"Most of the arrangements are in place, but there is one final, crucial matter that requires your personal decision."
"A decision from me?"
Gawain had just been called back from outside by Edgar, only to find Irina waiting in his room. He racked his brain but couldn't guess what she was referring to.
"The banner, of course! The flags Godrick left behind were burned to cinders long ago. While the Ancient King remembers what the old Storm Lord's banner looked like, what matters most now is your vision, isn't it?"
Faced with Irina's question, Gawain found himself at a loss. He wasn't exactly a graphic designer. He certainly couldn't just plagiarize the heraldry of Lothric Castle, even if it was the one he knew best.
"But... I can't just come up with something on the spot."
"It's alright. Just give us your ideas," Irina reassured him. "Father will have someone design the best pattern based on your thoughts. Boc, the demi-human who entered the city recently, is quite skilled. He can lead the production. It will definitely be ready for the ceremony."
"Fine. Let me think."
Gawain sat down, staring at the blank parchment. Countless images flashed through his mind until he finally settled on what he felt was the perfect answer. He picked up a pen and began to sketch from memory. Though his drawing skills were lacking, the concept was clear.
Irina took the paper, her eyes widening as she examined it. "Is this... a Stormhawk? But why does it have two heads on one pair of wings?"
"Ahem... it represents the Ancient King and the previous Storm Lord," Gawain explained. "Since I've inherited their titles and their legacy, it's only right they leave their mark."
Gawain hadn't expected her to immediately interpret it as a Stormhawk, but he kept to himself where he had actually found the inspiration.
Irina found the design incredibly vivid. She pointed to other elements. "I recognize the radiant circle at the top—that's the sun you're always mentioning. And the symbols below... do they represent the stars and the moon?"
"Exactly. In the future I envision, the sun, the moon, and the stars are all indispensable. And the double-headed eagle in the center must be gold."
"Understood. I will have the proper patterns drawn up according to your requirements. From today on, this will be your symbol—and ours."
Irina carefully rolled up the parchment. A silence fell between the two, both having more to say but unsure how to voice it.
"Irina, thank you for these past few days," Gawain said softly. "Your sight has only just returned, yet you rushed here from Castle Morne to handle all of this."
"There is no need for thanks. I did this of my own will. For over a decade, while I was blind, I sat in one place with nothing to do. To be able to work like this for someone important to me... it was once a distant dream."
Gawain looked at the dark circles under her eyes and felt a pang of guilt. She likely hadn't slept much, given the influx of guests and the sheer volume of logistics. As Godrick's shadow faded, the ancient city was regaining its former life. Looking out the window at the city lights that burned even in the dead of night, he spoke with deep emotion.
"This sight was once a dream for me, too. The Lands Between is a place where hope still survives. Once this banner is finished, I want it to be a symbol of hope for these people. Regardless of their past or whether they possess Grace, no one should be excluded. But I cannot do this alone. No matter how hard I try, there will be limits to what I can achieve. I need people behind me to carry on my will. That is my hope for you, Irina. As someone who once played host to the Frenzied Flame, you know better than anyone what despair looks like. I never want to see such a thing again wherever this flag flies."
Irina didn't respond immediately. Instead, she leaned in closer, until Gawain could catch the faint, unique scent of her. Her face flushed slightly as she gathered her courage and embraced him, whispering into his ear.
"As you wish, my King. Your hope shall be my goal. So... will you respond to my expectations?"
Gawain's hands hovered for a moment, trembling slightly as memories of the past surfaced.
"Are you... afraid of something?" she asked.
"Yes," Gawain admitted. "I'm afraid that the enemies I face in the future will drag you all into a bottomless abyss. I'm afraid the ending won't be as beautiful as we imagine. I'm afraid that after so many disappointments, this is just another false hope."
Through their soul-link, Irina felt the complex swirl of emotions within him. She knew he wasn't rejecting her; rather, his past experiences made him instinctively want to walk the path ahead alone. She tightened her embrace, her voice turning firm.
"You don't have to walk alone anymore. I, and the others, will be with you until the very end. Since you were the one who pulled me from the abyss, then even if we fall back into it together, that is the end I choose. At least this time, I will be by your side."
Hearing those words, Gawain felt a long-standing knot in his heart unravel—a knot tied tight by the shackles of "Duty" back in the dying world of Dark Souls. He knew such mental walls had been necessary for his sanity then, but here, they were finally redundant.
"Yeah. I believe you."
He could no longer restrain himself. He pulled Irina into a tight embrace, and the two stood there, savoring each other's warmth for a long, quiet moment.
The next morning, Irina still bore a lingering blush, but she hadn't forgotten Gawain's instructions. She left the room to deliver the banner design to the city's tailors, instructing those versed in heraldry to bring the vision to life.
Boc, the demi-human, took on much of the responsibility. This was the first major task his master had given him, and he was determined to produce a masterpiece. One night, while working late to meet the deadline, he found a small slip of paper tucked into a pile of delivered materials.
"Do not be ashamed. You are actually very beautiful."
Tears blurred Boc's vision. It was a phrase his mother used to say to encourage him when she was alive. How could the Master have known? Boc wiped his eyes and returned to his work, but the deep-seated self-loathing he had carried since entering the city began to fade. Being recognized by that man was the greatest comfort he could have asked for.
A few days later, Gawain crossed the temporarily repaired bridge and returned to the familiar Chapel of Anticipation. He pushed open the doors, returning to the place where everything had begun for him.
Everything was exactly as he had left it—the Finger Maiden lying as if asleep, the blood-stained message on the floor. He propped his ritual sword against the ground and leaned against the wall beside his Maiden's body.
"I'm sorry I'm so late. There was much to do, and the bridge was only just fixed last night. I'm sorry... I don't even know your name. But I couldn't leave you here."
He removed his helmet. Though a momentous event was about to begin, he wanted to finish his final farewell. He felt he was becoming increasingly talkative.
"My coronation is about to start. Everyone else knows about it, so I couldn't let you be forgotten. Souls in the Lands Between do not perish; I wonder where yours is now? Whether you can hear me or not, I want you to know you don't have to worry. Stormveil is only my first step. For you, and for everyone I care about, I will become the Elden Lord."
Melina's voice whispered in his ear. "The appointed time is approaching. Let her rest in the earth. I believe your feelings have reached her."
"Yeah. I know."
He slung his sword over his back and lifted the body of his first Maiden in his arms. Leaving the chapel, he crossed the bridge back to Stormveil and placed her body in a stone sarcophagus prepared beforehand.
Waiting by the sarcophagus were a group of Banished Knights and two Trolls.
"Bury her in the site I selected," Gawain commanded. "From there, she will be able to see the moment I am crowned King."
"As you command."
The Trolls lifted the sarcophagus and began the trek toward the grave site. It was a modest spot, but as intended, the headstone was within sight of the throne room.
Gawain watched them go, then replaced his helmet. In a flash, he vanished, reappearing at the front of the castle gates.
A massive procession was already waiting. Flanking him were Edgar and Elsa—one his most trusted ally in this land, the other the representative of the Banished Knights. Behind them stood the knights personally selected by the Ancient King, along with the former Exile Soldiers. These soldiers no longer wore the hoods of their shame; under the new King's rule, their past crimes were pardoned, and they were permitted to show their faces.
Gawain blew his whistle, summoning Torrent. The spectral steed looked entirely different now. He was no longer laden with goods like a merchant's donkey; his coat was groomed to a sheen, and he was draped in magnificent barding featuring the new banner.
Gawain's own cloak matched the design. Thanks to the efforts of Boc and the others, the optimized flag was a work of art.
A majestic golden double-headed eagle occupied the center, wings spread in a protective stance. The heads faced left and right, symbolizing the glory inherited from the Storm Lord and the Ancient King. Beneath the eagle, a pair of talons gripped a sword and shield—the symbols of knighthood.
In the top left corner was a radiant golden sun with brilliant rays. In the top right sat a pale, waning moon, reminiscent of the Darkmoon emblem, while the rest of the field was filled with points of light representing the stars.
He mounted Torrent, looked up at the scorching sun, drew his ritual sword, and gave the order to advance. The massive procession began its march into the heart of the city.
The barricades that once choked the streets were gone. Curious citizens and hidden scouts lined the path. Occasionally, cheers erupted from the crowd; people could see the storms of Stormveil gathering above the procession, and the phantom image of the Ancient King hovering overhead. It was a scene from legend brought to life, and it set hearts racing.
Deep within the city, they passed the assembled nobles—representatives from the various settlements of Limgrave. Given how "uniquely" Godrick had treated them, these former vassals were more than happy to see a new King take charge. They only hoped that once the ceremony was over, the new ruler would send aid to put out the fires in their own lands.
Gawain even spotted Kenneth Haight in the crowd. He didn't look at all like a man in exile. He had likely heard from Edgar that reinforcements were coming to help him retake his fort, so he looked quite composed.
The nobles lost their composure as the procession drew near. Most knew the legends of the great wars of old, and this scene felt like history repeating itself. A King who had mastered the storm and wielded the power of lightning; a Zamor warrior with the breath of frost behind him; even a dragon, a descendant of the ancient drakes, circling in the sky. It was no wonder the Ancient King had chosen him to inherit the title.
As the procession entered the inner ward, Nepheli Loux tugged on her friend Therolina's arm, watching the spectacle with excitement. She loved this new Stormveil; the blasphemy that had tainted the wind was gone.
"See? I told you it would be worth the trip. You won't see a sight like this anywhere else in the Lands Between. ...Wait, why are you staring?"
Therolina didn't answer. Beside her, a Site of Grace was manifesting, its light forming an arrow that pointed toward the procession. Her gaze drifted past the crowd, locking onto the warrior riding behind the new King—the Zamor woman.
"Are you... the warrior I have been waiting to serve?"
Elsa felt a sudden prickle of intuition. Her gaze followed the "Guidance of Grace" until it locked onto a woman in Maiden's robes in the crowd. Having fused her soul with Gawain's, Elsa now possessed the constitution of a Tarnished, including the guidance and instincts that came with it. Looking at the girl, her heart fluttered for a reason she couldn't explain.
Is she the Maiden I've been looking for?
Sellen sat alone in her loft, watching the festivities through a birdseye telescope. She had spotted Blaidd earlier, lurking in the crowd and observing the ceremony.
Her apprentice was certainly making a splash, drawing even the interest of the Lunar Princess. Looking at the striking banner, Sellen fell into thought. The sun, the moon, and the stars... all coexisting. Why?
"Apprentice... do you, too, yearn for the Primeval Current of the cosmos?"
The procession eventually reached the innermost sanctum. Godrick's old throne had been cast aside, replaced by a new seat symbolizing the start of a new reign.
Standing at the entrance to the plaza were the two Crucible Knights. Kandan stood tall, while Finn, who had defected from Godrick after seeing the horror he had become, stood beside him.
Gawain dismounted. His knights halted, lining the plaza on either side. He walked slowly across the open space, Elsa and Edgar behind him. He glanced toward his Maiden's headstone, steadied his breathing, and walked to the throne.
Irina, dressed in magnificent robes, had been waiting. She took a crown of laurel from a silver tray held by a servant. It was similar to the crown of the old Storm Lords, but featured an additional solar motif.
Gawain bowed his head slightly. Irina stood on her tiptoes and placed the crown upon his brow. In a voice only they could hear, she whispered, "Are you sure you don't want to use the speech we prepared?"
"Don't worry," Gawain whispered back. "I just thought of something much better."
Gawain turned around, drawing his ritual sword and pointing it toward the knights who knelt before him to swear their fealty. In a voice that rang with heroic authority, he delivered his vow:
"As your King, I declare: Your bodies shall be under my command; my fate shall be upon your swords. Heed the call of the Flame and the Storm. Those who obey this will and this reason, answer me! Here I swear: I am he who shall attain all the virtues of the world. I am he who shall purge all the evils of the world. From this day forth, I am King!"
He sheathed his sword and sat upon his throne. His words, carried by the winds of Stormveil, echoed throughout the city for all to hear.
The news would soon ride the storms across the entirety of the Lands Between. A new era had begun.
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