"Phew... that was a close one..."
Regenerating his form at the base of the cliff, Mohg wiped a bead of non-existent sweat from his brow and let out a long sigh of relief. He knew the scroll he'd been holding was powerful, but to be honest...
He hadn't realized it contained a Cannon of Haima—essentially a magical mortar shell.
The sheer destructive force of such a spell detonating at point-blank range was staggering. Had he not known beforehand that the scroll packed a serious punch, the consequences would have been unthinkable.
As for the fellow in front of him—uh, what was his name again? Mabel? Whatever. Regardless, that poor soul had taken the full brunt of the Haima projectile. In a very literal sense, he had "embraced" the entire room.
Now, his carefully constructed fake identity was officially torched. He couldn't linger in this area either; he could already imagine Marquis Kane's hysterical rage once word reached him.
His priority now was to vanish from this sector as quickly as possible. Once clear, he'd have free rein to move. In a way, this turn of events was actually a stroke of luck.
Of course, the Vice Captains and the Captain of the Cuckoo Knights back down at the lift probably wouldn't be sharing his good mood.
"Seriously... what a trap of a mission," Mohg muttered to himself after confirming his safety. "If it were anyone else, they'd be a corpse by now."
Perhaps that was exactly why the Carians had packed him with so many scrolls and artifacts—they likely expected him to use them to cause a massive distraction and flee Marquis Kane's jurisdiction. The problem was... no one had breathed a word to him about this Marquis Kane during his briefing.
Was it a deliberate test to see how he'd handle a crisis? Or did they simply assume he already knew the political layout of Altus? Neither possibility sat particularly well with him.
Thinking about all these layers of intrigue made his head throb. He desperately needed a subordinate who could act as a proper strategist or advisor.
Hiding his presence, Mohg waited beneath the cliffs for a while. He could hear the chaos unfolding above—the frantic marching of soldiers, the clatter of armor, and the booming rages of commanders. Once enough time had passed, he spread his wings and glided further down the ravine before eventually circling back up to a higher, more remote part of the Altus Plateau.
Since he was already up here, he figured he might as well gather some intelligence and check in on his subordinates stationed on the Plateau. It would serve as a proper conclusion to this assignment, and he'd have plenty of questions for Rellana when he returned.
As for the gap in time... that belonged to him. In short: Siofra River, here I come!
While Mohg was in high spirits, Marquis Kane's mood was anything but pleasant.
The death of a mere Viscount like Mabel wasn't his primary concern, but the explosion of the Haima projectile was too large to ignore—and its signature was unmistakable. This had drawn the unwanted attention of the Confessors under the Church of the Two Fingers.
The Two Fingers had always been watching his movements. He controlled the Grand Lift, and both the Two Fingers and the Erdtree Church were looking to expand their influence once their current troubles were resolved. Kane was feeling the squeeze from both directions.
"Those damn bloodsuckers..." Kane ground his teeth as he looked at the contracts in his hand.
A Leyndell Knight by his side spoke up, "My Lord, I believe—"
"I know what you're going to say! Those bastards in the Church have been hovering over me like vultures. Now the relationship between the Capital and the Ancient Dragons is turning 'subtle' again, and the factions within Leyndell are regaining control over the surrounding lands."
Kane's expression twisted into something monstrous. "It won't be long before this campaign ends. If I keep clutching the Grand Lift this tightly... my end won't be pretty. I know that much. Therefore..."
"Therefore, I want the bastard who ruined my plans dead!"
"By your command!"
"Lord, this is the intelligence we've gathered recently. We also have sacrifices prepared specifically for you; we intended to present them during this cycle..."
Yager, the Blood Warrior, knelt on one knee before Mohg. With his head bowed in deep respect, he handed over a stack of documents. Mohg took them, scanned the contents, and nodded.
"You've done well, Yager. In recognition of your service, I shall grant you the Grace of Blood."
Yager's head snapped up in shock before he bowed even deeper, hand pressed to his chest. "I am unworthy of such a blessing, my Lord! Thank you!"
Mohg gave a slight nod and bestowed the blessing then and there. The surrounding Blood Warriors watched with undisguised envy.
While Yager absorbed the power, Mohg finished reading the reports. He skimmed past the gossip about Leyndell nobility and the dirty wartime deals, focusing on the most critical piece of information: Prince Godwyn.
The reports stated that Godwyn was leaving the Capital at regular intervals to engage a specific Ancient Dragon in combat. Mohg realized that the end of the War of the Ancient Dragons was imminent.
If the assault on the Capital by the great dragon Gransax was the beginning of the war, then Godwyn's encounter with Fortissax, the "Mightiest of Boulders," was the ultimate turning point.
With this, he had essentially completed his mission for Caria regarding the war's progress. All that remained was to gauge the readiness of the Leyndell army and Radagon's current movements.
Splosh!
The sound of power settling drew Mohg's attention back to Yager.
"How do you feel?"
"Better than ever, Sire. I feel... reborn!"
"Haha, excellent. It seems I've gained another capable commander." Mohg stepped forward and patted Yager on the shoulder. "Yager, I have a new task for you."
"I live to serve the Dynasty!"
After delegating the new orders, Mohg carefully navigated through the forests until he reached a high mountain peak overlooking the Royal Capital. The signs of beastman and Ancient Dragon activity on the Plateau had noticeably diminished. The looming ceasefire was becoming obvious.
ROAR!
Suddenly, a thunderous dragon's cry echoed from above. Mohg instinctively looked up. A lithe, powerful silhouette with four massive wings and rippling muscles soared through the clouds.
To put it bluntly: I, for one, want to ride a dragon!
He watched as the dragon flew straight toward the Capital. In an instant, he realized who it was: Fortissax—the future friend of his "dear" elder brother. In the game, Fortissax was a shell of his former self, corrupted by Death into the Lichdragon. Seeing him now, in his prime, was a different story entirely.
However, Mohg felt a pang of confusion. Was the dragon faction really comfortable letting Fortissax fly solo into Leyndell to challenge Godwyn? He had faith in his brother's honor, but he had zero faith in the honor of the high nobility or the Church.
"Why do you carry such a dense aura of the Crucible? Who are you?"
A voice suddenly rang out from behind him. Mohg spun around, drawing the sword at his waist.
Magic Armament! Magic Glintblade! Carian Phalanx! Carian Piercer!
In a heartbeat, Mohg unleashed every Carian spell and combat art he could cast in rapid succession.
BOOM!
A bolt of lightning struck the ground between them, sending a shockwave that momentarily caught Mohg off guard. He recovered instantly, lunging forward with a Carian Piercer toward where he remembered the figure standing.
However, as the magical greatsword pierced the smoke, it hit nothing but air. There was no tactile feedback of a hit. His strike had missed completely.
Clap!
Mohg's heart skipped a beat as he felt a hand grip his wrist. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Fearing his identity might be exposed, he stopped holding back. The power of the Aspects of the Crucible erupted from his body.
His muscular arm transformed into a massive beast claw, swiping downward. Simultaneously, the Wings of the Crucible and the Tail of the Crucible manifested on his back. Razor-sharp feathers and a devastating piercing spike whistled through the air toward the intruder.
Then, something incredible happened. The figure behind him suddenly sprouted a pair of wings of their own, folding them forward like a shield. With a rhythmic clink-clank, every one of Mohg's attacks was deflected.
"Are you a Crucible Knight? You don't look like one. You don't show any outward signs of the Aspects..."
Lansseax rubbed her chin, looking Mohg up and down with curiosity.
Mohg didn't dare move. He was screaming internally. The moment those wings appeared, he knew who he was dealing with: an Ancient Dragon in human form. He just didn't know which one.
"Wait... you..."
Lansseax's eyes narrowed as she stared at Mohg's face, her tone filled with uncertainty.
Because his "Muset" disguise was blown and he'd been meeting his Blood Warriors, Mohg had reverted to his true appearance—though he'd kept his hair and eye color altered.
In other words, except for minor differences in features and temperament, Mohg's face was practically a mirror image of Godwyn's.
Cold sweat trickled down Mohg's forehead. Lansseax, eyes now gleaming with interest, stepped closer to inspect him.
"Interesting... very interesting. What is your relation to Godwyn?"
"Uh, well..."
Mohg's heart tightened. He began searching for an excuse while calculating an escape route. Running was futile; no one outran the masters of the sky. As for the ground... he cursed himself for picking such an open, treeless spot for a view.
"Hey. If you don't talk, I'm just going to haul you over to Godwyn and let him identify you himself. That'll clear things up."
Lansseax rested a hand on Mohg's shoulder. She extended her other hand—now partially transformed into a draconic claw—and poked his cheek with a sharp talon.
Mohg's face fell. Was he really going to lose his "shell" here? He'd have to go back to the Eternal City and fleece them for another disguise.
Steeling himself, Mohg took a proper look at Lansseax.
Admittedly, she had an incredible figure—curvy in all the right places, though she was heavily armored in scales that acted as a suit of mail. She sported distinct dragon horns on her head. She hadn't looked like this a moment ago; she must have partially transformed when she used her wings to block him.
If she had looked like this from the start, he wouldn't even have tried to fight. He would have vanished into a blood shadow and bolted.
Dammit, what a pro move by her...
"Could you tell me your name first?" Mohg asked, looking into her draconic eyes with a look of pure, feigned sincerity.
Lansseax blinked, then scratched her head. "Fine. I am Lansseax. And you?"
Hearing the name, Mohg let out a long breath. But then his eyes widened. If he remembered correctly... wasn't she the dragoness who eventually "befriended" Vyke?
Right now, she hadn't met Vyke yet. In other words, this was still an un-partnered dragoness.
He hadn't intended for it to go this way when he asked for her name—he just wanted to mark her in his mental "grudge book"—but now... he had to admit, he was intrigued. Besides, his Dynasty and the Ancient Dragons actually had a decent foundation for cooperation.
So... he decided to go for it. Worst case scenario? He dies! (Metaphorically).
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Elden Ring: As the Consort, I Reject Miquella (459 Chapters – Full)
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