The spirit steed raced through the bleak autumn wind, kicking up clouds of dust.
Not far away, within the vast and imposing Redmane camp, the atmosphere was oppressively tense.
A group clad in heavy armor sat around a massive table fashioned from ancient redwood stained deep red. One after another, they removed their helmets, revealing faces filled with anger and barely restrained fury.
Before them knelt a group of villagers in tattered clothing, their expressions stricken with fear. Overwhelmed by the weight of authority in the tent, they had dropped to their knees without even realizing it. Only when the low, commanding voice of the Starscourge General declared, "You may rise," did they stand again, as if spared from judgment.
These simple villagers could never have imagined that they would one day stand before the legendary demigod himself, the awe-inspiring Radahn.
Nearby, several sacks filled with grain were neatly stacked, silently making the Red Lion's stance unmistakably clear.
In this age, the order of the world teetered on the brink of collapse.
Yet this demigod had not yet fallen into the madness that would come with the arrival of the Tarnished, and the Redmane army still retained its formidable strength.
Their encampment stretched on without end, disappearing beyond the horizon.
"Those wretches under Godefroy have gone too far! To dare treat innocent civilians like that right behind our lines!"
A burly man well over two meters tall leaned forward, eyes wide as he stared at the general's deeply furrowed brow, roaring with rage.
"But what's strange is this," another commander said slowly, frowning. "Why would a Golden Needle Knight, someone proficient in both Glintstone Sorcery and Ancient Dragon Incantations, suddenly appear within our territory?"
"And according to reports from the rear, he even slew Agheel," he continued in a low voice. "That makes him a warrior of exceptional strength. Could it be that he came here intending to pledge himself to you, General?"
His voice alone carried a weight that made the villagers instinctively uneasy.
His eyebrows were thick and dark like a dense forest, his beard wild and unkempt, covering most of his face. A scar at the corner of his eye lent him a feral edge, as though the stench of blood and battle clung to him. Even standing still without a word, he radiated the presence of a rough, unrestrained man.
At that moment, another man slowly approached.
He wore long armor embroidered with lion motifs, every step exuding authority, like a lion poised to pounce. Cradled in his arms was a helmet adorned with a thick, vivid red plume that swayed gently as he walked, striking and unmistakable.
As he moved forward, he rubbed his chin and nodded slightly.
"Killing a Flying Dragon isn't all that remarkable. But stepping forward for the sake of innocent villagers… that at least makes him worthy of being called a hero."
"Judging by his conduct and bearing, he doesn't seem like the usual self-important sort," another man said as he approached. He wore similar lion-crested armor and held a helmet with a long red plume, stroking his chin as he nodded in agreement. "Looks like a rather solid warrior."
Golden Needle Knights, or rather those of the Haligtree, were known to be an odd bunch. With the front lines under constant pressure, the fact that one of them would spare the effort to defend civilians was genuinely unexpected.
The heavily bearded man nodded firmly at those words.
The name of the Starscourge General was known throughout the Lands Between, and the knights who followed him were inevitably influenced by his spirit.
Everyone present was a commander, a warrior acknowledged by a demigod, veterans who had earned their merits through bloodshed on the battlefield. Whoever stood against Radahn was an enemy, plain and simple.
This was the council tent of the Redmane army, and seated at its head was a man whose title resounded like thunder across the land: the Starscourge General.
In a sense, what they were discussing now could be considered an act of rebellion.
But the Redmane army did not care. The throne stood empty, and someone was destined to claim it.
In their eyes, there was no better candidate than Radahn himself.
After all, they were not betraying the Golden Order, nor were they betraying the Golden Dynasty.
In the Lands Between, strength defined legitimacy. They had once accepted the rule of the Golden Prince without complaint.
But Godrick? What right did that man have to squat upon the Royal Capital?
As a legitimate successor personally raised by Godwyn the Golden, and a sovereign ruler of his own territory, he had not committed any unforgivable sin.
His greatest crime was simple.
He was not strong enough.
With that thought, all eyes turned toward their lord.
A heavy crimson cloak stirred gently in the wind. His towering, imposing figure stood like an immovable mountain, radiating an overwhelming pressure that left no room for doubt.
A blaze of vivid red hair spilled freely over his broad, solid shoulders, as brilliant as roaring flames. It resembled a lion's majestic mane, exuding a commanding presence that inspired instinctive awe.
"Look at this nobody of a warrior. He's done pretty well for himself."
The man turned around, his face breaking into a bold, unrestrained smile, as if it could swallow the whole world at once.
The golden armor he wore gleamed beneath the radiant light of the Erdtree, dazzling enough to make one avert their gaze.
A deep, thunderous laugh rang out, crashing straight into the ears of everyone present, as the man folded his thick, powerful arms across his chest.
"But don't read too much into it. That's Miquella's knight. He's probably just passing through."
As he spoke, even this imposing figure could not help but shake his head slightly.
Even he had to admit it. Compared to that younger brother, his own charisma fell short. Miquella possessed a kind of charm that defied all reason.
And indeed, there was no chance the Golden Needle Knights would ever betray Miquella.
Several commanders nodded in agreement.
Though none of them had personally witnessed the bearing of that legendary Empyrean, they had dealt with Golden Needle Knights often enough.
Every one of them was fanatically devoted, their worship of Miquella worn openly and without restraint, leaving a lasting impression.
Radahn, standing to the side, showed not the slightest hint of disappointment. His expression unchanged, he extended his broad, sturdy hand and issued his orders in a calm, steady voice.
"The outstanding deeds of the brave deserve recognition and reward."
"Send people to the Haligtree camp at once. And pass a message along to those in Limgrave as well."
"Tell them this: if they dare act out of line again, they shouldn't blame us for what follows."
Before the last word had fully settled, Radahn had already stepped to the window, gazing out through the narrow opening.
Outside, the sky was a flawless blue, sunlight pouring down without restraint, illuminating every inch of the land.
"Yes!!" the commanders answered in unison, offering Radahn a crisp, standard military salute.
A dangerous figure had suddenly emerged in the Royal Capital, and now was a critical moment in the siege. Had it been any other time, they would have sent troops instead of envoys.