Several vast cavern worlds lay beneath the Lands Between, and Mohgwyn Dynasty was hidden deep underground.
Unlike the Underdark of Toril, with its tangled tunnels, oppressive depths, and endless darkness, the subterranean world beneath the Lands Between was surprisingly vast and magnificent. Glintstone embedded high in the cavern ceilings shone like distant stars, bathing the underground realm in perpetual night.
Mohgwyn Dynasty lay beneath Caelid, built atop an isolated plateau that rose like an island from the darkness.
Bottomless abysses surrounded it on every side. Anyone who wanted to reach the dynasty had to find some way across those impassable chasms, and in the Lands Between, true flight was an exceedingly rare and valuable ability. Birds, dragons, bats, dragonflies, anything born with wings could soar through the skies. Ordinary people could only stare helplessly from the other side.
Malenia might possess unmatched wing-like agility, but that was only a description of her astonishing movement techniques. She could not literally fly, and the golden prosthetics attached to her body certainly weren't Iron Man's Mark Armor.
Mohgwyn Dynasty nevertheless had quite the collection of "talent." Albinaurics, Putrid Corpses, Rotten Strays, monstrous rotting crows, Sanguine Nobles, White Mask war surgeons, every last one of them looked like some nightmarish creature that had spent three days marinating in the world's filthiest septic tank.
Naturally, this collection of the Lands Between's finest freaks hadn't all flown there under their own power.
In fact, there was a sending gate in the Consecrated Snowfield, close to the Haligtree, that led directly into Mohgwyn Dynasty. Mohg's loyal servants were also constantly trying to lure fresh victims into their lord's domain. The fact that Skyl knew all this surprised Malenia, but his explanation was simple.
"I'm an achievement hunter. One hundred percent completion."
Malenia understood absolutely none of that. Nevertheless, she calmly nodded as though everything suddenly made perfect sense.
Before dealing with Mohg, Skyl called an old friend, Morgott the Grace-Given of Leyndell.
Ever since Skyl had stolen the Elden Beast straight out of the Erdtree, the ancient divine tree had gradually begun to wither.
Morgott, who had spent his life guarding the Erdtree, had officially entered retirement.
Back when Skyl beat him up, Morgott had undergone a dramatic transformation. The towering, muscular warrior had shriveled into a frail old man who looked like he might drop loot if someone sneezed too hard in his direction.
Apparently, he didn't have much to do in Leyndell these days. He went to bed early, woke up early, took care of his health, drank Rowa-fruit tea, chatted with members of the Tower of Tomes from other worlds on the phone Skyl had given him, and played the games that came installed on it.
His score in 3D Pinball: Space Cadet had already broken a hundred thousand.
"Hello? Oh. It's you."
Even answering a phone made Morgott sound like an old man struggling with modern technology. The moment he recognized Skyl's voice, his tone immediately changed into that of someone talking to a man he owed money.
"Nice to hear from you too," Skyl replied with exaggerated courtesy, openly mocking Morgott's lack of manners. "It's been a while. Want to take a little trip with me? I'm with Malenia right now."
"She didn't injure you, did she?" Morgott asked, sounding almost concerned.
"Don't worry. She lasted a little longer than you did. As for me, not a scratch. Never felt better."
"What a shame. I hear Redmane Castle down south is holding the Radahn Festival to give the mightiest demigod a warrior's death. Perhaps you'd like to challenge Radahn next?"
"How about this instead? Come to the Consecrated Snowfield. I'll take you to challenge someone named Mohg."
Silence.
"...What did he do to you?"
Morgott's voice contained such complicated emotions and such profound exhaustion that he sounded like an ordinary retired man who had just learned a mob boss was threatening his family.
"Do you really think I'm that cruel?" Skyl couldn't help asking.
He didn't bother waiting for Morgott's answer.
"Mohg kidnapped Miquella, and being the upstanding citizen that I am, I've decided to rescue the poor guy from that creep's clutches. If I hadn't stopped her, Malenia would already be kicking down your brother's front door. So are you coming or not? I need an answer. Wait much longer and you'll probably only arrive in time to collect your brother's corpse. You know Malenia. She's completely insane when it comes to Miquella."
There was another long silence from the other end of the call.
Then came a burst of muffled noise, as though someone had unexpectedly entered the room and started talking to Morgott.
Skyl tilted his head and listened closely, catching only fragments of the conversation.
"...Who are you talking to?"
A deep, powerful man's voice came through the phone. Heavy footsteps rang in the background, accompanied by several low lion growls. The approaching presence sounded terrifying, like some enormous predator closing in, or a parent suddenly appearing at midnight to see whether their kid was secretly still on their phone.
"Father. It's the man who took away the Golden Order... Skyl..." Morgott answered. His voice remained composed, though there was an unmistakable trace of guilt underneath.
"...What?! Mohg took Miquella? That damn fool! Wasn't he supposed to be underground guarding the seal of the Frenzied Flame?"
"He may have left... Father, wait! Don't..."
The phone abruptly changed hands.
"Hello! You're Skyl, right? Morgott told me about you. You're the one who killed that bastard Radagon? Well done! That's some fine work, young man! The strength you possess is reason enough to become a lord!"
"Godfrey, First Elden Lord, I presume? It's a pleasure."
"The pleasure is mine! I wish we'd met sooner. You're a warrior from another world, aren't you? When we get the chance, you and I absolutely have to fight!"
A lion voiced its disapproval from the other end.
"ROAR."
"Oh, come on, Serosh. I'm just trying to get along with the younger generation. Besides, the Golden Order is already gone. I don't have to worry about all those tedious rules anymore."
"ROAR!"
"Fine, fine! I'll listen to you."
Skyl couldn't help feeling that something about this entire situation was deeply wrong.
This kind of casual family conversation simply didn't fit the Lands Between. Everyone here normally carried enough trauma for three lifetimes, and anyone capable of speech seemed contractually obligated to talk in riddles. Batman could spend five minutes here and he'd be ready to strap a train to his back and sprint all the way home to Gotham.
Then Godfrey opened his mouth and sounded like some retired guy next door getting scolded by his spouse.
Except the one scolding him was a lion.
Maybe without all the wars, these people really would have been fairly normal.
In any case, once Godfrey learned that his youngest son had caused this disaster, he became furious as well. He wasn't particularly close to Miquella, but Morgott had told him enough. Miquella was a good young man who stood firmly with his mother Marika and opposed the Golden Order.
That made him an ally.
"Mohg has always been an impulsive boy. I suppose part of the blame belongs to me. I wasn't there for him when he needed me."
Godfrey sighed sadly.
Back when he and Marika had been married, they had three sons. Their eldest, Godwyn, had turned out exceptionally well. He was handsome, tremendously powerful, and commanded enormous influence, everything one might expect from the finest prince of the Golden Lineage.
The other two were Omen children, rejected by the Erdtree itself.
For royalty to produce Omen offspring was considered a terrible disgrace, something the royal family could never openly acknowledge. As a result, Morgott and Mohg were never publicly recognized as princes.
Godfrey had been an absentee father throughout the Omen twins' childhood, never giving either boy the affection they needed. Now that father and son had finally been reunited, however, blood proved thicker than water. Skyl had even heard that the Rowa-fruit tea Morgott had been drinking recently was personally brewed by Godfrey every morning.
Godfrey therefore asked Skyl to keep Malenia under control for a little longer.
He would gather the Crucible Knights and his army of a hundred thousand men, then go personally speak with his youngest son.
More importantly, he wanted the privilege of beating Mohg himself.
If Mohg came to his senses after getting thrashed by his father, perhaps there would still be a chance of keeping him alive.
Skyl was genuinely touched.
How could he possibly miss such a heartwarming display of paternal affection?
Just imagining Godfrey storming into Mohgwyn Dynasty while roaring, "Mohg! Your dad's coming to kill you!" was enough to get Skyl excited.
The real question was how Mohg intended to survive it.
If negotiations broke down, the next episode would probably be called The Death of Mohg.
If little Miquella had seen this episode, he would've laughed hard enough to hatch straight out of his cocoon.
For now, however, everything depended on whether Malenia could temporarily suppress her overwhelming desire to murder the man who had stolen her brother.
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