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Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, and all rights for characters, plots and settings belong to G.R.R. Martin and FromSoftware. I have no ownership.
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Knowledge begins with the recognition of one's ignorance. The realization that the search for knowledge is unending. But when Gideon glimpsed into the will of Queen Marika, he shuddered in fear. At the end that should not be.
Gideon gained true knowledge after his long exchange with the Two Fingers - discovering all had been broken long ago; that the trembling fingers bent with age, and the Erdtree itself, were no exception.
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Roundtable Hold
973 year AS (After Shattering of the Elden Ring)
Aerion
They emerged into a large, circular chamber, the centerpiece of which was a massive, round stone table with numerous swords embedded in it, and in the center of which floated Golden Grace.
The table was surrounded by many wooden chairs, but no one was currently seated on them. To the right was a large fireplace, and there seemed to be three exits from the chamber, not counting the closed double doors behind it.
The chamber was almost empty, save for a single man dressed in simple, worn, dark yellow robes, whose upper face, including his eyes, was covered by a blindfold. Was he blind? A wooden cartwheel, as it seemed, was slung around his neck.
Before Aerion realized it, Melina had vanished into thin air, leaving him alone with the man, who had clearly sensed his presence, turning toward him but remaining silent.
Aerion decided to greet him first: "Greetings, good man. I am Aerion, Tarnished, as I presume you are."
The man smiled faintly at his words, "Shardbearer. Bernahl announced your arrival." However, he did not mention how radiant your soul is. Yes... unfortunately, people of little Faith overlook such details."
Aerion raised an eyebrow, surprised by this greeting and at the same time by the old warrior's assessment. Bernahl truly seemed to place his faith in his sword and the strength of his arms.
"Welcome to the Roundtable Hold. I'm Corhyn, a man of the cloth. I teach incantations, the strength granted us by the Two Fingers, and explore the secrets of the Golden Order. If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask," the man continued, finally approaching.
Corhyn tilted his head and 'inspected' him as if searching for something. Though how he managed it with the blindfold on, Aerion had no idea.
"Your Faith is strong, and... what did you do with the Great Runes? There's only one? But it's too powerful, overflowing with power, with life."
Aerion didn't grace him with an answer, however, as more people began pouring into the chamber, apparently drawn by the voices. Bernahl, Roderika, and over a dozen differently dressed and armed men and women, who must have also been Tarnished.
But no one approached him; instead, everyone froze, staring at him and the man emerging from the entrance behind Corhyn. A long, almost snow-white face, scarred by age, long white hair, and eyes that stared at him with cold calculation and wariness.
From Nephela Loux, following him, he easily deduced that this must be Gideon Ofnir, the unofficial leader of the Roundtable Hold. From the few words Melina had shared about him, he knew this Tarnished was particularly dangerous.
The kind of person who was willing to go to any lengths and not shy away from any means necessary to achieve success. This was someone whose plans contained within them the plans of further plans.
If it weren't for the fact that the very power of this place prevented him from attacking another person, Aerion would have considered killing the approaching man right then and there, regardless of the consequences.
"Oh, this is a rare occasion. I can't remember the last time a new Tarnished made their way to the Roundtable. Especially a Shardbearer, who had slain not only one of the Demigods but also possessed two Great Runes. A feat only previously achieved by Vyke, Knight of the Roundtable Hold. I am Gideon Ofnir, the All-Knowing. It is an honor to welcome you among us, brother."
Aerion looked at the man in surprise, wondering what game he was playing. The man greeted him properly and showed respect, even if it was only feigned. How could two play a game?
Putting a fist to his chest and gently bowing his head in greeting, he replied, "Thank you for this warm welcome. As Nepheli has already informed you, I am Aerion, Baerer of the Elden Ring."
As he expected, his words provoked a corresponding reaction among those present. Bernahl looked at him with a raised eyebrow, as if wondering what he was talking about. Most looked at him either in disbelief or incomprehension of his declaration.
Only Gideon, judging by his furrowed brow and even more cautious gaze, seemed to be assessing him anew.
"You seem to be suggesting that not only do you possess two Great Runes, but you have also managed to unite part of the Elden Ring," Gideon replied coldly and somewhat provocatively. "But the truth is, we cannot do that. Only the chosen representative of the Greater Will, Queen Marika the Eternal, possessing the Fundamental Great Rune, the Rune of Life, can do so..."
Suddenly, the man froze, looking at Aerion, who had opened his half-closed left eye, glowing more intensely than ever, no longer emanating the power of the Rune of Life, but that of the partially mended Elden Ring.
"It's impossible," Gideon whispered, staggering slightly as if struck. "How? Where did you get it? Where did you get it? Where!?" the man practically shouted the last words, drawing surprised glances from the other Tarnished in the chamber, who were also beginning to understand what Aerion was declaring.
He told them directly that his task was not to become Elden Lord but the new Marika, God of the Lands Between. This changed everything. From the delicate balance of power within the Roundtable Hold itself to the actions of the Tarnished themselves.
Aerion glanced at those present, then his gaze settled again on the All-Knowing; what an absurd and arrogant title.
"I would have expected, after the time you've spent in these lands, Gideon, that few things were impossible here. And as for the Great Rune of Life, yes, I possess it, The First Fundamental Rune and the very foundation of the Elden Ring. I awoke in the Lands Between, already possessing it."
He finally replied, then, with a knowing smile, added, "If you want to blame someone, blame Greater Will. Perhaps he'll care about your opinion. The truth is, however, that I have a fused fragment of the Elden Ring within me, and I'm closest to reforging it. So I'm counting on your cooperation in this matter, though I must emphasize that I don't accept men as Elden Lord."
Silence fell again in the chamber, but a moment later, it was broken by Bernahl's burst of laughter. "HAHAHA ha. You're the best, kid. It seems I was right to have placed my hopes in you. It's a good thing I didn't go straight to Morne, because I would have missed out on something like this."
However, Gideon Ofnir was clearly in a completely different mood upon hearing this news. Especially since it changed the balance of power between them. The man had been hoping for a tool, an errand boy, and he received someone who could expect the same from him. What an irony.
The man's face clearly showed everyone the inner struggle he was currently going through. His face twisted into a grimace, but when he spoke again, his voice seemed calm, even serene.
"This is wonderful news indeed," the All-Knowing said with a faint smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Forgive my initial disbelief, but your words were more than improbable. I had been led to believe that Queen still held the Great Rune of Life."
"That is entirely understandable," Aerion replied, raising a reassuring hand. "This is new to me as well, so I'd be grateful for any help. The task before us, Tarnished, is enormous, and for many it seems downright impossible. Defeating that scumbag Godric is one thing, but doing the same to Radahn or Morgott is a completely different story."
Gideon nodded, "I offer you my humble assistance and vast knowledge." I also trust that the other Tarnished, both those within our inner circle and our guests, will not hesitate to assist you. Forging the Elden Ring is paramount."
To his surprise, Aerion sensed sincerity in the other's voice, or at least at the very end of his statement. Yes, Gideon Ofnir understood the need to repair the Elden Ring. That could not be taken from him.
"Go to your audience with Two Fingers, who are undoubtedly expecting you. Later, we will discuss your plans and how the Roundtable Hold can assist you," Gideon said, gesturing to the door behind Aerion. "I will be in my office down the hall. Nepheli will show you the way."
While it might have sounded like a dismissal, Aerion didn't take it that way, and he suspected many of the Tarnished present did too. Gideon seemed to be avoiding the conversation so he could gather his thoughts and probably rework all his plans.
"Yes, I will. I also want to meet with the famous Two Fingers and ask them a few questions," he replied, glancing at the door behind him. But then his gaze fell on the familiar faces in the chamber, and he added, "First, however, I would like a word with my friends."
Gideon nodded, "As you say." With that, he left the Round Table chamber, leaving Nepheli there, who was studying him intently with a glint in her eye he couldn't quite place.
Since she was closest, he approached her first, extending his hand. "Nepheli, it's good to see you again," he said, and she took his forearm in her palm, greeting him.
"Aerion, or perhaps I should call you Lord Aerion now? After all, you're something like a demigod now, or perhaps even more."
He smiled faintly in response, "Just Aerion. We're friends after all, aren't we?"
Kobiera smiled, showing her teeth. "Aye. It seems so."
At that moment, Bernahl and Roderika joined him, followed by several unfamiliar faces.
"Kid, wait. Is it just me, or have you grown quite a bit?" Bernahl said, and Aerion realized the man was right.
Whereas he had previously been barely taller than the older Tarnished, he now towered over him by a head, and Bernahl wasn't short, quite the opposite.
Aerion must have grown a good two heads since arriving in the Lands Between, but this sudden leap was too much. Was it a consequence of his growing attributes or perhaps of becoming a Demigod? Or perhaps both?
If he continued to grow at this rate, he would be as tall as Margit, but he didn't really want that. Such a large body certainly had its advantages, but imagine navigating buildings that size, especially in Westeros, where even the doors are designed to fit normal human dimensions.
And Aerion, at this moment, had to match Gregor Clegane or Hodor in height, even though he was slimmer than them. Well, if that was the case, there was nothing he could do about it.
All he had to do was take it as an advantage and exploit it. Moreover, from what he could see, he didn't experience any of the problems that very tall people might have. After all, his entire body, with equally developed attributes, was stronger and more durable in every respect.
His muscles resembled knots of steel, his bones seemed made of Valyrian steel, and his tendons were as strong as those of a dragon. His body was more than equipped to withstand his growing mass.
"Apparently, I'm becoming more and more like a demigod than I'd like." He replied, greeting Bernahl, even though they'd only seen each other a few hours ago.
The man laughed again. "Maybe that's the way to win them over. Become as big as they are."
"Maybe," he replied with a laugh, then glanced at Roderika, standing slightly behind Bernahl, her pose expressing awkwardness and nervousness.
"Roderika, it's good to see you. As you can see, I managed to survive the journey to the castle." He greeted her with a slight smile.
The woman smiled faintly in return, her cheeks flushing slightly as she avoided his gaze. "Lord Aerion, it's a great relief that you're safe and sound."
He simply shook his head, "Like Nepheli, I would ask that you simply call me by my first name." No lords. I'm afraid I'll be hearing enough titles in the future anyway."
Then he summoned an item from his inventory, a brooch wrapped in red velvet, and held it out to Roderika. "Here. I believe this belongs to you."
Roderika slowly took it from his hand, her eyes welling up, only to shed tears a moment later.
"What's this? A keepsake? From my men? Oh, goodness me... I can't... They all... believed in me. They all thought I'd make something of myself. Me! Who can't do anything... Perhaps I'll find my purpose here. If I can help you in any way, just tell me."
She sobbed these words, holding the red velvet to her chest. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"Don't worry about it. Each of us has a path to find and something we're good at," he comforted her. "So I'll definitely be using your help in the future."
A moment later, Rogier joined them, hugging him happily as if they'd known each other for years, not just met once.
After greeting them, Bernahl introduced him to the other Tarnished, each of whom seemed experienced: Diallos, the brothers Darian and Devin, Lionel the Lionhearted, and Rileigh. Finally, even Istvan, an old knight and the longest staying Tarnished in the Lands Between, joined them alongside Gideon the Tarnished in this place.
Each of the Tarnished seemed to possess a strong personality, though he noticed that the burning ambition Margit had accused him of had largely faded.
Each pursued their own plans and had their own agenda, but every single one had clearly abandoned the attempt to acquire the Great Runes.
Here lay the wasted potential of their kind, for each Tarnished was a competent warrior or sorcerer, while many were exceptional. The problem was that each pursued a goal where there could only be one victor.
So, inevitably, their interests clashed. Otherwise, why hadn't they gathered, for example, a dozen or two of their best and stormed Stormveil Castle?
Later, their ambition died, but their independence remained, as each was simply concerned with their own survival. Trying to subjugate all these strong characters would likely have been incredibly difficult, but perhaps they could have convinced them to join forces.
Rekindle the fire of ambition within them.
When Roderika introduced him to the chained and forging misbegotten Hewg, he had to admit that his first instinct was to draw his sword. But just as with Boc and the demi-humans, there were apparently some sensible individuals among the misbegotten.
"Hello, I'm Aerion," he greeted him, extending his hand, but the old misbegotten didn't seem to even notice, continuing to hammer on the anvil.
"You're a new face. No matter, it's all the same. Lay out your arms. Let's get smithing," he replied bluntly. No introductions or "nice to meet you." But it was hardly surprising, since judging by the chains, Hewg must have been some kind of prisoner or slave here.
"Forgive me if my question offends you, but why are you chained?" he asked, trying to strike up a conversation, not only out of pure altruism but also for personal reasons.
Bernahl finally said that Hewg was probably the best blacksmith in the Lands Between and could improve any weapon with the right materials. Make them stronger, sharper, or better able to channel various powers, such as lightning or holy.
"I see you've noticed the chains. Nothing special. I'm a prisoner, and these are my chains. I'm trapped by the Hold, undying, smithing for you fools. That's all there is to it."
"So you are a prisoner here after all? Why?"
"Nah, don't read too much into it. I've no grudge against you.
My being a prisoner is no fault of yours. Besides, I don't mind smithing. Despite my differences, the weapons get stronger, all the same. Given time, technique never fails. Besides, it helps me forget. The sheer terror of her..."
But after these words, as if suddenly coming to his senses, he began to pray?
"Your divinity, have mercy, and grant me forgiveness. The road is yet long. A God is not easily felled. But one day, without fail, you will have your wish. So please, grant me forgiveness, Queen Marika..."
Aerion listened curiously to the prayer. Misbegotten was clearly praying to Marika, seeming to apologize for not completing some task. Was it about forging a weapon? For what? Killing a God? Which one and for what purpose? The Greater Will? Herself? Or perhaps some other?
This short prayer raised a multitude of intriguing questions, and Aerion had learned that answers to our problems often lay in the most unexpected places.
Suddenly, Hewg tore his eyes from the anvil and looked at him for the first time, staring for a long moment at his left eye, or rather, the fragment of the Elden Ring embedded in its socket.
"Now, look at you. Those eyes tell a story. Of a challenger who's felled her mark. And more... You are a replacement. She will finally feel relief... and merciful freedom. But I still have to forge. Fine and well. Now, lay out your arms."
Aerion shook his head, trying to make sense of everything he had heard, but he needed to think it over calmly.
"I'll return to you later, Hewh. Right now, I have a meeting with Two Fingers," he replied apologetically. "I will certainly use your skills."
He then looked at Roderika and Bernahl, who were watching the exchange with surprise. "Is something wrong?" he asked.
Bernahl shrugged, "I'm just surprised." Hewg has spoken more words to you in a few minutes than he has to me in a decade."
"Maybe you should go to Two Fingers?" Roderika suggested nervously. "I doubt they'd be happy you're keeping them waiting."
Aerion sighed, "Eh, you're probably right... But honestly, I don't know if I want to see them."
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Elphael, Brace of the Haligtree
973 year AS (After Shattering of the Elden Ring)
The Severed
Her mind felt heavy and sluggish, as if it had just woken from an exceptionally long sleep, a sleep that did not seem at all pleasant.
She couldn't remember what she'd been dreaming about, but she knew it wasn't good; she knew it never was. For as long as she could remember, all she'd dreamed about was Rot.
She didn't know how long she remained in this state between sleep and what, but soon a name broke through the fog that was clouding her mind.
Miquella.
Her mind suddenly awoke, the earlier daze disappeared, and the so-familiar pain of existence returned.
She opened her eyes, not recognizing where she was at first, but a moment later, she realized where she was. Ephael. At the roots of Haligtree, where her brother lay.
She couldn't remember how she'd gotten here. She'd fought their half-brother Radahn in Caelid, a clash of the kind the legends sang about, a duel of the same kind her master had told her about.
She couldn't remember why she'd fought him. Was it the Great Rune? No, she didn't think so. The shattered fragments of her memories spoke of the Shadow Realm, of Radahn being brought to her brother, and of the New Order, but she couldn't piece it together now.
However, as it turned out, she hadn't completed the task Miquella had entrusted her with, as the Starcourge proved too strong, forcing her in desperation to unleash Scarlet Rot.
Malenia buried her face in her hands, feeling a surge of shame and self-contempt. She had condemned an entire continent to the same torment she had endured since birth. What drove her to this, she couldn't say.
Desperation? Love for Miquella, who had been the only one trying to fight Scarlet Rot and cure her? Had Miquella used her charm on her? A spark of doubt flickered in her heart for a moment, but it instantly faded. Her brother wouldn't do this... not to her.
The thought of her brother immediately snapped her out of her reverie. She looked at the spot where her brother's cocoon should have been, but there was nothing in its place, and the roots around it looked as if something had been forcibly ripped out.
"Miquella!" she suddenly cried out in desperation. Why hadn't anyone woken her? Where were her Cleanrot Knights? What had happened to her brother? Where had his cocoon been taken?
She quickly grabbed her prosthetic arm lying next to her, her trusty blade clutched in her fist, and then snapped it into place on her shoulder pad.
She then grabbed her helmet and left the chamber to find her brother, but what she found outside nearly broke her heart.
Haligtree no longer resembled the place they had built together. Scarlet Rot, or creatures tainted by it, was everywhere. Both Miqella's soldiers and knights seemed to fail to recognize her and attacked her without hesitation. Even her Cleanrot Knights seemed to have gone mad, their minds poisoned and twisted by the Rot.
In this entire vast place, which at one point had been inhabited by tens of thousands of creatures who followed them, she found only one friendly soul. And this at a time when she was certain there was no chance.
Loretta, Knight of Haligtree. A woman who came seeking refuge for her people, formerly serving the Carian Royal Family.
The woman found her first, likely following the hunger of battle, for Malenia had to force her way through the city.
Seeing her, the knight knelt before her, removing his helmet and taking his arm. Although Malenia couldn't see her, she imagined a cascade of golden hair flowing in the wind and blue eyes brimming with loyalty.
"My Lady! You have awakened at last!" Loretta cried, rising, though she still had to gaze down at Malenia. "For centuries, we have been unable to awaken you, though we truly tried. And the moment that wretched Omen took Lord Miquella, Haligtree fell into ruin, its inhabitants into madness and despair."
Malenia felt her heart clench at the thought of her brother. Kidnapped? By Omen? Who dared? How could they let this happen?
"Was it Morgoth?" she asked, feeling anger fill her and the Scarlet Rot responding, coming to life within her.
Loretta shook her head. "No, my lady. Different, yet equally powerful." Using blood that burned like unholy fire."
Malenia began to think hard, but she couldn't think of any other Omen who could match her half-brother. Although now that she thought about it, hadn't rumors said her mother had given birth to twins? Could it be the other brother? Royal, divine blood could explain the kidnapper's strength.
According to Loretta, however, several hundred years had passed. What could have happened to Miquella in that time? Was he still alive? What were the chances?
But she knew one thing: she had to find him at all costs, even if it was his body. Even the thought itself brought her a pang of spiritual pain.
She looked at the knight, and though she couldn't see her face, she could tell the woman was eagerly awaiting orders.
"We are leaving Haligtree, Loretta. We must find my brother at all costs. There is nothing left for us here."