how can you jump into the fight if you’re surrounded by all these knights?”

Lorian hummed in agreement.

“Plus, I know how you fight. That tree you wield is as likely to kill any demons as it is your own knights if space is tight enough. I thought it might be better if you had more space to work with - just in case.”

Lorian laughed at that and began heading to the tent she pointed out. “We have plans at dawn to disrupt the demons. I volunteered you for my group.”

Wynfrith smiled. “As if you really have a choice. I think my orders from Prince Lothric outrank whatever yours may have been. Who all will be joining us?”

“Knight General Godwyn and Black Hand Gotthard.”

“Gods. We’ll either be the biggest target of them all or the absolute safest. Who are the other groups?”

“Allric, one of Gotthard’s, is leading one group along with a variety of Godwyn’s highest ranking knights including Delwyn, Maerec, Eadric.”

“So five groups total so far.” She paused to lift the flap to his tent as they approached it. “But that still leaves one entrance unaccounted for.”

Lorian stared at her and she shrugged.

“I killed some time chatting with Eadric while we waited for you and Gotthard to be done.”

"The last group is to be led by Knight Lieutenant Baldric at the southernmost entrance."

"Baldric? He's never led an actual command before - that's suicide!"

"It is deemed to be the second highest risk location and Godwyn did not want to risk any higher ranking knights."

Wynfrith frowned as she ducked into the tent. "I enlisted around the same time Baldric did. He has promise."

"Then consider this his opportunity to prove himself." Inside the tent were two bedrolls set up, though one was noticeably larger than the other. As was the tent as a whole. “Yours, I take it?” He asked, motioning to the smaller bedroll.

“Where better to watch over you and guard you?” She quickly stripped off the topmost layer of her armor, placing it in the corner and setting her sword by her bedroll before stretching out on it. “We move at dawn?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I’ll be ready.”

“Wynfrith?”

“Hmm?” she hummed in reply, eyes already closed.

“During the hunt, you were the first to use a lightning urn against the wyvern. Who supplied them to you and told you how to use them?”

She cracked one eye open as she pushed herself up on one elbow and frowned, “We were all briefed by Head Scholar Wulfred after we volunteered. He gave us all lightning urns and told us about the Lothric legacy. Apparently, long ago, the knights used to be dragon hunters - the lightning urns were their primary tactic… until they were driven to near extinction. I thought you knew all of this, after all, isn’t that how you slew the wyvern single handed?”

Lorian didn’t reply, instead thinking back to his two chance encounters with the wyvern that harnessed lightning. Could he actually have seen a rider atop its back the first time? A former dragon hunter? Even if that was possible the figure would have to be centuries old by now, and the only ones who truly lived that long were those of the same blood as he and Lothric - those descended from Gwyn himself.

Wynfrith apparently realized the conversation was over and closed her eyes again. He took a moment to watch her drift off to sleep effortlessly. A bedroll was a welcome luxury after their makeshift sleeping arrangements from village to village, and more recently whatever dry patch they could find in the marshy terrain. The food was also decent. Warm and more importantly: seasoned. Lorian enjoyed the luxury while he could before settling in to grab a few hours of sleep himself.

Lorian awoke to a moment of paranoia that had him lurching out of his bedroll and diving for his blade. Above him Wynfrith was in the middle of putting her armor back on as she stared down at him, blank faced even as his blade was aimed at her throat. This had happened several times already since they had originally left, and Wynfrith had regrettably already become accustomed to it.

“You’re awake. Sounds like Godwyn’s out there handing out orders already.” Her voice was incredulous, “Usually no one even sees the Knight General before the day’s half over. This is really happening isn’t it?”

“It is.” Lorian confirmed as he began pulling his armor back on as well. It took the two of them a few minutes to fully assemble their armor, but it was a welcome routine at this point. Lorian was already halfway out of the tent by the time he started sheathing his blade, Wynfrith following closely at his heels.

Sure enough the camp was awake and busy, and Lorian recognized the various groups they discussed the night before beginning to assemble. At the center of it all, glimmering in his unscathed armor, was Godwyn. He barked orders at every knight who had the misfortune of straying too close.

Quietly, Lorian saw the work of Allric, Eadric, and the others gathering their own groups where they needed to go. Gotthard was a silent presence that Lorian could spot drifting through camp, exchanging words with the other various hunters that were gathered.

As he approached Godwyn, a terrible screech echoed in the distance. Lorian didn’t need to look to know that the wyverns had finally appeared. One by one they arrived, circling in the air above the camp.

“Godwyn,” Lorian greeted.

“Prince Lorian.”

“Is everything ready?”

"All groups are ready once I give the order."

The other group leaders started moving towards them to get one last set of orders before they made their move. All eyes landed on Lorian.

Delwyn stepped forward and saluted. "We are ready at your command."

Lorian took a moment to look at each of them to admire their loyalty and courage. "As soon as we make our move, we will have no more time to prepare. This war will not be won in this first battle. Watch your guard, be reserved in your attacks if need be. Our current aim is only to disrupt them and draw them out to the surface for the riders to take care of. We will fight until they retreat and gain a foothold in their territory. I will strike the first blow and Gods willing, I will also strike the final blow."

Each of the gathered men and women each saluted before returning to their posts. Lorian, Godwyn, Wynfrith, and Gotthard made their way to the central entrance that Gotthard's scouts had found the night before and drew their weapons. All around him, Lorian could hear the knights unsheathing their weapons in preparation.

Wynfrith was at his side, sword in hand as she glanced down into the tunnel leading beneath the ground. Lorian drew his sword and began his descent. Behind him he could hear Gotthard sending his runners to start sending down the other groups one by one before he followed Lorian into the tunnel.

It was silent underground aside from the sound of their various armor pieces, with Godwyn's armor being the most egregious offender. Gotthard lit a small torch, handing it to Godwyn as they walked to light the way and they drifted further from the sunlight.

At the bottom of the winding path, Lorian could make out the forms of several of the demons. Some were pacing around, others were slumped against the walls, but most importantly, not a single one seemed aware of their presence. There had to be nearly a hundred crammed into this chamber alone.

Lorian motioned for Wynfrith to stay back and then signaled the paths they should take to Gotthard and Godwyn. As soon as they nodded Lorian took action.

The first demon to notice him was a taurus demon that had been pacing around. It roared and lunged for him but it's attack was slow and clumsy allowing Lorian to easily dodge and head for the center of the group. He saw Godwyn and Gotthard peeling off to the left and right respectively.

They wove between the demons with little effort, taking swipes as they went to enrage the pack and ensure that their attention was on them. At the other end of the chamber Lorian could see Eadric and his group doing the same thing.

"Retreat!" He shouted, loud enough for both groups to hear him.

The demons churned in the chamber as they struggled to follow their prey out through the tunnels and up to the surface. Lorian made sure Gotthard, Godwyn, and Wynfrith exited the tunnel, parrying blows from the demon directly behind them. Once they were topside they each scattered different directions out into the open clearing.

Like a swarm of locusts, the demons burst forth from the tunnel, scattering in every direction as they hunted the four of them.

Above him, Lorian felt a gust of wind and looked up to see one of the wyverns approaching. It flew low over them, spitting a blaze of fire at the demons on the surface while being mindful of the groups of knights. Atop the back of the beast, Lorian could just barely make out the form of Agnes.

The clearing erupted into howls of rage and pain as many of the demons were set on fire. The wyverns did not let up, making multiple passes over until the clearing was ablaze. Lorian frowned as he realized these conditions may make it more difficult to fight than they had previously anticipated.

Of the demons, there were several that appeared to be strong enough from their connection to the Chaos Flame and appeared to not only be unfazed by the fire, but possibly be stronger because of it - one of which was headed straight towards Wynfrith. Lorian cut through the demons nearest to him, mindful of the flames that engulfed them as he started working his way across the field to Wynfrith.

The fire demon had started fighting Wynfrith who was holding her own quite well, all things considered. She was primarily on the defensive, dodging and ducking out of the way of the majority of the demon's blows. When she was able to make an opening she struck with her blade - glowing with the light of one of the many miracles the Knight Lieutenants and higher were mandated to learn - though it looked as though it was barely able to even pierce through the demon's thick hide.

He watched as she countered a blow and moved to roll out of the way, but the demon managed to graze her cape as she moved, setting it aflame. She remained down on one knee, flaming cape twisting in the wind behind her as she glared at the demon before surging forth with a scream, slashing wildly.

Each hit met its mark, but Lorian was drawn away from watching her fight as another fire based demon began rapidly approaching him. It was a massive demon, standing several feet taller than even Lorian, and it oozed some sort of molten liquid with every movement. He turned to face the demon, sword ready to block the blow from the monster's massive club.

It moved faster than its lumbering size would have suggested, tearing across the field until it reached him and slamming its club downwards. Lorian blocked it with his sword above his head, his offhand steadying the other side of the blade. In front of him, the demon held the blow while it puffed up its cheeks before opening its mouth and spitting something engulfed in flames at him.

Lorian barely let his grip go to dodge out of the way of whatever it just spit at him, but as soon as he lowered his blade, the club crashed into his shoulder despite his efforts to dodge out of the way in time. He rolled low to the ground, tossing his sword into his offhand as he struck the demon's lower legs, causing it to stagger and howl.

Clamoring back to his feet, he spared himself a quick glance towards Wynfrith who had ripped off her cape entirely and was in the middle of trading blows with the demon. Nearing her was Gotthard who was gracefully cutting his way through the pack of demons with his double blades. On the other side of the field, Godwyn was taking on several demons with some knights from Eadric's group.

Overall, it seemed the majority of demons that had followed them to the surface had been killed by the wyverns or were currently fighting the knights.

Out of his peripheral vision, Lorian barely saw the strike aimed at him in time to dodge and refocused himself on the fight in front of him. The demon was clever, trying to bait his attacks in a way that it could get the better of him, but Lorian had been in enough fights to see through its maneuvers. He played it slowly, careful to dodge and avoid as many hits as possible, striking only when he was sure he had an opening.

The demon was beginning to slow down which had let Lorian get several hits in on it, slicing open its side and even managing to sever off the hand holding the club. It started backing up with each strike, edging closer towards the tunnel it had come from, but Lorian refused to let it go. He surged forward, aiming his strike at the demon's head, only realizing his mistake once the demon grabbed his sword, lowering it.

He could still kill it. Lorian pressed forward, forcing the blade toward the wound where he had struck the demon earlier. Slowly, the blade pierced the demon's flesh and its hand started to slip from Lorian’s blade. But that's when Lorian felt it.

The blade began heating, burning his hands. He had to end this quickly. The demon laughed, molten liquid dripping from its mouth as Lorian wrench the sword upwards, where most creatures had a heart. He felt it pierce something as the demon cried out, falling to its knees. It's flesh began to harden and cool, but Lorian was able to pull his sword free in time, dropping it on the ground beside him as it still burned.

From what he could see, Wynfrith and Gotthard were finishing off the demon they were fighting while Godwyn was standing and talking with Eadric, surrounded by demon corpses - most of which appeared to have been burned to death by the wyverns.

Lorian looked around, taking note of the state of the knights out in the field currently. Most seemed to be in fine shape as the wyverns killed the majority of the demons; they had an opportunity now to chase the remaining demons down further into their underground hideaways.

"Godwyn!" He shouted as he trekked across the field back to the entrance tunnel. "Gather your men, we are headed back into the tunnels!"

"But--" the man started to object before shouting orders behind him at the rest of the knights.

Lorian didn't wait for the General to do as he asked before heading down into the tunnels, grabbing his sword as he went. Behind him, he could hear the distinctive voices of Maerec and the other knights ordering their groups into position.

This war wasn't going to be won in a day, but that didn't mean Lorian had to wait around.

*

The days dragged by, turning into weeks, and weeks into months. The men and women were starting to go stir crazy, Lorian included. They had been trapped in the forsaken tunnels for months now. The scouts were exhausted and had started making more and more mistakes. This was nearly the dozenth time they had expected a split in the tunnel to lead to a new area, but instead merely intersected with another group's tunnel.

In addition to being a winding labyrinth, the tunnels also had false walls that the demons used to attack them when they were resting or even to get behind them as they traveled. It led to a handful of the knights dragging their blades along the cavern walls as they walked, trying to find the illusions before they could be used against them.

Lorian had remained with Godwyn, Gotthard, and Wynfrith for the most part, though Allric's group was always close by, if not traveling beside them directly. But even with as many capable soldiers as they had, they were still losing men left and right. Several who had offered to take watch as they slept were only able to alert them to a demon's presence through their dying screams.

The losses were beginning to stack against their cause, considering they had yet to find a trace of the Demon Prince. Godwyn was beginning to lose his temper more and more often, and Lorian feared that if they were to lose even a handful more knights, the General would call for a holistic retreat. Lorian wouldn't allow that to happen. Not when they had made so much progress already. It was time he took care of the good general.

"Another split," Allric muttered to Gotthard as their group rounded a corner. "We should each take a path, just to be thorough considering the scouting reports reliability recently."

"I agree. If one of our paths should turn out to be a dead end, we will trace back to this split and regroup." Gotthard placed a hand on Allric's shoulder, nodding to the man. "Be safe."

They split into their respective groups with Allric and his group traveling down the left tunnel, leaving Lorian’s group to explore the right tunnel. They walked in silence for what had to be nearly an hour. Lorian knew it would be at least a few hours before Allric's group realized their tunnel was a dead-end based on his conversation with Gotthard the previous evening.

"Since it's just us," Godwyn began, "we should discuss calling off this fruitless effort. I've lost enough men and women in my command since we've entered these Gods forsaken tunnels, and what do we have to show for it? Nothing!"

"I agree, we should discuss it," Lorian said quietly, stopping in his tracks and turning to face the man. "We should discuss how your courage shriveled up long ago. How you would rather hide and wait, safe and sound, while those who report to you put themselves at risk. And most of all, how you have no loyalty to anyone but yourself."

"How dare you--!"

"You do not deserve the rank you were given," Lorian spat as he stepped closer, towering over the man.

"I earned my rank! For years I slaved away! I fought in wars that pre-date you, trained all the new recruits, I nearly died to retrieve that petrified dragonflesh for the Queen - all to earn your father's trust and respect! You're not around enough to deserve any of the respect you're given. All you've done to earn favor is be born brother to that cripple--"

Lorian was livid as he reached for his blade, only to be surprised when he saw Wynfrith's blade pressed to Godwyn's cheek. "Speak another disrespectful word about Prince Lorian or Prince Lothric and I'll cut your treasonous tongue from your mouth. Prince Lorian has proven himself to us when it counted. He helped us bring home four wyverns, nearly getting himself killed several times over in the process! Prince Lothric sees his courage and all he's accomplished, and so do all the other knights. The only one who doesn't, is you."

"I've seen the way you follow him around," Godwyn sneered. "Your loyalty is misplaced. You're pathetic."

Wynfrith pressed her blade forward, piercing through Godwyn's cheek, unflinching even as he howled in pain. "I'm here because Prince Lothric asked me to be here, and because I respect what Prince Lorian has done for me in the past."

She pulled her blade back, placing it in her scabbard. Godwyn took that as his opportunity, pulling out his own blade and striking towards her, but Lorian still had his blade out from earlier and intercepted the blow easily. Circling Godwyn from behind, Gotthard had his dual blades in hand, ready to strike.

"So this was all planned then? Did that crippled waste of space order you to do this?" Godwyn asked as he spat out blood from his cheek before striking at Lorian. "This is all because I threatened to not send my men to their deaths for this foolish war. Your petty brother accused me of trying to kill you, but all this time it's been the other way around."

Lorian was pushing the man back easily; he may have once been an accomplished fighter, but those days were in the past. He blocked another of Godwyn's strikes and kicked the man's chest, staggering him backwards. Lorian was quick on the follow up, knocking Godwyn's blade from his hand before grabbing him by the throat and pushing him up against the tunnel wall.

"My brother does not order me to do anything. You die today because of your own transgressions."

Godwyn spit blood in Lorian’s face and laughed, "Your father should never have let either of you live. He should have killed you the moment you were born, you pathetic waste of space. Go ahead, kill me. My men will rebel. They see right through all of you."

Lorian squeezed his hand, closing down on Godwyn's windpipe as the man gasped for air. He watched stoically as the man's face changed shades and his arms and legs began to flail in a last ditch effort to force him to let go. Eventually, he stopped entirely, but Lorian held on until he felt the man's pulse completely disappear beneath his hands. Only then did he stop, dropping the corpse to the ground.

Gotthard knelt, pulling a ring from Godwyn's finger and placing it in one of his pockets before setting a hand on Lorian’s shoulder. "Go on ahead with Wynfrith. Allric should be arriving soon. We'll deal with the body."

Lorian nodded to Gotthard and put away his blade. Wynfrith fell into step beside him easily as they continued down the tunnel in silence.

"Thank you," he said. Even after traveling with Wynfrith as long as he had, Lorian still hadn't been sure whether or not she would be able to condone Godwyn's death. But she had surprised him by not only not stopping him, but also standing up for him.

Wynfrith laced her hands behind her head as they walked; more relaxed than anyone in her position should have been. "The Knight General has had that coming to him for quite some time. It wasn't just me, either. I can name a dozen other knights who would have done what I did back there. Every single one of us that was with you on the wyvern hunt would have gladly stood up to the Knight General on your behalf."

Lorian had no response for her.

She continued, "We only lost a couple of men on that hunt, mostly due to unfortunate circ*mstances or their own incompetence, but do you realize how rare that is? We lose at least one in a week's worth of patrols. On a longer task, especially one of that size, we usually lose half a dozen or more. And against wyverns? We all assumed we were going on a suicide mission. So thank you for all that you've done. For what it's worth, I hope King Oceiros replaces Knight General Godwyn with you."

Chapter 12: Angels

Chapter Text

One of the things Lothric looked forward to each day now, was a report from Gotthard. Apparently, though they were making substantial progress winding through the underground labyrinth, they finally had a lead on the location of the Demon Prince. It seemed the closer they got, the more cave collapses they ran into, wasting time as they either had to clear out the cave in or scout out an alternate path.

Lothric had been spending the last several weeks handling the reactions to the news of Knight General Godwyn's tragic death ever since his corpse was sent back to Lothric. Standard procedure was to return the corpse to the flame to avoid the undead curse, which Emma and her priests were handling. His father was still refusing to leave his studies to attend to matters of the kingdom, only this time, since the matter was urgent enough - they needed to replace one of the Three Pillars after all - King Oceiros was forced to officially declare Lothric as the ruling authority in his stead. The declaration didn't impact much on a day to day level, but it did remove several of the more serious obstacles. Moving forward he would be able to circumvent the Three Pillars if the matter was serious enough.

Thankfully, the knights did not seem to be too hindered by the change in leadership. From what he had been able to gather, the knights still within the kingdom were continuing to receive their orders from Knight Commanders Estrid and Oswin while those in the tunnels were now receiving their orders from Lorian. There were of course pockets of dissenters crying foul play, but they were dismissed by the majority who had held no love or respect for the man. There were also the wounded who had already returned from the border and had seen Lorian, Gotthard, and Godwyn fighting alongside one another for the majority of the campaign.

Lothric was lying in his bed reading through the various letters he had received over the past few days when the door to his room opened without a knock first. He didn't bother glancing up from the letter in hand when Kamui entered, instead only dryly asking, "What news?"

"It's Gertrude. Something strange has happened to her."

He set down the letter and sat up, ignoring how light headed and dizzy it made him feel. "What do you mean?"

"Albert is with her now, I'll take you to them."

Kamui offered his hand to assist Lothric which he gratefully accepted and moved off the bed, slowly following the hunter through the halls, though with great effort. It was the most he had moved in weeks - Lothric hadn't realized until now just how quickly his condition had been deteriorating.

When they reached her, the first thing Lothric noticed was her eyes. She was sitting on the floor, furiously scrawling words on paper, but her eyes were blankly staring straight ahead with blood streaming from the corners. Albert was standing over her, a collection of papers in hand that were covered in the same fevered handwriting as the sheet Gertrude was currently writing on.

"Gertrude?" Lothric asked as he knelt down beside her. She paused her writing, setting down the piece of charcoal she was using to write with and reached for him. Her hands grabbed his shoulders, dragging him into a hug where she held him for several moments before pulling back and sliding her hands over his face and smiling. He ignored the fact that she was getting charcoal all over his face as he stared at her and asked, "what are you doing?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She let go of him, tapping her throat and shaking her head - somehow she had lost her voice he realized. Was it also from whatever had caused her to go blind? Gertrude stood, shuffling forward and reaching out until she found Albert. In a swift motion, she snatched the papers from his hands and thrust them towards where Lothric was still kneeling. He took them from her and began looking through them.

The writing was fanatical and largely incomprehensible; the little he was able to make out spoke of angels and light, but not the light of the First Flame. Lothric flipped through the other pages, trying to make sense of any of it, but to no avail.

In front of him, Gertrude was practically beaming when he placed the papers back in her hands. She shuffled them back into a stack and set them on the ground before kneeling and feeling around for her chimes. Once she had them in her hand, she closed her eyes, raising them up. They began to glow, as they usually did when someone was channeling a miracle through it, but this time the light was far brighter and more intense than anything Lothric had seen before. Around them, feathers began to float down after appearing out of thin air and the air around them practically hummed. The feeling disappeared for a moment before several pillars of white light flooded down around them, the intensity of which forced Lothric to cover his eyes. The pillars remained as they emitted a sound of chimes before slowly dissipating.

Lothric looked towards the ceiling as the light faded and saw that where the light had appeared from, the ceiling was completely destroyed. They were on the ground floor of several stories, but Lothric was now able to see straight up to the sky. The power Gertrude displayed was both terrifying and incredible.

"What is this power?" Lothric asked.

Gertrude grabbed his hand, holding his palm flat as she traced the letters on his hand, over and over and over again.

Angels.

"What are angels?"

She opened her mouth to try and speak only to be reminded that she didn't have the ability anymore. Gertrude let go of his hand and reached for her papers again. Lothric found an empty page in her pile and handed it to her where she began to scrawl nearly illegible. She passed him the paper when she was done writing, holding the rest of the pages closely to her chest. It was borderline illegible, as with everything she had written, letters overlapping one another, but Lothric was able to read it.

The angel said they will save us all, it told me of how it will bring new light once the light of the First Flame is extinguished.

You don't need to die.

They will save you.

We will all be saved.

Lothric placed the paper in his robes and turned to Albert and Kamui. "Place her in her room, bring her all the paper and charcoal she desires. Do not let anyone enter. Do not speak to anyone about this."

They each bowed and placed a hand on each of Gertrude's shoulders, leading her down the hall. She twisted in their grasp trying to turn back to Lothric, her hand outstretched. Lothric did his best to ignore the look of desperation on her face as he watched her until she was out of sight. He placed a hand over his robe where the paper was, before turning around and making his way back to his room.

This was the last thing that Lothric needed at the moment. He wasn't sure what Gertrude meant by angels, or any of what she said, but regardless of whether or not it was all delusions there was no denying that the power she had shown was quite real and very powerful.

It was also heretical.

While he and Gertrude had always shared their disillusionment with the nature of the First Flame, her complete dismissal of it in favor of these 'angels' was far beyond the line they had previously drawn. If his father was to find out about her beliefs…

Lothric steadied himself as he walked, running his hand along the wall as he went. He couldn't be worried about the possibility of the consequences of Gertrude's condition now. Lothric just needed to focus on what he could control; he needed to keep Gertrude in her room, he needed to keep the pressure on the demon campaign, he needed to take care of Wulfred, and so much more.

Lothric cursed, leaning heavily against the wall and closed his eyes. Everything was spinning as he struggled to catch his breath. Each breath was becoming a struggle as Lothric fought to take in air. His ears began to ring as his knees buckled beneath him and he collapsed to the ground.

The world went black.

*

"What happened?" Lothric could barely make out the voice of Emma. Her voice sounded so very far away.

"I don't know," someone else replied. "Dunnere came across Prince Lothric during his rounds. He said Prince Lothric had already collapsed on the ground when he found him."

Who was that speaking? Lothric tried to open his eyes only to find he couldn't move at all. But he was so hot. His veins felt as though they were burning.

"Is he all right?"

"Not at all. He was always prone to illnesses growing up, but I've never seen him in a state like this before."

Ah. It was Master Aelfric. That's why his voice was so familiar.

"You must help him."

Something grabbed his leg and Lothric burned. The world went black again.

*

He drifted in and out of consciousness with no concept of time.

*

Lothric awoke, tears streaming from his eyes. He couldn't feel his arms. He couldn't feel his legs.

"Gods above," he heard Master Aelfric mutter. "I've never seen anything like this before."

"What's happening to him?" Emma's voice.

"The bones in his arms and legs are… splintering? But that can't be right." Something pressed into his leg and Lothric's world became inconceivable pain and he could do nothing but scream.

He screamed until his throat was raw and darkness took over once more.

*

Each time he awoke was pure agony.

Lothric felt the cool press of a hand on his chest, but all he could see when he opened his eyes was a blinding white light and the vague shape of a woman. His chest started warming as he closed his eyes again, embracing the relaxing feeling spreading through his limbs.

He could feel his hands again, Lothric realized and curled his fingers. He opened his eyes again, only this time he was able to see the woman. She was sitting on the edge of his bed with a thin bandage wrapped around her head, covering her eyes, and auburn hair framing her face.

He opened his mouth to speak, only to stop when he felt his throat burn at the effort.

She placed a finger to her lips before placing a hand over his eyes where he succumbed to sleep again.

*

When he finally awoke and was able to open his eyes, Lothric was met with the sight of Emma sitting beside his bed running her fingers over her ring that signified her role as High Priestess. Her eyes were shut as she murmured quietly to herself.

"Emma?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

She jumped. "Prince Lothric, how are you feeling?"

"Like death might be a kindness." He struggled to sit up, leaning heavily against the headboard on the bed. "How long?"

"Nearly a month, dear." She ran the back of her hand across his forehead. "I'm afraid your condition placed us in a difficult position with all that was, and still is, happening."

Lothric used his elbow to prop himself up into a sitting position, slapping away Emma's hand with his other hand. "What do you mean? What is happening?"

"It's Lady Gertrude," she lowered her voice, "the poor dear has gone quite mad. She's lost both her sight and her voice, but somehow a portion of the kingdom has deluded themselves into believing her something, I-I don't know? Holy? One of her followers said they saw her heal you. That through her, 'angels' healed you."

A woman surrounded by white light, pressing a finger to her lips.

"Where is she now?"

Emma pursed her lips and said nothing.

"Emma!" he hissed with as much bitterness as he could manage, "where is she?"

"King Oceiros demanded she be found and brought to the Grand Archives. As of yet, no one has been able to find her. We believe that she was helped by several members of the staff who believe in her heresy."

So she was still safe. For now. What of the papers with her writings? Lothric frowned and moved to get out of his bed. Emma placed an arm under his, helping him up. "Does this mean Father has returned?"

"In a sense. He has returned to Lothric, but remains sealed in the Grand Archives. He appointed Wulfred to act in his stead until you stabilized." She hesitated, "Wulfred demanded that all troops who were acting in support of your brother's campaign return immediately."

"What of Lorian?"

"No word yet."

"Wynfrith? Gotthard?"

"Gotthard returned a few days ago; I can bring him to you if you would like."

Lothric struggled his way to his feet, fighting the wave of dizziness that washed over him. "Have him meet me in my study."

"Prince Lothric, you should remain here and rest, it's far too soon! Allow me to fetch Master Aelfric--"

Lothric shook his head. "I will be fine."

Emma was about to say something in rebuttal, but instead bowed and left the room.

Lothric took a moment to collect himself before teleporting himself to his study. He didn't trust his ability to walk in his current condition, and though his teleportation sorcery drained him, it was likely the safer option.

Piled on his desk were numerous letters each of which had been opened and read before being re-sealed. It was standard procedure when anyone of importance was temporarily indisposed. Lothric sat down and started flipping through them. Most were the standard updates he received. Several letters from Gotthard outlining their progress that abruptly stopped after the third letter. There were several from the Cathedral of the Deep. Apparently word of Gertrude's angels had reached the Deacons who were furious.

After a short while there was a knock on the door as Gotthard announced his presence before entering. He bowed, "I'm glad to see you well, Prince Lothric."

"If one could call my condition well." Lothric motioned for the man to sit down across from him. "What news from the campaign?"

"As I'm sure you've heard by now, Head Scholar Wulfred called for a cease to the campaign in your absence, and with a void for the Pillar of Knights along with the power granted to him by King Oceiros, we had no choice but to follow his orders. But we were close. Given a few more weeks, we could have finished the campaign. "

"What of Lorian?"

Gotthard leaned back in his chair. "Your brother remains on the Demon Prince's trail, along with Wynfrith at your command, as well as one of the priests per Lady Emma's orders."

"She disobeyed Wulfred's orders?"

"Not quite," Gotthard chuckled, "the way I understand it happened is Lady Emma convinced Wulfred that a single priest would be an acceptable risk if it means guaranteeing the return of Prince Lorian. He had no choice but to agree."

"How many were lost to the campaign?"

"Not as many as Godwyn had anticipated. The first strike utilizing the wyverns was pivotal in reducing their numbers, despite the fact that I still don't fully trust them. Overall, roughly nine score dead, the majority of whom were knights, including Knight General Godwyn. Among them were a handful of scouts and two priests. The scouts remain unaccounted for; lost in cave-ins I believe."

"More lost than I would have preferred, but understandable given the scope of the task." Lothric mindlessly traced his fingers along the edge of one of the letters. "Thank you, Gotthard, for assisting my brother."

"It was my honor, Prince Lothric. Your brother is a keen and terrifying warrior, but he also has a good sense for strategy. I would attribute most of the lives saved were thanks to him. He was the one who insisted that we should be involved in the first attack in the most vulnerable positions. And I was happy to assist in the other matter as well."

Gotthard reached into his robes and pulled something out, holding it out to Lothric who opened his hand and accepted the item - a ring. He ran a finger over the ring, admiring the design. The Pillar rings were a true marvel. While they primarily served to signify one's status as a Pillar, each ring had also been enchanted according to the Pillar signified.

"Why did Wulfred not try to force my brother to return?" Lothric asked.

"Oh believe me, he tried. He knew he could not outright order Prince Lorian, so he made sure his messenger stressed the urgency of your condition."

"And yet he is not here," Lothric noted.

"I believe he said 'so long as my brother still lives, I will continue the task he set me on,' or something to that effect." Gotthard said with a laugh, "You two have great faith that the other will live. I envy such faith."

Lothric said nothing in response; of course they had faith in each other. Lothric was fairly certain that should anything happen to Lorian that he would know the moment it happened. Undoubtedly Lorian felt the same.

"I heard about Gertrude. Would you like me to find her?"

Lothric looked at the man, wondering how much he could trust the man. Allowing him to assist in the assassination of Godwyn was one thing, but the situation with Gertrude was different. How could he be trusted to let her live if she continued to impact the state of the kingdom?

"No, I wish her to remain unharmed and unfound for as long as possible; so long as you do not have contrary orders from my father, that is."

"None as of this moment. King Oceiros has little use for me recently."

"Good. What I would like from you is a list of those who believe what Gertrude is saying, particularly the zealots. I want to know what they are doing, what their plans may be, and how it may impact the kingdom." Lothric leaned forward in his chair, "We are in a precarious position, Gotthard. Even the slightest upheaval could lead us to ruin. We can neither risk persecuting those who have been led astray nor allow them to grow to numbers beyond our control."

"I understand. I will vet the hunters assigned to this task myself and ensure they are trustworthy."

While Gotthard and his hunters could manage the situation and provide Lothric with all the information regarding the current state of affairs, it would not address the underlying issue of the claim that angels exist and hold the same reverence as the Gods and First Flame. Lothric understood this,and understood that even while he could not act directly, gathering information would be necessary to intervene in the future.

He would need Wulfred and Emma's expertise on such matters, loathe as he was to admit it. Particularly in his current state.

"Gotthard, please convene the Pillars. Bring them here, not to the usual meeting chambers. We are missing a Pillar regardless."

"As you wish."

Lothric resumed flipping through the letters while he waited for Gotthard to return. The majority were status reports from the villages - no good news, just as Lothric had feared. With the knights returned to the kingdom, they would be able to be dispatched to the usual patrol routes once more. One positive at least to come from Wulfred's decision to recall them from the campaign.

When he finally returned with Wulfred and Emma, Lothric was fighting a wave of lightheadedness which he hoped the others wouldn't notice.

"Prince Lothric, it is good to see you well." Wulfred said as he took a seat on the chair furthest from Lothric. "Your sudden illness along with the King's absence left us in quite the predicament, but it seems now that order has been restored."

Emma took the seat nearest to Lothric while Gotthard stood silently in the back of the room. Lothric knew it went without saying that what they had discussed earlier would not be addressed with Emma and Wulfred.

"It is my understanding the wyverns were a tremendous asset during the campaign, Wulfred. I take it you are pleased with the results?"

"Oh, indeed." Wulfred smiled. "Their work has given me new insight into what King Oceiros stumbled upon in regards to the connection between wyvern and rider. Should the opportunity ever present itself again, we could find a way to tame even the most powerful dragon-kin."

"And yet you called an end to the campaign."

"With Knight General Godwyn killed in action along with several scores of men, our losses were no longer worth the risk presented. It is wiser to regroup and collect ourselves before rekindling the campaign." He tilted his head to the side. "You will need to decide on Knight General Godwyn's replacement. Both Oswin and Estrid are well qualified and would allow for a smooth transition."

"I would like to confer with the knights directly once they return from the campaign before I make a decision." Lothric said evenly. While true, he and Wulfred both knew what his decision was and how that would reflect back upon him.

"Prince Lorian may not return. It would be wise of you to consider other options." Wulfred was certainly never afraid to be forthright with Lothric, no matter the subject.

"Regardless, that is not why I have asked you here today. We need to discuss Gertrude and her followers. As you are all aware, she has made claims that she has been visited by what she calls angels." Lothric steepled his fingers below his chin, "Have either of you heard of these angels before?"

"There have been no such recordings in any of the holy books I have encountered." Emma said. "But it cannot be denied that the power she has is very much real. Kamui informed me that the damage near where you collapsed was the result of a miracle she cast."

"It is."

"Did she describe these 'angels' at all?" Wulfred asked.

Lothric thought about it, "She wrote of their large humanoid shape and wings but nothing else regarding their description. She had a manifesto she had been writing -- was it retrieved before she disappeared?"

"One of my hunters presented it to me upon my return." Gotthard reached into his robes and pulled out a sheaf of papers, the same papers she had been writing before Lothric had collapsed. He handed the pages to Wulfred who flipped through them, passing each one to Emma as he finished reading.

"Though much of this is unintelligible, there are a few phrases which she repeats and I can only assume hold some significance. She repeats the phrase 'The angel's power lies within' several times over the course of the passages."

"Within?" Emma frowned. "She also describes at one point 'man's power will be unleashed as the First Flame fades.' The way it is described reminds me of the texts from the Sable Church of Londo. They believe that the power of man is unleashed from their back as the First Flame fades, and so to combat their fate they wear large stone shells upon their backs to keep the power contained."

"The Pus of Man," Wulfred agreed, "yes they do have a similarity in beliefs."

"And we have seen the Pus of Man emerge before," Lothric said, remembering his father's experiment on the hollow. "Perhaps that is what she saw?"

"Unlikely," Wulfred disagreed, "she very clearly described the wings, and there has been nothing in the past to indicate that the Pus of Man is capable of granting miracles. I believe that whatever she saw is truly unique from the Pus of Man as we know it. It may be something entirely different or perhaps even some twisted evolution of the Pus of Man. It is likely that the miracle she learned would be able to provide some insight into the truth."

"Regardless of what she believes to be true or what these angels truly are, the fact that people are believing in these angels is a threat to the kingdom. It could not have happened at a worse time." Emma's voice darkened. "The time of rekindling the First Flame draws ever closer and now we must contend with these dissenters. They must be stopped."

"Escalation of the situation is not the answer, Emma," Lothric chastised. "Between the situation with my Father, Godwyn's death, the Demon Prince, Pontiff Sulyvahn, the Evangelists, and now this, I fear the people of the kingdom will turn on us at the slightest provocation. We must be strategic in how we handle this situation."

"We should contain this heresy at the source: capture Gertrude and allow me to examine her." Wulfred proposed. "If you allow me to have full access, I am confident I will be able to find the answers you seek."

Lothric looked across the room towards Gotthard. The Black Hand inclined his head, nearly imperceptible but it was enough. Lothric let his gaze fall on Emma and Wulfred for a few moments before he spoke. "You truly believe this is the best course of action?"

"Nip it in the bud before it can flourish, yes."

"Emma?" Lothric asked.

"I am inclined to agree with Head Scholar Wulfred."

"Gotthard?"

"I will assign my hunters to begin the search and will report as soon as anything is discovered." The answer was carefully crafted and Lothric was grateful he had had the chance to discuss this matter with the man beforehand.

Lothric nodded. "In addition to Gotthard's search, I believe we should take other measures. Emma, I would like you to begin holding ceremonies for the commoners in the cathedral. The commoners will likely respond better to your sermons than those of one of your priests. Wulfred, I will leave Gertrude's manuscript in your hands. Inform me if you find anything useful in its contents."

They both nodded.

"Then you are all dismissed. I have preparations to make."

"Prince Lothric, if you don't mind," Emma interrupted, "but I believe you should make a public appearance to show the people you are in fact in good health and have recovered."

"If they believed it was at Gertrude's hands, would that not have the opposite effect?" Lothric asked.

"Not if we handle the appearance correctly."

"What did you have in mind?"

Emma clasped her hands together, taking care to maintain eye contact with him. "I believe, since you have been given authority by King Oceiros to lead in his stead, we should hold a coronation."

"He is not King yet," Wulfred hissed.

"We don't need to have an official crowning. It will be symbolic. The people know King Oceiros remains the true King even in his absence. This is purely for Prince Lothric to make an appearance while also reminding the people of the importance of the First Flame."

"Very well." Lothric agreed. As much as he hated making such appearances, he knew this would be necessary. "As you say, this ceremony, even if symbolic, may be just what this kingdom needs to experience a moment of unity."

"Excellent! I will handle the details and organize the ceremony." Emma placed a hand on Lothric’s shoulder. "Perhaps Prince Lorian will return in time to witness it."

Chapter 13: Defeat

Chapter Text

Lorian and Wynfrith were the last of the campaign's forces still in the tunnels, but they had found the Demon Prince. The creature was based in a labyrinth of ruins, far from any and all forms of civilization. Whatever the city had been prior to falling must have been incredible given the size and grandeur of what remained.

"Even if you defeat it, how are we going to get back out?" Wynfrith asked from where she sat perched on part of the ruins. She was dripping sweat, as was he; the heat generated by the magma that flowed through the area was unbearable. "It will take too long to get out the way we came from, and who knows how many more tunnels have collapsed since we first passed through them."

Lorian didn't answer. She was right of course. The only reason they could remain in the tunnels with the rest of the knights as long as they had was due to the fact that knights and scouts alike were constantly travelling through the tunnels to maintain a constant supply line. Now that they were gone, however, Lorian and his group were essentially trapped down here, even if victory was assured.

He glanced at her and watched as she swirled the waterskin in her hand, but didn't drink from it. "How much water remains?"

"This waterskin, three more in my pack, the four that Burchwen holds, and however many you have left I suppose." Wynfrith extended it towards him. "Here, you need this more than I do now. You'll be fighting it after all, not me. Unless-"

"No." Lorian cut her off, even as he took the waterskin from her. "If I fail, Lothric still needs to be informed. Regardless of the current exit strategy, you still stand a better chance at being able to return to tell him than I do."

"Send Burchwen. If you won't allow her to be involved in the fight even as the priestess assigned to remain and heal you, then what purpose does she serve? Allow her to be the messenger." Wynfrith wiped her brow absentmindedly as she spoke. "You already forbade her from coming this far. For all Burchwen knows, we may already be dead."

"Lothric gave you the command, did he not?" Lorian asked pointedly before drinking deeply from the waterskin.

"Yes." Wynfrith said and looked away.

"If the news comes from any other he will likely deny it. He has placed his trust entirely in you. Take Burchwen and see if either of you can find an alternate exit. You are correct that if we try to return the way we entered, none of us will be returning at all."

Lorian handed her the waterskin and stood up, taking a moment to straighten his armor. It was hot to the touch, just like everything else in the forsaken ruins. If the Demon Prince didn't kill them, the heat just might.

He placed a hand on Wynfrith's shoulder. "Go."

She stood up and saluted him. "I will find a way out. Good luck." Wynfrith turned to leave before turning back to him, digging around in her bag and pulling out a container. "Take this at least. It will help against the flames. Burchwen gave it to me earlier, but you'll need it more than me."

Lorian took it and walked past her and started heading toward the heart of the ruins where the Demon Prince sat waiting. After everything he had gone through to reach this point he knew it was pointless to believe there could be any sort of surprise attack involved. The Demon Prince clearly knew they were here and was waiting. If it was going to run it would have done so long before they managed to get so close.

It was a good place for a fight. The Demon Prince had decided to make its last stand in the center of what Lorian could only assume used to be a courtyard. There were various pits of magma that seemed to have bubbled up from beneath the stone flooring. At the center of the courtyard was the Demon Prince itself.

The Demon Prince was an impressive figure. It stood several heads taller than Lorian, it's body oozing magma and engulfed in flame. From its back stretched two monstrous wings, eclipsing the two horns that extended from its head.

A shiver made its way up Lorian’s spine as he reached for his blade and stared down the demon. He was suddenly immensely thankful he had not allowed Wynfrith or Burchwen to follow him.

In front of him, the Demon Prince stood taller, stretching its massive wings. Tilting its head back, Lorian watched as a massive fireball began to form before it spit the fireball toward the sky, watching it for a moment before turning his attention back to the demon which was hurtling straight for him, a trail of fire in its wake.

Lorian rolled out of the way just in time, watching the demon crash into the courtyard wall when a fireball exploded on the ground beside him. Looking up, Lorian realized the demon was more strategic than he had initially thought as a volley of fireballs came crashing down around him, superheating the area, and the remaining flames licking at his armor.

The last of the fireballs crashed into the ground and Lorian moved to reposition himself closer to the demon. If the Demon Prince's ranged attacks were all as powerful as the fireball volley, then Lorian would have to deny him the opportunity to use them by staying close.

Moving closer, sword raised, Lorian aligned himself until he was strafing around the demon's left side. He waited for the demon to make an attack and when the creature reached for him with its giant clawed hand, Lorian dodged easily and followed through with a lunge, thrusting his sword into the demon's side, twisting the blade as magma oozed from between the plates on its body.

It was a solid strike and against any other demon would have been the end of the creature. But the Demon Prince was far out of the league of the other demons Lorian had encountered on his way here and it seemed largely unaffected. Lorian was forced to remove his blade as it began to heat from the oozing magma and was blindsided by the grasp by the demon as it closed its massive hand around Lorian and lifted him into the air.

By the time Lorian had started to try and carve his way out, the Demon Prince threw him across the courtyard. Lorian crashed into the ground and rolled a few times, the impact causing him to drop his sword. He struggled to his feet only to see the Demon Prince in the air, flying low towards him. Lorian looked off to the side and saw his sword several feet away and started sprinting for it, ignoring the pain in his right leg from where he had landed.

Thankfully it seemed it was difficult for the demon to maneuver mid-flight and it raked the ground where Lorian had just been with his claws. Where the stones were dislodged, magma bubbled up to the surface, now making another section of the courtyard dangerous to Lorian.

From where he had pierced its side, Lorian could see magma and blood dripping to the ground in a steady stream. So, it could bleed after all.

The demon held up its hand, a blazing fireball forming in the center; Lorian watched its arm in an attempt to anticipate where it would throw it. He moved his left leg as though taking a step to the side. The moment he did so, the demon flung the fireball to Lorian’s left side allowing Lorian to double back to the right, safely out of the reach of the flames even as the fireball exploded on the ground.

They continued this dance between them of the Demon Prince building distance between them and Lorian utilizing the openings as it prepared for a destructive attack to close the distance and get a handful of attacks in before being pushed back on the defensive.

Soon the entire area burned in a slow smolder as fire covered nearly every surface that was able to burn. The flames and smoke surrounded Lorian, making it nearly insufferably hot and difficult to breathe.

Using an opening from one of the fireball attacks, Lorian sprinted forward, closing the gap between himself and the Demon Prince, placing himself right in front of it, sword raised as he plunged it towards the demon's midsection. The Demon Prince grabbed his sword after it connected, halting it from penetrating deeper before stretching its wings, flapping them in a directed motion.

The gust of wind from the motion was significant, and Lorian struggled to maintain his grip on his sword and remain upright. The Demon Prince continued the assault with its wings until Lorian finally lost his grip and was knocked several feet back. The Demon Prince used the opportunity to fly several feet away, recreating the initial distance between them and leaving Lorian weaponless.

It seemed to understand that without his sword and by maintaining distance, Lorian was helpless to do anything. From where he stood, Lorian could still see his sword lodged in the demon's midsection - it hadn't removed it yet. Did it not plan to?

Lorian moved automatically to try and avoid the next volley of attacks from the demon, dodging most of the fireballs except one that was a direct hit. He felt as though he was burning alive - and he supposed he was.

Eventually the flames dissipated and Lorian took a moment to recover before trying to move close once again. If he could get his hands on his sword, all he had to do was thrust it further in. By now the sword would likely be blistering hot. He remembered the container Wynfrith gave him and fumbled to pull it out and open it. It was a red paste of some sort - Lorian tried not to think of what was used to make it as he coated his palms with the substance.

He waited for the Demon Prince to throw its next volley of fireballs and used the opportunity to dash in close. Before it had an opportunity to react to him, Lorian gripped the sword hilt, the red paste helping slightly but at the temperature the sword had reached, the pain was still inconceivable.

This was likely his only chance, however, and if he let go now there would be no recovering. He placed all his strength into one final thrust, angling the blade upward as he did so to the point where most humanoid creature's hearts were located.

The Demon Prince bellowed a howl of pain, and Lorian knew he had struck his mark.

He wrenched his blade free and tried to back away and create space while the demon was still blinded with pain and rage, but he wasn't fast enough. As though possessed, it lunged for him. He tried to block the attacks, but they were occurring at such a pace and with such force that it was impossible. One mis-calculated dodge was all it took; the claws pierced through his armor as if it didn't even exist - ripping into Lorian’s side and leg.

As the claws tore through his flesh and armor, Lorian struggled to stay upright, collapsing down on one knee as the world faded and darkness flooded his peripheral vision.

Everything slipped away in a cold rush and the world went black.

The Demon Prince grabbed for him, claws wrapping around his midsection as it lifted Lorian close, pulling him towards its face. A wave of strength flooded through him as heat coiled in his chest. Lorian forced himself to focus, forcing out the darkness, tightening his grip on his blade, and he stared as the beast looked down at him, blood bubbling from its mouth.

Agonizingly, the Demon Prince opened its mouth in a blood curdling howl, and the blood spilled downwards, crashing into Lorian's forehead as it burned a path across and down the sides of his head. Distantly, Lorian understood how intense the pain was, but his mind was a fog and his body reacted on its own as he thrust his sword forward, feeling it connect and the Demon Prince's grasp on him loosen as it dropped him to the floor. This time Lorian made sure to keep his grip on his sword as he went crashing to the ground.

Lorian rolled over onto his hands and knees, unable to even touch his face to rid himself of the scalding blood without obscuring his vision further since his hands were already coated with the red paste. He could hear the Demon Prince flailing around beside him, feeling the blows from its claws tearing into the ground around him.

He secured his grip on his blade as he stood again and lumbered towards where he heard most of the commotion and made another strike, this time his blade meeting resistance. But Lorian persisted, pressing forward, pushing past the pain from his hands and face where he could feel the skin beginning to bubble and blister.

With another strong push forward, Lorian was met with a loud cracking sound before his sword slid further and he heard the Demon Prince collapse to the ground, it's howl of pain turning into something more guttural and weak. But Lorian kept pushing forward, his blade like fire in his hands.

He blinked the blood out of his eyes, barely able to make out the sight of his sword embedded in the demon's throat, magma oozing out of it from every side as it lay unmoving. He pulled his sword out, tossing it on the ground beside him as he watched the metal glow as it remained encased in flame.

Lorian sat there for what felt like an eternity, feeling nothing. He watched the blood seep between the plates of his armor from the wounds the demon had inflicted on him. His armor, once brass, shining and beautiful, had been stained by the flames and smoke - a faded, dreary black.

"Lorian!" He heard a voice shout from behind him and then two sets of footsteps rushing towards him. Wynfrith kneeled in front of him, her eyes wide as she whispered incredulously, "you did it!"

"He is badly wounded, please step aside and allow me to tend to him," said Burchwen. The old woman ushered Wynfrith out of the way and took her place before Lorian. She clicked her tongue as she pushed the hair matted in blood and sweat away from his forehead, clearing his vision. "You can't feel the wounds? That's not a good sign, it means your body doesn't realize the danger has passed."

She turned her attention to his side where the Demon Prince's claws had dug in deeply and blood was rushing from the wounds. Her face was pale as she scrambled to pull out her chimes and began frantically casting a miracle. Lorian felt his side burn and his vision blurred with pain as he felt the miracle closing the wound and any other damage he had sustained.

He watched as Burchwen reached into the rucksack she was carrying, pulling more of the red paste he had used in the fight. She slathered the paste on his forehead which dulled the pain faintly.

"Where else were you burned?"

"Everywhere," he rasped, voice hoarse and throat raw. Had he screamed that much?

"Let me see your hands first then. Wynfrith, help him please."

Wynfrith shuffled until she was beside Lorian again, hissing at the heat of the metal as she helped to unclasp and remove his gauntlets revealing his severely burned hands underneath.

"You applied the paste to your gauntlets instead of your skin," Burchwen observed with a nod as she began coating his hands with more of the red paste. "The idea was correct, but it seems that the temperatures you were dealing with were too extreme. The paste should help the immediate pain but you will need continuous treatments. These were the most severe burns you sustained, yes?"

"Yes."

"Very good. Then I will stabilize your other wounds and will continue treatment once we are back at the surface." She placed the rest of the red paste aside and grabbed her chimes, chanting one of the many healing miracles all the priests and priestesses knew. His body felt colder, almost frozen, and the skin which had begun to bubble up now tightened. If anything, Lorian felt numb. He flexed his fingers, but the motion felt alien as he saw his fingers move but didn't feel it.

"The numbness is normal and temporary. It should be enough for us to get out of here." Burchwen stood and put her chimes back away. "Now Wynfrith, be a dear and take us to that path you found."

Wynfrith grabbed Lorian’s arm, pulling him up before handing him his still burning sword. "I think I may have found another way out."

Lorian nodded. "Good work."

"You did the hardest part," she said with a glance at the Demon Prince's corpse that remained on the ground. Unlike the fire-based demons they had fought on the surface, the Demon Prince's flames had not cooled when it was defeated, but Lorian was certain it was dead. It remained motionless, no signs of life remaining, other than the smoldering flames that lingered on its corpse.

"Wait." Lorian said, shambling back to the corpse. "I will need proof."

"We can't lug the entire corpse out of here," said Burchwen curtly.

"Or even the head." Wynfrith said.

Lorian knelt by the creature's head, angling his sword to get a clean cut on one of its sets of horns. The material was tougher than he anticipated, but he managed to break both of the front horns free, leaving the larger ones that wrapped around its head untouched. Lorian held the horns in his hand, as he turned back to Burchwen and Wynfrith. "Lead the way."

Wynfrith took the lead, guiding them towards the back of the ruins until they reached a tunnel. The tunnel then led towards a giant ravine that was vaguely lit by what little sunlight was able to filter through from the opening at the top. A little ways ahead of them was a rickety wooden bridge that led into darkness on the other side. If they followed this path they would be doing so blindly.

But at least they could see sunlight.

Chapter 14: Realization

Chapter Text

Sleep evaded Lothric as a bone-deep weariness settled in, spurred on from a moment several nights prior that stirred him from his sleep. He had woken to an unsettling sense of dread followed by the sensation of his body on fire and something slipping away, though he knew not what. It had been similar to other night terrors, and yet entirely different. The feeling was less abstract, and he would have sworn that if he had been able to touch his skin he would have burned.

But the feeling faded away as fast as it had occurred, as though it hadn't happened at all. It left Lothric feeling entirely drained of all energy by the time he had awoken.

Had it been the First Flame reaching out? If it had, the bells should have tolled.

The memory haunted Lothric, but he did his best to push it away since the coronation ceremony was almost upon them, and Emma was driving Lothric to madness with her preparations. Each day she hounded him over some trivial matter that would make no difference. So long as he attended the ceremony and Emma gave a speech to discourage dissenters then they would accomplish what they intended. There were more pockets of insurgents by the day and still no word of his brother.

He was expecting a report from Gotthard, though his expectations were the same as they had been for weeks now, since he was first sent on his search for Gertrude. Lothric was restless all morning in anticipation, unable to clearly focus on a single letter or thought. It had been this way since the nightmare. By the time Gotthard finally did arrive, Lothric had found one of his father’s studies to distract himself with.

"Report?" Lothric asked, not bothering to look up from his work.

"Gertrude and her followers remain elusive still." Gotthard said without so much as a hint of remorse in his voice. All was still going to plan in that regard, after all. "Those who follow her are growing bolder each day. It appears as though even some of the knights are beginning to be swayed."

Lothric glanced up at that. "To what extent?"

"I found a crudely crafted banner in the barracks, as well as some notes."

"What did these notes contain?"

Gotthard handed him a piece of parchment with hastily scribbled symbols. Lothric had seen these before. "Her miracle?"

"Some derivation of it at the very least it appears." Gotthard crossed his arms over his chest, "They are growing more organized. It may do well for us to intervene before it becomes an issue."

"You know where she is?"

"I've heard rumors - rumors that if I suddenly found credible enough to follow up on, may lead to her."

Lothric set down the parchment, steepling his fingers beneath his chin as he considered Gotthard's offer. "If left alone they are likely to continue growing quietly. I fear if anything were to happen at the moment, we would only be encouraging them to act out. Right now I suspect they feel complacent knowing Gertrude's safety is guaranteed and they think we are incapable of tracking them."

"Then I will continue as planned. Give the order and I can change the tide whenever you please."

"Thank you, Gotthard. Have you any other news to report?"

"Only rumors."

"I would like to hear them."

"There is a rumor that a group has been spotted out behind the Abyss Watchers domain, heading toward the kingdom."

"The members of this group?"

"An old woman, a younger woman, and a man. It is said they wear the Lothric colors."

Lothric bit back a sigh of relief. "And when were they spotted?"

"A few days back according to one of my hunters."

"As they approach the main gates, ensure that they are escorted properly back inside and given immediate attention to their every need."

Gotthard smiled and bowed. "As you command. Anything else?"

"That is all."

It wouldn't do for Lothric to needlessly get his hopes up, but deep down he knew it was Lorian. It had to be. His brother was alive, which could only mean he defeated the Demon Prince just as he swore he would. If they were spotted near the Abyss Watchers then they would arrive back in Lothric soon enough.

After Gotthard had left, Lothric continued with his research into what had caused him to fall ill and what Gertrude may have done to heal him. There were so many unknowns, and no one could tell him if he was at risk of it happening again.

He rubbed his leg absent-mindedly.

Though the pain was gone for the time being, Lothric could still clearly remember the agony that coursed through his legs and arms at the time. Even now, it was as if he could feel a phantom tremor of pain spiking through.

With each day that passed, Lothric noticed that his legs and arms would go numb, and for longer each time it occurred. It was like lightning was trapped in his limbs.

In all of his reading, the closest thing he had discovered were Dragon Stones, powerful tools used by those who worshipped the ancient dragons to the point that their own bodies began to morph into dragons themselves. It was an affliction that lasted until their death.

Judging by his father's notes and misshapen body as well as Lothric's partially clawed hands and feet, it was nearly guaranteed that his father had used the stones in some way to cause these changes to both of them.

Lothric examined his hands, staring at the overgrown fingers and pointed nails. He knew his feet and legs looked similar, though this was no different than how they had been shaped when he was born. He had come into this world a twisted God and it seems fate would have him leave it more dragon than man.

He still had so many unanswered questions.

He looked at the scrawled miracle Gotthard had given him, trying to glean any sort of hint from its pages, but to no avail. It seemed no different from other miracles he had witnessed other than its reference to the Angels instead of prayers to the First Flame.

There were no more notes that spoke of how to reverse the effect other than death.

Lothric was hitting dead end after dead end. Other than his father, who would likely lash out if asked about reversing the effects, there was only one other who may have the information he sought.

To ask, he needed to visit the Archives.

Setting aside his notes, Lothric concentrated on his mind's view of the Archives, letting the world around him fade into a white light before emerging on the other side. He had appeared in the center of the Archives in dead silence. All around him were robed scholars, who said nothing but merely stared at him.

"Where is Head Scholar Wulfred?" he asked.

One of the scholars, not adorned in scholar robes, stepped forward, "Prince Lothric?"

"Mistress Kriemhild?" He took in the sight of her, surprised to see her here of all places, and still in her Fire Keeper robes. "What brings you here?"

"After we last spoke, you had no need of a tutor anymore so I resumed my apprenticeship with the Crystal Sages."

"Yes, of course." He should have known - perhaps he did. It was hard to keep track of the whereabouts of everyone these days. He did miss his training days; rarely did he find time to practice his sorceries recently. "If you have time, we should resume our sessions."

Her smile grew. "I would be happy to; I've learned so much since I returned. But we can discuss that later, what can I do for you now?"

"I am here to speak with Head Scholar Wulfred."

"Of course, he usually asks that he not be disturbed, but you are the Prince. Right this way."

He followed Kriemhild through the winding maze of bookshelves, tables, and staircases. Lothric was surprised to see how much the Grand Archives had changed over the years as they passed several pits of wax; Lothric watched as one of the scholars dipped their head in the wax before continuing on to pull a book from one of the shelves. He could feel the residual sorcery everywhere in the air - glancing up he could see the fluttering robes and giant hat of what he assumed to be one of the Crystal Sages. It appeared his father had been busy, expanding the scale of the Grand Archives and the knowledge kept within.

Eventually they reached the top of the Archives and Kriemhild stopped, gesturing towards a doorway. "Through here. It was good to see you, Prince Lothric."

With a nod of acknowledgement, Lothric headed through the doorway, drawing Wulfred's attention. Wulfred stood from the table where he sat, removing his spectacles and setting them aside. "Prince Lothric, have you come to speak with your Father? I'm afraid he's quite indisposed at the moment."

Lothric took a seat across from him. "On the contrary, I have come to speak with you." He motioned to the chair, "please."

With a moment's hesitation, Wulfred reclaimed his seat. "How may I be of service?"

"You have heard of Dragon Stones. Have you not?"

A pause. "I have."

"And I would guess my Father has as well, given that he has used them in the past already."

Wulfred shifted in his chair before answering. "He has, though he did not use them on himself."

That couldn't be right. If he hadn't used them on himself, how had he made such a drastic transformation? "But--"

"What King Oceiros has accomplished is far beyond what the Dragon Stones could provide. What he seeks is not an imitation, but a genuine embodiment of the Paledrake to which he has gone to extreme lengths to achieve. Though what he has done to himself is still but an echo of what he asked of the Queen."

"I have heard rumors."

"In preparing for your birth, after the disappointment of Lorian, King Oceiros commanded that the Queen be given finely ground shards of what remained of the Primordial Crystal and Dragon Stones. It made her grievously ill as her body attempted to cleanse itself, but King Oceiros had to try more." Wulfred clasped his hands together on the desk before continuing. "He ordered Godwyn and his guards to find the remains of an ancient dragon. They found only a small piece that they were able to recover - it was petrified. Your mother, delirious from her illness, consumed it."

Lothric's stomach rolled. "What was he intending to accomplish?"

"He desired an heir worthy of reclaiming the First Flame: to become a Lord of Cinder. He believes he has accomplished this goal."

"Well then he is mistaken," Lothric spat. "I will be Lord of nothing should my condition worsen."

“You underestimate your heritage,” Wulfred scolded. “Do you never wonder how a union such as that between your parents came to be? King Oceiros, though he rules over the greatest Kingdom left standing in the wake of all that has occurred in the world, is but a Man, a Man who seeks greatness. But the Queen gave you, and Lorian, a fragment of the Lord’s soul. There are other, bastard children of hers, and the other Gods in the world. You are by no means the only demi-God that exists with both the Lord’s soul and curse of Man.”

“I am aware.”

“But what you are not aware of,” Wulfred continued, “is that what your Father did to her leading up to your birth, tipped the scales. The Queen’s Lord soul is a shadow of what it once was. So weak was she between the fading of the flame and her delirious state, that the Lord soul that grew within you eclipsed hers.”

“If what you say is true, then I must speak with her. Where is she now?”

“Safe, in your Father’s care, where she cannot be disturbed.”

Lothric was skeptical but held his tongue so that he might keep Wulfred talking. “What does my soul have to do with my condition?”

“I can only speculate.”

“Then speculate.”

“I believe, as I have since you were a sickly child, that your soul is fragmented in its purpose. You weaken as the flame weakens, so strong is your connection to it. It is in part why you were destined to be the Lord of Cinder - just as your father desired. But what none of us expected was the rate at which it would decay and the negative effects it would have upon you.”

“Why is Lorian not similarly affected then?” Lothric asked.

“He takes more after King Oceiros than the Queen. It was why your father cast him aside. He did not have the connection to the First Flame, too strong is his humanity. Though it serves him well now as the Flame grows weaker and the Dark grows stronger. But do not forget, you also bear the hopes and dreams of King Oceiros’s attempts to harness the power of the dragon-kin for his heir. The ancient dragons were at odds with the Gods who tamed the Flame, but King Oceiros believed the union between the two would create a stronger, more powerful heir than any had seen before.”

Lothric closed his eyes, bowing his head beneath his hood as he tried to take in what Wulfred was telling him. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you are destined to link the flame, and continue this Age that we are in. That is, and has always been, King Oceiros’s first and foremost wish for you. I hope with this information, you will understand the gravity of the situation. That if you do not link the flame… I suspect you would not survive whatever transformation would come.”

Lothric felt his heart sink like a stone in his chest; the truth of the situation weighing him down as he tried to reconcile all this information with everything he had known to this point. "Shortly before I recovered, I saw Gertrude,” he admitted. “She cast a miracle on me and when I awoke next she was gone, but the pain had faded and my legs could move once again. Whatever miracle she cast saved me."

"Impossible. How could Gertrude have learned such a sorcery? How could her heretical miracles have such power? No. You were delirious, you must be misremembering."

"Delirious though I may have been, I know what I saw. I know what I felt."

Wulfred sat back in his chair, absently running a hand over the book before him. "Prince Lothric, please describe to me exactly what you endured before Gertrude intervened."

"Agony. My legs stiffened and it felt as though my very bones were splintering." Lothric paused, thinking back to what he could manage to remember. "They said my legs were twisting."

"Presumably you are suffering from a similar fate as your father. Your body is attempting to shift into the shape of a dragon-kin."

"Has there been anything recorded of this sort before?"

Wulfred barked a cruel laugh. "None have been egoistic enough to try anything of this sort before. But even still, until recently you have seemed in far better health, it would not make sense that your connection to the Flame should have suffered so drastically in such a short timeframe. The bells have not yet tolled."

Lothric pondered this. "My routine has remained the same, the only changes were Lorian departing to pursue the Demon Prince and the Pontiff's brief visit shortly prior to that. Could the Pontiff --?"

"He is an unknown element to be sure," Wulfred said and began pacing behind his chair, "but I believe if he desired your incapacitation or death, he would achieve it through less subtle means. Lorian's departure, however, is a different matter entirely."

"Why should my brother's departure have any impact now? He has left the castle before."

"The two of you have grown here in this castle, with you rarely departing from the castle grounds, but Lorian leaves fairly often, it's true. And what happens each time he leaves?"

"He returns with whatever prize he set out to acquire, why?"

"Yes, feats and prizes each more impressive than the last." Wulfred paused, thumb pressed against his lips in thought. "Each time he leaves, he returns stronger than when he left."

“As is to be expected,” Lothric countered.

“Not like what he has demonstrated. Your brother spent years training and sparring with various knights and hunters, and in all that time, eventually he reached a point where he failed time and time again to improve his skills further.”

“There is only so much to be learned through sparring.” Lothric was confused as to where Wulfred was going with his explanation. “You said yourself that his humanity is stronger than his connection to the Flame.”

Wulfred shook his head, unconvinced. “No, I don’t believe that explains it entirely. This may perhaps be simple correlation and not causation, but consider for a moment, Prince Lothric, that the longer Prince Lorian spends away from the kingdom and by extension, you, the stronger he becomes.”

“I would appreciate if you stopped dancing around whatever you are implying.”

“Consider this then, Prince Lothric,” Wulfred said, understanding dawning on his face as he spoke, “I believe due to the nature of your birth, your body fights off the power that desires to transform you until you have no strength left in your soul to fight it. And when that happens-”

“The transformation begins,” Lothric finished solemnly.

“However, what I hypothesize is that when Prince Lorian is nearby, your soul acts in a capacity similar to that of a leech, draining his strength and replenishing the strength you are not receiving from the Flame. When you are not near, then the strength which he gradually loses to you, is allowed to grow.” Wulfred paused, staring over the railing down into the rest of the archive, muttering to himself. “And yet... you do not share this effect with the Queen or indeed any of her other children. The only difference being that you share the same parentage. A faint echo of a bond perhaps?”

“And what explanation do you have of how Gertrude was able to heal me?”

“I have none to offer in explanation of what Gertrude performed upon you to reverse the effects. Did she amplify the strength of your connection to the Flame? Did she supplement it? Or perhaps she simulated the effects of whatever connection you share with Lorian… I must...” He trailed off before turning back to Lothric, “If that is all, Prince Lothric?”

Lothric, in fact, had many more questions, but each one made his stomach twist and he chose not to voice them. He feared he had set Wulfred upon a path he would soon come to regret. “That was all.”

He opted to walk back to his rooms, allowing himself time to consider what he had learned. If what Wulfred suggested was true, then this reprieve that he had experienced could fade at any time, and he would be at risk once again if his brother did not return soon.

As he exited the Archives, Lothric motioned for one of the many guards stationed in the area who immediately rushed to his side, “You have orders, my Lord?”

“Find Gotthard, send him to my study, I would speak with him at once. I spoke with him only a few hours ago, he should not be far away.”

The guard saluted and ran off while Lothric continued on his way.

By the time he reached his study, Gotthard was already waiting inside. “Has something happened, Prince Lothric?”

“A new discovery, Gotthard, and with it, a new conspiracy. Wulfred’s desire to capture Gertrude has been redoubled. I imagine it will not be long before he begins sending his own spies to track her down if he has not already done so.”

“What caused this sudden renewed interest?”

Lothric hesitated before answering, “Whatever miracle she cast to heal me, Wulfred believes may give him answers to whatever he is researching on behalf of my Father. But that is not my main concern at this point.”

“Prince Lorian?”

“Wulfred believes if he is kept away from my person that whatever illness overtook me before would return and I would transform into whatever shape my Father had initially designed for me. But he does not understand the underlying reason behind it,” Lothric hesitated, lowering his voice, “and we both know what happens to those subjected to Wulfred’s studies.”

“Surely he cannot make such a bold and direct move. Not while you remain in power in King Oceiros’s absence.”

“I fear Head Scholar Wulfred stands at the precipice of the same madness that gripped my Father, and he will soon have no respect for tradition or laws.” Lothric sat, exhausted. “I would have you send your most trusted hunters to escort my brother through the final stretch of the kingdom, until he is safely returned within these walls.”

“It will be done.”

“If you do not already have those in place to keep an eye on Wulfred, then you should arrange it immediately. I want to know what he is planning and when he is planning on acting.”

Gotthard inclined his head. “Such matters have already been put in place. I will inform you as soon as I hear any word from those I trust.”

Lothric felt as though he would melt away under the pressure he felt. He had inadvertently tipped Wulfred’s hand, and now they may all suffer the consequences. “And Gotthard-”

“Yes?”

He chose his words carefully. “I will not see Gertrude made into a martyr.”

Chapter 15: Scars

Chapter Text

“What news?” Wynfrith called out to the two riders that fast approached the three of them as they travelled one of the roads leading from Irithyll towards Lothric. They had acquired horses shortly after they exited Irithyll’s borders and were making better time than they had initially anticipated.

Lorian took a moment to examine the riders. One in black hunter robes and the other in hunter plate armor - it was undeniably Albert and Kamui. By the looks of the two of them and the thick sheen of sweat on their horses, they had ridden hard to arrive when they did.

“Orders from Gotthard,” Albert started, breathing hard, “we’re to escort you the rest of the way to Lothric."

Wynfrith glanced at Lorian before speaking. “Trouble in the kingdom?”

“None yet,” Kamui answered, “though it is only a matter of time.”

“Yet serious enough to send you to escort us half a day’s journey from the gates.” Lorian said warily. It was unusual if not alarming. He rode ahead of Wynfrith and Burchwen, motioning for the two hunters to follow. They caught up easily, riding close enough on either side that they could hold a quiet conversation. Lorian was not concerned with Wynfrith overhearing, but he did not know where Burchwen’s allegiances truly lay. “This was Lothric’s doing?”

“We don’t know much, I’m afraid, but as far as we can tell, yes,” Albert confirmed, “though I doubt it’s anything to do with what we know of.”

“And what do you know of?”

Albert and Kamui exchanged a silent glance before Kamui replied, “The Queen’s handmaiden, Gertrude, has been in hiding after she claimed to experience a vision of angels.”

Lorian frowned. “What are angels?”

Albert shrugged, “No one rightly knows, but something happened to her. When I found her she was half-mad, blind, and mute. I thought she had gone truly mad, until she cast the miracle that pierced the castle as feathers appeared from nowhere and I could see the sky.”

“She is also the reason Prince Lothric’s illness subsided,” Kamui added.

“Then why is she in hiding?”

“Heresy,” Kamui answered.

“She claims her angels have a greater power than that of the First Flame, which will only be shown once the First Flame is extinguished," said Albert. “The people are desperate for something new to believe in; Lothric is on the brink of civil war which Prince Lothric is trying to prevent.”

“He believes me to be in danger then - from whom? Gertrude’s supporters?”

“We cannot say for certain,” said Kamui.

"Though I do not believe Gertrude's supporters wish ill of you or Prince Lothric." Albert elaborated, "If they had, Gertrude would not have risked herself to help Prince Lothric."

If not Gertrude, that only left their father and his supporters, but as far as Lorian was aware they had done nothing to provoke them to take action. Unless their father had borne another heir rendering Lothric obsolete as Lorian was, Lorian could think of nothing else that would lead to a threat.

He needed to know what was going on, and it was clear he would not receive sufficient answers here. He needed to speak with Lothric directly.

"I will ride ahead," Lorian said, loud enough that Wynfrith and Burchwen would hear him.

"Prince Lorian!" Albert protested. His and Kamui's horses having already gone through half a day's hard ride, they would be unable to ride alongside him.

Wynfrith rode up beside him, "until you have returned safely, I will stay with you per Prince Lothric’s orders."

Lorian nodded and spurred his horse forward from the leisurely pace it had been keeping. He was grateful when Wynfrith rode silently alongside him, not asking questions. They lost the two hunters, but so long as they made it before nightfall, Lorian doubted they would be in any true danger.

*

As they approached, Lorian marveled at the sight of the high wall. When he had left, the project was still in its infancy, but now the stone towered above them. Distantly, he could hear the stonemasons still at work despite the creeping dusk.

They slowed down their pace, allowing the horses a moment's reprieve.

"So, Godwyn's dream is at last becoming a reality. Shame he never got to appreciate it," Wynfrith commented.

"Who goes there?" Called one of the knights on guard at the gate.

"Knight Captain Wynfrith and Prince Lorian," she shouted back.

"Gods above!" The knight exclaimed. "You're back and alive! Open the gate!"

As soon as the large wooden gate opened enough to pass through, Lorian entered, ignoring the shouts of those in the streets as he rode through them. Wynfrith followed close behind him, apparently determined to see this through until he was in the same room as Lothric.

The sound of the bell filled the streets as one of the guards rang it to signal Lorian’s return. His brother would know he was here now at least.

He paid no mind to the crowd in the streets that chattered as he rode by,

Eventually, he crossed the short bridge that separated the Keep from the rest of the castle, surprised to see the reception of knights gathered in the courtyard. He noticed several of those he had fought alongside amongst the crowd, including Eadric as he shouted Wynfrith's name. Lorian and Wynfrith dismounted their horses, and he watched as she pushed her way through the crowd until she reached Eadric who picked her up in an embrace and spun her around.

"Did you kill it?" shouted one knight.

"Where's the corpse?" another asked.

"He slayed the Demon Prince!" Wynfrith declared, "I saw it with my own eyes!"

"Prince Lorian, what happened to your face?"

Lorian fixed the knight with a cold stare and said nothing before moving towards the Keep's entrance where Gotthard stood, apparently waiting for him. He handed the reins of the horse to one of the knights as he passed.

"Welcome back, Prince Lorian. As you can see, your return was eagerly anticipated." Gotthard greeted him.

Behind them he heard the sound of a blow followed by Wynfrith berating whichever knight had asked the question in a hushed tone.

"I see my hunter's message reached you, though they don't appear to be with you," continued Gotthard with an amused tone. "Nevertheless, Prince Lothric eagerly awaits your report."

"Where is he now?" Lorian asked.

"In the cathedral."

It was unusual for Lothric to ever be found in such a location, but there was a reason for everything with Lothric. With a nod of thanks to Gotthard, Lorian continued down the halls to the part of the castle he rarely went to. As he walked, various priests and servants scurried out of his way, inclining their heads in respect.

The cathedral was a focal point of the castle, connected directly to the Keep and only a short distance from the castle's main entrance. Usually there were various priests and priestesses milling about the cathedral in either the upper or lower levels, but at the moment appeared to be almost entirely empty when he reached it. The only presence was his brother's figure at the front, on his knees with his head bowed as if in prayer. But he knew his brother and knew Lothric had no cause to pray.

"Lothric," he called out, just loud enough for his brother to hear him before walking down the spiral staircase.

"Dear brother, you have returned to me alive at last," Lothric said warmly in response, slowly rising to his feet. "Welcome home."

Lorian walked across the length of the cathedral, finally noticing the changes around him. There were cushions lining the seats and all the candles lighting the room had been recently changed. "Found your faith at last?"

Lothric smirked back, "Never." He motioned to the room with his hand, "I am to be crowned here in a few days time. Something to boost the morale of the faithful in our Father's absence and with the doubts sown by Gertrude overwhelming the kingdom."

"You will be King then?"

"No," Lothric replied. "It is all a facade. I will never be named King until Father perishes."

He took a moment to observe Lothric as he turned to face Lorian. It looked as though it was one of Lothric’s better days. He had not expected as much after he received the news of his brother's condition when Wulfred attempted to persuade him to return. "You look well."

"A sight better than you, I fear." Lothric said with a frown as he stepped closer, reaching a hand up to trace over the scars on Lorian’s face. "Your face-"

Lorian knew how he looked; Burchwen had not been able to completely heal his wounds where the Demon Prince had burned him the most severely. Unfortunately his face had not healed well as burn scars wrapped across his skin from his forehead to his cheeks.

He grasped Lothric’s hand lightly, moving it away from his skin which still hurt to the touch. "I was lucky to keep my eyes for the most part intact."

Lothric pulled his hand from Lorian’s grasp as his frown deepened. "I could attempt to heal it further."

"No," Lorian shook his head, "let them stay."

"Where else have you been scarred?"

"Everywhere. Though my hands were the most severe aside from my face."

"Show me."

Lorian relented, removing his gauntlets and dropping them to the ground. His brother grabbed his hands, flipping them over to see the scars that covered his palms and crept up his wrists. The blisters had faded, but the skin, like his face, was tender, discolored, and hot to the touch even now.

"I would heal your hands, at the very least. After all, what good is a warrior who can no longer hold his sword?" Lothric, not asking permission, placed his hands over Lorian's as his magic sank into his palms and Lorian felt sweet relief wash over him. "There will still be some scarring, but there should be no more pain."

Lorian flexed his hands, astounded at the effectiveness of his brother's healing miracles. "What happened while I was away? They tried to urge me to return sooner, saying you were ill."

He could see Lothric hesitate before answering, "Time has taken a toll on me it seems. My illness grows worse, though at least now I suspect I may know the cause."

"You do not appear ill now," Lorian commented, noting the color in his face and the fact that he was steady on his feet even though it was already evening. Usually on his bad days, Lothric would have to retire in the early afternoon, if he managed to leave his room at all.

"A blessing from Gertrude is the only reason I am still standing," Lothric said, casting his gaze to the side as he spoke. "Had it not been for her, I fear I may be closer to Father in appearance than I would ever desire."

"I thought Gertrude was deemed a radical after her disappearance; what blessing did she grant you?"

Lothric turned his attention to one of the candles nearby. "My spirit was fading, twisting into a beast not unlike Father, thanks to the horrors he inflicted upon our mother while she carried me. Gertrude's miracle halted it, giving me strength once more, though I suspect its effects are temporary."

"Meaning it will happen again?"

"It might, though not anytime soon so long as you are with me." Lothric said, and Lorian could hear the sadness in his voice. "You will save me, though it will be at the cost of your own strength."

"If there is anything I can do to spare you pain, you need only ask. Just tell me what I must do."

"Nothing."

"Lothric-"

"I am not being obstinate, brother. I merely mean that you need not do anything but exist near me, and that is enough. You are the air in this cathedral, ever expanding, ever growing. I, on the other hand, am more like this candle." Lothric took a glass candle holder and placed it over the candle, and Lorian watched as the small flame began to fade. "As Wulfred theorized, without you my spirit is too weak and will fade. But," he lifted the holder and the flame sputtered back to life, "I take from you to fuel myself. But I fear I will take and take and take, until you have nothing left."

Lorian reached over and took the candle holder from Lothric and cast it aside. "I would give as much as you would take."

"Careful with what you offer, dear brother." Lothric cast his gaze to the side. "It is already against my better judgment that I am telling you at all and not sending you away again. Just know if you remain here, you may be in danger."

"Is that why you sent an escort?" The pieces were slowly clicking in place for Lorian. He hated not getting a straight answer, but he also knew Lothric always spoke in circles instead of speaking directly when it was something he didn't want to talk about in the first place. "You believe Wulfred will try something?"

Lothric moved away, sitting on one of the benches nearby before answering. "I think I posed him with far too much intrigue for his own good, though I believe for now he primarily desires Gertrude in order to study whatever has happened to her. Separating us is likely secondary."

"You are protecting her." Lorian stated and watched as Lothric pursed his lips. He held no animosity toward Lothric for making the decision to protect her, but he was genuinely curious as to what would drive him to do so. "Why? Because of her miracle that saved you?"

"I know not."

Lorian sat beside his brother, drawing his full attention. "Surely you must have some reason."

"A plethora of half excuses: she was a close confidant; she saved my life; to deny those that seek her from having her: to encourage this schism she has created amongst the people. Take your pick."

"I would have thought you of all people would oppose the divide she has caused. When we last spoke you were desperately trying to keep the peace and to hold the kingdom together. Now you choose to throw all your efforts away?" He thought back to that day, Lothric manic and desperate as he struggled to come up with a plan.

Lothric looked at him, rolling some thought around in his mind before speaking. "She said something to me, when she first succumbed to whatever madness has taken her." He reached into his robes and pulled out a well-worn piece of parchment, handing it to Lorian.

He took the paper, examining it carefully, noting how it had been folded, unfolded, and refolded. So much so that the charcoal at the creases had begun to fade. It was clear that Lothric had read this note countless times.

The angel said they will save us all,

it told me of how it will bring new light

once the light of the First Flame is extinguished.

You don't need to die.

They will save you.

We will all be saved.

"You believe whatever these angels are will be able to save you?" Lorian asked, skeptical. He doubted his brother would be swayed by such a notion unless there was something more to it.

"No," Lothric dismissed. "I know that no matter the path I choose, there will be no satisfying ending for myself. But her words reminded me of what Sulyvahn said before he left, his talk of an Age of Deep Seas, dark and vast."

Lorian decided to entertain the thought, "Sulyvahn's future and Gertrude's future seem entirely contradictory; how can there be new light in an age of deep sea?"

Beside him, Lothric shook his head. "I do not believe those futures are the same, merely that each sees an opportunity in a future beyond that of the First Flame."

"What are you planning to do?" Lorian asked carefully.

He watched Lothric stare down at his hands, clawed fingers curling and uncurling. "I am… I was... keeping my options open."

"If Gertrude receives enough support," Lorian pressed.

"There will be civil war. Yes." Lothric spoke slowly, turning to stare at Lorian from beneath the hood of his prayer robes. "Lothric will be swallowed in chaos."

"There will need to be a moment. A catalyst for it to begin."

"I am not yet certain if it is the path I want to take,” Lothric confessed. “I do not know if it is a path I will be able to take. What I want may not matter.”

“And what do you want?” Lorian asked, softly. He had never seen Lothric so torn and forlorn before. Whatever had happened had truly shaken him.

Lothric shook his head, “I do not know.”

Behind them, the large wooden doors leading into the cathedral from the castle streets began to open, and he turned to see who was entering. It turned out to be Lady Emma; she entered with a basin in her arms which she was carrying to the front of the cathedral. She paused when she saw the gauntlets and then moved her gaze toward where Lorian was seated and her eyes lit up, "Prince Lorian! I wasn't told of your return. I'm glad to see you returned home safely." She hesitated for a moment before speaking again, "What brings you here? You've never been one to attend sermons before."

"We were saying a prayer of thanks for my brother's safe return," Lothric said as he stood. "I also thought I might show him where the coronation will occur."

"Forgive me, Prince Lothric," Emma said quickly, "I didn't mean to intrude, I was simply returning this basin. Since Prince Lorian has returned, we will need to modify arrangements. He must be present as well. Perhaps during the ceremony we can announce his new title--"

She cowered under the sharp glare Lothric aimed at her. "I had not yet had a chance to broach the topic with him."

"My apologies."

"Excuse us," Lothric said as he stood and began walking towards the entrance with Lorian following behind him, only pausing to grasp his gauntlets as he went.

There was silence as they exited the cathedral, back into the keep, and started winding their way through the castle halls. Lorian blindly followed where Lothric was guiding him, waiting until they reached their destination to ask any questions. As they walked, several knights and servants welcomed Lorian home.

They passed each of their rooms as they made their way toward the bathing chamber, and Lorian couldn't help but remember the first time they had done this. He had just returned from slaying the wyvern, their Father's anger inconsequential as they enjoyed their first reunion.

When Lothric stopped in the doorway, Lorian hesitated seeing the steaming bath water. Lothric caught his eye as realization settled over him. "Your wounds?"

Lorian nodded and began to remove his armor. As he dropped each piece to the floor he watched Lothric’s eyes trace over him making note of each scar and healing wound. His tunic, a disgusting mess of dried blood, dirt, and ash was plastered to his skin and he was grateful when Lothric reached out and helped him remove it before casting it aside to the floor.

"Would you prefer a servant help you with this?" Lothric asked.

"Did you when your illness was at its worst?"

"No, of course not. They would see me as..."

"Weak. Precisely."

"But this is not weakness, Lorian. This is strength, incomprehensible."

"I would prefer others do not see the extent of the wounds I suffered." Lorian was solemn as his hand hovered over the wound on his side which still throbbed even after this long. Burchwen had assured him she had cleansed the infection, but it did not make it any less of a grisly sight.

There was a sharp inhale as Lothric spotted the wounds from the Demon Prince's claws on his sides. They stretched from just below his ribs, around his side, and down his back beyond his hips. Four equal marks running parallel, the scar tissue still fresh and raw as the wound still had not fully healed.

"Burchwen healed this?" Lothric asked quietly as he reached a hand out, hovering over the marks down until the point where they disappeared beneath Lorian’s greaves.

"Shortly after the battle."

Lothric’s expression clouded over as he spoke, "by all means, you should be dead."

"I am very much alive."

It was apparently enough to snap Lothric out of his stupor and he took Lorian’s wrist, pulling him forward, grousing, "Alive and filthy. Take off your greaves and sit down."

Swiftly, Lorian stripped from the rest of his armor with efficiency and sat on the stool beside the tub to observe Lothric. His brother held a small bucket with water scooped out from the tub, and a washcloth.

“It will not be the most efficient method of bathing, but I suspect it is a far better alternative than submerging your body,” Lothric said as he moved closer, setting the bucket down beside Lorian who could hear the strain in his breathing from carrying it.

Lorian said nothing, merely observing as Lothric circled him before taking the cloth to his back. The water, though still warm, did not burn as severely as he had originally anticipated. The water dripped down to the floor at his feet, a murky reddish brown.

“I will never grow accustomed to our roles being reversed as such,” Lorian said quietly as Lothric moved to work on his left arm, dragging the cloth down to his elbow. A small smile crossed his brother’s lips.

“As filthy as you are, I am assured that this is incomparable to the baths where you excised various sores on my worst bed-ridden months.” He set the cloth aside, lathering his hands before gently taking Lorian’s hand and wiping the dried blood, dirt, and sweat from it.

"Nevertheless, thank you, for helping.”

“I am not done yet,” Lothric said before wringing out the cloth, dipping it into the water once more before working on his other arm, following the same pattern of cleaning before moving to his chest. At times Lorian was convinced he had more scar tissue than skin on his chest - more so now with the multitude of burn scars. “I need to rinse you.”

Lorian handed him the bucket as he hunched forward slightly, bracing himself as Lothric poured the water over his shoulders, down his back, chest, and arms. The sudden heat flared across all his wounds and he grit his teeth, exhaling sharply from the pain, hands curled tightly over his knees. Part of him acknowledged Lothric setting the bucket back down, but it was only a faint awareness.

Before him, Lothric was approaching his side where the claw wounds were and Lorian braced himself. The sensation of the rough cloth and hot water on the still sensitive scar tissue clouded Lorian’s senses with a haze of agony. It was easy to push past the pain when there was a sense of urgency ahead; a need to find a way out, a need to reach home, always on edge not knowing whether an assassin or monster would ambush them. But now there was no such urgency, and the pain settled in like an old friend.

"Lorian," he heard his brother call out distantly, "focus on my voice. There is no more pain. It is done."

He took a deep breath, trying to do as Lothric said, focusing on his voice while the throbbing echoes of pain slowly began to subside. He nodded.

"I still need to wash your face and hair. Can you endure it?" Lothric asked.

"Yes," he said, knowing it needed to be done.

Taking the bucket once more, Lothric poured the water over Lorian’s head. It burned his face but the pain was almost trivial compared to the pain of the claw wounds. He closed his eyes as Lothric worked the soap into his hair, rinsing it before gently washing his face, tracing over the burn scars with as light of touches as he could manage.

"There," Lothric announced as he tossed the cloth into the empty bucket. "You are once again clean enough for civilization."

"Are we civilized then?" Lorian asked after several moments as the last of the pain faded.

"As civilized as any can be in these times," Lothric replied.

"And what if I did not wish to be civilized?"

"Then it is a pity that you were born to it, and you have no choice to the contrary, just as I was. And besides, you will need to be civilized to be the Knight General."

"I thought Father was the only one who could appoint new Pillars?"

"He has given me full authority in all but title to act as King in his stead," Lothric said bluntly. "That is partly why there will be a coronation. If you would rather I appoint another, tell me now, but it would give me great relief to know that you were by my side, supporting me."

"You will always have my support. That should never be in question," Lorian said as he moved to stand in front of him, placing a hand on Lothric’s shoulder. "But will there not be backlash from such a maneuver? Surely there are those who would oppose this."

"Those who would oppose this would never act in our best interest regardless of who I appoint." He paused as if about to say more, but said nothing.

"Have I not earned your trust enough that you would still keep things from me?"

"I would keep you separate from the politics of this kingdom entirely if I was able."

"The assassination of one of the Pillars has long since ensured that I have already crossed that line. Tell me."

"The knights, they trust you?" Lothric asked, lowering his hand holding Lorian’s wrist.

"Many of them."

"Do you believe you could influence them?"

Lorian tilted his head to the side at the strangeness of the question. He supposed after all the time spent alongside them during the campaign that there would be those he could influence. But there were also those who would directly oppose anything he might say. "To an extent. But it will take time."

"Then we will pray that time is on our side," Lothric said quietly. "I will need to make a decision soon, and when the time comes I will need your support to keep things within our control."

"I will help you however I am able," Lorian promised, "even if that means accepting the title of Knight General."

"Thank you, Lorian. Truly."

"Of course. But now, I suspect in the meantime you have more important matters to tend to. Your servants are likely wondering where you are. I wish to retire for the evening and rest.”

Lothric sighed, “I have no doubt that you are right about that. I should meet with Emma, to confirm the events of the coronation. And to inform her you will be accepting the role of Knight General afterall.”

Lothric brushed past him and exited the bath and disappeared down the hall. Lorian had not been lying when he said that he wanted to retire for the evening, to sleep and heal, and he intended to do exactly that as he returned to his chambers.

He took a moment to discard the ruined clothes and pulled on a set of loose clothing that was left in the bathing chambers that he typically wore to sleep when he was home, before he made his way back to his chambers, collapsed onto his bed and fell into a light sleep.

Chapter 16: Sacrifice

Chapter Text

It was the day of the coronation ceremony and Lothric needed everything to go as smoothly as possible. The goal was to soothe the people, not stoke the flames of their disquiet further. It was the only reason he was agreeing to be a part of the charade in the first place.

He had asked Lorian to meet him in his study shortly before they were both due to be heading over to the cathedral. Lothric had requested a rush order from the Royal blacksmith, shortly after his brother had returned home, to craft a gift. Now he only hoped that Lorian would not misconstrue his intentions and recognize it in the light he intended.

"Surely you did not call me here because you are nervous," Lorian said in good humor as he entered, closing the door behind him. He was already dressed in his armor which had been completely refurbished by the blacksmith shortly after his return. The brass that had been blackened by smoke and fire was now dyed black intentionally. Each crack and broken piece had been reforged and reassembled, invisible to the casual observer unless they knew where to look.

No longer was Lorian the awkward young man in ill-fitting, shiny brass armor. No, this was a man who had seen battle and death, endured, and emerged victorious.

"Far from it," Lothric assured him as he motioned Lorian closer. "I have something for you, for the ceremony."

Lorian took a seat across from Lothric, clearly intrigued. "A gift?"

"Of sorts." Lothric pulled an ornate chest out from behind his desk, pushing it towards Lorian who easily picked it up and set it on the desk. It was a very nice chest, carved and lacquered, clearly intended for diplomatic gifts. "Go on."

With only a moment's hesitation, Lorian opened the chest and pulled out the contents - a helmet crafted as twisting flames, dark as smoke, and almost more reminiscent of a crown than a helmet. Lorian turned to look at him, opening his mouth as if to speak but saying nothing.

"It is to commemorate your victory in the campaign," Lothric said, before softening his voice. "It will also cover the scars on your face should you wish it."

"Will it not block my vision?"

Lothric waved his hand dismissively. "A few enchantments quickly solved that problem."

"Of course," Lorian said with a small smile before taking the helmet and sliding it over his head. It settled perfectly, creating the illusion of the flames wrapping around his head, reaching upwards. It stopped just below Lorian’s cheekbones, perfectly concealing the scars. Lothric would miss being able to catch his brother's gaze, but for the strikingly imposing figure it transformed him into, it was worth such a small sacrifice.

“Stand for me,” Lothric requested, and waited until Lorian stood to his full height, his presence seeming to fill the room. From his back where his sword was sheathed, there was a faint glow of whatever magical embers had settled within. “You will strike fear and admiration into the hearts of allies and enemies alike.”

"That remains to be seen," he laughed.

“Now, we must go, I fear if we make Emma wait any longer, she will be crowning a corpse of her own making.”

He fixed his robes, ensuring everything was in place and waited for Lorian to place the helmet back on his head and fix up his hair before they left the room. Where there was usually a buzz of servants, knights, and nobles in the halls, on this day the only ones left were the various knights stationed throughout the castle.

As the cathedral was attached to the main Keep of the castle, it did not take them long to reach the upper levels where Lady Emma was already waiting, donned in the formal robes of the High Priestess. She urged them forward when she spotted them. “At last! Come, it is nearly time to begin. Lorian, please take your place at the head of the Knights.”

With a curt nod of his head, Lorian entered the cathedral. Lothric couldn’t help but watch as he did, the voices of those chatting already in the cathedral fading as they all took in the sight of him as he towered over them - a dark figure seemingly out of place in this house of worship. After he took his place, the hushed talking resumed but with a different energy than before.

“You know when to enter,” Emma said to him with a nod and a smile, reaching a hand forth to readjust his robes, smoothing them down. Then she too descended the spiral staircase before taking her place at the altar.

Once those within had quieted once more, she began to give her sermon. Lothric, who had heard the sermon far too many times already at this point, tuned out her words, instead turning his attention to all those gathered. At the front, and lining the aisles were the Knights, all dressed in their armor, helmets shining in the soft sunlight that came in through the stained glass windows.

Among those seated, Lothric recognized the majority of them. There were of course the priest and priestesses of Emma’s order, as well as the various scholars that work in the Archives. The rest were from the nobility, many of whom Lothric spoke with on a regular basis or was in written correspondence with often enough. There were no representatives from their neighboring kingdoms, as Emma believed - and Lothric agreed - that this matter, being purely symbolic, did not require the formal attendance of such figures.

At the back stood an assortment of commoners, several of whom were distracted from Emma’s sermon by trying to peer up at him. Lothric kept his head down, glancing into the cathedral from under his hood, knowing that it would appear to all those before him as though he was deep in reflection as he listened to Emma’s words.

Eventually Emma’s sermon came to an end, as Lothric caught the tail-end, signaling him to enter. As he began to descend the spiral staircase, Lothric felt the gaze of every person in the room turn toward him as he stepped inside, his bare feet treading on the cold stones within.

It was the first time, he realized, that many in attendance would have seen him in person.

Emma stood at the front before an altar whereupon an empty basin and a platinum crown lay. Lothric took his place, settling on his knees in front of the altar, head bowed and hands clasped.

“Holy Prince Lothric, named for the Kingdom which you have sworn your life to protect, on this day we would grant you the power and honor to rule this Kingdom and all who reside within it,” Emma began before moving to pick up the crown. “As you will be expected to bear the burden of each decision you make, I place upon your head this crown, to remind you of the weight that rests upon you.”

Lothric raised his head as she placed the crown atop it. The platinum was dense and Lothric, naturally weak, had to take great effort to keep his head upright in spite of the weight.

“Do you swear your loyalty and your life to the people of Lothric?”

“I swear.”

“Rise, if you would, to demonstrate your willingness and ability to carry the weight of the Kingdom of Lothric.”

Slowly, Lothric rose to his feet.

“Do you swear to sacrifice your own life, to ascend as a Lord of Cinder, so that the Age of Fire may continue?”

“I swear.”

With that, Emma stepped aside and Lothric approached her, standing in front of the altar and facing those in attendance.

“Then spill your blood, if you would, to demonstrate your willingness and ability to sacrifice yourself for the Kingdom of Lothric.”

Lorian stepped forward then, along with two of the priests who held Lothric’s Holy sword, forged from platinum - immaculate from never being used. They had practiced this part the past few days; Lothric was supposed to take the blade in his own hands, but he lacked the strength. In truth, its weight was so great that Lothric was certain only Lorian could hold it on his own. He watched his brother grasp his sword, kneeling beside Lothric with his arms outstretched until the blade was poised above the basin.

Before him, each person seemed to hold their breath as they watched Lothric rest his hand atop Lorian's, guiding the blade to his throat. At once, the blade tore through his thin skin, and a few droplets of blood slid down his neck. But that was not a sacrifice. They may have been satisfied with such a weak offering from the newly enlisted knight recruits, but not from Lothric.

He gripped Lorian’s hand, steadier now, as he leaned into the blade, feeling it sink into his flesh, before guiding his brother’s hand and the sword so that the blade slid all the way across his throat and the blood spilled forth in a burst, over the blade and into the basin. Lorian removed the blade, setting it on the edge of the altar and returned to his place.

His instincts shouted at him to cover the wound, to stop the bleeding. But Lothric knew he could do no such thing as he stood as tall as he dared, letting the blood flow freely into the basin below.

“Holy Prince Lothric has offered a bountiful sacrifice in the name of the Kingdom.” Emma announced, making no move towards him. “Are there any who doubt his commitment? His loyalty?”

Lothric stared ahead, head going foggy as he strained between the blood loss and the weight of the crown on his head, praying that none spoke out.

After a few moments of silence, Emma continued. “Are there any who would speak against the appointment of Holy Prince Lothric, destined Lord of Cinder, as the rightful heir and ruler of the Kingdom of Lothric?”

Time seemed to stretch into an eternity as Emma waited for any nay-sayers to speak their piece; though they both knew the only ones with authority to challenge this charade were Oceiros himself as King or Lorian as the elder heir.

Emma moved forward, and all at once everyone in attendance rose and bowed; the knights each took the pose to swear fealty, while the rest bowed in the same gesture they took in prayer.

“By the grace of the First Flame which provides us light and strength to ward off the Darkness, your sacrifice is not required on this day.” Chimes in hand, she spoke a miracle which closed the wound on his neck, stopping the flow of blood, but would inevitably scar.

Emma stepped aside and the same two priests from earlier gathered the sword, still coated with Lothric’s blood, before disappearing into the back of the cathedral.

Lothric took her place; Emma had prepared a ceremony for him as well as a speech, but Lothric abandoned her preconceived script, choosing instead to speak freely. “Most of you gathered here today are aware of the noble sacrifices of many in support of the campaign against the Demon Prince, and all that were moving to threaten our borders and our very way of life.

“Of those who gave their life, was Knight General Godwyn, the Knight Pillar. He served my father, King Oceiros for decades and the weight of his sacrifice has been felt across the kingdom. Today, I will bestow the title of Pillar on the new Knight General. In honor of Knight General Godwyn’s sacrifice, I find it only fitting to appoint the title to the one who slew the Demon Prince himself, Prince Lorian.”

A quiet murmur rippled through the crowd as Lorian moved forward, kneeling before Lothric with his head bowed as he called out. “I offer in tribute, the horns from the Demon Prince, taken after I felled it in battle.”

This had not been in any of their rehearsals, and Lothric found himself staring in surprise as several knights carried in two large chests which they placed on either side of the altar before opening them to reveal a massive horn in each. Though dormant, Lothric could see the same spark of flame that now lived within Lorian’s sword pulsing through each horn. It was hard to imagine the size of the demon that Lorian had taken them from. It was certain to cow any nay-sayers of his appointment into submission.

“The title of Knight General and Pillar is not a light responsibility. Do you swear to guide the Pillars and myself to the best of your ability to ensure the safety and sanctity of the Kingdom of Lothric?”

“I swear.”

“Then spill your blood, if you would, to demonstrate your willingness and ability to sacrifice yourself for the Kingdom of Lothric.”

It was now Lothric’s turn to watch, this time as his brother lifted his own blade to his throat, dragging it across until the blood flowed into the basin. The sight was nauseating to witness, watching as Lorian stood motionless, allowing the blood to flow freely, placing his trust entirely in the fact that they would heal him.

Lothric turned to those gathered once more. “Are there any who doubt his commitment? His loyalty?” When none spoke, he continued. “Are there any who would speak against the appointment of Prince Lorian, Dragon slayer, Dragon tamer, and executioner of the Demon Prince, as the Knight General, Pillar of the Knights, of the Kingdom of Lothric?”

He was grateful when none spoke out, as he motioned for Emma to return and he parroted her own words from earlier as she healed the wound, “By the grace of the First Flame which provides us light and strength to ward off the darkness, your sacrifice is not required this day. And I grant you this ring, which so long as you bear it, will grant you authority as Knight General, Pillar of Knights.”

Lothric pulled the pillar ring from his robes, and placed it on Lorian’s hand, curling his fingers around it as if it were a precious gem.

This time only the knights moved to salute their new highest ranking leader.

Lorian and Lothric moved to the side, allowing Emma the space to close out the ceremony with her final sermon before they began filing out of the cathedral; first Lothric, followed by Lorian, and a knight regiment to escort them the short distance from the cathedral back to the Keep.

Once the castle doors shut behind them, Lorian dismissed the knights, sending them back to the barracks to celebrate the day’s events. Lothric took the opportunity to lean heavily against Lorian’s side, still light-headed from losing so much blood. The downside of miracles was that even though they could close and heal wounds, they could not create that which was already lost.

As they walked the halls, Lothric lightly elbowed his brother, "You did not tell me you had managed to bring back such a remarkable trophy.”

“It would not have been much of a surprise if I had,” Lorian laughed. “What will you do with them?”

“I will keep them for myself, in a place where only I may look upon them and admire them,” Lothric declared, “no one, not Father, or Wulfred, or any others, will be allowed to witness them.”

Lorian shook his head in amusem*nt as they arrived at the door to Lothric's chamber and he pulled the door open. "Then I will ensure they are sent here directly. Now rest."

Chapter 17: Conscription

Chapter Text

Lorian did not expect to find himself in the middle of another war so soon after returning home. It was not waged outright through violence or action, but in insidious whispers in barracks, chapels, and homes. And even when Lorian knew those who had begun to truly believe in the Angelic Faith, he was powerless to do anything other than observe them and track who they met with. Lothric had been clear in his orders - as long as they did not act out in display of their faith, they were not to be disturbed.

But Lorian's work did not solely include rooting out Gertrude's followers. Just because he had dealt with the threat of the Demon Prince, it did not change matters at large. The greatest threat they faced now was the threat of starvation as the villages and farms in the area fell victim to the Evangelists and hollows. He had worked for hours alongside Knight Commanders Oswin and Estrid to set up patrols and to try and offer support for the areas that required it the most.

For the first time, Lorian was beginning to see the reality his brother dealt with daily. They could make no action against the Evangelists, but there was also nothing that could be done against the hollows. They could not be salvaged or brought back to their senses to work the land and harvest food.

They were also running out of recruits. There was no population left to pull from, and those who were able bodied were encouraged to take up the plow not the sword. Where previously they were able to keep the senior ranking knights such as the Commanders near the castle with the exception being Lieutenants and occasionally Captains being sent outside the castle, they simply did not have the luxury for that anymore. Everyone was sent out into the outlands, including Lorian.

It was why he was out trudging in the cold near the Irithyll border instead of at the castle. The patrol was short, a day's journey there and another back as the lands continued their slow shifting, enclosing on Lothric's borders. Lorian had volunteered himself to go since every ranking knight was tasked elsewhere and the last two knights that had been given the task had not returned. One may have simply been a deserter, but two meant whatever monster was in the area was stronger than reports had suggested.

At last, in the distance, Lorian heard a pained moan. Cautiously he pulled out his sword and began moving deeper into the trees to where the voice was coming from. From past experience the voice could belong to anything - a hollow, a beast, or even a lure. The moaning was louder now, and Lorian could just barely make out a handful of words. "Please, help me, please…"

When he pushed through the bushes, Lorian was not expecting the gruesome sight before him.

Knight Captain Delywn was hanging from a tree, wrapped in some viscous material keeping him in place. His eyes oozed black pus of the abyssal curse and his body seemed to stop below his torso. By all means, the man shouldn't have been alive, but somehow, something had kept him going.

He turned his head towards the glow of Lorian's blade when he heard him approach. "Knight General? Prince Lorian?" He gasped out weakly, "No, no, no you shouldn't be here, y-you can't be here."

"What happened?" Lorian asked as he approached, lightly touching whatever material was holding him in place. It stuck to his gauntlet with a terrifying strength; trying to remove Delwyn from it would likely only quicken his death.

"That thing," he started, pausing to take a deep breath - talking seemed to be painful, "It came out of nowhere in the night. By the time I saw it… please, please kill me. Kill me and leave. Please kill me, please, please, please, kill me…"

Lorian took pity on the man, taking his life with a swift thrust of his blade into Delwyn's ribcage. The fire burned the viscous material away around the wound, and Lorian waited until he saw Delwyn slump over before removing his blade.

A rustling in the leaves above him caught Lorian's attention. He readied his blade as he looked up and locked his gaze on two beady white eyes that stared back at him from the darkness. A chill ran up his spine, his instincts screaming at him to move. He moved to step backwards, but as soon as the monster saw movement, it let out a blood curdling screech as it launched itself from the trees towards him.

Swiftly dodging out of its path, Lorian immediately followed its attack with a strike of his own, slamming his blade into the ground and sending forth a burst of flame outwards towards the monster. The creature, in the form of a monstrous arachnid, scurried away from the flames with another screech before spitting forth a fog-like gas.

He tried to avoid it, but his surroundings did not give him any space to work with and he was left choking on the poisonous fumes. Lorian pressed on, closing the distance to the monster and striking it with his blade, tearing through the flesh of one of its front legs. It lunged to bite at him, but its teeth couldn't cut through his armor, leaving him an opening for another blow.

As he struck, the beast let forth more gas, and Lorian found himself staggering backwards, light-headed, his body dragging him down like a stone.

From either side of him, Lorian could faintly make out the sounds of two sets of steps that sounded bestial in nature. But it was not beasts that emerged, instead it was two of Sulyvahn's misshapen Outrider Knights. They had similar posture to the Dancer he had fought so long ago, but where she had fought on her feet, twisting and contorting into low sweeps across the ground, these knights remained low to the ground, their attacks feral and mindless in nature as they swarmed the monstrous arachnid, pinning it in place to the ground.

The whole area was coated in the toxic fog, but the Outriders didn't appear to be affected in the way that Lorian was.

"Prince Lorian," he heard from behind him, "I must confess I was not expecting to find you of all people here, lurking around my borders."

Pontiff Sulyvahn came into view and he stood in front of Lorian, inspecting him with a frown. The last time he had encountered the Pontiff, Lothric had warned him that the man was likely not above killing him to achieve his goals. Now, here he was, and Lorian was alone at his borders. It would be simple enough to pin Lorian's death on the same creature that had gotten Delwyn.

"You had me followed?"

"Not at all, you disturbed the barrier and I was pleasantly surprised to find you here, as well as that one there." Sulyvahn gestured to the creature his Outrider Knights were keeping at bay. "I am deeply grateful you didn't kill it before we arrived, we have been after it for some time now."

"The monster is from Irithyll?" Lorian struggled to ask, lungs like lead in his chest.

"Not precisely. But I am happy to study it and keep it where it will not turn up more corpses." The Pontiff kneeled in front of Lorian, seemingly ignorant of the effect of whatever poison was affecting him. "It has been some time since we last spoke. I heard you were given the title of Pillar; allow me to offer my sincerest congratulations."

Lorian stared at the man, brow furrowed, and said nothing.

"Of course, it was regrettable I did not receive an invitation, but I understand the reason why." Sulyvahn flashed him a smile that made Lorain's skin crawl for reasons he could not explain. "Might you indulge me on a matter?"

"If it concerns Lothric policies--"

"Nothing of the sort, I assure you. A more interesting topic, I'm sure you'd agree. It was quite the news, to hear you had managed to slay this elusive Demon Prince. Especially when my good friend Wulfred had called for the retreat of your assisting troops when Prince Lothric fell ill."

Lorian was grateful that his helmet concealed the majority of his expression. Much of that information had been private, and while he knew of the man's former ties to Lothric and his father, to hear the scale of information he knew of was unsettling. Was it possible that he had influenced Wulfred's actions? Lorian schooled his expression into an emotionless one. "You are well informed."

"As I told your brother all those years ago, the politics in Lothric are but a single section of a larger tapestry. A curious thing about tapestries - while the creator may have a strong vision in the beginning, the pattern can always change. I am pleased to see you taking a larger role."

"And what role on this tapestry of yours have I taken?"

"One so deeply interwoven I fear I could not remove you from it without the entire piece falling apart if I tried." He had dropped the smile and was now solemn as he stared at Lorian, who felt as if he was only now meeting the man for the first time. "The Demon Prince… now that is a foe for legends. It is almost impossible to believe it could be fought single-handed and live to tell the tale, even by a warrior such as yourself."

"The corpse remains, buried deep, should you wish to examine it with your own eyes."

Whatever the Pontiff had been about to reply was cut-off by the terrible screech of the arachnid creature as the knights struggled to keep it sufficiently restrained.

"Take that to a cell," Sulyvahn ordered. At once, the Outrider Knights complied, somehow keeping a solid enough grasp on the beast that they were able to drag it away, deeper into the forest. Once they were out of sight, the smile was back on his face as Sulyvahn placed his hand around Lorian's arm and stood, pulling Lorian up with him. "Now, you should return home, these are dangerous times we live in, Prince Lorian."

Sulyvahn began walking away but paused and turned back to Lorian, "One other thing - do inform Prince Lothric on my behalf that I received King Oceiros's invitation and will be visiting soon."

Lorian hadn't been aware his father had been communicating with anyone outside of the scholars in recent times. "My Father invited you?"

"He seeks a second opinion on a piece of his research... I hear he has made the most fascinating discovery." Sulyvahn turned away once more. "Until we meet again, Prince Lorian."

Before heading back to his horse, Lorian took a moment to stare at Delwyn. There was nothing to recover from the body as everything had been ruined by the material he had been encased in. It was thankfully a brief walk back to the road where Lorian mounted his horse and began the long ride back to Lothric.

The effects of the poison had diminished some as he rode, but he still felt as if there was a great weight dragging him down. But more importantly, Lorian had not heard of any recent discoveries Oceiros had made, in fact no one other than perhaps Wulfred had heard anything from him at all.

For him to invite Sulyvahn now meant something had happened. Had Oceiros finally transformed into the twisted creature he so desired to be?

*

It was early evening by the time Lorian passed through the main gates and the sight he was greeted with was chaos.

The streets were filled with people protesting, and it was clear the knights were struggling to control the situation as the mob seemed intent on starting a fight. He managed to catch a few words of the argument, one side clearly shouting "Free her!" and the other retorting with screams of "Heretic!" and "Blasphemer!" which could only mean one thing.

Gertrude had finally been found.

"Prince Lorian!" One of the knights shouted from the other side of the mob.

Lorian dismounted and began to walk towards the knight who had called out to him. He towered over the crowd, and it didn't take long before they parted for him, all voices turning into a hushed quiet as he passed. Slowly, the other knights in the area gathered around him, waiting for whatever orders he would give.

He spoke loudly so all nearby could hear him as he declared, "Effective immediately, a curfew is in effect. Anyone found outside their homes will be swiftly imprisoned and assigned to work on the High Wall." Lorian scanned the crowd for the highest ranking knight, and was pleasantly surprised to see Eadric. "Knight Captain Eadric, see to the enforcement of this curfew."

"As you command," Eadric replied with a salute.

Lorian didn't wait to see his orders carried out as he returned to his horse and rode towards the keep. He could already hear the shouts announcing the curfew as he rode.

Servants were bustling around in the courtyard and a stablehand quickly rushed to his side to take his horse as he dismounted once more. "Where are they?"

The stablehand, paled at the question, stammering out, "I-I don't know, Your Highness, I only work in the stables."

"An emergency convocation of the Pillars was invoked." Said a familiar voice. Lorian turned to see Wynfrith, hair disheveled as she removed her helmet, riding into the courtyard on her own horse. "All knights ranked Lieutenant and above were ordered back early from our patrols in your absence. I just got back myself so I don't know any details, but I heard the curfew announcement on my way back; was that you?"

"Yes, though there will be many who do not comply."

She nodded. "There was a rowdy bunch that looked ready to cause trouble. I'll go help where I can."

Without waiting to be dismissed, Wynfrith turned her horse around and rode back out into the streets. Lorian meanwhile knew where to go now as he headed to the council chambers where Lothric and the other pillars were certain to be gathered.

The conversation was already well underway by the time Lorian entered the room, though only Gotthard seemed to notice him, a look of surprise on his face before a curt nod.

He only managed to catch the end of Emma's enraged shout, "--outright revolution if we allow these people to go unpunished!"

"High Priestess Emma," Lothric started coldly, "would you have me imprison half the populace on grounds of heresy?"

"Half the populace! How did we allow half the populace to be swayed by the ravings of a madwoman?" she hissed.

Gotthard, ever the voice of reason, countered, "If we had rounded up her sympathizers on no more than rumors it would have only stoked their outrage further. The more you try to suppress a group, the stronger they fight back,"

"They blaspheme the First Flame, they slander the Lord of Cinders, and they are making threats against you, Prince Lothric. So yes, I believe they should all be imprisoned instead of being permitted to run rampant in the streets."

"I enacted a curfew," interrupted Lorian, "everyone has been ordered to return to their homes, and any found out of compliance will be imprisoned and sent to work on the High Wall. It is a temporary measure at best."

Lothric's shoulders relaxed marginally at that, and Lorian only then realized how profoundly exhausted his brother looked. "It buys us a moment's peace to plan how to control the situation. What I am curious to know is why I was not consulted before she was taken in."

All eyes turned to Wulfred at that moment. The man was calm as he sat with his hands folded before him. "I believe you know the answer as well as I do, my Lord. Your Father had orders to capture her. The answer to what must be done to silence the heretics is simple - kill them. Nothing is more persuasive than the threat of an untimely death."

"Do they even fear death?" Emma asked.

"They do not all carry the curse of the undead, the Darksign," said Wulfred. "Indeed, many of them would certainly die permanently."

"We cannot afford to simply execute them," Lothric said darkly, "lest we find ourselves with more graves than people."

The group was silent and Lorian noted that at least Wulfred had the decency to look humble in the face of the daggers of Lothric's gaze.

"We can conscript those who are able bodied, send the rest to the fields," suggested Lorian.

"You would arm them?" Gotthard asked, incredulous.

"No," said Lothric in understanding, "he would keep them close enough to watch over them, and send the rest where their anger can do no harm."

"The nobility will object--" started Wulfred.

"Were you not the one who suggested we execute them?" interrupted Lothric sharply, pointing a clawed finger at the scholar.

"Death does not care for objections."

"Then we give them a choice: conscription or death. Gotthard and Lorian have been composing a list of those suspected to be sympathizers."

Gotthard spoke up, "They will be no better than the slaves, my Lord."

"If they choose to act in a manner that threatens the sanctity of the kingdom, then they will be stripped of their rights accordingly. They have made their choice." Lothric's tone was not that of anger, but of deep bone-aching weariness. "All who agree?"

Though Gotthard and Emma hesitated, eventually all came to agree unanimously.

"This needs to happen quietly and it needs to happen fast, before they realize what is happening."

"It will be done," Lorian said.

Lothric dismissed them with a wave of his hand towards the door, and one by one each of the pillars left the room until only Lorian remained. "A word, Lothric."

He watched his brother physically deflate where he sat, scrubbing a hand down his face. "Dare I pray for good news?"

"It seems Father sent an invitation to Pontiff Sulyvahn. He requested that I inform you that he will be arriving 'soon'."

"On what grounds, pray tell."

"Apparently Father has requested his presence for a second opinion on his research."

Lothric narrowed his eyes at that. "The timing is conspicuous, would you not agree?"

"There is a chance it is a coincidence."

His brother barked out a laugh. "Dear brother, when have we ever been granted the mercy of coincidence?"

Lorian nodded his head, conceding his brother's point with a small smile.

"How did you come across this information?"

"The beast I hunted led me into Irithyll's borders where it was being hunted by Sulyvahn and his Outrider Knights. They approached me shortly after I discovered Delwyn."

Lothric stood, approaching him. "He allowed you to go? Unharmed?"

"The creature had beaten him to it already," Lorian said, "poisonous gas, of some sort."

"How long ago?"

"Nearly a day."

"And the effects linger?"

"Faintly. They were stronger before; I will be fine. You have more pressing matters to concern yourself with - as do I."

"You underestimate your importance to me."

"I will be fine."

"Very well, then go, we both have much to do."

Lothric pulled away, moving to sit back in his seat while Lorian left the room to begin the process of conscription.

*

It was a gruelling process. Even with Gotthard and his hunters' assistance, it took hours to assemble and coordinate enough trusted knights and hunters to carry out the task. Oswin, Estrid, Wynfrith, Eadric, Baldric, and Maerec were the highest ranking knights that Lorian trusted, regardless of any rumored sympathies to Gertrude's cause. They were each paired with additional knights and hunters to support their efforts.

Lorian stood now, a dozen men and women on their knees with their hands bound behind their backs. "You are each here on the crimes of treason and heresy. Each of you has a choice: conscription, servitude, or death." He stood before the first man and demanded, "Your choice."

The man, clearly a noble by his clothes, spat at Lorian's feet and sneered. "You wouldn't dare kill me, so I choose death. Now I demand you let me go at--"

Before he could finish his sentence, Lorian felled his head from his body in a single motion. Immediately, the scent of burning flesh began to fill the air and Lorian saw the others flinch as the man's body fell and his head rolled across the ground, stopping at the base of the fountain.

He moved to the next person. "Your choice."

The woman, also a noble if Lorian had to guess, croaked out, "Conscription."

Lorian gestured one of the knights to his side. The knight pulled out a dagger as Lorian asked, "Will you spill your blood to show your willingness to sacrifice yourself in the name of the Kingdom of Lothric?"

Frantically, the woman nodded even as tears streamed down her face. "Yes, yes, anything."

He nodded to the knight who took the dagger and slid it across her throat. Her blood ran freely, but not excessively. "The wound is shallow, it'll stop bleeding shortly," said the knight reassuringly as he led her to her feet and pushed her towards the rest of the knights assembled.

The next two also wisely chose conscription and so the process was repeated until he reached the next. The man was older, and when Lorian prompted him for his choice, he was the first to answer, "Servitude."

One of the hunters stepped forward this time, taking a black sack and pulling it over the man's head, then securing it in place with a piece of rope. There were slits cut in front so the man could see. "Come on then," the hunter said, "congratulations, you'll be working the fields."

The process took the entire night, even divided into as many groups as they had. At the end of it, dawn was just beginning to creep over the horizon. Gotthard had assigned Allric, Albert, and Kamui to see to the relocation of those who had chosen servitude. They would be escorted outside of the kingdom's walls to the nearest villages. With them went a group appointed as overseers to ensure that they did not attempt to rebel or escape.

Those who had chosen conscription, were sent to holding cells near the barracks where they would be held before being integrated as knight recruits over the coming weeks. They did not have the manpower to try and arm and integrate them all at once - to do that would almost certainly lead to an open revolution.

Emma and her priests came for the bodies; they would be offered as kindling for the First Flame where their bodies would be reduced to ash and they would remain unkindled.

Exhaustion pulled heavily on Lorian as he made his way towards his room. He hadn't been allowed to rest for nearly three days at this point, but he intended to steal a few hours before the next catastrophe arose.

Chapter 18: Faith

Chapter Text

There was a silence that smothered the castle when Lothric left his chambers; he had so much to do. The very first servant he saw was sent to retrieve any of the knights that had assisted Lorian in his efforts from the previous night. As he walked through the castle halls, he heard the unmistakable sound of metal armor as a knight ran to catch up to him.

Lothric recognized Knight Commander Estrid as she saluted him before falling in-step. "You summoned me, Your Highness?"

"What was the result of last evening's task?"

"Prince Lorian didn't tell you?" She asked before rushing into her explanation. "Of all those accused, the majority elected for servitude; half as many opted for conscription; the rest chose death. We are currently holding the conscripts near the barracks; the first group will begin training today. Those who chose servitude have been divided between the fields and the remaining work on the High Wall. High Priestess Emma has taken the bodies of the dead as an offering."

He took a moment to acknowledge the gravity of what had occurred, but he knew he could not allow himself to linger on the thought. "Pontiff Sulyvahn is set to arrive anytime within the next several days. I want to be the first to be informed when he does."

She opened her mouth to speak, apparently struggling to find the correct words, "He's already here, my Lord. He arrived not even an hour ago; he said he was here to speak with King Oceiros, and said you were expecting him."

Annoyance rang through him, but he managed to calmly ask, "And where is he now?"

"He is already at the Grand Archives. King Oceiros demanded they not be disturbed by anyone, including you, Prince Lothric."

It would do Lothric no good, he knew, to force his way into the Grand Archives to demand an audience. He would have to wait to speak with Sulyvahn until he concluded whatever business he had with the king. But while they were busy with whatever twisted research his father was conducting, Lothric had more pressing matters to attend to.

"Is that all, Your Highness?"

"There were records of the fates of all those who received judgement last night I presume?" She nodded. "Good. Gather the list and meet me in my study."

"As you command."

He dismissed Estrid and made his way through the castle, trying to ignore the effort it took to keep a steady breath and the dull ache that had recently begun to reappear in his legs. As Lothric crossed the short bridge to his study, he paused to look down at the rest of the castle below. It was late enough in the day that in the past the streets would be full of people milling about, but now they were eerily empty.

It was early afternoon when he entered his study, gathering all the lists and information that Gotthard and Lorian had compiled regarding all those suspected of supporting Gertrude's cause. Estrid arrived shortly afterwards, working alongside him to match each name on the list with their fate. All but a handful had been accounted for, and those whose fates remained unknown appeared to have slipped out of the castle.

Lothric made note of their names to give to Gotthard and his hunters to track down at a later date.

"Estrid, how is morale in the barracks?" Lothric asked, setting down the list of names.

She absent-mindedly pulled at a buckle on her gauntlet before replying. "Truthfully? There are those who are uncomfortable with recent events, and at the thought of those accused of heresy fighting alongside them, knowing they are at odds."

Lothric steepled his fingers, resting his chin atop them, "Understandably so. You have served longer than almost any other, what measures do you believe would help set their minds at ease?"

"Prince Lorian has the correct approach I believe, slowly bringing them in as recruits. But at the core, they did not offer their service of their own free will. They did not take the blade into their own hands, offering their service - their sacrifice - to the kingdom. The scars they bear around their throats do not hold the same weight as those the rest of us accepted with pride." There was anger in her voice as she raised a hand to her own throat, scar hidden under her armor. "They should be marked as the outsiders and heretics that they are. We wear the red colors of Lothric with pride. To celebrate the First Flame. The thought of those that wish to see its end being bestowed with that honor does not sit well with us."

"And you believe this will help morale?" He asked cautiously.

"Yes, those of us loyal to you, to King Oceiros, and to the First Flame."

"Then it shall be done," Lothric assured her. "I place this responsibility in your hands."

Estrid rose from her chair before kneeling, head bowed low. "Thank you, my Lord."

"I assume there are preparations you must make."

"Of course, thank you." She rose to her feet and quietly slipped out of the room.

Lothric returned to his notes in the new silence. Surely there must be some connection as to why each of these people had been swayed by the absurd idea of Gertrude's so-called angels. Lothric still wasn't convinced himself. Even if the magic she wielded was able to surpass the capabilities of traditional miracles and sorceries, that did not directly link her to a new deity.

The nobility that had turned toward her beliefs were far and few in between as they had been loyal to the kingdom of Lothric for generations and many had reached their prestigious standing by contributing in the past to maintaining and linking the First Flame.

It was the commoners, the poor, and the slaves who had been the most susceptible to Gertrude's gospel. Those who could neither read nor write, and would have had to rely solely on someone else's sermons.

What Lothric could not figure out was what benefit they received from Gertrude's ideas. Was it the idea of salvation? The promise of a better life after the fading of the First Flame? It was barely conceivable to understand how they would be willing to take such a leap of faith, to be willing to endure the Age of Dark in the hopes that something better appeared from it. Knowing they would likely never live to see it for themselves.

But, he realized, perhaps these were fruitless questions to ponder on, alone in his study.

"Kamui," He called out, knowing the hunter was likely on the roof of his study or perched in the second level.

As expected, the man dropped to the ground near Lothric without a sound. "How may I be of service, Prince Lothric?"

"I would speak with one of the recently conscripted," he took a moment, skimming through the names on the list before settling on one, "Rumwold. Bring him to me."

"Here, my Lord?"

He considered his options, "No. Bring him to the Hall of Sacrifice."

"At once." Kamui said with a quick salute before disappearing from the room once more.

Lothric had chosen the Hall of Sacrifice for two reasons. The first of which was that it was close to the study he had long since claimed for himself. The second, was that the Hall of Sacrifice, though there were many like it in the castle, was a particularly reverent spot. It held the visages of the most loyal and respected knights to have ever served the kingdom of Lothric.

As he entered the space, Lothric took a moment to admire the various carvings, in the walls, on the ground, and the altars holding ancient weapons that still shone in the evening light. It stood in both contrast and solidarity with the other statues around the castle depicting the knights in various stages of sacrifice, several of which had been placed at the entrance to this very hall.

While Lothric was running his hand across the blade on one of the altars, he heard footsteps approaching and turned to see Kamui with the conscript he had requested, still bound and with dried blood staining the skin on his neck as Kamui pushed him to his knees before Lothric in the center of the hall, surrounded by all the carvings of knights long since fallen in battle.

"Leave us," Lothric commanded and waited until Kamui was out of sight before approaching the man. He was filthy, Lothric noted, presumably since long before he was conscripted and taken in, as he found it hard to imagine the level of filth being able to accumulate over the course of a single night's stay in the barrack's cells. The man was also older, with wrinkles etched deep into his face and his skin sallow. "Your name is Rumwold."

He did not present it as a question, but waited anyway until the man barked out a rough, "Yes."

"Do you know why you are here?"

"'Cause you're the one who had us dragged from our homes last night," Rumwold growled, spitting at the ground at Lothric's feet.

Lothric paid it no mind. "I did not give the orders without cause."

"We weren't hurting anyone, no one died 'cause of us. The only one with blood on their hands is you." He sneered, "You're supposed to be the next Lord of Cinder, but you can't do the dirty work yourself, can't even lift your own sword."

"Is that what drew you towards it? A lack of faith?"

"I have faith."

"In the angels?"

Rumwold hesitated, "I don't know."

Lothric pressed on, "If you do not believe in the angels, then why did you participate?"

"You ever seen a hollow?"

"I have."

"You ever seen someone important to you become hollow? Watched as they forget who they are, forget who you are? Forget how to even do the most basic of tasks?"

Lothric was silent.

"Course not. Cause you and yours don't hollow. Can't hollow." Rumwold leaned forward. "You've all been linkin' the fire for as long as we can all remember, but what good's it done us? We're still the ones out there. Dying. Not dying. Hollowing. Even if there aren't any angels, even if what they tell us is a lie, whatever they're promising has to be better than what we got now."

"You wish for the Age of Dark then and the sunless void of a world that it will bring?"

"What good is light when you're dead?"

"Who told you these things?" asked Lothric. These were not ideas and thoughts that a man like this would have had on his own, of that Lothric was certain.

"Priests and priestesses, they took Her Words and shared them with us. But you won't catch them. Even now, they're helping Her, even if she doesn't realize it. They were chosen before you took Her. They are Her champions, and they will carry out Her will."

Lothric kneeled before the man until they were on even ground, "Who are they?"

Rumwold shook his head, "They always hide their faces, but I wouldn't tell you even if I could."

"Then it seems we have nothing left to discuss." Raising his voice so Kamui could hear him, Lothric called out, "Take him back."

Rumwold waited patiently for Kamui to return, pulling him back to his feet and leading him out to the barracks. As they were leaving Lothric ordered, "Bring Fulbert next."

*

This process continued for days while Sulyvahn remained locked in the Grand Archives with Oceiros, still demanding they not be disturbed. Lothric was of half a mind to try and speak with all those who had chosen servitude, but the fact that they were all serving at the outskirts of the High Wall or beyond its borders meant they posed little threat, and likely had no intentions within the castle walls.

Most that Lothric spoke with had similar positions as Rumwold - a general discontent and disillusionment with the promises they had been hearing all their lives as they watched the world falling apart around them.

Others clung to the angelic dogma as though their very lives depended on it, so intense was their belief. They wished for nothing more than to see the First Flame snuffed from the world and for Lothric and all those worshipped as Gods to fade out with it.

And then there were a handful that claimed ignorance, using their audience with Lothric to beg and plead with him to allow them to return home, back to their old lives. Of course, Lothric could not and would not do as they begged and sent them back immediately once they proved that they would offer no new insight.

While Lothric was busy questioning the conscripts, he had set Gotthard on the task to try and track down who Rumwold and several others implied were chosen as Gertrude's champions. It was likely an impossible task, but Lothric had faith that if any should be able to track them down, it would be Gotthard.

Lorian was simultaneously attempting to oversee the integration and training of the new conscripts as well as the oversight of all those who had been sent to work on the High Wall and work in the fields. The only time they saw each other these days was either in the evening once all their work was done, or early in the morning before the servants or advisors managed to track them down to pull them to the next urgent summons.

This was apparently one of those mornings as Lothric fought off the heavy drag of sleep, hearing Lorian's voice across the room saying, "You sleep like the dead."

"I feel like the dead," Lothric agreed, shifting until he was sitting up so that he was able to reach the pitcher of water on the table beside him.

He watched as Lorian walked in and gestured to the beads of sweat coating his skin that Lothric was acutely aware of, "It has been a long time since you awoke like this."

"It has been more frequent," Lothric agreed, "it seems whatever brief reprieve Gertrude's miracle had granted me is nearly faded. I have felt it, walking through the castle, the exhaustion and aching."

He placed the pitcher back down on the table and drank down the glass of water.

"How bad has it gotten?"

"It is more akin to how my good days once were," Lothric said with a sad smile. "I suspect the bad days are not far behind."

"You could speak to Gertrude," Lorian started and Lothric flicked a harmless spell at him to stop him.

"You suggest the impossible." Lothric replied, setting down the glass. "Part of me wishes the bell had tolled while I had such false strength. Perhaps then I would have been able to link the Flame and truly become a Lord of Cinder."

"I am glad it did not."

"Nevertheless," Lothric said, rising from his bed, "what brings you here this morning?"

"Head Scholar Wulfred requested an audience later."

"With both of us?"

"Just me, as far as I am aware." That put Lothric on edge. After the conversation regarding the bond between them, Lothric still feared the worst. Though now at least his brother had the title of Knight General to provide extra protection, which still may not be enough depending on how little care or ceremony Wulfred gave to titles these days. "Do you know anything about it?"

Lothric grimaced, "No. But I would advise you to be careful, brother. Neither of us know the true extent of that man's corruption."

"I fear the same. Very well, I will find you after the meeting. If anything comes from it, you will know."

*

It was early afternoon before Lothric reached his study. He had not expected he would find Pontiff Sulyvahn standing in front of one of the bookshelves inside, flipping through the pages of one, seemingly at random. He turned when he heard Lothric enter and half-bowed to him. "Prince Lothric, we meet again at last. Forgive the delayed greeting, I had intended to speak with you as soon as I arrived but you were unavailable and King Oceiros's research demanded my immediate attention."

"Pontiff Sulyvahn," Lothric greeted in return, "it is good to see you again. I trust all has gone well in your research."

"Indeed," he replied. "Very well, in fact."

"In that case, how may I be of service?"

"While King Oceiros's research is nearly complete, there is another matter he and Head Scholar Wulfred would like to speak with you about; I offered to escort you to them in the Grand Archives. But first, I thought we might discuss some matters."

Lothric regarded him warily. "What do you wish to discuss?"

"It has been brought to my attention that you have become aware of the nature surrounding Oceiros's aspirations for you." Sulyvahn closed the book in his hands and slid it back onto the shelf. "I confess, I had suspected the nature when we last met, but only recently was it confirmed -- the merging of God and Dragon."

"Yes, a spectacular failure, as you can plainly see."

"On the contrary, while King Oceiros may have failed in his original goal, I suspect he has created in you something far more interesting. But King Oceiros's goals were not rooted entirely in mere fiction or blind hope. It has been achieved before. Are you familiar with the land I came from, Prince Lothric?"

Of course, Lothric had heard of it, was taught of Sulyvahn's history, studies, and accomplishments by the various scholars that tutored Lothric who continued to learn from Sulyvahn's work. "You come from the Painted World."

"Yes. Once a dumping ground for the Gods, for the souls they wished out of sight and hidden away. A place where they locked away the only of her kind, for she wielded a power that terrified even the Gods. A crossbreed between God and Dragon."

"My Father knew of this?"

"Indeed. He first came across mention in his studies of Seath; it is the long held belief that she was daughter to Seath - the first and only of her kind. Certainly, I can understand the allure of recreating such power in the wake of such an ordinary child such as Lorian."

Lothric bristled at his words. "He tried to recreate such power from rotten flesh and dust of ages past. Failure was inevitable."

"It was," Sulyvahn agreed. "Your entire being is fractured in more ways than any of us can truly comprehend. But you hold the power of your own destiny in your hands."

"Why tell me all of this?"

"Where King Oceiros believes he failed with you, he seeks to try again, and this time may even in fact succeed. But the path he walks leads only to true madness. Tread carefully, Prince Lothric. The responsibility you bear and your actions in the near future will shape the very fabric of the world. It is unlikely we will have the opportunity to speak so candidly again, but should you require anything in the days to come, you will always have an ally in Irithyll."

Unsure of what to make of Sulyvahn's words and what his specific intentions may be, Lothric merely inclined his head. "Thank you, Pontiff Sulyvahn. Lothric is grateful to have your support in these matters."

"Now, I believe we have kept King Oceiros long enough. Shall we?" Sulyvahn gestured to the doorway.

Lothric followed Sulyvahn through the castle, across the large bridge that connected the Keep to the Grand Archives. Sulyvahn opened the doors and the first thing Lothric noticed was the suffocating silence. In the past, even when his father had been deep in his studies, the Archives had always been bustling as scholars sifted through various tomes, conducting research on all the ancient magic and miracles they held within their walls.

As they approached the center of the Archives, a lone feather floated down into Lothric's view. He craned his neck, gazing upward where he spotted what appeared to be a cage with a single shadowy figure caged within. More feathers gently fluttered to the ground from the cage -- the scholars paid them no mind.

"Lady Gertrude is a special person," Sulyvahn commented quietly. "A shame, truly."

"Lothric!" Boomed a strangely warped, deep voice. Lothric turned to see his father - or what remained of his father - approaching him. Whatever Oceiros had hoped to achieve, it was clear he was nearly there. His face was no longer recognizable as that of a man. The features were distorted, elongated and draconic. The rest of his body was similar with torso and limbs stretched and covered in scales, including a tail, and his hands and feet warped into misshapen claws. "My son! Where is your brother?"

Wulfred approached from behind then. "Prince Lorian is here, my King," and gestured beside him to Lorian. This must have been the purpose behind the meeting Wulfred had summoned him for. It was nearly imperceptible beneath his helmet, but Lothric could see the tight concerned frown on his brother's face.

The fact that they had both been brought here under such a thin premise did not bode well, Lothric realized as he turned back to face his father, and wondered what madness awaited them.

Chapter 19: Bond

Chapter Text

"Forgive me, my sons," Oceiros began, "through no fault of your own, you have each grown into disappointments. A tragedy which weighs heavily on me."

Lothric's mouth twisted into a grimace at Oceiros's words, but neither he nor Lorian said anything. They had both long since moved beyond seeking Oceiros's approval, but to hear it spoken so blatantly still cut to the quick.

"Lothric, you were intended to be born with the strength of the dragons and the wisdom of the Gods - my heir. I placed upon you all my hopes for the future of this Kingdom and tasked you with becoming a Lord of Cinder. And yet, it seems that rather than gaining the strength of the Gods and dragons, you gained only their weaknesses." He stretched out a clawed hand, dragging it down Lothric's face. "It is clear to me now that as you are, you will never have the strength to link the First Flame as your birthright demands."

He lowered his hand before moving to Lorian. "And you, my firstborn, born cursed with the strength of the Gods but the weakness of Man. And yet, as if to spite my dismissal of you, you have proven yourself stronger than any dared dream. Indeed, you have even managed to kill that which was born of the Chaos Flame: wicked, foul, and terribly strong. You, my son, have the strength to link the First Flame, to ascend as a true Lord of Cinder. But you will never be a Lord of Cinder, for it is not your destiny. It is not your birthright."

Lorian shifted his gaze ever so slightly, but it was enough to catch Lothric's attention. Lothric undoubtedly was wondering, like Lorian, why Oceiros was forcing them to endure this false apology.

"I intend to have another child." From the corner of his eye, Lorian could see Lothric stiffen at that. It was not unheard of for Kings to continue having children later in life, but none had undergone such a radical transformation. "This child will be a true child of dragons! I will correct what I failed with Lothric and begin anew. But," he paused, turning his attention entirely towards Lothric, "the First Flame fades more each day and this child will not be grown in time to kindle it. Lothric, you must finish what you started. You must link the flame."

"I understand," Lothric said, bowing his head, ever the faithful son.

"I have discovered a way for you to link the flame yourself and to ascend. A way to provide you with strength."

Wulfred cut in then, "Prince Lothric, you may recall when we last spoke I alluded to the fact that you and Lorian shared what I called an echo of a bond. But that was not entirely accurate. Your parasitic soul, weak though it is, has somehow firmly affixed itself to Lorian's, draining it of strength for its own purposes. While it is a faint connection, it has proven to be quite strong. But I had no proof of such a bond existing, for how can one prove the existence for something that cannot be witnessed? Except," Wulfred paused, moving to stand in front of Lorian, "it was witnessed. Prince Lorian, when you fought the Demon Prince, you suffered extensive wounds, did you not?"

Lorian inclined his head.

"And they were healed by Priestess Burchwen?"

Another nod.

"I had a chance to speak with Priestess Burchwen recently, to ask her about your encounter with the Demon Prince so that I might record the tale for posterity. She described to me the most unbelievable tale. A single man, though half God in nature, was torn open from rib to thigh… and survived. But, it seems that you did not survive after all. The wounds did prove to be fatal. According to Burchwen you were no more than a rotting corpse wielding a blade."

Lorian felt his mouth go dry as he recalled it vividly; the feeling of the Demon Prince's claws ripping through his armor and into his flesh until the darkness rushed in. "It is impossible for us to be undead."

"Precisely. Your Lord Soul fragment guarantees you will live a long and bountiful life as a God -- until you are killed," Wulfred agreed.

Lothric spoke, voice low and almost fearful. "I had a dream, shortly before Lorian returned. The dream was hazy, just a feeling that I had lost something; a sense of dread the likes of which I had never experienced before. Drowning me."

"Even across such a vast distance in the face of such grevious wounds, your fumbling grasp in foggy dreams refused to relinquish Prince Lorian's soul," Wulfred said incredulously. "Though it was, in part, made possible by Gertrude."

"The miracle?" Lothric asked.

"Exactly so," Sulyvahn interjected. "A miracle that did not heal your body or your spirit, but the fading tether of the bond. There is a reason that the Miracles of the Gods are so coveted. But the effects of such miracles cast by those who are born with a Lord Soul are on an entirely separate scale than those cast by mere Men. It is also the reason that those who share a fragment of the Lord Soul do not cast miracles on one another. Prince Lothric, have you ever cast a miracle on Prince Lorian?"

Lorian was reminded of all the times Lothric had healed him over the years and the comforting warmth that settled in his chest each time. Lothric had healed everything, from the grotesque scars on his hands to the faintest of cuts; one look at Lothric's face told him that he had come to the same realization.

"Yes," Lothric confessed, voice barely above a whisper.

"Who taught you such a thing? How old were you when you cast the first miracle?" Oceiros demanded.

"We were barely old enough to no longer be considered children. I healed a small cut on Lorian's arm he had received during training." Lothric frowned, "Master Orbeck taught me shortly after you recruited his services as my tutor."

"You were raised separately, were you not?" Sulyvahn asked rhetorically. "A child, raised in isolation, desperate to form a connection, unaware of his own power and what it means to have a Lord's Soul. And just like that, a tiny fragment of soul finds itself a new home."

Lothric looked as though his world was shattering in front of his very eyes. Lorian would have given anything to know what wicked thoughts were crawling through his brother's mind. He was pointedly avoiding looking in Lorian's direction, as he asked Sulyvahn, "Can it be reversed?"

"Reversed?" Wulfred scoffed. "The damage is done already. Even if you could reverse it, Prince Lorian would likely not survive the process. He is living on borrowed time already."

Oceiros stepped forward, placing a grotesque hand on Lorian and Lothric's shoulders. "Do you see yet, my children, what a blessing this is? It is by strengthening this bond, this connection between you that will allow you, Lothric, to draw from your brother's strength, to link the First Flame and ascend as the Lord of Cinder just as you have always been destined."

Lothric visibly recoiled at the touch as he hissed, "I will not damn him to share this fate of mine."

"Damn him?" Snarled Oceiros, striking Lothric. "It is not damnation to be appointed the honor to become a Lord of Cinder, you ungrateful--!"

"How?" Lorian cut him off, fighting every instinct he had as he forced himself to ignore the wounded look Lothric cast in his direction.

Oceiros visibly began calming down. "The concept is based on the same sorcery that was used to bind the Dragon Riders to their mounts," Oceiros explained. "In this instance, the bond already exists, we simply need to nurture it, to tend to it like a garden using the same miracle Gertrude used before, but this time it will be Lothric who will cast it on you."

Sulyvahn stepped towards Lothric then, passing him a piece of parchment. "It is quite a beautiful miracle. Bountiful Sunlight."

"And if I refuse?" Lothric asked, even as he took the parchment.

"We cannot force your hand," Sulyvahn conceded before he approached Lorian. "What say you, Prince Lorian?"

"Bear in mind, we do not entirely understand the bond that exists in its current form today, and the impacts this might have in the future," Wulfred added. "While it undoubtedly will benefit Prince Lothric, and possibly even allow you to circumvent death, there are still many unknowns."

Lorian knelt down, staring directly at Lothric, grateful that the helmet he wore obstructed the others from seeing where his gaze settled. But Lothric would know, as he always did. "I have sworn my life to serve Lothric. I offer it now, freely."

"Wonderful, my son. A true act of sacrifice," Oceiros praised. "Of course for a miracle to be cast, there must first be a wound to heal."

It was then that Lorian felt the sharp blade piercing between the plates of his armor, embedded deep within his chest. He felt the blood pooling in his mouth, a harsh metallic taste that he spat out on the ground. The blade was removed and hazily he could feel his blood soaking into the tunic beneath his armor.

At once, Lothric was on his knees at Lorian's side, one hand holding the miracle in a white-knuckled grip as he pressed his other hand flatly against the front of Lorian's breastplate. Bountiful Sunlight. It was a fitting name. It felt like the soft summer sunlight in the gardens had soaked into his skin, wrapping around the core of his chest, leaving him pleasantly numb and comfortably warm. The bleeding stopped and he could feel the skin pulling itself back together.

"Again." Oceiros commanded.

They repeated the cycle again and again until Lorian lost all sense of time. Had it been minutes or hours? The blade's piercing bite became little more than a pin prick by the end of it all and Lorian felt as though he may actually be made entirely of sunlight. He could feel Lothric's blood soaked hands against his chest, could see the beads of sweat that slid down his face as he spent every ounce of energy concentrating on the miracle.

"How will we know when it is enough?" Oceiros asked.

"The miracle's effect has already reached a rapid pace, healing Prince Lorian almost instantly." Wulfred said in awe. "At this rate, there is only one step further we can take to test the limits."

"No!" Lothric protested, but no one was listening to him.

"Do it," Oceiros commanded.

This time the blade struck a different spot and all at once Lorian felt all the air rush from his lungs. He reached forward as his vision swam black, blindly grasping until he felt Lothric's robes in his hand.

And then--

Nothing.

And then--

An ember.

And then--

Fire.

Flames scorched Lorian's lungs as he gasped for air.

He saw Lothric above him with fear in his eyes and both hands clinging to Lorian's breastplate. There was a ringing in Lorian's ears as he tried to focus on the words around him.

"--remarkable." said a voice. Wulfred's judging by the tone.

Tiny embers danced across Lorian's armor and Lothric's prayer robes, and Lorian couldn't help but be captivated by the sight.

A hand on his face dragged his gaze back to Lothric, and Lorian placed a hand lightly over his brother's wrist. "I am fine." The words tore at his throat; his voice sounded foreign even to his own ears, dry and rough.

"You were dead." Lothric's voice was barely audible and Lorian could feel the way Lothric's hand - his whole body - trembled, "I felt…."

Lorian propped himself up on his elbow, wanting to calm his brother, assure him so that he would not stare at Lorian as if he had been the one to rip the life from him when he had been the one to give him that very life. But beyond Lothric's shoulder, he could see Oceiros, Wulfred, and Sulyvahn speaking together in hushed tones as they watched them. Cold and calculating. Lorian steeled himself in that moment, not wishing to give them the satisfaction of appearing weak. Never again.

"How long?" He asked, lungs burning from the effort.

"Minutes at most," Sulyvahn said, breaking away from Wulfred and Oceiros who had resumed their conversation, then knelt next to Lothric. "You each have been granted a rare gift - your very souls conjoined. You now share the burden of the fate of the First Flame; I pray only that you have the foresight to use this opportunity wisely."

Lothric did not even spare Sulyvahn a glance; Lorian couldn't even be certain he heard the Pontiff.

"Sulyvahn," Oceiros called, "there is still much to be done."

"Yes of course, there is still the other matter," Sulyvahn agreed, rising to his feet and returning to Oceiros's side.

Oceiros paused his conversation with Wulfred, and without even looking to where Lothric and Lorian still sat on the ground, called out, "Leave us."

Lorian slowly rose to his feet, the world solid beneath him while anger pooled in his stomach. For as quickly as they had been summoned and forced through such a reckless, life-altering experience, they were just as easily discarded again.

In a strange role reversal, it was Lothric who was by his side offering support as they began walking towards the Archive's exit, and the moment the Archive doors closed behind them a wash of light surrounded them and they were in Lothric's chambers. As soon as the room came into focus, Lothric was falling away from him, collapsing against the edge of the bed. "Apologies. I fear I did not have the strength to walk here."

Lorian struggled to remove his helmet before taking in the sight of his brother. He looked ill, worse perhaps than Lorian had ever seen him. If he hadn't known better, Lorian might have even been able to imagine Lothric was the one who had slipped beyond the veil instead of Lorian by his appearance. He was haggard, pale and covered in a sheen of fever sweat. As he looked closer he saw the dark crimson of blood - how own blood, he realized - staining his prayer robes and smeared across his brother's hands. Knew there would be a matching handprint on his face.

But the embers that had been there had vanished. A fever-dream imagination, perhaps.

And then, as though something had triggered within him, Lothric was pushing himself off the bed until he was standing in front of Lorian. "...how do you feel?"

"Exhausted," Lorian admitted. "But there is no discomfort or pain. I feel no different than I did when I awoke this morning."

Barely perceptible, Lorian saw a grimace flicker over Lothric's face.

"Why did you agree to it?" Lothric asked. "I would have gladly endured Father's rage to spare you such a cruel fate. This was never your burden to bear."

"No," agreed Lorian, "but it is my choice to help you bear it, to ease your burden."

"It is not worth the price of your very soul!" His brother's concern was rapidly sliding into anger.

"And who decides what my soul is worth?"

"It was a reckless and foolish thing to agree to. You were dead," Lothric's voice, laced with rage, was barely above a whisper. "You died and all I felt was this sinking endless void inside myself. Do you understand? I had no idea how to bring you back, I thought you might be lost forever."

"I am here, alive." He grabbed Lothric's hand, pressing it to his neck so his brother could feel his pulse, steady and strong. Another bloody handprint smeared across his skin. Lothric tried to flinch away, but Lorian held him there firmly. "Because of you."

"I am the reason you died!" Lothric all but shouted, ripping his hand from Lorian's grasp. He opened his mouth as if about to say more before shutting it and grinding his teeth together.

"Lothric," how could he get his brother to understand? "There is no blame for you to place upon yourself."

"If I had never--"

"Healed me?" Lorian pressed.

Lothric looked at him, his face contorted in distress as he nodded.

Lorian reached for him then, not sure exactly to what end other than to reassure him, to comfort him; but Lothric recoiled back at his touch and all at once Lorian saw and felt him closing himself off.

"You should keep your distance." Lothric's voice was empty as he took several steps back. "We still do not know the effects of what was done; what will come from what was done. If it is a more extreme version of what Wulfred has explained previously…"

Like a candle thriving on the air around it. "Your strength at the cost of my own."

"I would have you keep your strength." He turned away from Lorian. "You should rest."

Desperately, Lorian wanted to push the issue. To force Lothric to tell him what he was keeping closed off from him. But instead, he attempted to pierce through the shell Lothric was building around himself like a fortress. He gestured to Lothric's hands and robes, "You are a mess."

Lothric stared at his hands blankly before turning his gaze to Lorian. His voice was hollow as he replied, "As are you."

If Lothric wished him gone, he could ease his brother's concerns by accommodating that much at least. He turned to leave, only pausing when he heard Lothric call out, "Wait."

He turned, waiting patiently as Lothric crossed the room and reached a hand up, placing it in the same spot that he had earlier. Lorian searched for any hint of Lothric's thoughts in his eyes, but Lothric cast his gaze down, hiding beneath the hood of his robes.

"Clean yourself, and rest." Lothric said, and without waiting for any further discussion, Lorian felt himself, weightless, reappear far from Lothric, in the bathing chambers closest to his room.

*

Whether for the sake of understanding the nature of the bond or some other reason, Lothric had begun to entirely avoid Lorian. Of course they still saw and spoke with each other in situations where it was demanded -- discussing the progress of the conscripts, logistics of the kingdom, and the like. But every interaction on a more personal level ceased entirely.

The exhaustion that he had felt after the incident seemed to have settled in him, regardless of how much he rested. But, it wasn't worsening and Lorian was already growing accustomed to it.

He spent most of his days managing the knights: overseeing the training of the conscripts, assigning and coordinating patrols, and dealing with the logistics of those sent to work the fields and High Wall. Lorian relied heavily on the Knight Captains, Lieutenants, and Commanders to help oversee the various work, sending them each in week-long shifts and rotating them between their duties.

All of the new conscripts had been integrated into regiments and Lorian was doing all he was able in order to keep an eye on them with the help of Gotthard's hunters. So far, they all seemed to be well behaved, there were no rumors of secret meetings or contraband in the barracks and Lorian intended to keep it that way as long as he was able.

Those sent to work were another matter entirely. Those on the High Wall were unruly and several had already been required to be locked up. Lorian had recently had to increase the number of guards overseeing their work as well as assigning some of the hounds to prevent those who were caught from trying to run away.

In the outskirts, Lorian lacked trustworthy knights to assign to oversee the labor sufficiently. There were several already who had tried to escape and nearly succeeded. It was much more challenging to restrain the unwilling in an area with no walls. There was nothing that could be done. The only reason most had not attempted to leave was due to the fact that they seemed more fearful of their fate at the hands of the Evangelists than working the fields.

So he focused his efforts on the integration of the conscripts. They were simple to keep track of, the gray of their unembroidered uniforms stood in stark contrast to the rich reds worn by those who allied themselves willingly into service.

Off to the side of the barracks, tucked almost entirely out of sight, Lorian could see Eadric speaking with one of them. The conscript spotted Lorian then, still speaking low and watching for any recognition that Lorian might be observing them; so he continued to face where two conscripts were sparring all while keeping an eye on them. Barely noticeable, the conscript passed something to Eadric who quickly tucked it away in the belt of his armor before they dispersed.

It was hardly subtle. But there was a reason they were knights, not hunters.

He turned his attention to the spar in earnest this time. Even though they were inexperienced, Lorian was still incredulous at how poor the form of one of them was. To the side the knight overseeing the match pulled off their helmet in frustration and Lorian was pleasantly surprised to see Wynfrith as she stepped forward, trying to give guidance.

"You should demonstrate proper form," Lorian said as he approached.

"Knight General!" The three of them echoed, saluting.

"You want me to show them a spar of my own?" Wynfrith asked, setting her helmet aside.

Lorian nodded. "A proper spar between two seasoned warriors. Eadric," he called out just loudly enough for the other man to hear him, knowing he was still close by.

Eadric approached, looking carefree and innocent, and perhaps he was. Lorian couldn't know for certain what the conscript gave him. "Knight General?"

"Let's spar!" Wynfrith said, brandishing her blade and waiting for Eadric to ready himself. He was armed with a spear and shield and was quick to arm himself as Wynfrith ran towards him, aiming for his side. He parried the blow with the spear before she could even close the gap.

As they fought, Lorian listened to the two dictate their fight, explaining their strategies as they did so. Most of the conscripts had only been wielding training weapons, understanding the basics, and many had not been in spars where two drastically different weapons with unique advantages and disadvantages were used.

Soon enough several of the other knights and conscripts had gathered around, listening to Wynfrith and Eadric as they traded blows, the spear time and again successfully holding her at bay. Once she managed to get close after a feint, the spear was hopeless against her and she held her blade to his throat.

"It will not always be a situation where you are able to face your enemies one on one," Lorian said, stepping forward, sword in hand. "You will likely face well-coordinated opponents that will use their numbers to their advantage."

Without being asked, Wynfrith and Eadric instantly reset, putting distance between themselves and Lorian. It would be interesting - Lorian had fought alongside Wynfrith for the entirety of the campaign; they were well acquainted with one another's strengths and weaknesses. But Wynfrith and Eadric had known each other for far longer.

Lorian waited, keeping an eye on Wynfrith in front of him and Eadric who had circled just out of sight behind him. Wynfrith raised her blade, feet poised to begin running forward, but Lorian heard the footsteps behind him. Blade bursting forth into fire in his hands, he turned and deflected the spear as Eadric thrust it towards him and continued sweeping his blade around, turning with it to intercept Wynfrith's blade.

It was a good tactic, one that may have even worked at one point, but over the years Lorian had grown confident in his skill with the blade. It was a massive and unwieldy greatsword that allowed him to have a much greater sweeping radius than most would expect, allowing him to compensate for his blindspots as well as his lack of shield.

Wynfrith locked her blade with his, sliding it down to the guard and attempting to kick him. Lorian twisted the hilt of his sword, rotating the guard caught on Wynfrith's blade and forcing it from her hand. Her kick landed, not against his chest but against his knee, collapsing his leg beneath him.

She used the moment as he recovered his posture to grab her sword from the ground, and it had bought her enough time that Eadric had been able to circle around again, this time on his left side.

Lorian fell all the way to his knee, using the stability to grab the spear and force it's path away from him, pushing it so Eadric went staggering by him. Now the two of them were in front of him as Lorian rose to his feet, not wasting a moment before surging forth and bringing his blade down towards the side of Wynfrith closest to Eadric.

Predictably, he moved to intercept, blocking the strike with his shield, but the timing was wrong and Lorian's force behind the strike was greater than the man could have anticipated as he crumpled under the weight. Lorian hit his shield, then a third time, and on the fourth feinted the blow and turned to Wynfrith instead. She barely dodged out of the way in time as his blade embedded in the ground.

They continued trading blows, Lorian managing to consistently fend off their attacks and get in close for what would have been lethal hits. Eadric and Wynfrith made a well-coordinated pair, and despite Lorian's success, it was not easily won.

It was clear that they were all tiring, their moves getting sloppier as time went on. But they all pressed on. Wynfrith dodged out of the way of another strike, giving Lorian plenty of space to close in on Eadric, striking him with the hilt of his blade and knocking the man to the ground.

And there it was.

While Eadric was incapacitated, Lorian pressed forward, driving his blade into the ground at Eadric's feet and using the motion to obscure his true objective, the object that had been so hastily tucked away earlier, knocked free to the ground. Lorian slid it into his gauntlet before grabbing his sword and pulling it free.

"We yield!" Wynfrith said, breathing heavily.

Still on the ground in front of him, Eadric ripped off his helmet, lying back against the ground, sweat-soaked black hair a mess atop his head.

Lorian stood back up, waiting for Eadric and Wynfrith to collect themselves before turning to those who had gathered to watch. If they weren't stretched so thin, Lorian imagined there would likely be even more than the few dozen who were there currently.

"Wasn't a fair fight." Lorian heard one of them say. "You got a flamin' sword."

Wynfrith laughed at him. "You think your enemies are going to play by the rules? Fight fair?"

The man had the sense to look ashamed. "'Suppose not."

"Come on then Rumwold, let's see you give it a go." She looked out over the group, which was mostly conscripts since most of the knights were assigned elsewhere. "In fact, everyone pair up. Let's see if you managed to learn anything!"

Lorian stepped aside, staying for a while longer to watch Wynfrith and Eadric critiquing the various pairs sparring. Once he was confident that they had things handled, Lorian left, heading towards the Keep.

He reached into his gauntlet as he walked, pulling out the object. It was a long and slim wooden block with some sort of pattern of notches carved into it. Lorian ran his fingers over it, curious of what each notch represented. It was likely a code; but for what?

A sudden wave of light-headedness stopped Lorian in his tracks, leaving him leaning against the stone wall beside him. His legs felt as if they would collapse beneath him at any moment. Lorian focused on breathing and waited for the world to settle around him. It was not the first outburst of this nature, and he suspected they were likely to become more frequent if it was indeed being caused by the nature of the bond. But Lorian wasn't concerned with the repercussions. What good would it do him after all? He chose to undertake it - a choice he would make again, a thousand times if offered.

No, he had more pressing matters to deal with, ones that he had an option of changing. The answers to which he suspected were concealed in this small piece of wood.

Chapter 20: Betrayal

Chapter Text

Lothric was trapped in a cycle of agony of his own making. Unwilling to confront the matter, he did what he knew to do best - govern in his father's absence. When he was not spending every waking moment coordinating, planning, or writing letters, he found himself researching.

Despite the long history of the Gods, miracles, and sorcery locked safely away in the Grand Archives, there was a lack of books that even mentioned a bond between creatures or between souls. His study was scattered with various tomes and scrolls, all tossed aside unless there was anything that may allude to what he brought upon his brother.

One of the books he was currently reading dated back to the earliest parts of the Age of Fire, a phenomenon still not truly understood. Mankind was unique. They contained souls, but also humanity, and every so often in what appeared to be split beings, there would be two humanities. Twin humanities. Much of what was written was purely speculation, theories that each part of a being had its own humanity, and humanity is naturally drawn to other humanity. There didn't appear to be any significance behind it. No mysterious strength or ailment. No relationship outside of the odd happenstance of two humanities found alongside each other.

The closest example he knew of was that of the Abyss Watches and the ritual Hawkwood had described where each member partook in the wolf's blood, linking their souls. Unfortunately, due to the current state of the covenant after they became a Lord of Cinder, it was impossible to find records of what the process entailed. Lothric had even searched through all accounts of the legion's original inspiration, Artorias, to no avail.

If he took Hawkwood at his word, then the bond of the Abyss Watchers was unlike that of the Dragon Riders or his bond to Lorian. Where the Abyss Watchers acted unified as a single entity, Lothric and the rest had managed, to some extent, to retain their sense of selves… or so it seemed.

With no clear historical answers, he turned to the source of miracles, documented in braille - but it was not a tome of miracles like most other texts intended for the blind were. It dated back to the Age of Gwyn and the Way of White when Gods were at their peak and the power of miracles could be seen in their echoes, white rings of faith left in their wake. He was grateful for all the lessons from Emma in his youth as he ran his fingers over the pages.

A miracle's power is only as mighty as thy belief in its power. If 't be true thee believeth t possible, if 't be true thee has't faith, the lord's soul shall grant thee power by the blessing of the Flame.

All are linked to the Flame, and to the Flame we returneth at our end.

As long as a person has't a soul, all is possible by the Flame's blessing, f'r light is time itself, and the warmth of the Flame allows the impossible - an injury can beest healed as though t nev'r did occur.

Light allows f'r us to see the many different paths ere us. Different worlds yond overlap. We learneth from what the light illuminates, so we might taketh the most wondrous path.

We keep the Flame alight so we might continue to see.

It was the only tome he had encountered that alluded to the power behind miracles. It was funny, he realized, that he had never drawn the connection between miracles and sorceries of light and how they manipulated time. It was right in that many miracles could entirely reverse a wound - though Lothric had never seen it at the scale the tome alluded to. But similar feats were performed routinely on weapons, armor, and other broken things.

If all was connected by the Flame and through miracles time could be manipulated relative to the Flame then… what? Even if he could reverse time, to undo the bond, it left him where he was before: a broken bond and Lorian likely dead. He had managed to drag his brother's soul back, twice, though he still knew not how.

Lothric carefully placed the book aside and buried his head in his hands. It was the greatest betrayal. A betrayal of truth. A betrayal of agency. A tiny fragment of soul that has taken away any chance at a future Lorian may have had a chance to have.

He wanted to send Lorian away from himself, to allow the bond to weaken in the hopes that it could be broken. But he had felt the impacts of the bond, and had seen it reflected in Lorian when they spoke. The bond was wreaking havoc on them both.

It was clear separation was not doing either of them good, at least not at the distances they were keeping apart in the castle. With any sense to guide him, Lothric would have proposed they try remaining together, attempting to strengthen the connection further - but he couldn't bring himself to face his brother.

So instead he isolated himself, and they each lost themselves to their work and their routines.

Lothric lifted his head from his hands, staring blankly at the space of his study. There was nothing more to be gleaned from the books kept here. His father's notes were likely the only place he would find answers since he and Wulfred had alluded to the nature of the bond being similar to that used between the Dragon Riders and their wyverns, but if he suspected Lothric's intentions to undo the bond, he would never allow him to see such notes.

His eye caught on a bookshelf with a book ajar on the shelf, not pushed back in line with the rest. Curiosity got the better of him and he moved to pluck the book from its place, turning it over in his hands. It was newer, recently bound. He flipped the first page open, surprised to see Oceiros's handwritting. But what was it doing here in his study?

Pontiff Sulyvahn, he realized. This was the book he had been flipping through when he spoke with Lothric, before…

He clearly knew what Oceiros's intentions were before he spoke with Lothric, but it failed to explain his motivations. Sulyvahn had declared, quite openly, his intentions to see the Flame extinguished. And yet, he had assisted King Oceiros in providing Lothric what they believed would be the power to link the Flame.

Lothric carried the book back to his desk, carefully reading through the pages. This particular collection of notes seemed to date back only a few years, centered around the secrets of Seath the Scaleless and the bonds to capture the wyverns so that Oceiros might have dragons at his disposal.

It was simple to trace his father's lucid days with those colored with madness by the handwriting that would be neatly organized and printed on one page and would descend into barely legible scrawls covering every inch of the page on the next. It seemed the sections directly discussing Seath were the ones screaming with madness. The section on the Dragon Rider bonds, thankfully, was written during moments of clarity.

Titanite scales were unique from other forms of titanite that existed, since they were used exclusively to enhance the qualities of soul transposed weapons since the scales themselves were already mutated by the souls the lizards consumed. Oceiros had gone into great detail on proofing how they synergized.

From there, sorceries that Lothric couldn't quite follow were able to transform the soul properties of the titanite scale, to make it susceptible to the abyss, the corruption spreading from the host who held the scale back to the original creature. And once the abyssal corruption took hold, it was the abyss that bound the creatures together.

The notes, though clearly written, did not offer further explanation on how the abyss was leveraged. But if the reason it was possible at all was due to the weakness of the host - being dead in this instance - it did not clarify how a simple knight could harness such control over the Wyverns.

Lothric spent hours flipping through the pages, attempting to decipher the sorceries and runes used in the ritual. Until he reached the end of the notes regarding the bonding where Oceiros had detailed observations of their trials.

Repeated deaths of the bound creature appears to have adverse effects on both it and the host. Effects include: decreased mobility in the limbs, loss of awareness of the self, and even the death of both the bound and the host provided the deaths occur within a short timeframe. These effects appear more prominently in the bound creature than the host, depending on the strength of the bond present.

Death of the host always results in the death of the bound creature.

Of course there was no guarantee that his bond would act similarly, but he recalled the first success - the hollow and the lizard. He remembered the way the lizard had simply stopped the instant the hollow had been killed.

A knock on the door prompted him to close the book and tuck it away, not knowing who may be entering. Admittedly, he had half expected a servant or one of the hunters to be walking through the door. He hadn't expected to see Kriemhild, out of breath as if she had run the entire way over.

"What has happened?" Lothric asked, already assuming the worst.

"Prince Lothric," she paused, catching her breath, "I bring news from the Grand Archives. Pontiff Sulyvahn has left."

Lothric rose to his feet. "When did he depart?"

"This morning. I'm sorry, I would have let you know sooner, but I only just became aware of it myself. But that's not the only reason I'm here. Today, I'm guessing shortly after they left, I noticed something peculiar where they're keeping Gertrude."

He recalled the giant cage, hanging at the peak of the Archives, and motioned for her to follow him. Lothric could never be certain if a hunter was watching over him or who it was. As of late it had been Kamui, and while he wanted to trust the man, this was a topic best left unheard.

She looked confused, but followed him as he led her out of his study. When they rounded a corner where he was sufficiently out of sight of Kamui or any other hunter that might have been following him, Lothric took Kriemhild's arm, teleporting them to the Hall of Sacrifice. The room was sufficiently empty, as he expected. Only memorials to the dead could overhear them here.

Kriemhild looked around, momentarily disoriented as she gathered her bearings. "I must confess, I had never considered what it would feel like to be teleported. It's disorienting but not entirely unpleasant. It felt as if I was standing in place and it was the world shifting around me instead."

"That is the general principle of how it works, yes," Lothric confirmed, now recalling how delightful it was to talk through sorceries with the woman.

"Something similar to time-based sorceries then?"

Lothric considered her question for a moment, thinking back on the tomes he had recently read regarding this very topic. "It is a derivative of sorts. It is dependent on visualizing the destination and understanding the precise shift in location. An approximation has the potential to lead to disaster."

"Have you ever teleported to an incorrect destination?"

"Often when I was first attempting the sorcery," Lothric admitted. "But that is why I began with objects rather than living beings."

Kriemhild nodded, tapping her chin in thought. "Of course. Still, it must have been terrifying to do such a thing to yourself."

"High Priestess Emma attempted to stop me from learning and casting sorceries entirely after she found out." He smiled at the memory, remembering how the woman had burst into his study, her face had been a shade of red he had rarely even been able to coax out of Godwyn.

"I can't imagine being scolded by her. She was always perfectly pleasant when arranging your sessions, but…" she trailed off, apparently thinking better of finishing her statement and cleared her throat. "Anyway, the reason I came to speak to you - the peculiarity around Lady Gertrude."

"What sort of peculiarity?"

"The Sage prefers to keep to the upper levels of the Archives, which is usually where I study. I have a decent view of the cage and the dreary sight that it is. But today I saw sunlight."

"One of her miracles?"

"No, my Lord. Genuine sunlight. It was incredibly faint - a reflection off the gilded bars of the cage.. And then it was gone, just as quickly."

"And Gertrude?"

"Remains in her cage, as best I can tell. I thought you might want to know, given everything that has happened as of late."

Wulfred and Oceiros would never allow him - let alone anyone else - speak with Gertrude, Lothric was sure of that at least. Had one of her followers found a way to contact her? Lothric trusted what Kriemhild witnessed, which gave him a place to begin looking. "Thank you for informing me."

"Is there anything else I can do to help?"

"Keep an eye out for similar such occurrences. You need not inform me so urgently each time it happens, but perhaps this is the opportunity to resume our sessions." If she was able to spot a pattern, and if indeed it was Gertrude's followers, it may even be one of those referred to as Gertrude's Champions by the few conscripts that had confessed to their existence.

"Of course," she bowed, "but for now I should return to the Archives before they realize I'm gone."

Lothric nodded and she bowed once more before exiting the Hall of Sacrifice. While he could send someone to investigate and perhaps keep watch, if they were discovered too quickly that would give away the fact that Lothric was onto them. There may yet be information to be gained if he allowed them to continue undisturbed - identify a pattern before striking.

He would need to inform Lorian, but the very thought brought the knot back to the pit of his stomach, so he pushed the thought from his mind. A problem for later.

Lothric considered returning to his study, but knew had managed to find out all the information he was able to from books and his father's notes. But there was still one more avenue he could pursue to attempt to learn more. The Dragon Riders were not kept in the barracks with the rest of the knights - Wulfred and Godwyn had ordered them to be housed separately in order to keep an eye on them and ensure the bond with rider and wyvern was intact.

For all of the castle Lothric was familiar with, he had always been sheltered and locked away whether by his father's wishes or by his illness, and he had never ventured to the part of the castle where the wyverns and riders were kept, since it was not directly part of the Keep. Logistically, he knew the cost of the wyverns, even if he did not directly interact with them. They had been a constant drain of resources since they were first brought back to Lothric - an overwhelming number of livestock were required to maintain them.

As he approached the dragon barracks, Lothric took in the sight of the crimson wyverns sleeping in the open area and one of the knights sitting on the ground beside it, leaning against its body. When he drew closer, the figure stirred and the wyvern began to awake with it, its nostrils flaring as one of its eyes opened and focused on Lothric.

He paused and waited for the knight to stand and approach him, but they did not bow or salute as they approached him.

"Your helmet," he said, motioning for them to remove it.

The knight did so, their movements sluggish as they pulled the helmet off their head, revealing the face beneath. His eyes were sunken in with that same eerie red that the hollow had back during the initial experiments with the Abyss. The man appeared reluctant to speak - if he even could, given his current state. Lothric recalled Wulfred's notes where he provided weekly status updates on the wyverns. This particular rider was the last that had returned. "Romund, was it?"

"Yes," replied the man, his voice hoarse, and Lothric could barely make out the dried black that stained the inside of his mouth, other remnants gathered around his eyes.

"Tell me then, Romund, what it is to be a Dragon Rider. Do you feel its pain? Do you feel its urges? A desire to destroy this kingdom and return back to whence it came?"

He struggled for a moment before replying, "It is… difficult. But not from it. My thoughts are my own."

"And the wyvern? You control it, do you not?"

Romund regarded him and the wyvern lifted its head behind him. "At first, when the taint of the Abyss was overwhelming, I commanded it by force, ignorant of my own actions. But with the other the Scholar ordered bound, there was a clarity."

"The Abyss being the catalyst of control then," Lothric mused. It aligned with the notes. "If the abyssal corruption has lessened, how have you maintained control?"

"The other, the commoner. They have the curse of the abyss to a far worse degree, but they are nothing to the bond. Just… noise."

It was a dangerous idea, if Lothric's assumption was correct in that Wulfred had somehow transferred the majority of the corruption to the commoner. But, tactically, it made sense. If control was driven through the corruption, the host in that instance would remain sheltered in the Keep and if the rider was killed, the wyvern would not die alongside them, all while the host remained safely within the Keep. "And the wyvern, in all your time commanding it, has it ever been wounded?"

Romund shook his head.

"I see." It was not surprising, considering the caliber of warrior or group of warriors it would take to be able to put up a formidable offense against a wyvern; something that was in short supply these days. With the wyvern never having suffered a grievous injury and the component of the abyssal corruption, there was nothing further Lothric could learn. The bond between wyvern and rider, and the bond between he and Lorian were vastly different.

But he had delayed the inevitable long enough, he needed to speak with his brother.

*

Lothric was roused awake by a hand on his shoulder. He must have fallen asleep waiting for Lorian to return to his room. Sure enough, Lorian stood over him, pulling his hand away as Lothric woke.

"Lothric?" A million unspoken questions in that one utterance of his name.

Guilt washed over him and Lothric quickly stood, placing distance between them; he took care not to look at Lorian's expression. "Gertrude's followers may have found a way to contact her."

"How did you come to find out about it?"

"Kriemhild. She noticed sunlight in the Archives above Gertrude's cage."

Lorian nodded, raising his hand to his chin. "Her followers have grown more active amongst the conscripts; I suspect they have begun swaying some of the higher ranks."

"Who?"

"Eadric, for certain. He is influential amongst the others due to his background and accomplishments. If he becomes vocal in his support-"

"Others will fall in line," Lothric finished. "I need to know what they are doing."

"Not stop them?" Lorian asked.

"What was done to them already was necessary to prevent the kingdom from devouring itself in the aftermath of Gertrude's capture. I would prefer not to inflict more damage and mistrust amongst those remaining."

Lorian stepped closer and Lothric reflexively took another step back. "How was Gertrude captured?"

"I was informed of her capture by Kamui shortly before the riots broke out in the streets." Lothric frowned. "She was captured on Wulfred's orders."

"Yes, when our resources were stretched too thin shortly after I departed. You were protecting her, in whatever way you were able - were you not?"

"Gotthard was aware of her general location and had instructed his hunters to divert and feed misinformation to those who were treading too closely. You believe that one of the hunters told Wulfred where she could be found?" The idea was not out of the question.

Lorian nodded, "In retrospect, the situation seems… too convenient."

If one of the hunters had betrayed him, the implication was damning. "If there is a traitor among them, they must be rooted out. Carefully."

"What do you propose?"

Lothric scrubbed a hand down his face. Everything felt so close to falling in place, and yet he was missing something. "I know not anymore. How do I investigate those closest sworn to me? Wulfred will never reveal his source, not unless he believed he stood to gain something in return."

"The Archives already contain everything he and Oceiros could desire - we have no leverage."

"No," Lothric countered in realization as his stomach sank, "we do have one thing he would want."

As if reading his mind, Lorian furrowed his brow and stepped forward. "After all the trouble you went through to obtain them--"

"Do you have any better ideas? The Fire Keeper's eyes are the only choice."

"He will destroy them."

"I will not let him."

Lorian was unbearably close, "And how will you stop him? If he learns that you are in possession of the eyes, he will tell Oceiros."

"And Father would not be pleased to learn that his beloved Lord of Cinder was in possession of the sole artifact that could sway a Fire Keeper to extinguish the flame. I am aware." Lothric paused, raising his chin, trying to exude confidence he did not feel. "If I use them as leverage against him, I must kill him."

"Lothric--"

"I will not ask you to do this for me. I will find my own way, but I must know who is acting against me."

Lothric could see that was not the answer Lorian wanted to hear, the way his expression closed off, but it was what must be done. But he would need help from some with more knowledge of Wulfred and the going-ons in the archives. He would need Kriemhild's assistance.

"Do not let this distract you from your own tasks. If Gertrude's followers are indeed making a move, I would have you learn the truth of it; particularly if I cannot trust those I would have sent to investigate in your stead."

"Of course."

He nodded at Lorian and turned to leave.

"Is that all you came here to discuss?" Lorian asked, causing Lothric to stop in his tracks and turn back to face him.

"Lorian," Lothric pleaded, knowing he was not ready to have this conversation yet; may never be ready.

His brother strode towards him. "Have I not given you enough space?"

If anything, Lorian had been far more accommodating than Lothric dared ask for while he closed himself off and tried to drive a wedge between them. "The fault is not yours. It is solely mine."

"I have no regrets." Lorian insisted.

Each word was like a dagger in Lothric's heart. "Then clearly you do not understand the extent to what has occurred."

"It was my decision. I understand what I have accepted; there is no reason that you should feel the need to push me away because of something I accepted freely."

"But therein lies the problem." Lothric said as he moved away, reaching for the door, "you did not choose it freely."

He heard his brother's muffled protests on the other side of the door as it slammed shut behind him and he stalked off back into the halls of the Keep.

Chapter 21: Forgiveness

Chapter Text

In spite of the progress Lorian thought he had made, Lothric remained like a ghost, constantly slipping through his grasp. He could not force Lothric to speak with him and could find even less time to be alone with him so that they could speak earnestly. So instead Lorian focused on what he could control.

He had made progress on deciphering the notched wood he had collected from Eadric. If he was correct, it defined a time and place, presumably where a meeting would occur. Or perhaps more accurately, had occurred. It was likely held shortly after Eadric was given the token, and Lorian doubted they would repeat patterns of times and locations.

Never one for subterfuge, Lorian had devised a more direct approach, particularly now that they could not trust the hunters, or any others close to them - not until they discovered who had betrayed them. Lorian had fabricated a threat, one severe enough that would excuse a patrol consisting of himself, Eadric, and Wynfrith. The choice to bring Wynfrith was a reluctant one, but if he could persuade Eadric into confessing his involvement, and determine whether Wynfrith was aware, he could secure at least two knights' loyalty.

They were approaching the swamp outside Farron's Keep and it was already more intolerable than he had imagined. Behind him, Eadric and Wynfrith chattered away, unaware of the true reason they were here.

"They say the world is shifting, you know," Eadric said solemnly. "Never used to have swamps this close to the castle."

"It's been shifting for centuries, each time the fire is about to fade. You would have known that if you ever bothered reading the books in the barracks," Wynfrith replied, punching his arm.

"You think it will reach the castle?"

"Doubt we'll be alive to see it one way or another."

Above them, the sound of wings flapping overhead could be heard and the three paused to look upwards to see a pair of the wyverns flying, screeching as they passed. The last time Lorian had seen such a sight, they had descended and turned the landscape into a burning nightmare.

"What are they doing all the way out here?" Wynfrith asked.

"Stopping what arrives with the shifting world from reaching our borders," Lorian replied, not bothering to turn back to look at them as he continued forward. With the return of wyverns in the Lothric arsenal, Wulfred had unearthed records of old tactics from when the worlds converged in the past - greeting the arrival of their neighbors with scorched earth.

They watched as the wyverns eventually disappeared into the horizon.

"Set up camp here," Lorian ordered before walking off further into the swamp. While Eadric and Wynfrith worked to set up the camp, Lorian dispatched any threats nearby. There weren't many - a few basilisks, some ghru, and some poisonous mushrooms. Lorian found himself wishing for the ward sorcery that Lothric had cast when they had been on the hunt, but he dragged himself out from such thoughts as he kicked the last ghru off the end of his blade and made his way back to the camp.

Already there was a fire going and they had set up the bedrolls as well. Eadric and Wynfrith were bickering over who would keep watch as whatever they had caught cooked over the fire.

"Eadric," Lorian called out, and as soon as the man turned to him, Lorian tossed the notched piece of wood at him. He caught it in his hand, examining it for a moment, before realization hit him and he scrambled to his feet.

"Where did you get this?" Eadric asked, panicked. When Lorian didn't reply, he finally put the pieces together. "When we sparred - you were the one who took it? Which means you saw..." he trailed off.

Wynfrith was still seated, stone faced. Lorian couldn't tell if she knew what this was about or not.

"Tell me everything about your involvement."

Eadric collapsed back onto the stump, burying his head into his hands. "I've only met with them twice. The first was to see who they were, to report back to you, but then… then what they were talking about didn't sound wrong. They talked about ending the cycle, about ending the undead curse. They said they could make us all stronger - would make us all stronger, like they had already done to some of the others."

"You told me you weren't involved." Wynfrith hissed.

"I wasn't," Eadric protested, "I'm not! Not yet. They've only courted my interest so far. I haven't even met any of the leaders of the group."

"Then you will keep going until you meet them," Lorian said.A look of shock passed over Eadric's face. "You want me to spy for you?"

Lorian chose his next words carefully, "I want you to gain their trust, and to inform me if the safety of Prince Lothric or the kingdom is in danger.""You don't want to know who they are?" Skepticism colored Eadric's voice as he looked up at Lorian.

"Not unless there is good cause for me to know."

"And why am I here?" Wynfrith asked.

Lorian watched her a moment before replying, "To guarantee I know where your loyalty lies." He turned back to Eadric. "Will you do as I ask?"

The threat did not need to be vocalized. Lorian watched as Eadric stared down at his hands for several moments, before looking at Wynfrith, and finally back to Lorian. "I'll do it."

Lorian nodded. "Any information can be passed through Wynfrith."

"So it will be less suspicious," Wynfrith filled in, "and so if you act on any of the information he passes along, I can be the scapegoat."

Eadric looked horrified. "Wyn, no."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "It would be too suspicious for you to suddenly begin meeting with Prince Lorian at the same time you start meeting with them, and you know it."

Defeated, Eadric sagged where he sat and stared into the fire.

Lorian looked between the two of them for a moment longer before turning away. "Get some rest, we return at first light."

He moved to the edge of camp to keep watch, able to hear the hushed voices of Eadric and Wynfrith speaking. He could possibly make out their words if he tried, but he had no interest in whatever it was they were saying. Instead, he forced himself to focus on the miserable swamp in front of him, keeping an eye on the group of ghru off in the distance, slinking their way across the thick mud of the swamp. It was likely they had seen the campfire, but they had also probably seen the corpses of the other ghru in the area that Lorian disposed of earlier. If they had sense, they would not attack.

A pair of footsteps was followed by Wynfrith taking a seat nearby in his peripheral. She gazed out into the swamp as she spoke, "I want you to know, you can trust me. Always."

He regarded her silently for a moment, noting how she frowned, how her brow furrowed, and how she deliberately did not look in his direction. "Even when it places you at odds with Eadric?"

"Please forgive him. His heart is in the right place, but he has always been easily swayed by his idealism. If I had known he was involved--"

Lorian held up his hand to stop her. "It does not matter now."

They returned to watching the swamp. In the distance a pair of poisonous mushrooms tottered through the swamp, moving away from them and closer to Farron's Keep.

"May I ask you something?" Her voice was quiet, hesitant.

He nodded once.

"I know there's no actual threat for us out here, that if Eadric hadn't agreed…" she trailed off for a moment, both knowing what would have happened. "But what about me? If I had been complicit?"

"You would have been given a choice -- loyalty has proven to be a rare commodity recently." He stopped before elaborating further.

"If I ever find myself at odds between my loyalty to you and the kingdom, and my relationship with Eadric, then you have my word we will disappear, back to the village we came from. I would rather fight with a plow than face you in earnest on the battlefield." She gave him a small smile, trying to lighten the mood.

He didn't reply, he knew he didn't need to. They sat keeping guard until the light from the fire began dying down behind them and Wynfrith excused herself to rekindle it and retire for the evening, leaving Lorian alone once more.

The prickling numbness that ran down his legs was only the latest of unpleasant sensations, accompanied by the now ever-present fogginess and weariness. Everything ached. It was one of the side effects of straying so far from the castle. From Lothric.

*

It seemed these days, the only way Lorian and Lothric spoke was when they ambushed one another in their respective rooms, and even that was only when they had personal matters to discuss that they did not want overheard. Which is how Lorian found himself in Lothric's room, standing at the window and gazing down at the castle below.

He was interrupted from watching one of the figures walking through the streets by the sound of the door opening behind him. Lorian turned and saw Lothric, closing the door behind himself before leaning heavily against it. He gazed at Lorian from under half-lidded eyes and called out guardedly, "Here with good news, I hope?"Lorian closed the curtains on the window before calling out, "Bad day?""It had the possibility to be better, had the assassin succeeded."

It was like a jolt to his nervous system, and Lorian found himself flexing his hand for his sword instinctively. "For you?

"Father, actually." Lothric said with a shrug. "It appears our newest neighbors did not take kindly to the wyverns. Gotthard made quick work of them, but I suspect now more than ever our shadows will be remaining close by."

"Then we should hope whatever hunters are assigned, are not those acting against us." Lorian said darkly. The thought still bothered him, that whoever was undermining them might be the same charged with protecting them.

"And what news do you bring to brighten my evening?" Lothric asked, moving away from the door to settle on his bed, leaning wearily against the headboard.

Lorian did not move from his spot by the window. "Eadric has managed to embed himself within the group of Gertrude's active supporters. He has agreed to pass along any information that is actionable."

"He agreed willingly?" Lothric asked with a laugh. "Is that why you suddenly had to depart all the way out to Farron's Keep?"

"I can only hope the others are not as perceptive as you," Lorian said with a small smile.

"Doubtful," Lothric assured him, "they are too focused on their own schemes."

There was an easy silence that lingered between them before Lothric's expression turned serious and he held his hand outstretched. Lorian stepped forward obediently, placing his hand in Lothric's, immediately relieved as all the aches and other negative side effects that had been plaguing him seemed to lessen.

"I would beg of you," Lothric started quietly, as though each word pained him, "do not stray so far in the future."

"There are times where it will be necessary.""Send another in your place."

Lorian began to pull his hand away, only to be stopped by Lothric gripping it harder, holding him in place. "How long will you keep me at arm's length?"

"Forever, if I must," Lothric replied, not looking at Lorian, instead focusing entirely on their hands clasped together.

"I will not go on in this manner," Lorian said, pulling his hand back to his side. "You said I did not choose this path freely. But I have. Why can you not accept that?"

Lothric turned his head to the curtained window, not replying immediately. "You were only a child. As I was. But only I was doomed to carry this fate which you have known since I was born. So why then did you befriend me when you knew how my story would end?"

"We have discussed this before," Lorian rebutted. "You are my brother."

"Tell me again. As far back as you can recall."

Lorian searched Lothric's face for any sign of what he wanted to hear, but all he could see was turmoil, just beneath the surface. "I was nothing, and after you were born I became less than nothing. Discarded, forgotten, and hidden away from the world. A disappointment. They forbade me from even seeing you."

"A cruelty at the time, I had thought, but now an understandable measure. Yet you would sneak into my room against Emma's wishes."

He smiled, thinking of the times he had been caught and ushered out. "A few stolen moments to spare us both from the isolation. You were so small. And weak. As soon as I was old enough to truly understand what they intended you to do, I swore I would become strong enough to protect you if I could not take your place."

"A foolish dream of childish grandeur. You could never have known at the time what being bound as a sacrifice to the First Flame would entail. No more than you could have ever known what allowing me to heal that cut during your training would have done."

"If there is a chance it allows you to live, it is something I accept willingly, as a child or now, it makes no difference."

He watched Lothric's expression change as he contemplated Lorian's words. It was clear he wasn't happy with the situation, even now, and still blamed himself for healing Lorian's wounds. But he needed to give himself.

At last, Lothric said quietly, "I am sorry - for shutting you out."

"If we cannot trust and be honest with each other, then what is left?"

Lothric didn't respond to his comment, but Lorian didn't expect him to; what more could possibly be said? Only time would tell if he had truly managed to get through to him, tearing down the final barriers between them. There were too many unknowns, too many enemies lurking in the shadows, for them to be at odds with each other. They needed to be a united force.

"I need to rest," sighed Lothric. "I have another dawn meeting with Kriemhild."

"News on who is communicating with Gertrude?"

"Among other things, she has assured me."

Chapter 22: Dawn

Chapter Text

Whether it was simply a placebo effect or not, the fog of exhaustion which seemed to drag him down further each day, had lifted partially. While Lothric would never claim to feel energetic, he at least did not feel as if he belonged at death's door as he had for a long time now. A feeling which had been exceedingly magnified when his brother had left for Farron's Keep. The time he was gone had been agony and Lothric's health had declined sharply.

He had not shared this with Lorian. With all that was transpiring, his brother had plenty to worry about already without an additional burden from Lothric. He only hoped the newfound strength he felt did not come at the cost of Lorian's own.

The first rays of light had only just begun shining through the window as Lothric slid out of the bed and began to dress, so Lothric knew he was still on-time at the very least as he teleported to just outside the Archive's main entrance where he spotted Kriemhild already waiting, nervously plucking at a loose thread in her robes. He glanced around for a moment to make sure his shadow hadn't followed him - though he suspected even Kamui struggled when he teleported.

When he appeared in front of Kriemhild, she jumped slightly, hand clutching at her chest before laughing nervously. "Forgive me, Prince Lothric, I'm not quite accustomed to seeing you appear out of thin air just yet."

"Apologies," he said with a small smile, "I thought it might be best to expedite my arrival to our meeting with as few prying eyes as possible."

"A wise decision, though hopefully unnecessary."

"Where shall we begin then today?" Lothric asked, his voice casual. After all, as far as the rest of the Keep was concerned, they were simply meeting as tutor and student.

Kriemhild began walking away from the Archives, extending her arm out to Lothric as she went. "I thought we might take advantage of a more scenic location today."

Lothric hummed his approval as he followed her back across the bridge back to the main Keep and then through one of the smaller chapels near his study. There was a lift he knew led up to the rarely used Throne Room, and he was curious why she was leading him there. At the top, instead of heading toward the throne room where a handful of guards stood dutifully, she directed him left until they were in the center of the bridge. Lothric turned to Kriemhild expectantly as she placed her hands on the bridge railings, looking down over the rest of the castle.

"Do you ever find yourself up towards this part of the castle, Prince Lothric?"

He pondered her question for a moment. He had, in fact, only been to this area perhaps twice in his entire life for dull ceremonies held in the Throne Room - both arranged by his Mother. "I fear I do not."

"The view is quite lovely, you can see nearly the entire kingdom from here. There," she gestured ahead, "down there is your study. And beside us," she pointed to the right, "is in fact the Grand Archives. You can even see the dome of the roof from here." And she finally pointed further up to a roof even higher than they already were, and sure enough Lothric could see the dome structure.

"You find yourself here often then?" He asked, joining her in leaning on the railing.

"Oh yes," she agreed. "The top floor of the archives connects to a lovely courtyard, just beyond that corridor."

"I see. Fresh air must do you well along with the peace and quiet. I cannot imagine you encountered many others all the way up here."

"Indeed not, my Lord. The few souls I do usually see are the guards stationed here to guard the Throne Room. Though I have on a few occasions also seen Master Gotthard and Master Wulfred in the small courtyard. But," she turned to face him then, "it's given me clarity of mind and plenty of space to practice new sorceries."

So, Wulfred and Gotthard spoke in private in the courtyard - it was not the most unusual thing Lothric heard considering most matters involving the Pillars required some level of privacy. He moved a step back and gestured for Kriemhild to continue. "Would you do me the honor of showing me one such sorcery?"

Kriemhild's eyes lit up at the suggestion and she backed away further, now facing the other side of the bridge overlooking more of the mountain range behind the castle. "What the Sages usually focus on are small, agile sorceries that work well in combat. But I've always been fascinated by the idea of seeing what a single sorcery could theoretically produce." She pulled out her staff then, raising it high over her head where magic began to coalesce above the tip of the staff. The air around them seemed to hum with magic before Kriemhild swung her staff down and the dense magic stretched forth while also rolling down like a crashing wave.

"Very impressive," Lothric praised.

"Thank you, Prince Lothric." Kriemhild said with a small smile. "I have noticed you use your sorceries and miracles in much the same manner as the Sage's, all fired in quick succession."

"To accommodate my lack of mobility, yes."

She shook her head. "You have plenty of mobility, and it is a far more devastating tool than perhaps you realize."

Lothric was intrigued. "In what sense?"

"When your enemy loses sight of you, they must either anticipate where you will be next, or be forced to spend several precious seconds searching for you. Those few seconds are plenty--"

"--to cast a much larger sorcery, yes I see." Lothric finished, already thinking through the potential of what she was saying. "And used in combination with the rapid homing sorceries, I can create an even larger window."

Kriemhild grinned at him, "Shall we try it out, my Lord?"

*

Lothric had remained with Kriemhild to finesse the technique until midday which was around the same time a shift-change of the guards at the Throne Room occurred -- a proper hand-off occurring between the knights during the process guaranteeing there was never a moment without coverage.

He sat now in the gardens, where he awaited Lorian who had agreed to meet with him for a few minutes to discuss what he learned from his meeting with Kriemhild. It had been a while, Lothric realized, since he and Lorian had visited the gardens for more than a casual stroll, before the bond had been amplified.

The moment still haunted him.

He could still picture in his mind Lorian being repeatedly impaled with no regard; Lothric powerless to do anything but pour every ounce of his energy, his very soul, into the miracle as he mended Lorian's wounds - again and again and again. If he allowed it, he could practically feel the unsettling warmth of his brother's blood coating his hands as it spilled out between the plates of his armor. His fingers had ached from his grasp on Lorian's breastplate, struggling to heal him and keep him upright all at once, as if letting him fall meant…

At this rate, there is only one step further we can take to test the limits. He remembered Wulfred's callous suggestion, the words seared into his own soul with a bitterness he would not, could not, ever forgive. A proposal as if Lorian was just another experiment, another creature to be studied, with no regard for the value of his life. And his father, equally callous and cruel, uttered the command of filicide without hesitation or remorse.

There was the moment when Lothric felt the life fade from his brother, mere moments after Lorian fumbled to grasp the front of Lothric's robes, only to fall limp in his arms, and Lothric didn't have the strength to lift him as they both collapsed to the ground. The same blood that had stained his hands had pooled around them, still warm as it seeped into Lothric's prayer robes where his knees dug into rough stone on the ground.

He had prayed, as emphatically as he cursed, to every so-called God that had led to this very moment. Prayed with every ounce of strength he could muster as he cast Bountiful Sunlight once more and was met with… nothing. Lorian's body remained in his arms, motionless.

He had been in free-fall, his insides feeling as though they were collapsing inwards, as though he was sinking, fading away. It was indescribable, the void he felt within, the cold and cruel reality settling in as dread began filling the void. The only thought that had kept him anchored was the fact that he had apparently managed to save Lorian once before, in his sleep and half a world away.

How could he be a Lord of Cinder and save the world when he couldn't even save his brother?

Lothric had crumpled over Lorian's body on the ground, let go of the armor, raising his hands upwards, transfixed by the blood that ran down his arms. Beyond his outstretched fingers he could see the gilded cage - as if somehow Gertrude would be able to help him. Lothric envisioned that instead of sunlight, that he was reaching beyond, out to the dull ember of the First Flame itself. Willing the very thing that shackled him to help him in that moment, clutching his hands together around the intangible light of his miracle, burning like a wildfire in his hands and pressed down on Lorian's chest, as if he could force life back into him.

Desperation and delirium.

A fire pooled in his stomach and beneath him came a choked gasp for air as Lorian was resurrected. Enshrouded in flame.

"...Lothric?" Lorian's voice - real this time - came from above him. Lothric snapped out of his wandering thoughts and turned to look up at his brother. Alive.

"Forgive me, brother," Lothric apologized softly before tapping the ground beside him with one hand. Lorian sat beside him so that they were pressed shoulder to shoulder.

"What troubles you?" asked Lorian.

"It is nothing, I was simply… lost in thought."

Lorian hummed and gazed up at the sky. "You are a terrible liar, but I will not pry further, unless you wish to speak of it." He paused to give Lothric an opportunity, and when Lothric did not take it, he continued, "How did you fare in your meeting with Kriemhild?"

Lothric forced himself to push the echoes of the memory to the back of his mind as he recounted what he had learned from his former tutor. "It is likely that the rotation of the guards stationed at the Throne Room are complicit in some manner. Even if they are not her champions directly, they must be turning a blind eye to their activities."

"It will be a simple matter to identify those currently assigned to the post. And the traitor?"

At that question, Lothric frowned. "Nothing of substance, and I would prefer to not use what leverage I have until we have exhausted all other options."

There was the information Kriemhild had provided regarding the fact that Wulfred and Gotthard apparently met in the courtyard above the Archives, out of sight, to have private conversations. On the surface there was nothing suspicious about such meetings, but the fact that Kriemhild had thought it worth mentioning at all -- Lothric couldn't shake the feeling that there was more happening than he realized.

If Gotthard was protecting the hunter who revealed the information of Gertrude's whereabouts, why would he have assisted Lothric with the disposal of Godwyn all those years ago, in addition to helping prevent Gertrude's location from being revealed in the first place? Something wasn't adding up, but without more information to go on or evidence, Lothric knew it was best not to mention his suspicions to Lorian. He needed his brother to focus on gathering more information on Gertrude's followers.

"With few knights these days assigned to the Keep directly, it will be a simple matter to disrupt or infiltrate whichever shifts might be involved," Lorian said, interrupting Lothric's thoughts.

"Be careful that you do not interfere in a way that might alert them to our involvement."

Lorian lightly knocked his shoulder with his own and asked with a half-smile, "When will you learn to trust me to do more than kill things?"

Lothric hummed as though deep in thought, "Possibly when you forget how to wield your sword."

"Shall I take this as the news that you have no plans to name me the next Black Hand?"

"I thought it best to let you down gently, dear brother. For the sake of your pride. You understand, surely."

"Yes, of course." Lorian smiled faintly in amusem*nt as they sat together in silence. They were treading down a dangerous path, but it was important, Lothric realized, to stop and enjoy simple moments such as these.

Lorian moved to stand. "I must be going - I have a meeting to discuss the scheduled patrol re-assignments with Oswin and Estrid, and it seems there is much to consider in regards to assignments."

"There is one other matter," Lothric called out, "one I believe best suited for you to decide. The current members of the Royal Guard are sworn to Father and are stationed in the Archives to guard him. In the days to come, it might be wise to consider new members for a Royal Guard. Our Royal Guard, composed of knights you know you can trust."

Lorian regarded him silently for a moment. "I believe that can be arranged."

Lothric remained seated in the garden for a while longer after Lorian left. His gaze fell on the raised platform in the middle of the garden and if he allowed his mind to wander, he could almost picture a younger Lorian training. A memory that felt like a lifetime ago. He turned his gaze higher still until he could vaguely see the sun, obscured by the leaves of the tree. The sun did not shine as brightly these days as the First Flame faded.

He felt stronger from the bond, from being close to Lorian - that much was undeniable at this point. But how long would that strength possibly last as the fire inevitably lessened to embers? Without the First Flame, and considering his Lord's Soul, Lothric couldn't stop himself from wondering - the moment the flame faded for the last time, would he die?

Would death truly be such a terrible thing?

Chapter 23: Unity

Chapter Text

After the meeting with Knight Commanders Oswin and Estrid, Lorian was thankful that Lothric had spoken with him about the information he had gathered from his meeting with Kriemhild. It gave Lorian the opportunity to re-assign Eadric from his patrols in the outskirts to instead have a shift outside the Throne Room. He kept the remaining knights the same but altered their shifts, moving the mid-day rotation to the evening based on Kriemhild's information to Lothric that she had seen sunlight in the afternoon. It was thankfully not an uncommon practice to re-assign shifts within the same role, simply to allow the knights a chance to rotate between what they considered the least desirable shifts.

It had been several weeks since the re-assignments and Lorian had not received significant updates from Eadric other than news that he was moving forward with the initiation. It was a good sign at the very least that perhaps they did not suspect him, though Lorian was still surprised at the level of caution Gertrude's followers were employing with regards to recruiting new members.

In what Lorian knew would be seen as an unusual act, he had called upon the knights he trusted to the strategy room within the Keep. Knight Commanders Oswin and Estrid were among the first to arrive, taking the seats to his left and right respectively. Shortly after, Knight Commander Wynfrith - promoted after the Demon campaign alongside Baldric - and Knight Captain Eadric arrived; Wynfrith sat beside Oswin and Eadric sat beside her. Lastly, Knight Captains Maerec and Baldric entered, taking their seats beside Estrid.

"Is there something wrong, Prince Lorian? Have there been more threats or movement from beyond the swamps?" asked Oswin.

"Nothing so dire," Lorian assured them calmly. "You have each been placed in charge of the different regiments that have integrated with the conscripts. They have been in service long enough that they have each been entrusted with their own patrols and have all acted in accordance with the code of knighthood as far as I have observed. Your reports have indicated the same, but I would like to hear from each of you directly if there are concerns with any of the conscripts."

He noticed the quick side glance Wynfrith and Eadric exchanged before Oswin spoke. "I have not observed any activity with the conscripts that would suggest they are still actively engaged in conspiracy against the kingdom in service to Gertrude or the angelic faith."

Going around the room, the others shared similar sentiments until they reached Maerec. "There is one conscript in my regiment that's outspoken, but not like he's trying to recruit anyone. More of disgruntled comments of frustration really. The others seem to ignore it for the most part, and other than his comments he doesn't cause much fuss."

"Who?"

"His name is Rumwold."

Wynfrith sighed. "I've dealt with him before. As you've said, Maerec, he's certainly… outspoken. But harmless overall from what I've seen."

"You feel comfortable having him in your regiment then?" Lorian asked Maerec.

"He's come to grow on me and the rest of my regiment, my Lord. As Wynfrith says, he's harmless."

"Very well. Then with your assurances, there will no longer be distinctions between the conscripts and the enlisted knights. They are all to be given the same uniforms as the rest of the knights."

"My Lord!" Estrid rushed to her feet, the chair scraping on the stone floor behind her. "Forgive me, but surely you cannot actually be considering this? It is an insult to all of us who enlisted willingly."

"Estrid--" Oswin hissed under his breath.

"No, Oswin, this is too far. To share a uniform with those who stood against what all of us have fought to protect?"

"It's not about respect. It's about unity." Baldric interjected. He was normally a quiet man, which was how he had been overlooked for so long to be promoted above Lieutenant, Lorian had learned over the course of the campaign. But his silence allowed him to be keenly observant. When he spoke, it was always with good reason, and it meant others - those who knew him in particular - usually listened. "If they continue to feel alienated, even after everything they've done since conscription, it's as good as an invitation for them to organize again. And this time they'd be well-armed."

"Baldric is right." Eadric said in agreement. "You've worked with them since the beginning, Commander. Even if they're not distinguished outwardly, you'll still know who they all are."

Maerec leaned back in his chair as he spoke, "It's for the people as well I imagine. Must not be a good look seeing knights not in their expected uniform on patrols. Makes us seem divided."

Estrid stared around the table, her mouth agape as she struggled for words before finally retaking her seat, head bowed. "I understand. It's for the good of the kingdom. Prince Lothric put me in charge of outfitting their uniforms originally, I will take responsibility for outfitting them accordingly, Knight General."

All things considered, Lorian had not expected such a vitriolic outburst from Estrid, and had heard nothing of Lothric giving her the assignment originally. However, her outburst had raised some concerns. "What of the conscripts still concerns you?"

"Their beliefs, their faith, lies in direct contention with the goals of the kingdom - of Prince Lothric."

"And of King Oceiros," offered Lorian.

She hesitated a moment, "Yes, of course, what the King wishes as well."

If the previous topic had been confrontational, the topic of the King was uncomfortable. Several of the knights had averted their eyes at the utterance of the King - which is precisely what Lorian and Lothric had been expecting.

"Speak plainly. You have concerns about the King?" Lorian leaned forward on the table, hands folded before him.

Estrid and Oswin exchanged glances before looking around the room. "Forgive me, Prince Lorian, I meant nothing by the comment. With the coronation and with the King and Queen always locked away in the Archives, it is easy to see Prince Lothric as the foremost authority…"

"I haven't seen or spoken to anyone in the Royal Guard for a very long time," Oswin added with a frown, "and my uncle is in the guard."

"It doesn't help that when we do see the King, he looks the way he does," Maerec added.

"I see," Lorian said, looking at each of them in turn before continuing. "Prince Lothric has recently expressed interest in expanding the members of the Royal Guard - in function, if not in title."

"Can he do that?" Maerec asked.

"Prince Lothric currently holds all authority that the King himself holds. In theory, that extends to the membership of the Royal Guard," confirmed Oswin.

Eadric froze and stared at Lorian, and he could see him putting the pieces together. "And you want us to be part of the Royal Guard? Why us?"

"Lothric has granted me full authority to identify and offer the position to those I deem trustworthy. I have personally strategized, served, and fought alongside each of you in my time as Knight General, as well as before it. It is clear where your loyalties lie - I would trust each of you with my life, and more importantly, my brother's life."

There was silence in the room as they each took in the gravity of the trust and responsibility that Lorian had just offered them.

Oswin was the first to kneel and salute, "Knight General, it would be my honor to serve as a member of the Royal Guard."

One by one the rest followed suit - Wynfrith, Eadric, Baldric, Maerec, and lastly, Estrid. Lorian motioned for them to retake their seats.

"What does this mean for our responsibilities?" asked Estrid.

"Your day-to-day activities will not change. You will each continue to fulfill the duties of your current titles, but you will be distinguished as members of the Royal Guard. There is no expectation for any of you to directly serve or guard Prince Lothric outside of formal events or dire circ*mstances; the hunters assigned to Prince Lothric will continue to oversee him for any threats. Estrid, while you manage the uniforms of the conscripts, you will also be in charge of distributing the Royal Guard uniforms amongst those in this room. "

Estrid bowed her head, "Of course, Knight General."

"Any further questions?" Lorian paused, but none spoke out. "Then you are all dismissed."

As they all filed out of the room, Wynfrith hesitated at the door with Eadric. The other man nodded to her before continuing on while Wynfrith turned back to Lorian. "Prince Lorian, a word?"

He motioned for her to close the door and rejoin him at the table. Once the others had all finished leaving and the door closed behind her, Wynfrith took the seat beside Lorian. "I have news about the matter Eadric has been looking into. The hunch you had regarding the evening patrol of the Throne Room? You were right. Turns out there have been visitors to the top of the Archives that the other guards weren't keen on Eadric being privy to."

"He saw them?"

She nodded. "After they tried to convince him to skip a shift one night, he mentioned off-hand the fact that he was in the middle of the recruitment process for the angelic guard. They allowed him to join them and he was able to catch a glimpse of whoever - or whatever - had been meeting with Gertrude."

"You suspect they are not Men?"

"I - we're not certain. They're more organized than I think any of us realized. And more powerful. They have their own armor, banners, and insignia. And their armor is huge. Massive. Far too large for any normal human. Oh, and apparently some of them can fly?" Wynfrith was rambling at this point as she recounted all the details.

"How many were there?" Lorian interrupted.

"Just the one on that night."

"What time did it occur?"

Wynfrith paused to think, scrubbing a hand down her face. "Just after midnight I think he said. Middle of the week."

"Have Eadric continue with his patrols as planned. If he notices a pattern to the visits, I want to know."

"Of course."

"Was there anything else?"

"Well," Wynfrith moved to stand again, pacing behind the chair. "Those of us you asked to join the Royal Guard - you included both Eadric and Estrid, who uphold wildly different standards when it comes to faith and belief. Eadric was almost tempted to join the order of the angelic faith whereas Estrid can't even stand to look at the conscripts half the time. Why?"

Lorian met her gaze evenly. "If King Oceiros were to walk out of the Grand Archives tomorrow and order the arrest and execution of myself and Prince Lothric, who among those I invited today would carry out those orders?"

She was silent as she absorbed the severity of what he had implied.

"What the future holds remains unclear. Loyalty, above all else now, is what matters most."

*

Against all odds, it turned out there was a pattern to the visits made to Gertrude. Either Gertrude's followers were growing careless, or they simply believed they would not be discovered. Lorian had not yet mentioned any of what he had learned to Lothric, and did not plan to until he had more actionable information to present to him. But the next meeting between Gertrude and her visitor might be the chance he was looking for.

Where Lorian found himself at an impasse was finding a way to observe the meeting without being seen or recognized. He did not even know the general layout of the archive's roof, let alone if there might feasibly be anywhere to hide.

Sorcery was the only option he could consider, but he did not have the aptitude for it. He had, for the most part, left such studies to Lothric while he had focused entirely on how to fight with a blade. All things considered, this was how he found himself headed toward Lothric's study to see if he could recruit his brother to aid him -- without getting directly involved himself. A task possibly more impossible than what he already intended to accomplish.

He was winded by the time he arrived, and was surprised to see Kamui sitting on the railing of the walkway leading to Lothric's study. The hunter quickly moved to stand and salute respectfully as Lorian approached with a curt, "Prince Lorian."

"Kamui," Lorian greeted, "what are you doing--"

"In plain sight? I am simply standing guard in a more official capacity. Prince Lothric's orders."

"Is there trouble?"

"No trouble, Prince Lothric merely requested this meeting be private."

Lorian raised an eyebrow at that, though he knew Kamui wouldn't be able to see it. "Who is he meeting that requires such caution?""Mistress Kriemhild, my Lord. Prince Lothric has recently started taking lessons from her once more and requested that their sessions remain private. It seems to be a good break - allows him to focus on something other than the politics of the kingdom."

Regrettably, Lorian at least knew that was not the case. However, he had not had the opportunity to ever speak with Kriemhild himself, and given the situation, her insight could prove to be valuable.

He stepped around Kamui and knocked on the door to the study twice and waited a moment to give Lothric and Kriemhild a moment to pause whatever conversation they might be having before entering.

"Kamui, I believe I requested not to be disturbed--" Lothric began as he turned towards the door, stopping mid-sentence as he caught sight of Lorian. "Ah, Lorian, come in."

Lorian stepped fully inside the study and closed the door behind him. Beside Lothric, Kriemhild bowed low to him. "Prince Lorian, it is an unexpected but welcome surprise to see you. Prince Lothric and I were just wrapping up."

"There is no need, Kriemhild," Lothric said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Lorian is entirely aware of the situation."

"Oh? Oh, of course, my Lord." A faint blush crept up her neck from what Lorian could only presume to be embarrassment.

"What brings you to my door at this hour, dear brother?" Lothric asked as he took a seat behind his desk and motioned for Lorian and Kriemhild to sit. Lorian remained standing but Kriemhild took a seat a short distance away. "You perhaps have news on our elusive guests?"

With a glance to Kriemhild, Lorian nodded. "I know when they next plan on meeting and plan to attend; however, I fear I may draw undue attention."

"Indeed," sighed Lothric. "Between your armor creating quite the clamor and the fact that I doubt you would be able to successfully hide even in a forest, you are likely to be noticed. I would be far better suited to such a meeting."

"No."

Lothric glared at him sharply.

"Perhaps I could be of assistance," Kriemhild called out. Both Lothric and Lorian turned to her. "With your help as well, of course, Prince Lothric. If you can teleport us there, I have a few sorceries which may help to conceal Prince Lorian."

She picked up her staff from the ground beside her and aimed it at Lorian. He felt the hum of her magic settle over him like a fog.

"What precisely was that sorcery?" asked Lothric.

"A silencing sorcery. Go on, move about, as loudly as you can." Lorian took several steps forward and then back to his original spot. Where normally he would hear the clanging of his plate mail, there was now nothing. Kriemhild grinned, "see, so long as they don't see him, he's as good as hidden."

"Useful," Lorian conceded.

Lothric nodded in approval. "Very well. When precisely is the meeting?"

"Just after the shift change."

"Time is of the essence then," Lothric said gravely. "It would be wise for us to depart now to prepare - in the off chance they arrive sooner than expected."

"Us?" Lorian crossed his arms.

"Yes." Lothric replied curtly.

"Prince Lothric, if I may," Kriemhild interrupted, "but would it not be wise to remain here in case Kamui checks in or requires something?"

Lorian was beginning to see why Lothric respected the woman. Not only was she gifted with sorcery, but she was also quick-witted. Even Lothric would not be able to argue with her in this instance - they all knew how suspicious it would appear if all three of them were suddenly to disappear from the study.

"At half past the hour after the shift change I will retrieve you both. Not a minute later." Lothric rose from his seat behind the desk, Kriemhild quickly following suit. He led her to Lorian's side before taking a step back. "Be careful."

The now-familiar white light enveloped them and in the blink of an eye Lorian found himself next to Kriemhild on the roof tiles atop the Grand Archives. It seemed Lothric at least knew the area well enough to place Lorian and Kriemhild out of sight of the knights patrolling the Throne Room. Lorian motioned for Kriemhild to remain where she was as he moved to explore the area.

It was rather straight-forward, he realized. At the front of the small building there was an entrance with an opening in the floor, and at a quick glance Lorian could see the rafters above the giant cage that held Gertrude inside. Feathers were strewn around where she was lying down, head cradled in one arm. Lorian turned back and headed back outside where he checked the other side of the building. Up a short set of stairs was a ladder.

He called for Kriemhild to join him as he scaled up the ladder and reached the top of the building. They would be quite visible, but with Kriemhild lying down flat and peering over the edge, she would have a good vantage point to see when Gertrude's visitors arrived, and would also be able to alert him if anyone else was coming.

"Stay here," Lorian said, and guided her to lie flat down on the roof. "I will be out of sight until they arrive. Give me a sign that they have arrived and I will follow them. If anyone else comes, I trust you will be able to find some way to alert me."

Kriemhild nodded. "Forgive my asking, my Lord, but why not have someone like Kamui do this? It seems more in line with work for a hunter than the Knight General and someone like me."

"For a matter such as this, Prince Lothric has opted for secrecy. If it were not for the information you provided, I have no doubt you would not have been involved." His words were not intended to be cruel, and it seemed that, thankfully, Kriemhild understood the intention behind what he was saying as she turned away from him to gaze across the bridge at the Throne Room.

"I understand," she said. "Look, the shift change is happening."

Across the way, Lothric could faintly see the set of knights emerge from the lift - one set of armor with the deep blue cloak stood out as Lorian recognized Eadric in his Royal Guard armor, even from so far away. He slid down the ladder and leaned against the side of the building, out of sight of the main entrance down to Gertrude.

Without warning, Lorian felt the same familiar fog of Kriemhild's silencing sorcery wash over him and he realized this must be her sign that they had arrived.

He slowly stepped around the edge of the building, just in time to catch sight of a monstrous armored form flying down and landing heavily on the roof. It was just as Wynfrith had described - gigantic armor too large for a normal human - but reminiscent of the armors of Catarina - and flying. From the back of the armor, a set of wings had sprouted, the fallen feathers being caught by the wind and carried off.

It looked around for a moment before proceeding into the doorway, which it barely fit through, before disappearing out of sight. Lorian tested the effectiveness of the silencing sorcery once more, satisfied when he heard no sound from his armor before following the mysterious figure.

The wings, Lorian realized, explained how Gertrude's visitors were able to get out the way they entered, and also explained the ever-present feathers in the cage.

He knelt next to the entrance, careful to remain out of sight as he strained to see what was happening and hear the conversation. Atop the cage, the figure pulled out a piece of parchment and slid it through the bars where it landed next to Gertrude. She felt around for the paper for a moment before finding it and picking it up. She ran a hand lightly over the pages - it was either in braille or perhaps she could feel the dried ink. Gertrude signed something with her hands to the figure, though Lorian knew not what.

The figure spoke at last, echoing through the armor so that Lorian had to strain to hear what it said. "We are coming for you. Our numbers grow more each day and soon we will be able to put up a force to set you free."

From what Lothric had told him, Gertrude could neither see nor speak, but her hearing was intact. She quickly signed something back.

"There will never be a right time," the figure protested. "You are weaker each time we see you. If they kill you--"

More frantic signing. This time the gestures seemed to be more strongly emphasized, and Lorian found himself wishing he understood what her signs meant.

"Of course. If that is your will," the figure bowed to her, despite the fact that she could not see it. She signed one final message to the figure before turning away. The figure stood upright, stretching its wings, which Lorian took as his cue to leave.

He left the way he came, rounding the building back to the ladder leading up to Kriemhild and leaned against the building. The sound of wings growing louder signaled to Lorian that the visit - brief as it was - was over. Lorian held his breath and prayed to the Gods that it would leave and not linger.

Now, they only needed to wait for Lothric to retrieve them.

Chapter 24: Confession

Chapter Text

It was against his better judgement that Lothric had sent Kriemhild and Lorian without accompanying them. A part of him resented that Lorian had brought him the information without enough time to properly plan. Whether or not it was his own doing or mere coincidence, Lothric did not know - nor did he care. He had been left in his study to pace anxiously, counting the moments before he would need to retrieve them.

A sudden knock on the door caused him to pause mid-step as he turned to face it. He waited to see if the knock would be repeated or if he could simply pass it off as having not heard it. To his dismay, there was a subsequent knock followed by Kamui's calm voice - "Prince Lothric?"

Lothric sighed and walked to his study doors, opening them just enough to see Kamui, and he prayed Kamui did not try to see further into the room; Lothric could make an excuse if pressed, but he would rather not need to. "I assume this is an urgent matter, Kamui? I had requested not to be bothered."

"I believe it is, my Lord. May I enter?"

He weighed the pros and cons a moment before opening the door further. Kamui was not the type to waste his time or speak under false pretenses. If it was truly urgent, Lothric needed to hear what he had to say. Lothric led him further into the study and took his seat once more with Kamui taking the seat across from him.

"Forgive me if I misunderstand, Kamui, but I do not see anyone with you. What has changed since you began your watch?"

"New information. From you." Kamui said evenly.

"From me?"

"Yes, the conversation you had just now with Prince Lorian and Kriemhild." Lothric narrowed his gaze at him, and Kamui had the sense to bow his head. "I am good at my job, my Lord. The construction of the room has a tendency to carry your voices even beyond the doors of your study if one listens carefully."

"I see. And what precisely do you believe you heard?" At this point, Lothric expected that Kamui had heard everything, but even if that was the case their conversation had not revealed much at all.

"I am ashamed to admit, Prince Lothric, that it took me this long to realize the entirety of the situation. You are attempting to find Gertrude's followers, and you have found out that they have found a way to contact her - and yet, you did not inform Black Hand Gotthard, or any of the other Pillars outside of Prince Lorian." Kamui raised his head, meeting Lothric's gaze as he continued, "Which means you either do not intend to have her followers captured, do not trust the other Pillars, or both."

Lothric was silent as he weighed his options. Kamui was on the correct path, and yet, "Will you be apprehending me then, Kamui?"

Kamui looked shocked at the accusation. "You misunderstand me, Prince Lothric. Gotthard had made it quite clear to myself, Albert, and Allric that you did not wish Gertrude to be captured under any circ*mstances and that we were to redirect any who were getting close to discovering her. It came as quite a shock to Albert and myself when she was apprehended."

"Are you implying that it could only have been Gotthard or Allric who played a part in her apprehension?" Lothric sat forward in his chair, leaning heavily on his arms.

"It was Black Hand Gotthard, though we had thought as a result of your direct orders." Kamui's words washed over him and seemed to fade into the distance. He had suspected that one of the hunters that reported to Gotthard may have been swayed by Wulfred, but never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined that it would be Gotthard himself that had betrayed him.

"Forgive me," Kamui continued, "but your public words and grandstanding regarding the situation of the angelic faith have been in direct contention with your private thoughts and actions. But certainly, you must have noticed how Gotthard has removed himself from your direct report recently - ever since Gertrude was captured. I have been nearly exclusively assigned the detail of supervising and guarding you."

Lothric, in fact, had not noticed. He had been too preoccupied with the bond, with the situation with Lorian, and trying to root out Gertrude's followers to notice the fact that Gotthard had been distancing himself. How long had it been since he had spoken with the man outside of a council meeting amongst the Pillars? "Why confess this information to me? My support of Gertrude, as passive as it might be, puts me in direct contention with King Oceiros's orders."

He watched as Kamui sat up straighter across from him, his expression grave. "Black Hand Gotthard fears the angelic faith; he was always concerned that your close relationship with Gertrude may have been clouding your judgement - putting your duty to the kingdom at risk. Knowing Gotthard as I do, he likely believed removing Gertrude and forcing your hand would reinvigorate your commitment. But I know the doubts you carry, my Lord. The doubts you have carried for years now and you struggle to reconcile with what you believe to be the good of the Kingdom."

"And what would you know of my doubts?"

"The eyes. Albert and I were not supposed to know the importance of them when we were sent to escort Kriemhild back to the kingdom, but our encounter with Pontiff Sulyvahn revealed their true nature."

Lothric sighed, placing his head in his hands. Loathe as he was to admit it, he was well and truly cornered. Just as he had to place his faith in Kriemhild, it seemed now he must place his faith in Kamui. "Then, knowing what you know, why trust me with this information when I may act against everything this kingdom stands for?""Because I do not fear the end of the Age of Fire. And I believe, above all else, that you deserve a choice."

He smiled bitterly at the sentiment. "You sound like Gertrude."

"She was always clever, my Lord."

"You have given me much to consider, Kamui, and for that I deeply thank you." He paused as Kamui stood and bowed. "Unfortunately, as I am sure you are aware, I must retrieve Lorian and Kriemhild before they draw undue attention."

"Of course. Should you require anything--"

"I will call for you." Lothric did not wait for Kamui to leave the study before he teleported himself away.

Before him, in the cool evening breeze, Lorian stood leaning against the small tower. His brother pointed up and Lothric craned his neck to see Kriemhild. As soon as she saw him, she scrambled down the ladder to join them. Lothric looked around, half-hoping to catch sight of Gertrude's visitor, but saw nothing.

In an impulsive thought, Lothric realized how close he was to Gertrude here. Without a word, he walked past Lorian and Kriemhild, and started rounding the corner to the entrance. Behind him he could hear Lorian calling out to him, but Lothric ignored him as he stared down into the Archives below, into Gertrude's gilded cage. As if she could sense his very presence, Gertrude turned to face him, signing a greeting -- he vaguely recognized the gestures from his old lessons with Emma. He knew for a fact Gertrude had not known how to sign before she lost her voice and vision; had her visitors taught her such things?

A hand on his shoulder started pulling him back - Lorian. "Lothric, leave this matter be. If anyone sees you--"

But Lothric was tired of being in the dark, tired of being forced to trust what others said or speculated rather than finding the answers directly. He teleported into the cage beside her.

Lothric saw her mouth his name as she reached out and fumbled for a moment before taking his hand. Her hands were like ice to the touch and her grip weaker than he could have even imagined. Looking closer he saw how terribly frail she was. Her hair was unkempt, her lips chapped, and she was thinner than he had ever seen her. "Gertrude, what have they done to you?"

She held out her hand as though holding something and shook it followed by exaggerated gestures.

"Your chimes?" he asked. Gertrude nodded and pointed down. "The scholars took them? For what purpose?"

Lothric cursed himself for not paying attention to Emma's lessons as dutifully as he should have as Gertrude signed her response. He didn't understand all of what she was attempting to sign, but he at least thought he was able to decipher the main points and fill in the gaps. They believe the angel's miracles are sorcery. The Sage and scholars think the chimes can harness the powers of both by using the crystals.

"To what end?"

Gertrude frowned at the question, before shaking her head and gesturing between them. Those who use sorceries and miracles in this world require a catalyst. No one, not even myself, has been able to cast sorceries without a proper catalyst. You are the only exception I know of.

It was true Lothric had never required a staff, chime, or talisman for any of the miracles or sorceries he cast - not even those he had created himself. But it had never struck him as odd or out of the ordinary, though perhaps it should have. "They believe they can disprove the power of your miracles by proving your chimes can cast sorceries."

She nodded. The theory was not entirely unreasonable. But Lothric had seen the effects first hand and it was certainly not a sorcery. But to admit it was a miracle would undermine the argument against the angelic faith's legitimacy Wulfred was trying desperately to prevent.

Gertrude leaned forward, placing a hand on his chest and looking up, toward Lorian. The bond is stronger. I heard it, when they killed him.

Perhaps it was foolish to ask a heretic, but Lothric was desperate as he whispered, "How did I save him?"

She tilted her head to the side. You harnessed the power of the First Flame - the Lord's Soul responded.

"Wulfred!" A terrible voice called out from below - a voice which Lothric recognized as his father's. "Send for Lady Emma at once!"

Gertrude placed a hand on his shoulder, drawing his attention back to her. The Queen is ill and with child, but you must go, before they find you here.

A part of him wanted to offer to take her from this place, to save her. But he could not risk upsetting what delicate balance there was left in the kingdom. He took her hand and squeezed it lightly. "Be well."

She gave him a sad smile in return which he tried not to dwell upon as there was more commotion from his father below.

In an instant, he was back on the roof beside Lorian and Kriemhild. He reached forward, taking hold of both Kriemhild and Lorian's forearms before teleporting them back. The miracle did not require that he touch them of course, but he was feeling overwhelmed and it made it easier.

He was not surprised to see Kamui gone by that point - presumably resuming his post standing guard at the study's entrance. Lothric let go of each of their arms before collapsing in his chair.

His brother was practically seething, though Lothric doubted Kriemhild or most other people would even be able to notice. But Lothric was only too familiar with the tight set of his jaw and his overly rigid posture as he faced where Lothric sat - completely silent. Usually it was not directed at Lothric, but he would admit he brought it upon himself this time.

It was likely that Kriemhild's presence was the only reason he was not being lectured at the moment.

"Do you require me for anything further, my Lord?" Kriemhild asked quietly. Even without the full context, she must have recognized the tension in the room.

"No, Kriemhild. Thank you for your assistance, you may leave." After the door shut behind her, Lothric waited for Lorian to speak.

"That was reckless."

"Yes," Lothric agreed, "but I learned valuable information. Mother is with child, and she is gravely ill."

Lorian bristled at the news. They both knew it was likely to happen after Oceiros had told them of his plans, but Lothric was surprised at the expediency of which it had occurred, and knew Lorian felt the same. "How far along?"

"I have no way of knowing, but he called for Lady Emma before I left."

"If it is taking a similar toll on her as you did, her worst days were at the end." Lorian grimaced. "It will not be long."

Lothric sighed; there was nothing either of them could do about it. They had not been allowed to see their mother for years now. "And you? Did you see those that are visiting Gertrude?"

"I did. They were discussing an attempt to rescue her - starting a war. Their numbers must be significant to even be considering such a move."

"Gertrude would not condone it."

"No. She seemed opposed to it."

"Did they seem to be the leader? Surely massive brutes in armor could not persuade the minds of so many."

Lorian moved across the room and glanced out the window. "I suspect those behind the preachings have yet to reveal themselves. I will have Eadric push for a meeting as soon as possible."

"Then perhaps soon we will uncover the truth behind the angelic faith, and what their intentions truly are." To see if they might be allies went unsaid, but Lothric knew Lorian knew his intentions by now.

As he stood to leave, his vision went blank and he fell forward, gripping the edge of his desk. Within seconds he felt Lorian's hands, one on his shoulder and one on his waist, holding him up. He couldn't hear anything his brother might have been saying beneath the ringing in his ears.

He remained still, focusing on breathing, until the ringing subsided and his vision came back into focus. "I am fine," Lothric said, though he knew his heavy breathing betrayed him, "It seems I may have over-exerted myself earlier. It has passed now."

"Lothric," he heard Lorian say with worry in his voice. His grip on Lothric's shoulder had tightened, and Lothric could see his lips drawn in a thin line. "I will escort you back."

"Truly, brother, there is no need for that." He shrugged Lorian's hands off of him and started walking towards the door, but when reached for the door, his vision swam again, his knees buckling under him as he collapsed.

*

When Lothric came to his senses, he blearily recognized that he was no longer at his study. Instead, he was resting in his bed - and he was not alone. Off to the side he saw Master Aelfric speaking in hushed tones with Wulfred. On the other side, he saw Lorian sitting in a chair, his arms crossed as he watched Aelfric and Wulfred.

Lothric said nothing, but when Lorian glanced his way his brother moved to stand, but Lothric shook his head. He wanted to try and hear some of the conversation, if possible, before alerting them he was awake.

He closed his eyes and strained to make out a handful of words from Aelfric, "--Emma does not have the expertise to handle the situation. Furthermore, I do not understand how this ties into Prince Lothric's current condition.""

"I assure you the two are linked," Wulfred replied darkly.

There was a long silence and Lothric realized they had concluded the conversation. He made a great effort to sit up and look around the room. The dizziness he felt at the motion was regrettably real.

Aelfric was by his side in a moment, with Wulfred looming behind him. "Lie down, Prince Lothric. You are in no condition to go anywhere."

"I do not feel so ill, other than slight dizziness," Lothric countered, ignoring his order and remaining in his seated position. It was mostly true; while his whole body ached, that was not uncommon for Lothric. "For what purpose are you all here?"

"Forgive me, Prince Lothric, I did attempt to instruct both Prince Lorian and Wulfred to leave you in peace--"

"But I instructed him that was a poor idea." Wulfred cut in. "I suspect the only reason you have awoken so quickly is due to the bond."

Lorian grimaced. "The bond was intended to make him stronger."

"Yes," Wulfred agreed, "but there is only so much the bond can do to combat the natural entropy caused by the decay of the First Flame."

Lothric shook his head, "I merely over-exerted myself."

"That may have been a contributing factor; however, the truth of the matter is the First Flame is likely down to its last embers. You would do well to save your strength Prince Lothric, it is likely a matter of days now - perhaps weeks at most." He turned away and headed to the door. "Come now, Aelfric, your services are needed elsewhere."

It was true he had felt himself weakening again, but he was also confident that he had only collapsed due to the effort he had put forth earlier. Still, if he was experiencing such symptoms, and their mother was as well, then certainly Lorian must also. "Lorian, have you felt it?"

Lorian didn't reply at first, but Lothric was patient. "It has been gradual."

"How so?"

"I find myself exhausted faster, out of breath after what were once menial tasks and training regimes. A full night's rest is never truly restful."

Lothric pursed his lips. "I am sorry--"

"Do not apologize. I made the decision. We will overcome this."

"It appears there is but one solution to regain our strength."

"And I will be by your side if you do."

If.

It was entirely possible now that at the very least Lothric would be able to successfully link the fire; but at what cost? Each day strengthened his conviction against fulfilling his duties. His singular purpose in life. His so-called destiny. All his readings indicated that the linking of the flame would take a harsher toll - perhaps even death - on Lorian than himself. And Lothric could not bear to have Lorian suffer in his stead.

"And if I choose to use the eyes?" Lothric asked quietly. They had discussed it abstractly before, but never the consequences.

"I will be by your side."

"If I extinguish the First Flame, we will both die. All who bear the Lord's Soul will."

"A sacrifice worth making, if you believe it to be the best option."

Lothric frowned. "The kingdom - the entire world - will fall to chaos."

"Change never comes without strife. "You have led them to the best of your ability, but perhaps it is time for Men to rule themselves."

Chapter 25: Family

Chapter Text

While Lothric's condition had evened out, he was not improving. He now slept until late morning and retired in the early evening as he insisted on being seen carrying out his duties by those who usually saw him as much as possible. Lorian's own health was declining as well. The numbness in his legs which had temporarily subsided had begun creeping back and Lorian beginning to grow concerned should Lothric choose to move forward with linking the flame, and what condition they would be in to attempt a fight.

But their condition did not change their plans; Lorian was coordinating with Wynfrith and Eadric to pursue an expedited audience with those pulling the strings behind the scenes of the angelic faith. It had taken nearly two weeks to secure the meeting, and Eadric warned that they had seemed eager to invite him.

One thing Lorian couldn't shake from his mind was how Aelfric and Wulfred had alluded to his mother's condition. While she had been largely absent throughout his life - in large part due to Oceiros's interference - Lorian did still care for her and would never wish ill upon her. It was how he found himself standing at the entrance of the Grand Archives, hand pressed against the door, but hesitant to enter.

Steeling his resolve, Lorian pushed the doors open and entered. Silence reigned as scholars moved around with their heads bowed, none even glancing in his direction. Lorian turned his gaze upward taking in the sight of Gertrude, lying down in her cage; he could also see the hat of the Sage barely visible over the edge of a railing. Turning his gaze back ahead of him, Lorian saw the spot where they had forged the bond stronger; faded stains of his blood still lingered.

He could count the number of times he had been permitted to enter the Archives, or had sought entry on his own, on one hand. Even Lothric had barely been permitted to come and go as he pleased after Oceiros took up permanent residence in the space. Lorian was not certain where to begin looking for his mother.

The clatter of books hitting the floor far above followed by heavy footsteps drumming down the infinite staircases in the Archives drew Lorian from his thoughts; he turned to see Kriemhild sprinting down the stairs, face flushed and eyes wide. As she reached the ground floor and started running for the entrance, she finally noticed him and came to a stop.

"Prince Lorian? What are you doing here?" she asked with surprise.

"I came to see the Queen."

Her face contorted into a tight frown. "You've missed her I'm afraid. They escorted her in Lady Emma's care to the sick room last night -- I just heard the news myself and was on my way to inform Prince Lothric. I fear neither Wulfred nor any of the others have thought to inform either of you."

"I will inform him. Thank you." Lorian didn't wait for her to reply before turning heel and exiting the Archives. Once the door shut behind him, Lorian broke into a run as he made his way through the Keep to Lothric's chambers, ignoring the sharp pain in his legs as well as the glances of servants and knights as he went.

Lorian opened the door to see Lothric sleeping and moved to his side to rouse him awake.

"Lorian?" His brother called out, his voice rough from sleep. "What happened?"

"The Queen, she has been taken to the sick room."

"The child?" Lothric asked, and while Lorian couldn't say for certain, it was the most likely answer. He nodded.

Lothric moved the sheets off of himself and slid out of his bed, his hand reaching for Lorian's arm. Lorian offered it to him, leading him out of the room only to soon find himself following Lothric instead. It would seem the news had managed to drum up a reserve of strength as they quickly walked across the Keep to where Aelfric worked.

Lady Emma was standing outside the door, leaning heavily against the wall with a hand pressed firmly over her mouth. From behind the door Lorian could hear the muffled shouting of Oceiros. When Emma finally noticed them she took a deep breath and stood straight.

"Prince Lothric, Prince Lorian," she greeted. Her voice was quiet and judging by the tear stains on her cheeks, she had been crying. "You should both leave. The sight… it is not something you should have to witness."

"I appreciate your concern, Emma, but this is our family," Lothric replied icily. "We should have been informed immediately."

"Forgive me," she whispered and stood aside. "If you must see it…"

Lothric pulled Lorian along as he opened the door and stepped inside.

Even with Emma's warning, Lorian could have never anticipated what he saw inside. Their mother was lying in the bed, fast asleep with a form cradled against her chest. She was pale, looking like a shade of her former self that had once been able to light up any room she entered. What cruelties had Oceiros forced her to endure?

He felt Lothric's grip tighten as they both took in the sight of the child in her arms. It was monstrous. Misshapen. Whatever Oceiros had sought to achieve, he had accomplished, but the consequences were grave. The half-breed, if it could even be described as such, remained motionless in the Queen's arm save for the weak rise and fall of its chest.

"Ocelotte," crooned Oceiros, "Ocelotte. My perfect, wonderful child. A true heir to dragons. My son." He moved towards the child, seemingly oblivious to the fact that his other sons had entered the room. With clumsy mutated claws, Oceiros pulled the child from the Queen's arms, tucking it in the crook of his elbow. The movement jostled the child awake and it let out a wet and terrible sounding cry. It was by far worse than Lothric's cries had been, and those had haunted Lorian's nightmares as a child for years.

"It will not survive the night," came Aelfric's hushed voice beside them. "I tried to inform the King… but he will not listen."

"What happened?" Lothric asked, not looking away from the sight.

"What didn't happen?" sighed Aelfric. "Forgive me, Prince Lothric The Queen has been in poor health for years now. I warned King Oceiros that she was not in any condition to bear another child, let alone in circ*mstances where the father had recently undergone a transformation in which we had no way of knowing the strain it would place on the Queen if she were to carry such a child to term. Whatever King Oceiros accomplished for his own person only caused complications."

They watched in horror as the child's shrieks continued echoing and it disappeared from view for a moment before reappearing.

"How is she?" Lorian asked, looking away from the sight and turning to Aelfric.

The man took a handkerchief out and dabbed at his brow before tucking it away again. "I fear she is not well. The pregnancy and the birth have taken a toll, I am not certain it will even be possible for her to make a full recovery. When she is awake she is delirious, she can hardly speak let alone recall where she is or what has happened."

They remained for several moments longer in the somber room, until the cries of the child became too much and Lothric pulled on Lorian's arm again and dragged him out of the room. Emma looked as though she was going to say something, but after seeing the expression on Lothric's face, stood back and let them pass by without a word.

It seemed Lothric had no aim as he blindly walked through the Keep with Lorian silently following him. He couldn't fault his brother's reaction; the sight had been deeply unnerving, especially in the context of knowing the child was likely not going to live to see the morning's light.

Eventually they ended up at the entrance to the Throne Room. Lorian didn't ask questions; he ordered the guards on duty to step aside as they entered.

The few times they had been here before it had always been for some ceremony. Now, to see the place empty as the fading sun stretched through the windows, was unnerving. At the end of the room, raised high above the main floor, was the balcony with what served as a throne.

Lothric released his arm and slowly walked to the center of the room where he sat in the middle of the floor, staring up at the throne. Silently, Lorian sat beside him, taking off his helmet and setting it beside him.

He waited for Lothric to speak as the sun slowly set.

"That was supposed to be my fate," Lothric eventually said. "That thing is what he always intended me to become. What my traitorous body is still attempting to become."

Lorian realized now that Lothric had not been silenced into shock because of what he witnessed, but because of what it reflected. A thread of fate, narrowly avoided because Oceiros had failed with him.

"Is it terrible of me, to feel grateful that I was deemed a failure?" Lothric turned to him. "Grateful that we both are failures in Oceiros's eyes?"

"No," Lorian replied. He reached out to place a hand on Lothric's shoulder. "I find I am more grateful each day, in spite of all we have been forced to endure."

Lothric closed his eyes, his words were whispers as he spoke, "I find I do not even feel sadness for that creature. Only pity."

"It is a cruel fate, to be doomed to death before even being born into the world. It is worthy of pity."

"Like us."

"No," Lorian squeezed Lothric's shoulder and his brother opened his eyes and looked up at him. "There is still a choice for us."

Lothric's gaze drifted back to the throne. "When Oceiros learns the fate of the child, I fear whatever madness he already suffers will consume him entirely."

"We will deal with him if that should come to pass. Even his closest advisors would not be able to abide by the orders of a King so out of touch with reality."

*

They were each roused in the early morning by Emma. There was to be a funeral for the child - a small gathering of only Oceiros, Wulfred, Emma, Aelfric, and a small contingent of the Royal Guard. The Queen was apparently still in no condition to attend.

The child was not to be given to the Flame as all others who died in the Kingdom were. The Queen had insisted it be put to rest in the mausoleum despite the fact that its usage had been phased out long ago. Lorian suspected it was because she believed the creature unfit to be returned to the Flame - she had always preached about the importance of maintaining the First Flame; more fanatical about the importance of their family duty to maintain it than even Oceiros.

Lorian had called upon Wynfrith and Eadric to stand as Lothric's representation from the Royal Guard. In spite of the circ*mstances, he was proud to see them each adorned in the deep blue uniform of the Royal Guard. They stood out of sight along with members of Oceiros's royal guard at the edge of the garden that led to the mausoleum.

Inside, Lorian stood beside Lothric as they kept their distance from the rest of the group. Oceiros was strangely silent and lucid as he stood beside Wulfred and observed Lady Emma go through the rites of putting a soul to rest. Despite how traumatized she had been the day before at the sight, she did well to hide any unease she might have felt as she took the body, carefully wrapped, and placed it into the niche in the wall. She allowed a moment's silence before carefully replacing the stone front which would be engraved after they left.

When Emma concluded her sermon, they each took turns paying their respects before leaving, but Lorian noticed that Oceiros had neither paid his respects nor made any motion to leave. Wulfred, it seemed, had noticed it as well but rather than stay had opted to leave alongside the others.

As they reached the entrance back into the gardens, a monstrous howl echoed through the mausoleum.

He turned to Oceiros's guards, "The King remains within - ensure he is not disturbed."

They each saluted in turn before taking up their posts, closer to the mausoleum's entrance.

From across the garden, Wynfrith and Eadric fell in-step, flanking Lothric as they separated from the others. Wynfrith spoke quietly to Lorian as they walked, "Knight General, we have news regarding last evening's patrol."

"Come," Lothric ordered, "we can speak of this in my study."

It was a short walk to Lothric's study and it seemed that Kamui wished his presence to be known as they entered, judging by the fact that any of them were able to catch sight of his presence. Inside, Lothric did not take his usual seat behind his desk, instead opting to sit in one of the chairs by the window, wearily sinking down.

Lorian stood near Lothric and turned to Wynfrith and Eadric. "You have information?"

"We do. But… is it safe to discuss this here?" Wynfrith warily glanced back at the entrance to Lothric's study.

"He can be trusted." Lothric said solemnly from where he sat. His gaze was cast away from them as he stared out the window down on the rest of the castle below.

It was news to Lorian that Kamui had been cleared. "Are you certain?"

Lothric glanced at Lorian from the corner of his eye before looking away again. "Yes. He was the one who informed me who the traitor was. You may speak freely on whatever matter Lorian has set you upon."

"Of course, Prince Lothric," Wynfrith said with a bow before turning to Lorian. "Prince Lorian, as you know, Eadric was set to meet with those leading the organization of the angelic faith."

"I wasn't the only one, it turns out," Eadric added. "I recognized other members of the knights there as well. Not just conscripts either, but others who have always been loyal to the kingdom in the past. Apparently part of the test to be granted such a meeting was proof that we have the strength to survive as hollows and keep our wits."

"Gertrude's sermons have never mentioned hollows directly." Lothric frowned. "She only ever called upon the fact that beyond the light of the First Flame was the light of the Angels. A call to an end."

"Yes, an end those of us who hollow never see. I don't know if they spread Lady Gertrude's word as she once preached before her capture, but those who lead them now focus largely on the future of hollows." Eadric fidgeted in nervousness before continuing, "The main figure who spoke was a woman dressed in black. She spoke of pilgrims who had seen the light of the angelic faith that were coming from lands far away to witness the future of Man."

"Londor?" Lorian speculated. He had not often studied their history, but Londor had been infamous as a solution to contain the hollows. It had been a failure in the end, something to be learned from and not repeated. "It is the only land where hollows were still permitted to roam freely."

"That we are aware of," countered Lothric. "We have not had contact with many regions beyond Irithyll in our lifetime. What did she offer those of you who arrived?"

"Those with potential were offered a placement in the Winged Knights, which required those who accepted to leave their role as a Lothric Knight," Eadric grimaced. "My role in the Royal Guard spared me from being chosen, but it drew the woman's notice. She wanted information."

"Regarding?" Lothric urged.

"You, Prince Lothric. She wanted to know where your loyalties lay - she thinks you may be sympathetic to their cause despite the fact that you're going to be a Lord of Cinder."

To Lothric's credit, he had perfected keeping a straight face regardless of the topic from years of dealing with internal politics and the occasional diplomat. "It is not so strange to believe. Gertrude did use her miracles to save my life after all. In their eyes, why should I not feel indebted to her and her angelic faith?"

"Do you?" asked Wynfrith.

"I believe that the world does not operate on a balance of debts. An action performed does not guarantee an action returned." Lothric turned to face her then, and Lorian had not expected to see his brother looking so grim. "But I also know now that there is no such thing as destiny - something I am sure you both understand well."

"Because we're Men?" Eadric asked.

"You both are from one of the villages not far from the castle, are you not?"

"We are," Wynfrith agreed.

"And yet, in spite of being born in a village where your parents and their parents before them worked the land, you both instead stand before me as members of my Royal Guard. Living proof that being born into a role does not guarantee the outcome."

"That's not an answer," rebuked Eadric, seeming to forget his place. Lorian fought back the instinct to chastise him for speaking out of line to a Prince as he understood the significance of the conversation. It was the first time two of the Knights he had entrusted with his brother's life were actually speaking in a private setting. It was a rare opportunity for them to understand exactly who they had sworn their service to - especially if one day there was a possibility they would be forced to defy Oceiros. A day that was likely not very far away.

Lothric smirked, seemingly amused. "Is it not?"

"We're not like you. In the end being part of the guard or being a farmer - it doesn't really matter now does it? But you - you're different. More important."

"Does my title deny me my free will?"

"Well… it does, doesn't it?"

"I could act against others' wishes, defy what they demand of me. It would cost me a great deal, but the choice is still mine."

Wynfrith stepped forward then, moving to rest on one knee so she was at eye-level with Lothric. "I understand. But, it seems no matter what you choose, there are too many who still deeply believe in the sanctity of the First Flame, and on the other side are the new followers of the angelic faith. When the time comes, how will you keep the peace?"

"Doubt and discontent have been allowed to fester too long. Regardless of what I choose, there will be those who do not agree and will likely seek to take my life." Lorian noted that Lothric did not take the blame for allowing the discontent to grow.

"We wouldn't let them," Wynfrith was serious as she folded her arm to her chest in a show of fealty. "You have our word."

He smiled. "I thank you both for working with my brother on these matters. Trust is in short supply these days - along with everything else."

Eadric moved to mimic Wynfrith's pose beside her, and Lorian felt a swell of pride at the sight. He had not trained them, but they reported to him and he had entrusted them with this information and this task. To have confirmation that his trust had been well-placed was a rewarding feeling.

"Was there anything else?" Lorian asked.

The two rose back to their feet and said in unison, "Nothing, Knight General."

Lorian nodded, satisfied with their report. "You may leave."

They saluted him and exited the room. While they had managed to get answers, it had only left Lorian with more questions. How long had these figures from Londor been involved in the angelic faith? What was their connection to Gertrude?

But what was bothering him the most was entirely unrelated to what they had reported.

"When did you speak with Kamui?" he asked.

Lothric pursed his lips. Apparently this was not a conversation he wanted to have, but it was too late. "It was while you were investigating with Kriemhild."

"You kept this from me for weeks?"

"I am working on the information. In this instance, the less you know, the better. Treat the hunters as you have been and they will not suspect anything."

"Who is the traitor?" Lorian demanded, moving so he was directly in front of Lothric with his arms folded across his chest.

Lothric held his gaze defiantly, not moving from where he sat. "Gotthard."

Lorian's mind fell back to the campaign - the unbearable months they had spent together in the tunnels with Wynfrith and Godwyn. How Gotthard had been the one to offer to take care of the body after Lorian had killed the man with his own hands. And still, after all of that-- "Kamui must be mistaken."

"It is the truth, Lorian."

"What proof?" He demanded, even as he moved back, sitting on the edge of the desk.

Lothric frowned. "Gotthard has always been too clever to leave behind proof."

"What was his motive?" As much as Lorian wanted him to be wrong, he knew that denial would not help them now. If it was Gotthard, he needed to understand why.

"He believed I had lost my way," replied Lothric with a wry smile, "that I had become overly sympathetic to Gertrude's cause by refusing to act and that turning her in to Wulfred would return things to the way they once were."

The reasons fit the man, at least, and Lorian realized he believed it. Loyalty to a fault. "And what are you planning to do?"

"I have yet to decide. But you need not concern yourself, dear brother. I will handle Gotthard." Lothric slowly stood. "What I am going to do for the moment is retire back to bed."

It was still relatively early in the day, barely past morning. "Are you well?"

"No," replied Lothric as he walked out of his study. "But it is nothing I cannot handle. You should go - if Eadric's report was accurate, you are likely to be missing several knights if they accepted the offer."

Chapter 26: Madness

Chapter Text

While Lothric had told Lorian he was planning to handle Gotthard, in truth he had yet to figure out the best way - or any way for that matter - to deal with the man. While it was true that he had betrayed Lothric's orders and his trust, he had not actually committed treason. If anything, complying with Lothric's request to allow her to remain in hiding could have been considered treason since Gertrude was declared a heretic and a threat to the kingdom. He would never be able to dismiss Gotthard from his position as Black Hand and Pillar. And all of that was ignoring the fact that Gotthard was technically in Oceiros's service as Black Hand first and foremost and the rules regarding the members of the Black Hand and Lothric's authority over them in his role as acting-King were gray, to say the least.

It was made all the more complex by the fact that it seemed Oceiros had not gone back to his seclusion in the Archives. More and more sightings each day placed Oceiros ranting and raving throughout the Keep until he managed to find his way down to the gardens where he would scream for Ocelotte for hours on end. It was growing to be a disturbingly frequent occurrence and Lothric had already received several not-so-anonymous notes from various servants and others who worked in the Keep.

He pressed his fingers to his temples, rubbing rough circles into his skin as he tried to will away the throbbing headache that had been haunting him for days with no relief. A cup of tea prepared by Aelfric remained untouched on the desk in front of him; the man had promised it would help, but it tasted so foul Lothric would rather deal with the headache.

"Kamui," he called out. The fact that the sound of footsteps were actually audible was surprising enough that Lothric looked up where he saw Albert - not Kamui - in the doorway. "Where is Kamui?"

"It's his day off, Prince Lothric," said Albert with a twinkle of amusem*nt in his eyes. "I'm usually in charge of the counter-assassination of Prince Lorian when not on assignment while Kamui is assigned to you and Allric is assigned to King Oceiros."

Lothric raised his eyebrows in surprise. He had never noticed when the two traded shifts, though he supposed that was likely a good thing considering their positions. Though, Albert had never struck him as a hunter with a skill set for stealth and other characteristics he had come to expect from most of the hunters. He had always assumed Albert was simply one of the skilled warriors who reported to the hunters rather than the knights.

"I see." Kamui appeared to trust Albert, and considering he also knew of the eyes, Lothric supposed he would be able to trust him as well. "I require an audience with Gotthard - provided he is in the kingdom."

"He is - should I send him here?"

"Yes."

"As you command," Albert said with a quick salute and a friendly smile before exiting the room.

Lothric busied himself with catching up on his work while he waited, knowing it could take anywhere from a matter of minutes to hours to track down Gotthard. He grimaced as he thumbed through the most recent letters. All contact with the Cathedral and several of the outer villages had been lost entirely - Lorian had sent patrols to investigate and the report they delivered was discouraging. The Cathedral had seemingly shut their doors and the outer villages had been wiped out from a combination of hollows and their new neighbors.

The slaves they had conscripted to work the farmlands nearest to the castle had been reporting a surprising amount of progress and obedience, but it seemed the Evangelists had finally worked their way through the outer villages and were now more aggressively targeting the inner villages. Lothric made a note to request Lorian increase the knights on patrol in the area, even if it meant sending out the conscripts.

He was midway through writing the note when he heard Gotthard's familiar knock announcing his presence in the open doorway. Lothric set aside the note and set his clasped hands on the desk. "Gotthard, it is good to see you."

"And you, Prince Lothric, you are well I hope?" Gotthard asked with a genuine smile. Lothric had to remind himself that the man had done what he believed was the right thing to do.

"It is not my own health I am concerned with today. You have been in close contact with the King, I assume?"

Gotthard gave a shallow nod before removing his hat and taking a seat across from Lothric. "I'm guessing you are concerned about his outbursts in the gardens."

"And elsewhere throughout the Keep. It is causing distress amongst the people."

"He believes Ocelotte is still alive in his moments of madness."

"And when he is lucid?"

"He blames the Queen," grimaced Gotthard.

Lothric still had not been permitted to see her outside of a brief visit with Lorian. She had barely been awake, still taken with a fever. That had been over a week ago. "How is she?"

"Able to leave the sick room at the very least. Though she has insisted numerous times on being escorted to the gardens."

Lothric could see at once that Gotthard must share the same concerns. "Have they interacted since the child?"

"Not yet."

"I am sure you are already taking the necessary precautions, but I believe it may be in her best interest if she had additional eyes watching over her."

Gotthard nodded. "I assure you, adequate measures have already been arranged."

Lothric let out a deep sigh and slumped back into his chair. While Oceiros had already committed unforgivable acts against their family, he had never hurt the Queen physically to his knowledge - Lothric would prefer it remain that way. In his current state, Oceiros was unpredictable.

"What can be done if his madness persists?" Lothric asked cautiously.

He watched Gotthard's expression shift from sympathy to something more closed off and guarded. "He has already given provisional authority to you, but at the end of the day he is still King. You may be able to cordon him off into a section of the Keep if his behavior threatens to endanger the lives of others - but let us pray it does not come to that."

"That may not be enough."

"You have another proposal?"

Lothric hesitated before saying his proposal out loud. Even though Gotthard had betrayed him, his reasoning had been understandable. Gotthard was a purist, a loyalist, to the First Flame and the Queen, and if he came down to it, he would support the Queen who had always pushed its significance all her life - even more so than Oceiros. At the same time, Lothric tried to push the image of Gertrude and what she was enduring at the hands of the scholars out of his mind. "Should Oceiros put her in danger, take her somewhere beyond our borders where she will be safe."

"You're certain?"

"If I cannot ensure her safety here, I would seek it elsewhere."

Gotthard observed him silently - judging his sincerity perhaps - before speaking. "Where would you have me take her? The world has become a dangerous place in recent times."

"I leave that to your discretion. Anywhere outside of Lothric should suffice so long as it is safe."

"Such a task could take weeks; I will need to appoint one of the hunters to stand in during my absence."

"Of course, I would expect no less. Who will you appoint?" Lothric asked, carefully keeping his tone even.

"Allric is the most senior of the hunters, he will take charge in my absence, provided you do not object?"

"No. I trust your judgement." He must have let something slip into his tone, or perhaps it was a poorly chosen set of words, Lothric realized as Gotthard's eyes narrowed for a moment before he sighed and forced a smile.

"Let us hope it does not come to this, but if I'm required to relocate the Queen, I will send Allric to inform you."

"That is all I ask for. Thank you, Gotthard."

The man half-bowed his head in response. "Is there anything else you require from me?"

"No, that will be all."

Gotthard bowed again and turned to leave. Lothric barely caught sight of Albert at his post before the door closed.

While Lothric hoped his mother would not need to be removed from the kingdom, he would rather her be gone than suffer the wrath of whatever Oceiros had become. It would also simplify things should Lothric choose not to link the flame after all. His mother, more than any other, would oppose his betrayal if she had the strength to confront him.

He briefly thought about such a fight, amused by how pitiful such a thing would be. It would be an assured loss for him.

Beyond that, however, the people still revered her even in spite of her prolonged absence from the public's eye, and Lothric was certain there would be those swayed enough from her pleas to challenge him and try to either force him to kindle the flame or would throw themselves upon it to try and link it if he wouldn't. Lothric knew such a thing was inevitable in the end, there were too many who depended on the cycle remaining intact.

Glancing out the window, he could just barely see beyond the walls of Lothric. In truth, there were few places where the Queen could go and be safe. Lothric could not think of a single one. Perhaps once he may have suggested the Cathedral, but with their strange behavior recently he knew that was likely no longer an option. Should Gwyndolin and Yorshka still have remained in power he may have suggested Anor Londo, but they too had gone silent.

How had it all come to this?

*

He was going to die in this bed, of that Lothric grew more certain with each and every day that passed. Some days he considered giving in and going to link the flame, if only to either feel some semblance of strength again or end his suffering. The closest he came to what he was near Lorian, greedily leeching every ounce of his strength for his own, as he was now.

His brother had been endlessly busy dealing with the aftermath of the defections that Eadric and Wynfrith had warned them about. The total number that defected were just over a dozen but even that was a sharp blow to their forces since many were high ranking. Lothric had been forced to declare that only the closest villages would be able to receive protection moving forward, and even that was likely to be reduced further.

His brother sat in his room now, dozing in a chair in the corner of the room. Lothric had attempted to send him away hours ago, but his brother was as stubborn as Lothric.

"What has you so restless?" Lorian's voice cut through his thoughts, deep and rough from sleep.

"Nothing, go back to sleep," he murmured as he turned over, his back to Lorian.

But it was too late he realized as Lorian shifted in the chair so that he was sitting up a bit higher, "Tell me."

But Lothric didn't have an answer for him, after all it wasn't a single thing. The best he could manage was, "A general disquiet with existence. Exhaustion I can give no voice to."

Lorian said nothing; there were some things words could not accurately convey - Lorian understood this, and he did not pry or ask for clarification. He simply tried to understand in whatever way he was able. Just as he always had. "What can I do?"

"You do enough already," Lothric assured him, sighing as he sat up himself. "Your presence here is already enough."

Normally he would expect Lorian to say or do more, but exhaustion must have been weighing heavily on him as well by the way he settled back in the chair and his breathing began to even out once more. Lothric too tried to follow his lead, shutting his eyes, willing his body to stop aching long enough to sleep.

It had nearly worked, but soon he found himself at the edge of consciousness being roused by the heavy sounds of footsteps running by his door. Lorian must have been awoken by the same sound seeing as how he was already sitting up and moving out of the chair.

"Where is my child? What have you done with him?" Oceiros's deranged voice rang down the hallway, followed by the stomping of his feet as he moved closer to Lothric's room and Lothric felt his heart go cold.

Lorian was the first to leave the room, with Lothric following closely behind. They went unnoticed as the commotion at the end of the hall escalated with Oceiros in a rage surrounded by his royal guards and several hunters; Lothric recognized Allric among them. Oceiros was lashing out in a frenzy with none of the guards or hunters confident or brave enough to try and contain him as he continued to bellow, "Ocelotte! Ocelotte! Where has she taken you?"

As soon as Allric caught sight of Lothric, he moved away from Oceiros and over to his side, saluting as he approached and spared a glance to Lorian. "Prince Lothric. Prince Lorian. Apologies for the disturbance."

"How long has he been having this… episode?" Lothric asked.

"Nearly an hour. He caught sight of the Queen and suddenly went mad, lashing out - I alerted Gotthard at once and he began to enact the measure as you discussed."

"What measures?" Lorian asked, his eyes on Lothric - not Allric.

"To have the Queen removed from the kingdom for her own well being."

Lothric didn't need to see Lorian's face to know that he disapproved - maybe not of the action as a whole, but certainly of the fact that Lothric had neglected to tell him. Again. "Thank you, Allric. I will defer to you to handle the King this evening."

"Of course, Prince Lothric, I will see to it that he is escorted somewhere less distracting." Without waiting for Lothric or Lorian to say more, Allric saluted - Lothric now noticing the Pillar ring on his finger - and hurried back to where Oceiros was doubled over on the ground, howling.

They wouldn't be much assistance here, Lothric realized as he reached for Lorian's arm and began to pull him back towards his room, only pausing when he heard a cry from Oceiros. "Ah," he called out softly, "there - do you hear him? Ocelotte calls for me. Where are you, Ocelotte?"

But Lothric didn't hear anything. He almost felt pity for the man, because he had been brilliant once, only to be reduced to this pitiful creature before him now. But then, Lothric reminded himself, it had all been of his own making in search of power beyond his means.

"You disapprove?" Lothric asked as soon as he and Lorian had returned to his room, the door closing shut behind them.

"No. It was the correct decision."

Lothric moved to sit on the side of the bed. "I confess, I expected… anger, perhaps?"

"If you did not send her away, she would have left of her own accord."

"She did not leave after all these years."

"There had still remained a trace of sanity and humanity within him. And she needed to ensure the flame would be linked." Lorian sat back down in the chair. "Now, Oceiros is but a husk of the man he once was, and her name and title no longer carry the power they once did. Do you know where he is taking her?"

"I left it up to Gotthard."

"You trust him?" There was doubt in Lorian's voice, and Lothric could not fault him for it.

"He will not do wrong by her; I am certain he still believes he is acting in our best interest. All of ours, including Oceiros… though his actions grow harder to justify with each day that passes."

"What do you plan to do with him?" And Lothric could already hear the grips of sleep at the edge of Lorian's voice.

"Gotthard suggested confinement."

"In the Archives?"

"That is one option, but it may prove impossible to contain him there." Lothric sighed. "I fear I will lose the final bastion of tranquility in this castle."

Lorian hummed in understanding as he settled back down to sleep. Lothric gave sleep one final attempt himself before rising out of his bed with a different goal in mind. One that could only be accomplished now in the dead of night under these precise circ*mstances.

It was still late, but with the Queen and Gotthard gone, and with the vast majority of high ranking knights and hunters rallied around Oceiros in an attempt to contain him without using force, Lothric realized this may be his only opportunity.

On his shelf, tucked away behind the chest that contained the Demon Prince's horns, Lothric pulled out the Fire Keeper's eyes. Carefully, he ran his fingers across the faded stained wood as he remembered Gertrude bringing them to him, after he had so carelessly forgotten about them.

The bell had not tolled, but he knew it would not be long now. And while the version of Firelink Shrine he would be summoned to was likely not the version Oceriros ensured was maintained, a Fire Keeper was always required to maintain the shrine. Certainly, he could have attempted to go before, but there was always the risk of prying eyes and ears - something he now may be able to avoid.

He was too tired to teleport far, but if Kamui was keeping watch nearby, Lothric would at least need to avoid him. A few halls down would have to do -- a feat so insignificant, yet still left him painfully winded and weak. Thankfully it was quiet as he pulled his hood over his head, glancing around and seeing only a handful of knights on patrol. Simple enough to avoid.

The gardens were not too far; a path he had walked hundreds, if not thousands of times over the course of his life. No one stood guard at the lift, which Lothric was thankful for as it descended, leading to the open space. Despite everything, even at night, the garden was a beautiful sight. He took the time to admire it, perhaps for the last time.

In sharp contrast to the beauty of the gardens, the cold stones of the mausoleum offered nothing but the echoes of the dead. Among them, a new engraving for Lothric's sibling which he spared a moment for, lighting a candle for him - a symbol of the Flame he could never return to.

At the back of the mausoleum was the path through the ancient graveyard, and beyond that still, the Firelink Shrine.

Some legends said that the kingdom of Lothric was specifically in proximity to Firelink Shrine to protect and defend it. Others said that Firelink Shrine was not the area itself, but rather the bonfire at the heart, and that the ashes and embers were from the bonfire outside what was once New Londo. But it was impossible to know what was legend and what was truth. After all, Lothric had learned first hand how histories surrounding the First Flame were often falsities or embellishments, carefully crafted to ensure loyalty and faith.

The graves here were in a state of disrepair considering the Kingdom had long since halted the practice of burials - except in extreme situations - and instead followed the practice of offering all bodies back to the flame under the oversight of a priest or priestess.

Now Firelink Shrine was before him, but it was nearly impossible to make out any of the details in the darkness. As he pushed the large doors open, Lothric was met with a sight he had not expected to see -- several thrones arranged in a circle around a solitary bonfire in the center of the room.

He didn't see or hear anyone within, and used the time before seeking out the Fire Keeper to glance at the thrones, finding that they were each engraved, each with a Lord of Cinder. The final throne in the center, he found the words etched on the back:

Holy King Lothric, last hope of his line

Lothric would have laughed if it weren't so pitiful; he would never be king, and for him to be the last hope was pitiful indeed. Had Oceiros had this commissioned? Was it before or after he knew what Lothric was doomed to be?

"Hello?" called out a soft voice.

Lothric looked down to see a woman adorned in the same charcoal robes that Kriemhild wore and an intricate silver band over her eyes - or rather, where her eyes should be. The woman gently stoked the ember in the bonfire as several small sparks flew in the air.

"Art thou the next Lord?" she asked. "I fear thou art early; but come, sit with me."

Carefully, Lothric descended the steps and sat down next to her, realizing at last that the coating on the ground was not dirt, but ash from all those returned to the First Flame. "You are the Fire Keeper of this Shrine?"

"I now tend to the shrine, as taught by my mentor before her duty was fulfilled and she was put to rest in the tower." She tilted her head in his direction, acknowledging where he now sat. "Art thou Holy King Lothric?"

"Only Prince Lothric, I fear."

A soft smile on her face was the only acknowledgement he received. "Thou art destined to become a Lord of Cinder - a title more valuable than King. Pray tell, why hast thou come before the tolling of the bell? Is it thy intention to link the Flame early?"

"I have not yet decided my purpose for coming here." Lothric pulled out the box, running his thumb across the edge. "I have questions, but I do not know if I wish to truly know the answers."

"Perhaps I might be able to soothe that which disquiets thee."

"That is a kindness I fear I cannot impose on you, but if you are willing…"

The Fire Keeper smiled. "My purpose is to tend to the First Flame, and by extension, the Lords of Cinder."

Lothric reached out and placed the box in her hands and he was silent as he watched her reach for the clasp. "A relic I was given and promised answers, but I am helpless to see their truth."

"Eyes, my Lord?" she replied in what he could only call revered awe. "Such a gift is forbidden to us. I cannot--"

He needed to know what vision these eyes showed that caused them to be so forbidden. What visions Sulyvahn wanted to ensure he had the opportunity to learn about. "I would not ask such a thing of you if it was not important."

"Should this sight lead me to temptation, thou must kill me and strip this gift from my corpse." Her voice was barely above a whisper as she spoke, but Lothric could see how tightly she clasped the box.

"I understand. You have my word."

With only the slightest hesitation, she reached up and removed the band from her eyes. Lothric watched silently as she carefully placed the eyes, shuddering for a moment, before replacing the band.

"What do you see?" he asked.

"Forgive me, my Lord. 'Tis like nothing I could have even dreamt. There is a darkness that stretches beyond comprehension. But… there is more. Small flames in the distance. Their embers warm me even from so far away, though the First Flame is gone indeed." She tilted her head in thought. "There is darkness, but it is not cold, my Lord. It is almost… welcoming."

"Then the world will not end when the First Flame is gone?"

"No, my Lord," she said, amazement coloring her voice. "'Tis different, but there is still life. A dark beauty."

"And the Gods?"

"Gone, along with the First Flame. The Gods become legends as the Dragons are today." She turned to face him, "Prince Lothric, thou must take my life. What these eyes have shown -- a dangerous whisper of how to extinguish the First Flame forever. This knowledge--"

"Must be protected," Lothric interrupted. There was an offer in her words, an opportunity to snuff out the First Flame here and now. To end things once and for all. And yet, Lothric's mind slipped back to Lorian who was as shackled to the First Flame for life as Lothric was. He would not link the flame, nor would he extinguish it. He knew now what his choice was. He would let it fade, regardless of what effects the weakening flame would continue to have on his own health as well as Lorian's. "You must hold close these visions and the knowledge there is a future beyond the Flame. Promise me this, Fire Keeper."

"But my vows, my Lord."

"Will be fulfilled. As you said yourself, you are sworn to the First Flame and thus the Lords of Cinder. Your vows are also to me."

The Fire Keeper fell silent as her gaze turned toward the small sparks of the bonfire. "I understand."

Lothric rose to his feet and began to retrace his steps back to the entrance of the shrine. He spared only a glance back at the form of the Fire Keeper huddled next to the bonfire, hands tracing over the band that covered her eyes.

As Lothric walked back through the old graves, he knew that he would need to take measures to protect the Fire Keeper and thus the eyes. If Kriemhild's teachings held true, then when he failed to link the flame the old Lords of Cinder would be summoned, and if they should fail to answer the summons then the Unkindled would begin to rise. They once had the concept of gravetenders to dispatch any undead that were not returned to the fire and found their way back to life. It was a practice that had fallen out of favor when the Queen began changing the culture of the land. But with the Queen gone, it was time to bring the tradition back to life.

A short teleport brought Lothric back to the mausoleum as he stood and stared at the various names engraved on the stones around him. He would likely never visit this place personally again.

There was another spell he had learned from Orbeck that he would need to use this evening - the man had never been a fan of illusory magic personally, but he taught them to Lothric all the same. With a wave of his hand, Lothric created a picturesque continuation of the back of the mausoleum, blocking the path out to the graves, and the Firelink Shrine beyond it. It was a simple illusion, one that was easily dispatched, but if it kept out the majority of trespassers, that is what truly mattered.

Lothric continued on his path back out to the gardens, staring back into the mausoleum as he reaffirmed his decision.

This would be a fitting tomb for the Mad King.

Chapter 27: Birthright

Chapter Text

The sun poured through the window in the early morning, and Lorian was greeted with silence, as if the commotion the evening before hadn't occurred. It was a deceptive silence, he knew, for the madness of Oceiros would need to be dealt with or this would become a frequent occurrence. He was thankful for Lothric's preparation to have the Queen removed from the castle, out of harm's way, though he suspected Lothric had done it for more than just her safety.

His brother was already awake, it seemed - or perhaps had not managed to fall back asleep judging by the dark smudges beneath his eyes. Lothric sat across the room from him on the bed, hunched over a piece of parchment that he was intently focused on. There were other discarded pieces of parchment on the floor, one of which Lorian picked up and read; it read like a poem about oceans and deep seas.

"A poem?" he asked as he sat up, and Lothric jumped, dragging a line of ink across the parchment.

"A letter."

"To whom?"

"Pontiff Sulyvahn." Lothric set the letter down and turned to face him. "It has begun."

Lorian frowned. "What has?"

"I spoke with the Fire Keeper last evening while the castle was distracted with taming Oceiros. I gave her the eyes."

"And what did they reveal?"

"A future beyond the First Flame. Small embers in the darkness. It was not what either Sulyvahn or Gertrude described in their visions of the future, but it is enough." Lothric hesitated before continuing, "There was an offer, though she did not speak it aloud, to extinguish the flame outright at once."

The fact that Lorian had awoken this morning at all, and that Lothric was back in his bed, told him all he needed to know about what Lothric had decided. "You have no regrets?"

"None," Lothric said confidently. He grabbed the letter, tossing it aside, likely because it would need to be re-written now that there was a streak of ink across the page. "I will let it fade to ash in time."

"The world will continue to rot until it fades."

"And the moment the final ember fades to ash, so too will we both die. You will die."

"I have died twice already."

Lothric's face darkened as he cruelly declared, "And I would sooner let this kingdom and the whole world fall to ruin, than to needlessly sacrifice what remains of your life while there is still time left."

It was pointless to argue with Lothric once he made up his mind; a lesson Lorian had learned many times over. Rather than chastise or argue with him, Lorian decided to be grateful for his brother's selfishness.

"I fear I must ask a favor," Lothric started as he moved off the bed. "Oceiros must be dealt with."

"You have a plan then?" Lorian rose from the chair, moving to don his armor.

"Yes. I plan to order him confined to the mausoleum. No doubt that is where he will attempt to continue going regardless. If he seeks his precious child Ocelotte, I will see to it that they are reunited indefinitely."

"And in doing so, you also place him directly in the path to the Firelink Shrine."

Lothric smiled proudly. Nothing delighted him as much as when Lorian acknowledged the unsaid portions of his plans. "Exactly so."

"Precisely how do you plan on keeping him there? He is still King."

"A king unfit to rule, as I am certain all will agree. I have already been given provisional power and have authority equal to his own. In the absence of his sanity, I have the authority to order his royal guard to see to his oversight." Lothric picked up the parchment he had discarded earlier. "And I believe the Pontiff will make good on his offer of assistance."

Lorian was in the process of buckling his armor at the mention of the Pontiff. "If he sends any resources, the people will see it as a threat."

"It will be my responsibility to ensure the people see it as a gift to celebrate the alliance between our kingdoms."

"And the Pillars?"

"I will deal with them. I have already sent word to Emma, Allric, and Wulfred."

"Do you trust Allric?"

"I did once, but he was Gotthard's selection to act as the leader of the Black Hand in his absence. That is why Kamui will be there as well, but you will not be there to witness it."

Lorian hummed in understanding. "You would have me move Oceiros while you convene the Pillars."

"Precisely. I trust I have your permission to speak on your behalf?"

"You know that you do. It was why Wulfred opposed my acceptance of the position in the first place."

Lothric handed him his helmet after he had secured his final gauntlet in place. "We will talk more later. You will need to move swiftly."

With little more than a slight inclination of his head, Lorian donned his helmet and left the room. If he was to move Oceiros, he needed information, and more importantly, more bodies to contain him if he refused to cooperate. Wynfrith and Eadric were certain to be at the barracks at this time of morning, along with a few of Ocerios's royal guards. The others would be with the King already.

"Prince Lorian," Wynfrith greeted with surprise as she saw him approach the barracks. "Has something happened?"

"Orders from Prince Lothric. Gather Eadric and the King's royal guards that are off duty."

"At once!"

It didn't take long for Wynfrith to gather up the knights as Lorian had requested. The leader of Oceiros's guard, Birstan, stepped forward, saluting. "Knight General, Prince Lothric has orders for us?"

"We are to escort King Oceiros to the mausoleum. Those in his royal guard will be stationed there permanently."

"The mausoleum? Because that is where he keeps going?" Lorian nodded and Birstan sighed. "All right. If he's not there already he'll be at the Archives."

It was what Lorian suspected as well. "Eadric, check the Archives and report back."

"No need," called out Albert as he made his presence known. "The King is already at the gardens. Allric had been keeping watch on him all morning until he was summoned away by Prince Lothric."

Lorian nodded. While being constantly shadowed within the castle walls by the hunters could be a detriment at times, it also ensured they always have the most up to date information available.

The knights fell in line behind him as Lorian led them through the castle down to the gardens. Sure enough, Oceiros was there, but he was no longer screaming or bellowing. Instead, he stood atop the raised platform in the center of the gardens where Lorian used to train. He looked almost tranquil in his thoughts.

Lorian motioned for the knights to each take up a position around the raised platform before ascending the stairs to face him. "King Oceiros."

"My son," he greeted, voice heavy in a rare moment of lucidity. "Have you at last come to betray me? To mock me for believing that I could bear an heir stronger than you while you stand before me now, the strongest and bravest of all my children?"

It was the furthest thing from what Lorian had expected that he was taken aback by the comment. The flame of resentment he had buried deep within himself sparked back to life; and even though he had sworn long ago that he no longer cared what Oceiros had thought of him, the rejection from his father still festered within him like an open wound. His hand itched to reach for his sword, but he pushed back the temptation, reminding himself that nothing Oceiros said or did mattered any longer.

"No," Oceiros muttered after Lorian refused to answer him, "it wouldn't be you that betrays me, not when your brother dreams of betrayal enough for both of you."

The madness was beginning to creep in again as Oceiros began circling Lorian, nostrils flaring in anger.

"Lothric has no intention of betraying you. He only seeks to prevent you from harming others and yourself."

Oceiros barked out a laugh. "Is that what he told you, or is that what you tell yourself so that you might claim ignorance? You think I am a fool? You think I do not see the way he has twisted my own kingdom against me? I know what he has done!"

Now Lorian did reach for his sword, holding it cautiously by his side as Oceiros grabbed at his head, screaming in some combination of madness and anger. "He only seeks to protect the kingdom."

"Protect it? You are a naive disgrace!" Oceiros roared as he turned on Lorian. "Is that why he sent my Black Hand away with my wife in the middle of the night? Is that why he has seized full control over MY kingdom, and why you follow his every order like an obedient dog? Why he has sent you to dispose of me like all his other enemies?"

The ground beneath Lorian's feet began to shudder and seemingly ice over. He moved away a split second before spikes of crystal erupted where he had just been standing, and around the platform Lorian saw the knights leap into action, drawing their weapons and moving to ascend the steps. But Lorian held up his free hand to stop them. He would not allow Oceiros the satisfaction.

"Look me in the eye and tell me your brother has any intention of linking the fire!" Oceiros bellowed.

Lorian walked by the crystal spikes that had shattered until he was standing in front of the beast who was once his father. He spoke in a low voice so that only Oceiros would be able to hear him, "Let the fire fade and this world along with it. This mausoleum will become your grave as you fade into a memory."

"You insolent, self-serving, cretin!" Oceiros howled, turning sharply and using his tail to swipe at Lorian. His movements were sluggish in comparison to the Demon Prince, making it easy to side step out of the way even in his weakened condition. Lorian motioned for the knights to join him.

"King Oceiros, we do not wish to harm you," Birstan tried to reason.

"So they have poisoned your minds as well. My own guard."

"There is no need to fight." He continued, though he was brandishing his spear and keeping his distance from the King. "Our orders are only to ensure you remain here. Peacefully."

Lorian had retreated back in-line with the knights at this point as he watched Oceiros. "Birstan, I trust you and your men can manage him?"

"Yes, Knight General."

"If there are any changes--" Lorian began, but wasn't able to finish his thought as the air itself reverberated around them. Not very far from where they stood, the bell tower in the Firelink Shrine rang out. The sound was deafening; Lorian fell to one knee as he felt the bond lash out, rippling with unfiltered anxiety. His heartbeat quickened.

Wynfrith and Eadric both rushed to his side, calling out in unison, "Knight General!"

Lorian had never believed the stories about the Firelink Shrine bell, and he was still skeptical despite feeling the effects himself. Part of him believed that what he was feeling was simply Lothric's unfiltered reaction, echoing between them.

Lothric.

He pushed himself back up to his feet, waving off Wynfrith and Eadric. Behind him, he could hear Oceiros raving in the gardens, but the old man was no longer any of his concern. He needed to reach the council chambers where Lothric was certain to be if the meeting with the Pillars was still taking place.

The council chambers felt like an eternity away as Lorian exited the gardens and navigated his way through the castle. The bell was still ringing, even now, and had drawn out all the knights and servants within the castle, many of whom were covering their ears from the deafening sound. Both Wynfrith and Eadric were still chasing after him; whether out of a sense of responsibility or to make sure Lothric was safe, he couldn't be certain.

The doors were already wide open as Lorian approached and he was grateful to see Kamui stationed outside. "Prince Lorian," he greeted. "Lady Emma has already sent Allric to fetch Master Aelfric, but we're fairly certain he is beyond the help of simple poultices."

Lorian nodded in acknowledgement as he moved into the room where Emma and Wulfred were each hovering over Lothric, though each had vastly different reasons. His brother was seated, hunched over the table with his hands pressed firmly over his ears, faint markings of blood showing where he had clawed into his flesh in an attempt to drown out the noise.

"Thank the Gods you're here, Prince Lorian. I had expected there would be an adverse reaction, but never like this," Emma said, clearly shaken. "I had spoken with the Queen when she informed us this would happen, that all those with strength enough to rekindle the Flame or those who were born with a strong connection to it, would feel the call when the bells tolled."

"It's truly fascinating. I had never believed in the superstition regarding the Shrine belltower, but it appears that King Oceiros had been correct when he declared that Prince Lothric would have the strength to rekindle the Flame as a Lord of Cinder." Wulfred commented.

With little ceremony, Lorian pushed Wulfred aside, kneeling beside Lothric. He quickly stripped off his right gauntlet and placed his hand on Lothric's wrist, recalling how physical contact had played such a significant role in the past where the bond was concerned. It seemed to be enough to pull Lothric out of his stupor as he raised his head. Lorian felt the deafening echoes of the bell echo through him, and beyond it an icy chill settled in his chest.

"Lorian," Lothric said weakly. "Please, make it stop."

"There is only one way to make it stop, Prince Lothric," Emma said sternly. Lorian had expected more sympathy from the woman, but considering this was the culmination of her life's purpose, perhaps he should not have found her cold tone as shocking as he did. "You must fulfill your birthright and link the flame."

Lorian ignored her and stood, pulling Lothric to his feet alongside him. With one swift motion he let go of Lothric's wrist and lifted him in his arms.

"Yes, you will need to accompany him, Prince Lorian. See to it he makes it to the Shrine safely."

"I am not taking him to the Shrine," Lorian said curtly, feeling the way Lothric shivered in his arms.

"But, he must!" Emma followed after him as he walked out of the council chambers. He took note of Kamui, Wynfrith, and Eadric all falling in formation behind them. "His condition will not get better unless he rekindles the flame. That is his destiny."

The sound of footsteps running towards them had Lorian on edge until he saw that it was Kriemhild sprinting toward them from the direction of the Archives. She chastised Emma, "If he links the flame in the condition he is in now, he'll die anyway."

"Yes, a noble sacrifice that he has been aware of since he was born, an oath he swore to uphold when he accepted the crown."

"Do you truly believe in his condition his sacrifice would provide more than a few more years to the flame?"

"It must. He was born to become a Lord of Cinder, he bears the bloodline worthy of the title. If he cannot link the flame, then there are none who can." Emma pleaded, "Please, Prince Lorian. Reconsider this."

What they did not realize was the decision was never his - it had always been Lothric's, and he would stand by Lothric's decision regardless of the consequences.

The castle was washed in silence as the tolling of the bell finally ceased, and the group came to a stop.

"Prince Lothric!" insisted Emma.

He raised his head from where it had been pressed into Lorian's shoulder and peered at the woman, hissing, "Enough."

"But-!"

"Enough," he repeated, before lowering his head again.

Lorian continued on, and this time Emma did not continue to follow them. The others, on the other hand, had insisted on following them as Lorian finally reached Lothric's bedchamber. He opened the door and set Lothric down on the bed, watching as he immediately began pulling the covers over himself before exiting the room and turning to the group.

"What are your orders, Prince Lorian?" Wynfrith asked. Her expression was as solemn as the rest as they all looked to him for direction.

"Go with Eadric and organize the royal guard. I want every entrance to this wing of the Keep guarded. I will be sending word that any knights on patrol outside of Lothric's immediate borders are to return at once, and I want them re-assigned to internal patrols." As soon as he finished giving the order, Wynfrith and Eadric both saluted and ran off down the hall.

"I came as quickly as I could, but I fear I have no new information that can help Prince Lothric." Kriemhild said.

"Prince Lothric trusts you, Mistress Kriemhild. See to it that you keep an eye on Wulfred. If you hear or see anything, I trust you will find a way to pass the information along discreetly."

"Of course." She smiled at Kamui and waved to Albert who had just passed Wynfrith and Eadric while on his way towards Lorian, before she headed back towards the Archives.

"Prince Lorian," Albert greeted. "King Oceiros's guard are keeping watch over him in the gardens. He got a little frisky, but nothing that couldn't be handled. I trust Prince Lothric is well?"

"He is alive." Lorian spared a glance back to the room before turning to the two hunters. "Kamui, please keep an eye on Lady Emma. Albert, I will entrust you to guard this door."

"We won't let you down," Albert assured him. Kamui nodded in silent agreement before bowing his head and heading back to where Emma had stopped following.

It was a temporary solution; Lorian would need to convene the knights to give proper orders and also determine what role the heretics and loyalists would play in the days to come. But first, he needed to ensure that Lothric was well. The agony lessened when the bell ceased, but the deathly chill lingered.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Lothric called out to him. "Thank you."

"How do you feel?" Lorian asked, approaching the bed.

Bundled in his prayer robes and beneath the covers, Lothric extended a hand out, patting the bed beside him. "It feels as if I am in the clutches of death itself. There is a coldness that has settled within me that I cannot shake. You feel it the same, I expect."

"Yes," Lorian agreed. He removed his gauntlets and helmet, but not the rest of his armor, knowing he would need to leave again to set the peoples' minds at ease. The preachings of the church were ingrained in the culture of Lothric so much that every common layperson would know the significance of the bells. "What do you need?"

"A moment's peace. To breathe. To think." Lothric exhaled deeply, and Lorian sat on the edge of the bed in the silence until he was ready to speak again. "Emma and Wulfred will be a problem."

"They are being watched. Wulfred by Kriemhild, and Emma by Kamui."

Lothric hummed in approval. "You have always been brighter than any dared give you credit for."

"Only what I have learned by observing you," Lorian assured him, and it was the truth. He had a sense for combat and strategy, but politics and manipulation were his brother's battlefield, and he had learned all he knew now by watching Lothric navigate such dynamics with ease. "Were you able to send your letter?"

"Yes, I took time to finish it while the Pillars assembled. Though now I suspect the arrival may cause more questions and concern than I had initially anticipated."

"You will only be able to hide behind the excuse of your poor health for so long before the people begin to question your true intent. Arrivals from Irithyll will exacerbate the doubts."

"I know," Lothric sighed. "But there is no alternative. We have already had this discussion what seems a lifetime ago."

"Much has changed since then," Lorian reminded him.

"Not enough to change our fate."

"You never accounted for having allies."

"The royal guard and a handful of hunters will hardly make a difference."

"You saw to it yourself that we would have more allies than just those. There is an entire splinter sect of heretics within the knights that are prepared to fight for the future of Man and the extinguishment of the First Flame. There is also Mistress Kriemhild in the Archives."

"And I did not anticipate the drastic shortage in our food supply and how it would weaken the populace," Lothric agreed. He had shifted from accepting his fate to planning to rebel against it. "If Irithyll sends even a handful of reinforcements on par with the woman that accompanied him, they would make a noticeable difference."

Lorian recalled her well and still had the scars from their spar as a reminder. "If there is a siege on the Keep in an attempt to reach you, I will ensure that it fails."

"What of Oceiros? And the wyverns?"

"Oceiros will remain in the mausoleum." Lorian assured him. "And as Knight General, the wyverns and their riders will follow my commands."

"Then all we need is to buy enough time to survive."

Chapter 28: Grave

Chapter Text

Lothric was impressed by the sheer efficiency with which Lorian was able to take charge amidst the chaos. It had been nearly a month and Lothric was certain that the side effects of the fading flame and the bond were truly beginning to wear on him. But they continued on, though each day felt like they were biding time until the inevitable. Always waiting for the knife in the back that never came.

Lothric's days dragged on with little he could do or manage for the kingdom; he had lost all correspondence with their neighboring regions, with the exception of Pontiff Sulyvahn, whose assistance had arrived with a surprising haste.

Kriemhild had seen to the arrangement and placement of the grave tenders, making use of her silencing sorcery to lead them beyond Oceiros, who remained within the mausoleum, and towards the graves that led to the Firelink Shrine. In the days since he had been cast aside to remain there, the mutation that had seized his body had only continued to worsen his condition. Kriemhild reported that he had lost his sight entirely, and now had the unsettling addition of strange growths sprouting from his back.

The handful of Outrider Knights also sent by Sulyvahn reported directly to Lorian, carrying a promise from the Pontiff that additional support could be provided should the situation grow dire. Lothric hoped to never need to take the Pontiff up on that particular offer, unclear on precisely what it would entail.

Curiously enough, a handful of knights that had been stationed at the Cathedral of the Deep also arrived - more of Sulyvahn's influence no doubt - to which Lothric had instructed them to watch over the gardens as well.

They were holding out surprisingly well, considering the depths of betrayal Lothric was committing. Emma had fled from the public eye as Head Priestess, seeking refuge amongst her faithful, and Lothric couldn't help but draw a comparison to Gertrude's own self-exile and following.

Wulfred, on the other hand it seemed, had given up on the premise of the First Flame, and instead devoted his time along with the Crystal Sage to unlocking the remaining mysteries of the Paledrake.

If Kriemhild's original teachings held true, there would be a second tolling of the bell to raise the previous Lords of Cinder, to call them to fulfill their duty and rekindle the flame once more. The thought alone was enough to set Lothric on edge.

Lothric was pulled from his thoughts by a knock at his door - the only ones who had permission these days were Albert, Kamui, and Lorian. Though his brother usually did not announce his presence by knocking. "Enter."

"Prince Lothric," Kamui greeted with a bow as he opened the door. "Mistress Kriemhild wishes to speak with you. She insists it's urgent."

He waved for Kamui to send her in, and immediately rose to his feet upon seeing the look on her face - a mixture of terror and disbelief. "What happened?"

"Lady Gertrude is dead," she choked out. "I don't know when it happened, but when Wulfred found her body, he went mad. As mad as King Oceiros, my Lord."

"Catch your breath and speak clearly. I need precise details of what occurred."

"When I saw what happened, I accused him of killing her by keeping her caged like an animal." She let out a shaky breath. "That's when he turned on me. I fled to a section of the Archives that no one else really knows. There's a section that can be sealed off by the bookcases if you know what you're doing. I trapped him within and ran straight here. If word gets out what happened to Lady Gertrude--"

If luck was on his side at all, the man would rot in the Archives where Kriemhild had sealed him. Lothric placed a hand on her shoulder. "You did well."

"Thank you, Prince Lothric."

"Kamui," he called out. The man had undoubtedly been listening to the entire exchange. "Go to the Archives. See if you can find out who is responsible for Gertrude's death."

"At once."

"Kriemhild, go with Kamui. Seal the Archives, all the entrances. And if you see Albert on the way, take him with you. We cannot be certain what awaits you."

The pair nodded and ran out of the room while Lothric took a moment to compose himself. If there was one event that could break the tentative peace within Lothric, this was it.

He needed to find Lorian before all chaos broke loose.

Part of the increased security included having Lorian's chosen royal guard stationed at all entrances to the Keep near Lothric. More often than not, Wynfrith and Eadric took the closest posts, and he was pleased to find Wynfrith already waiting not too far from his door.

She saluted him as he approached. "Prince Lothric. I saw Kriemhild just now; she seemed shaken. Has something happened?

"I need to speak with Lorian at once. I trust you know where he is?"

"Yes, of course. He said he would be handling a rebellion that broke out just outside the Cathedral, some of Lady Emma's followers he suspected."

Lothric cursed under his breath. "Take me there. Bring the entirety of the royal guard if you must."

"Of course, wait here a moment while I gather them." She ran off down the halls, and he could hear the faint echo of the names she shouted.

A strong part of him was tempted to teleport down there to find Lorian himself, but he barely had the strength these days to teleport across a courtyard, let alone the entire castle. Not to mention, he couldn't be certain what would be waiting for him if there truly was a rebellion. Going alone would be reckless.

Wynfrith returned as quickly as she had promised with the rest of the royal guard in tow: Eadric, Oswin, Estrid, and Baldric. "Maerec is already with Prince Lorian," she explained before Lothric could even question his absence.

"What's the reason for all of this, Your Highness?" Oswin asked calmly.

Lothric began walking towards the front of the Keep, the guards falling in a natural formation around him. "There has been an assassination."

"Who?" Estrid asked.

"Lady Gertrude."

The sobering silence that followed that statement told Lothric that they understood the severity of her death, and he even heard Estrid muttering a prayer under her breath.

The castle, which had once been full of life, had become as silent as a grave in the past month. The faithful commoners despaired at the fact that Lothric refused to link the flame, while those who had been swayed by Gertrude's beliefs had become far more active - though still preferring to act from the shadows. It made for quite the unsettling experience as he left the confines of the Keep.

The pungent smell of burning flesh reached Lothric long before he caught sight of the first glimpse of blood in the streets. Wynfrith signaled to the others and they tightened their formation around Lothric as they continued to follow the carnage.

Lothric eventually caught sight of Lorian, standing at the center of it all with Maerec and a handful of knights at his side. When he heard the approaching footsteps, Lothric could see the visible confusion in the frown on his face until he caught sight of Lothric and his expression relaxed if only for a moment.

Against their protests, Lothric broke free from the cocoon of his guards, moving forward toward Lorian where he grabbed his forearm and pulled him aside. "Gertrude is dead. Kamui and Kriemhild are investigating it now, but there likely is not long before word spreads."

"Who else knows?" Lorian asked.

"Only Kamui, Kriemhild, and the guard." Lothric assured him. "Albert may as well if Kamui and Kriemhild stumbled upon him."

"And the Archives?"

"Kriemhild is sealing them." Lothric lowered his voice further before continuing, "She has already trapped Wulfred inside."

"For what reason?"

"Apparently he slipped into the same madness as Oceiros."

Lorian nodded in understanding. "I will begin organizing the rest of the knights and what priests remain. Fall back to the Keep."

Lothric placed a hand on the center of his breastplate, as if he could offer additional strength. "Stay safe."

His brother turned away back to the knights that were gathered around. "Maerec, find Elwin, Rimilda, Agnes, and Romund. Have Elwin take patrol of the High Wall, Rimilda will take the Courtyard, and Agnes and Romund take patrol of the Keep."

Maerec saluted and ran off towards the Dragon Barracks.

Lorian continued, turning to the knights, "Engelise, return to the barracks. I want every able bodied knight on patrol. The rest of you will remain here."

The knight saluted and ran off back to the barracks by the Keep.

"What of us," asked Baldric.

"Escort Prince Lothric back to the Keep. Ensure no harm comes to him."

"Prince Lothric." Kamui's voice called out from above him; Lothric looked up in time to see the hunter drop down from one of the buildings into the courtyard beside him. His face was flushed from exertion - whatever news he brought must have been urgent.

"What news, Kamui?"

"Nothing good, I fear." He held up the Hunter pillar ring. "I found him on the roof above the Archives."

"What of Allric?"

"Dead."

The implication that Allrich had been involved was something Lothric didn't have time to dwell on. Had it been ordered by Gotthard, or did he act of his own freewill? Or had he perhaps been attempting to protect her when he was struck down?

"Keep the ring. The timing is not ideal, but I entrust the title of Black Hand to you now, Kamui."

The other man attempted to reply, but whatever he had been about to say was interrupted by a monstrous roar from the sky above them. Above them was the dreadful sight of the large winged followers that Lorian had described from their time investigating Gertrude's followers. The description at the time had not done justice to their disturbing form.

"Protect the Prince!" shouted Wynfrith as she and the others rushed forward to form a protective guard around him.

There were three that had actual wings that flew overhead, but Lothric was certain that they were not the only ones that would be seen; they seemed to have a set path as well. Lothric turned back to Kamui. "Return to the Archives, I have plenty of protection here. See to it that Kriemhild is safe and the Archives are sealed."

Kamui tipped the brim of his hat before scaling the side of the building, back the way he had originally come from.

It seemed the commotion had been enough to rouse the dormant commoners who began to peer out of their homes where they saw Lothric and the others were gathered in the streets. One of them caught sight of Lothric and hollered out, "Traitor!"

Then, soon enough, more voices joined in. "Why did you forsake us, Prince Lothric?"

"You were supposed to rekindle the First Flame! You were supposed to save us!"

"The time of Gods is over!" Another voice countered. "Prince Lothric is ushering in a new Age, the one Lady Gertrude spoke of!"

Lothric fell back to Wynfrith's side where he was once again surrounded by the rich blues of the royal guard, and not a moment too soon as another one of the massive winged monstrosities wearing armor inscribed with the Angelic faith's symbol crashed down into the courtyard. Unlike the ones that had been on a path to the Archives, this one did not have functional wings.

Another landed beside it a moment later, both of them turning on the group with the same inhuman howl.

Lorian was at the forefront with the other knights as the royal guard pushed Lothric to fall back towards the Keep. Lorian's blade was a burning beacon, superheated by the remnant flame of the Demon Prince, able to fend off the attack from one of the creatures with ease. The knights who attempted to guard against the other one were not as fortunate. In addition to being massive, the creature had a terrifying strength as it gripped its blade tightly and began to turn in circles in a rampage, slicing through several of the knights that weren't able to block or dodge the attack.

Lothric lost sight of the attack as he was corralled up the steps, now only able to hear the screams of commoners, knights, and the monstrosities alike.

"Another one ahead of us!" Eadric called out.

"It tore through the patrol like they were nothing," Baldric pointed out. "I'll stay here with Oswin, we'll cover this path until Engelise returns with reinforcements."

"They might not be enough! We need everyone possible." Eadric countered.

"The alarm bells should have been rung by now. If they haven't it means the men stationed there are probably dead, so I'll take care of them." Estrid volunteered. "Wynfrith, Eadric, will you two be enough to protect Prince Lothric until reinforcements arrive?"

Wynfrith glanced back at where they had just come from, and Lothric followed her gaze, seeing Lorian falling back. "We'll be fine, we'll have the Knight General with us. Now, go!"

With that, Lothric's guard of five became a guard of two. But he didn't feel concerned for his own safety, not when Lorian was still within sight. Even at his weakest, Lorian would still have strength enough to be a threat to the strongest of foes.

Baldric and Oswin held true to their word as they skillfully intercepted the next creature, keeping it at a distance to occupy it without putting their lives directly in danger. They had been trained well - Lothric hoped they would survive; a thought he didn't have time to linger on as Wynfrith grabbed his wrist, pulling him close as she navigated her way back up to the Keep.

Chaos had erupted across all corners of the castle the further they went. The attack had been sudden, and despite all their preparation, they found that they were still ill-prepared. The angelic faithful were out in force, but appeared to be confused, along with the other knights, as fighting broke out across every corner, and Lothric could not in good faith determine who was fighting on his behalf and who was fighting against him. Wynfrith and Eadric appeared to be facing the same dilemma, attacking any who dared to get too close to them.

As they passed the entrance to the Keep, the bells finally rang out in the siege pattern that Lothric had hoped to never hear in his lifetime, but he found some comfort in the knowledge that Estrid had managed to complete her task.

"This position isn't very defensible, Wyn," Eadric said after they had ducked into an alcove within the Keep.

"I know, give me a moment. I need to think."

"The Throne Room is the most defensible location in the Keep," Lothric pointed out. Eadric was correct in his assessment that the Keep itself was no longer defensible, especially considering any who had taken patrols within the Keep knew the location of his chambers and his study, whereas the Throne Room was practically a fortress with only a single point of entry and a bridge to serve as a choke point.

"We don't stand a chance with just the two of us if three of those things were headed towards the Archives." Wynfrith countered. "We need to wait for the others."

"We don't even know if they made it, Wyn."

The door that they had entered the Keep through opened behind them, and Wynfrith and Eadric brandished their weapons, shifting to move in front of Lothric. Their shoulders sagged in relief as they realized it was Lorian ducking his way through the doorway, not an enemy, with Oswin and Baldric in tow.

"Estrid isn't back yet?" Oswin asked. "I heard the bells ring."

Lorian walked by them, now leading the way through the Keep. "We go to the Throne Room. Estrid and Maerec will know to find us there."

Lothric slipped out of Wynfrith's grasp and moved to Lorian's side, barely able to keep pace, having over-exerted himself already on the walk to find him and back. "What is the situation?"

"Poor. Whatever they are, they are well-trained and deadly. They know Gertrude's miracles as well."

"The Pillars of Light?" Lothric asked, and when Lorian nodded he let out a breath. He recalled the devastating power the miracle had when Gertrude had used it. "What of our forces?"

Lorian simply shook his head.

That bad then?

"Come, we are not far now." Lorian called out loud enough for the others to hear. The rest of the guard caught up quickly, the same formation they had when Estrid was with them, but this time with Lorian taking point.

There were two paths to the Throne Room, Lothric knew. The first required them to pass through the Archives while the second was through a small chapel that was used for smaller ceremonies. Clearly, the second path would be the most direct, and the safer of the two, but it also avoided the area where Lothric had sent Kriemhild, Kamui, and Albert.

They were almost at the bridge to the Archives when Lothric heard the familiar shriek of wyverns overhead. The group slowed down just enough to watch two fly off towards the edges of the kingdom, while the remaining two landed at the entrance to the Keep behind them. A group of knights and conscripts were fighting just across the bridge, and they watched as the wyverns reared back their heads and reigned fire down on the fight below.

"Through here," Wynfrith called out, bringing everyone's attention back to the task at hand.

They all filed through the small chapel and onto the lift; Lothric noted that there were no sounds of fighting above them, which was either a good or bad sign. Judging by the state of the rest of the kingdom, he expected only bad at this point in time.

As they stepped out at the end of the bridge, Lothric was able to clearly see several of the winged abominations flying above the Archives, one of which spotted them as they arrived, splitting the group, sending five of them towards the Throne room and leaving the remaining three keeping guard above the Archives.

"Get ready," Oswin ordered as they all fell back to the Throne Room. "They have the advantage out in the open, but if we can draw them into the Throne Room, then their flying doesn't help them."

Lothric brushed a hand against Lorian's shoulder before pointing up at the area in the back where the throne was. Lorian nodded in silent acknowledgement and turned his back to face the entrance as Lothric teleported himself to the back of the room.

The creatures were not far behind them, bursting into the room only a few moments after Lothric had found his refuge. Lorian was the first to strike, bringing his sword down on the first creature that entered the room. It recovered quickly and moved out of the way, putting distance between itself and Lorian, but the damage had already been done. Its wings had been battered, and feathers were scattering to every corner of the room, but it seemed entirely unphased.

A second and third one followed the first creature in, and the remaining guards paired up to each take one. Wynfrith and Eadric took the second, while Baldric and Oswin took the third. Oswin's observations had been correct in that their mobility would be severely reduced in the Throne Room, but failed to account for how high the ceilings actually were. Any time the creatures were at a disadvantage, they flew to relative safety, where the greatest threat was Lothric as he launched homing sorceries at them.

"Lothric!" Lorian called out, and he turned to look at his brother who was facing where his opponent was currently hovering in the mid-air. He lifted his sword up, preparing for a vertical strike, and Lothric knew what needed to be done. Lorian disappeared from sight as Lothric moved him mid-air, directly in front of the creature he had been targeting.

His blade connected before the creature even had a moment to react, sinking deep into its armor and flesh underneath - or rather, whatever abomination was within the armor - splitting the creature in half as it erupted a flurry of feathers and ash with an agonizing howl.

It was gruesome to behold, but it set the precedent that there was no safe harbor within these walls for their assailants. It was a short-lived victory as the remaining two entered the room, and Lothric did his best to focus entirely on acting as a support for Lorian and the others, teleporting them out of harm's way when they were caught off guard or the creatures maneuvered in their blindspots.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Lorian dealt the killing blow against the last of the creatures, and it faded into feathers and ash like the others before it. The Throne Room which had been pristine only hours before was now in disarray with feathers and ash spread to even the furthest corners of the room.

"Prince Lorian, Prince Lothric," Wynfrith and the other guards saluted. "We'll keep guard outside and work on making the bridge more defensible. If any others in the area survived, we'll bring them here. With any luck, Estrid and Maerec will have found their way here as well."

Lorian nodded and dismissed them as they filed out of the Throne Room, and he made his way towards Lothric. The sheer adrenaline that had been pushing them both forward was wearing thin, and Lothric's limbs felt like lead where he leaned heavily against one of the posts of the throne. It had not been that long ago that the two of them had been in this very room, processing the death of Ocelotte. And now, it seemed, they would not be able to leave any time soon. If ever again.

Lorian pulled off his helmet, running a hand down his face, Lothric noting the deep exhaustion that had settled into every ounce of his face, though he tried to mask it. "Our fate is sealed, the choice has been made."

"I have no regrets," Lorian assured him as he had so many times before.

"How long will that last, I wonder…" Lothric murmured.

Time passed slowly as they remained sealed within the Throne Room, first for days. Then weeks. Until finally time lost all meaning. They had held off against wave after wave of fanatics that only grew stronger in force when the Firelink Shrine belltower tolled a second time, and again when the former Lords of Cinder failed to answer the summons.

As the First Flame faded further, so too did Lothric and Lorian weaken, until at last the bells tolled a third and final time, bringing forth any Unkindled that dared link the flame.

It was never-ending, and as they grew weaker the battles became more difficult - even against Unkindled, for those who were strong enough to challenge them had managed to make their way past all those who still remained in their service: the grave tenders, the outrider knights, the royal guard. Kriemhild, Albert, and Kamui.

The first time Lothric watched Lorian fall in battle, he thought he might never get up again. But there was still a spark within them, tethered by the bond, and so Lothric found his way to Lorian's collapsed form and breathed life back into him with a combination of a miracle and the dying sparks of the First Flame.

Again.

And again.

Lothric remembered the piercing guilt as he resurrected Lorian and watched as his brother could no longer manage to stand on his own two feet. But still, he fought, and Lothric did his best to make up for his weaknesses, using his sorceries and miracles to keep his brother in the fight.

Again.

And again.

He mourned when Lorian lost his ability to speak. He whispered words of praise in his ear, only to receive silence in return. But where Lorian had lost his words, he still held on to his sense of self, able to communicate through touch and gestures where he no longer could with words.

Again.

And again.

Crippled and mute, after being resurrected time after time, Lothric was overwhelmed with grief at the sight his brother had become. A shell of his former self. All that remained was a single instinct to protect Lothric. An instinct that drove Lorian onward each time the door to the Throne Room opened once more, regardless of how battered and beaten he had become. Another Unkindled, faded to ash before them.

Again.

And again.

"This spot marks our grave. But you may rest here, too, if you like..."

Chapter 29: Bonus!

Chapter Text

I forgot to include this when I originally published this, but here's an ArtBreeder depiction of all the main characters (minus Sulyvahn)!