"You want to know the story behind this thing?"
Patches could tell at a glance that he was dealing with someone who recognized the item's value. To be honest, even he had been spooked when he first got his hands on it. He hadn't dared to leave it out in the open, hiding it deep within the cave instead. He'd figured if he ever ran into a suitable "mark," he might be able to offload it for a pretty penny. Gawain, apparently, was that perfect mark.
Adopting an air of profound mystery, Patches said, "It seems you recognize its specialty. I'd love to give you the full history, but my memory is a bit... fuzzy at the moment."
"Stop being coy," Gawain countered. "Just tell me. How many Runes do you want for it?"
Patches considered this for a moment before holding up five fingers. "Five thousand Runes. For that, I'll give you the shackle and the story behind it."
Gawain noted that the price was exactly the same as in the game. However, he intended to save his Runes for leveling up; spending them on a merchant felt like a waste. A sudden idea struck him.
"How about this? I'll trade you something even better."
Patches hummed, thinking it over. If the man could produce something truly worthwhile, a trade wasn't out of the question. "Let's see what you're offering, then."
With a casual wave of his hand, a set of silver armor materialized amidst a swirl of embers. Gawain had harvested quite a few souls recently; manifesting a set of armor like this was trivial.
"This set was given to me by a friend named Lapp. I noticed your current gear is looking a bit... pathetic. Interested in an upgrade?"
Patches stepped forward to inspect the exquisite suit of armor. It had a brilliant silver finish and looked capable of providing excellent protection. The only flaw was a series of faint black scorch marks, as if something searingly hot had raked across the surface. Curiously, he felt an immediate, inexplicable affinity for the set. Even the dimensions looked as if they would fit his frame perfectly.
He realized he was getting a steal. Full plate armor of this quality wasn't something just anyone could wear. The rank-and-file soldiers of the Lands Between's factions could only dream of it; usually, only those of knightly rank possessed such gear, and even then, they rarely died in places where a scavenger like him could strip them.
"It's a deal! I knew I didn't misjudge you. From the moment I saw you, I felt a certain... kinship. Like we were old friends who'd known each other for a long time. I'm sure we'll get along famously! Be sure to stop by the Patches Emporium often!"
Patches took the armor, fully intending to wear it himself. The Lands Between were far too dangerous; one could never have too much protection. He handed over the shackle, then—feeling he shouldn't rip off such an "easy" and principled mark too thoroughly—he threw in a Stonesword Key as a bonus.
Gawain took the shackle and channeled a small amount of mana into it. A faint, residual magic circle flared to life. He had the right item: this was indeed a fragment of the shackle once used to imprison the twin brothers.
He sat down on a nearby rock with Agheel, ready to hear how a relic from the Royal Capital had ended up in Patches' hands. Normally, the black history of the Omen twins would have been buried deep and handled with total secrecy.
Patches gathered his thoughts and began his tale.
"It all started shortly after I hooked up with this bunch of highwaymen. One day, while we were out 'liberating' some cargo, we ran into a 'Golden Person'—a commoner from the Capital—fleeing toward Limgrave. My associates wanted to collect a bit of a road tax, and that's when I noticed he was clutching this shackle like it was his own life."
"A commoner from the Capital?" Gawain asked. "As far as I know, even Godrick hasn't reached the point of using them as grafting material. Why was he running?"
"Because he was running from something far more terrifying."
Patches lowered his voice, as if afraid of being overheard by some unseen horror.
"I don't know if you've heard of the Night's Cavalry. Legend says they are a specialized unit spread across the Lands Between, tasked with hunting down heroes who pose a threat to the Golden Order—Tarnished like us, for instance. I didn't put much stock in the stories until recently. Just before the rebellion at Castle Morne, I saw a massive black silhouette leaving the Weeping Peninsula in the dead of night. It scared me so badly I moved my base of operations to this cave immediately."
Gawain finally understood why he hadn't encountered the Night's Cavalry in the Peninsula—they had been reassigned. But was it because of the man with the shackle?
Patches continued, "That commoner realized he couldn't run forever, so he told me some... sensitive information. He spoke of a 'Veiled Monarch' appearing out of nowhere to lead the Capital's armies, keeping Leyndell standing. He spoke of the Sovereign Alliance falling apart due to some 'bloody conspiracy.' Standard stuff everyone knows by now, really."
"So, what was he hiding from?" Gawain pressed. "The Capital should be the safest place for a loyalist. How did he run afoul of the Night's Cavalry?"
"He had the misfortune of seeing something he shouldn't have. He told me he used to be a lowly janitor in the Royal Capital's sewers. You wouldn't believe the things they keep locked in the depths beneath that glorious city."
Gawain recalled the winding, nightmarish layout of the Leyndell Sewers and replied, "In my experience, the more 'holy' a place appears on the surface, the more profane and disgusting the things hidden beneath it truly are."
It was a law of the Souls-like worlds: the Cathedral of the Deep, the fly-infested rooms of the Painted World—they were all the same. In Elden Ring, it wasn't just the sewers; there were the Wormfaces of the Altus Plateau and the Royal Revenant "alley" at the base of the Haligtree. All of them were horrors of the highest order.
Patches nodded vigorously. "Exactly! Well said."
"Anyway, the things he was watching were creatures you never want to meet. At the height of the siege of Leyndell, most of the guards were pulled to the front lines, leaving only a few people like him to watch the depths. One day, he heard a thunderous crash—the sound of something heavy shattering. Then, he saw two monstrous silhouettes escaping from the sewers. He stayed hidden in the shadows until long after they were gone, and when he finally checked the scene, all that was left were shattered fragments of these shackles. He figured that if they were from the Capital, they must be valuable, so he grabbed the largest piece and ran."
"So you're saying two prisoners escaped the Capital and are just wandering around? And the janitor ran because he was afraid of being silenced?"
Patches shook his head. It was more complicated than that.
"The problem is that one of the silhouettes he saw that day later appeared on the battlefield during the Second Siege of Leyndell—as Margit, the Fell Omen. And as everyone knows, the Fell Omen is the right hand of the Veiled Monarch. That secret terrified him. He fled the Altus Plateau during the chaos and ended up hiding in Limgrave."
"I see. So the Night's Cavalry found him there?"
"Precisely. You know Godrick's shameful history, don't you? He was beaten into the dirt by Malenia during her march south, and only kept his head by licking her boots and begging for mercy. Shortly after that, rumors of the Fell Omen and the Night's Cavalry appeared in Limgrave. The janitor realized the Omen was essentially following him. While trying to run again, he bumped into me, and realizing his time was up, he spilled the whole story and handed over the shackle fragment."
Gawain now had the full picture. A poor wretch had witnessed the Omen brothers' prison break and fled to Limgrave with a piece of the evidence. When Malenia defeated Godrick, Morgott—the "Veiled Monarch"—sent Margit and the Night's Cavalry to Limgrave to "protect" the Great Rune and the territory. The janitor, seeing his former 'warden' had arrived, panicked, met Patches, and died shortly after.
"Leyndell has truly fallen if they have to rely on an Omen-born to win their wars," Gawain mused. "But it makes sense why the 'Veiled Monarch' stays hidden. He has quite the secret to keep. Thanks for the story, Patches. I think that's enough for today. Remember to wear that armor, and look closely before you try to swindle someone next time. Not everyone is as patient as I am."
Patches agreed. He was lucky he hadn't run into any of those murderous Recusants. Still, who would have expected someone of this caliber to specifically seek out his cave in Limgrave? He even suspected the "little girl" could have beaten him, given how easily she had shredded his net. He'd definitely be wearing that armor tomorrow.
"Safe travels, you two! Come back to the Patches Emporium again soon!"
Gawain led Agheel out of Murkwater Cave. Now that he had the shackle fragment, there was nothing left in Limgrave that required his immediate attention. It was time to return to Castle Morne. He considered teleporting, but he couldn't take Agheel with him that way, and she was a vital asset for the coming siege. He needed to introduce her to Elsa and the others.
Besides, a flight through the night sky didn't sound like a bad idea. He had wanted a flying mount, after all. From the air, he could navigate without getting lost and see the world from a different perspective.
"Agheel, once we're clear of the ravine, change back. You're flying me home. Understand?"
Agheel looked a bit resistant. Being used as a pack-animal for a human was embarrassing. She had mocked fellow dragons and even Ancient Dragons who had done such things in the past; now the boomerang had come back to hit her. Despite her reluctance, she trudged to an open area and reverted to her massive dragon form, lowering herself so Gawain could climb onto her back.
"Having a dragon as a partner is definitely an upgrade," Gawain remarked. "I wonder if the Lothric Dragon-riders felt this cool going into battle."
He secured his footing on Agheel's back, and with a powerful beat of her wings, they took to the sky. Though it was night, the combined radiance of the Moon and the Erdtree kept Limgrave clearly visible. From the sprawling Agheel Lake to the dark expanse of the Mistwood, everything was laid bare.
He pulled out his map to cross-reference. He could see numerous small villages and outposts with signs of human activity. The largest structure was Fort Haight near the coast; he wondered if Kenneth Haight was still out there waiting for someone to "order" his fort. Gawain was too busy with Godrick to look for him now, but he'd have to meet the man eventually—Kenneth was the best source of Godrick-shaming jokes in the world.
He directed Agheel toward the Weeping Peninsula. From the height, he spotted the Forlorn Hound Evergaol where Blaidd's target, Darriwil, was imprisoned. He hadn't had time to check it earlier, but it seemed he was too late anyway. The stone seals surrounding the gaol were shattered, and the core of the prison had been breached. It seemed the "Wolf" had already claimed his prize.
Gawain felt a twinge of regret. It seemed he wouldn't be meeting Blaidd just yet, and he'd been hoping to snag a Bloodhound's Fang. But since the event had passed, there was nothing to be done. He'd likely have to wait until Liurnia to run into him.
The massive silhouette of the flying dragon swept over the Bridge of Sacrifice, heading straight for Castle Morne. Despite her grumbling, Agheel's speed was immense; they would arrive by dawn. Gawain closed his eyes, his mind already formulating the final plan to bring down Godrick the Grafted.
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