Lucian finally sank to the ground, utterly exhausted. The toll had been imnse—first, cutting down a hundred or so Misbegotten, then battling the hulking leonine warrior, its strength amplified by the colossal sword forged from the Shardbearer's remains.
All he wanted now was to reach a Site of Grace, nd his wounds, and then find a quiet place to sleep. But it wasn't yet ti to rest—he still needed to leave the castle and bring Irina to safety. Only then could he take the ti to heal properly.
"I am Edgar, Warden of Castle Morne… and Irina's father. I realize I have not introduced myself until now—my apologies."
Edgar approached only after Lucian had finished his work, his voice steady but edged with fatigue.
"Lucian," he replied simply. "Just a Tarnished."
Edgar committed the na to mory. "You are a true warrior. I thank you for all you have done for Castle Morne. Once the castle is fully reclaid, I will see that you are given a reward worthy of your deeds."
Lucian didn't refuse. He had not fought for reward, but he had earned it nonetheless—why turn it down? "We can speak of rewards later," he said. "For now, I need to rest. Soon I'll fetch Irina—I don't want her waiting outside for too long."
Edgar offered his gratitude once more before withdrawing, mindful not to disturb the Tarnished further. There was much for him to do: routing out any remaining Misbegotten, resettling the townsfolk, tending to the dead… His heart ached for his daughter, but as lord of the castle, duty ca first.
Evan sat down beside Lucian. The battle had forged a fragile trust between him and Edgar, who for now allowed him to remain until judgnt could be passed.
While sprinkling healing dust over their wounds, Evan spoke quietly "You are the fiercest warrior I've ever seen. Were it not for you, the Misbegotten would still be running rampant in these halls…"
His voice faltered. "This disaster was my doing… and yet, I couldn't even stop them. Thank you."
Lucian said nothing—what could he say? Evan and Singh had sought to "save" the Misbegotten, but had instead unleashed slaughter upon Castle Morne. Even if they had been used by others, the blood remained on their hands.
They knew it, too.
Lucian only sighed.
After a short rest, he descended to the main gate via the lift. The golden radiance of the Grace washed over him, sealing his wounds and refreshing his spirit. The weariness in his bones lingered, but he felt whole again.
lina appeared beside him, relief in her eyes. She had watched the entire battle from afar, fully aware of the peril he had faced.
"A brutal fight," she murmured. "If only I had a physical form… perhaps I could have aided you."
Lucian shook his head. "Leave the fighting to . You've already helped more than enough."
"Oh, and—about that Flask we took from the envoy's body… I can use it without worry, right?"
lina accepted the Flask, inspecting it carefully before returning it. "No markings. It is safe—just clean it well."
Even if it had been used before, it was still a Sacred Flask. Waste was unthinkable.
Then, her expression grew serious. "Lucian… Forgive .. I've been...testing you.—To see whether or not grace truly does guide you. And...whether you are fit to face the challenge that entails. I feared you might not… it seems my worries were unfounded. Torrent had your asure from the very start.
Whereas I rely pretended. Forgive ."
Lucian didn't take offense. "You seek the Erdtree's roots for a reason of great importance. I understand the need for caution—you have to find a companion worthy of trust. I take it I've passed your test?"
lina hesitated. She had not needed to confess this, but her nature would not allow her to keep it unspoken. She had expected him to be angry—after all, they had journeyed together, yet she had been quietly judging him all along. It was a kind of distrust.
But he brushed it aside without resentnt, a generosity that only deepened her respect.
"Yes," she said, smiling faintly. "Perfectly. As an apology… once your business here is done, I will take you to a place—the Roundtable Hold...
Gathering place of Tarnished champions, guided by Grace..."
--------------------------------------------------
At the castle gate, Lucian blew Torrent's whistle. The spectral steed galloped into view, Irina riding upon its back. Torrent nuzzled his face in greeting.
"Sir Lucian—are you unhard? My father… is he safe?"
She had been waiting anxiously outside, fearing the worst.
"He's fine," Lucian reassured her. "The Misbegotten are all but gone. I even fought beside him. He's safe—rest easy."
Her eyes brightened with relief. "Thank the gods… thank you."
He took her hand, guiding her onto the lift. As they ascended, the tallic scent of blood grew stronger, and her face paled—what horrors must the courtyard hold, to fill the air with such a stench?
When the lift reached the top, Edgar was there. At the sight of his daughter, he broke into a run, eyes shining with tears.
"Irina…"
"Father!"
They embraced at last, both safe, both alive.
Lucian watched their reunion with quiet satisfaction. All the blood, the endless fighting—it had not been in vain. He had saved them, and given them their mont of peace.
And there were more yet to save.
User Comments
0 comments from readers