Leaving Sir Gideon's chambers, the first person Gawain saw was Nepheli, who had clearly been waiting by the door. It was obvious she had received word from her foster father ahead of time.
"It looks like you and my foster father have come to an agreement. I trust he didn't make things difficult for you?"
"There was nothing to be difficult about. After all, shouldn't Tarnished be helping one another right now?"
Gawain said the words easily enough, but in his mind, he was already calculating. If the old man ever decided to turn on him, he'd have to decide whether to use Giant Hunt or the Dark Hand to stunlock him into oblivion.
"That is good to hear," Nepheli replied. "I have long intended to strike down that tyrant for the atrocities of his 'grafting.' He has defiled the winds of Stormveil, and I cannot tolerate it. To be honest, I originally planned to slip inside with a sorcerer named Rogier, but since you have similar designs, I hope we can join forces."
"Don't worry. You'll be notified well in advance. There will be no need for sneaking; this time, we are going to uproot Godrick's power entirely."
After bidding farewell to Nepheli, Gawain found he had little left to do at the Hold. He returned to Castle Morne first. Once his weapons were finished being reinforced and Gideon's internal moles were in place, it would be time to deal with the weakest of the Demigods.
That night, atop the castle ramparts, Gawain sat by the bonfire, contemplating his upcoming opposition. There was a Crucible Knight imprisoned in the gaol on the cliffs before the gate—he wasn't entirely sure what the story was there.
Beyond that, the enemies he needed to watch out for were those he hadn't yet crossed paths with: the Night's Cavalry and their commander, Margit the Fell Omen; the Trolls; another Crucible Knight; several Lion Guardians; and Godrick himself.
Flickers of various colors radiated from his palm—hues representing sorceries, incantations, and pyromancies. He was mentally cycling through his enemies' weaknesses, preparing his counters.
He couldn't afford a single mistake in this operation. He was no longer a lone wolf who could simply "die and try again" without consequence. A group of people were now willing to risk their lives to follow him; he couldn't let their hopes down.
"Found you at last. I wondered why I couldn't find anyone in the castle, turns out you were hiding up here alone. What's the matter? Getting nervous before the big battle?"
Elza appeared on the ramparts at some point, clad in her silver armor. In the hazy moonlight, her hair seemed draped in a thin veil of dusk. For a moment, Gawain almost mistook her for someone else.
She sat down beside him with an easy grace, reaching up to tidy her hair, which had grown messy from the day's training. Ever since leaving her prison, the day of the hunt for the first Demigod had been drawing closer, and she seemed to be in high spirits.
"I'll admit, I am a little," Gawain confessed. "How should I put it… I've always faced challenges alone. I've rarely led this many people. Even on the rare occasions I had comrades helping me, their endings usually weren't very good."
Elza knew exactly how that felt. She had lived it. After being betrayed by the Golden Order, she had led a band of warriors who, like her, had been discarded. They had wandered from place to place, resisting the Golden Lineage, until she was the only one left—captured on the Weeping Peninsula and thrown into a gaol.
Compared to those god-like figures, she felt infinitesimal. Yet, for those who believed in her, she had done her absolute best. She hadn't failed them.
"Do you think that if they could go back in time, your comrades would regret choosing to fight by your side?"
A series of silhouettes flashed through Gawain's mind. Finally, he spoke with a sense of peace. "I don't think they would."
"Then that's enough, isn't it? I've realized something about you—the moment you gain a bit of power, you try to shoulder every responsibility yourself. I don't know what you've been through to make you think that way, but sometimes, believing in your comrades' resolve is the only way to truly honor their feelings."
"Yeah, I know. But thanks anyway."
Gawain had merely been feeling a bit of hesitation as he recalled the past; after her words of encouragement, the feeling dissipated.
Elza looked out toward the distance, where Agheel—having returned to his dragon form—was curled up on a high peak. She felt a wave of nostalgia.
"I never thought I'd see the day where I'd be comrades with a dragon again. I remember in my homeland, the Mountaintops of the Giants, there was a dragon named Borealis. He was a mortal enemy of the Fire Giants and would occasionally help us resist them. I wonder how he is now."
"Go see for yourself once you return to your home. That is my promise to you."
"Then I look forward to the day you fulfill that promise." She went silent for a moment before finally gathering her courage to ask, "Irina told me about the 'Soul Meld.' I… I want to try it. Is that alright?"
"You want to attempt a Soul Meld? It's not impossible, but you should know what that entails."
Elza nodded. She had made this decision after much deliberation.
"I know. And I cannot refuse the benefits it brings. My current strength isn't enough to defeat those enemies, and I might even become a liability to you in the coming fight. If I can go a step further, I am willing to give a portion of my soul to you. I have nothing else of value to pay the price anyway."
"Don't make it sound so grim. A Soul Meld isn't a one-way street, and it doesn't require your entire soul. However, to achieve the effect you're looking for, there must be enough trust between us to achieve a mental resonance. Otherwise, the backlash will result in both parties losing the merged soul fragments. I can withstand such a cost, but for you, it won't be easy. Do you trust me?"
"As I've always said: as long as you do not betray me, I will help you. Therefore, this so-called 'cost' does not exist for me. If even you end up betraying me in the end, then I suppose it's a fitting punishment for my lingering delusions."
"Very well. Take my hand. And don't be surprised by what happens next."
That night, a faint flare of fire erupted on the ramparts of Castle Morne before vanishing, but it was destined to be a night that brought no peace to anyone's heart.
The next morning, Elza stared at her palms, still unable to believe the miracle that had occurred. The Soul Meld ritual had been a success—even more successful than anticipated.
At the right moments, she could clearly feel his thoughts as if they were rising from the depths of her own soul. It was just as she had suspected; this technique allowed their combat coordination to surpass even that of veterans who had fought together for years.
A portion of her Dexterity had been transferred to him, while he shared a portion of his attributes—which exceeded hers in almost every category—with her.
If that were all, she wouldn't have been so astonished. Beyond the boost in combat ability and the soul-deep confirmation that they were comrades who could trust each other with their lives, there was a benefit neither of them had expected.
"Congratulations. You're another one who can see the Guidance of Grace now. Find yourself a Finger Maiden to help you level up one of these days; I'm currently short on Runes myself, so I can't spare much for you."
Looking at the teasing expression on Gawain's face, Elza felt utterly helpless. How had she suddenly become able to see Grace? Does this mean she's basically a Tarnished now?
Though she had originally held the Golden Order and everything associated with it in contempt, her mindset shifted slightly at the thought of being able to convert Runes into strength and grow more powerful step by step.
If it's useful, use it. Why overthink it? Besides, there was a certain twisted satisfaction in the idea of using the strength granted by Grace to topple the Demigods.
Gawain wasn't sure how this had happened either. Lhutel was already part of the Golden Order, so that made sense, but Irina had never experienced this.
Does everyone I Soul Meld with gain aspects of a Tarnished through the soul-link? And because Elza is strong enough, she qualifies to see the Guidance?
Regardless, this was an unexpected result and likely couldn't be mass-produced. First, he had no desire to go around melding souls with everyone; second, even if he did, most wouldn't have the strength to perceive the Guidance.
"A Finger Maiden? Where would I even find one?"
Elza was confused, eventually deciding to set the matter aside. She would worry about it after the battle was over.
The scheduled three days passed quickly. Gawain took the time to return to the Roundtable Hold once more, where Ensha delivered a letter from Sir Gideon.
The All-Knowing informed him that Godrick had recently retracted his forces into the city and that all arrangements were in place. Once Gawain reached the main gates, the internal moles would seize the opportunity to sow chaos from within.
Furthermore, the reinforcements sent to fight alongside him were already waiting near the Bridge of Sacrifice to rendezvous with him.
Gawain knew the conditions were met. After retrieving his newly reinforced weapons, it was time for war.
On the morning of the fourth day, Irina came to see him off. She cast every incantation she had learned, whether she thought they'd be useful or not. Golden Vow, Divine Fortification—all of them were temporarily anchored within his body through their soul-bond.
She seemed to have much she wanted to say, but in the end, it all distilled into a single sentence: "May you have a safe journey."
Gawain sat atop Torrent's back, with Elza and Edgar at his sides. Agheel circled in the sky, ready to rain dragonfire upon their enemies at a moment's notice.
Before him stood over twenty hand-picked warriors willing to follow him in the hunt for a Demigod, including the Kaiden mercenaries who had fought their way back to Castle Morne with him.
There was no grand, stirring speech. Gawain's mere presence before these warriors was the greatest inspiration they could ask for. Faith in heroes and glory always captured the hearts of warriors—perhaps because "warriors have no need for words."
"Move out. We bring long-awaited liberation to Stormveil. We strike down the tyrant of the Grafting!"
At his command, the small but formidable troop began their march toward the city visible in the distance. Following the main road, accounting for rest, it would take only two days to reach Stormveil.
As he led the way on Torrent, Gawain heard the voice of the Ancient King, which had been silent for some time.
"That was quite the display of spirit. You're looking more like him every day."
"Like the Storm Lord of old? I'll take that as a compliment."
"Hmph. I wasn't complimenting you. Thinking you can charge a fortress like that with twenty-odd men and a single dragon… only you and he would be so reckless. If he hadn't insisted on that one-on-one duel with Godfrey and lost, if he had just stayed put and defended Stormveil, his defeat wouldn't have been so absolute."
Gawain smiled and didn't take it to heart. The Storm Lord was a legend who had gone toe-to-toe with Godfrey; at his peak, his domain had stretched from Castle Sol to Stormveil.
"Haha, if you ask me, he just didn't go 'all-in' early enough. He waited until he was pushed back to Stormveil to gamble everything. If he'd gone for that one-on-one on the Mountaintops, his odds might have been better. But listen, Ancient King—I'll need your help mobilizing the Stormhawks in the castle. I'm worried Godrick will execute the prisoners waiting to be grafted if things look bad."
"You need not worry about that. Once you bring me inside those walls, it won't just be the Stormhawks. Even the Banished Knights within the castle will stand by your side. I believe the shame of the past is still etched into their hearts. They merely need a catalyst."
The Ancient King's voice faded into silence, but the message was clear. Gawain could imagine it; the Golden Lineage tended to be somewhat short-sighted.
So much time had passed, and the Banished Knights—having lost their spirit after their defeat—had mostly submitted and accepted their fate. Yet, even now, they were treated like outsiders, watched with constant suspicion.
If Godrick had even a shred of sense, he would have sent troops to help when the rebellion broke out at Castle Morne. Then Gawain wouldn't have had the chance to play the hero. Even if he had saved Irina, Edgar likely would have provided some token assistance and then turned a blind eye. He wouldn't be here now, personally putting his life on the line.
At the same time, high upon the bridge before the gates of Stormveil, Margit gazed into the distance, his expression grim. Anyone with a modicum of survival instinct could see what was coming.
He had already recalled the Night's Cavalry stationed across Limgrave to fill the void left by the fallen Tree Sentinel. To be honest, using a cavalry unit designed for stealth and scouting to guard a front gate wasn't an ideal choice.
But there was no other option. Under no circumstances could he allow the Great Rune of a direct descendant of the Golden Lineage to fall into the hands of a Tarnished. To him, that would be an unacceptable disgrace.
On the ground beside him lay a heap of mangled flesh, looking as though it had exploded from the inside out. Standing over the corpse was his brother, whom he hadn't seen in an age—Mohg.
"Where have you hidden Miquella? Hand him over and return to the Capital, and I shall let your transgressions pass."
The face of Mohg, covered in twisted horns, broke into a smile. At the mention of Miquella's name, he didn't even notice the faint, almost invisible traces of gold flickering in his own eyes.
"My dear brother, you know that is impossible. I came to you of my own accord because of our common enemy. Let us speak no more of trivialities. I will help you dispose of this threatening Tarnished, just as we dealt with the Sovereign Alliance."
Margit gave a cold snort. He knew that ever since they had escaped the sewers—no, ever since his brother had met that so-called Mother of Truth—they had walked divergent paths.
But for now, their interests aligned. From using the bloody conspiracy to dismantle the Sovereign Alliance to the projection of Mohg guarding the Three Fingers beneath the Capital, there had always been a silent understanding between the brothers.
Until the day they finally reached a total impasse, they could cooperate on certain mutual interests—whether it was dealing with other Demigods or the Tarnished drawn by the flames of ambition.
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Elden Ring: In the Name of Ash (73 chapter - Ongoing)
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