After parting ways with Hewg, the Tarnished continued down the long corridor, but the heavy oak doors at the far end remained firmly shut. No matter how much strength he applied, they wouldn't budge—it was as if the space itself was locked.
"Is this a fake door?" After several attempts, he gave up and turned toward another set of doors near the forge.
"Back already?" Hewg grunted, still hammering away.
"Just making the rounds."
"You're a strange one. But I'd give up on that room if I were you. The maiden inside is always waiting for someone, yet her doors stay barred. She's turned away many a 'hero' already."
"The more you say that, the more curious I get." The Tarnished grinned. If anything could pique his interest, it was a challenge cloaked in mystery.
"You really are just like the rumors," Hewg muttered, his hammer pausing for a fraction of a second before resuming its rhythm.
"Don't listen to rumors."
"Oh? And what should I listen to then?"
"Look at the man himself." The Tarnished gave a thumb-up to his own chest. "How can a mere rumor accurately depict me?"
"Hmph. Suit yourself. Just try not to get kicked out." Hewg spoke dismissively, but in truth, he doubted anyone in this Hold had the power to evict this man. Not him.
"I'll take my chances." The Tarnished stepped up to the door and knocked softly.
"Is it another hero come to this place? My apologies, but this room is not open to the public." The voice from within was soft and melodic, carrying a sense of weary compassion even in its refusal.
"See? What did I tell you?" Hewg called out. "You're too old to be harassing young girls."
"Since when did you become so chatty? Where's that 'cold professional' I met five minutes ago?"
"Hmph. I'm just afraid if I stop talking, someone will try to assassinate you." Hewg felt a strange impulse to keep the conversation going. It wasn't just that this man was the sworn brother of that Lord; there was a natural gravity to him that made people—even enslaved Misbegotten—want to speak.
"Thanks for the concern." The Tarnished rolled his eyes. Between Patches and this smith, everyone in this era has a tongue like a viper.
"Move along, old wolf. She doesn't want to see you."
"Yeah, fair enough." Just as the Tarnished turned to leave, the heavy doors groaned and swung open. A young woman with delicate features and flowing blonde hair stepped out.
"No... way." Hewg's hammer fell silent as he stared in disbelief.
"Oho? So she does come out."
The girl stared at the Tarnished in silence. Suddenly, a faint, rosy light pulsed from beneath her bodice, near her heart.
"It truly is you..." Her eyes widened, filled with a shock that quickly melted into reverence.
"What's going on?" The Tarnished was confused. The way she was looking at him... it wasn't the look of a stranger.
"I have waited long for you... my Lord White Wolf." A pale, elegant smile played on her lips.
"You know me?" He narrowed his eyes. Behind him, Hewg was equally stunned. How could another person in this age know the truth of the White Wolf?
"Please, come inside so we may speak." She looked toward Hewg with an apologetic nod.
"Heh. I've no interest in your secrets." Hewg turned back to his anvil, feigning indifference, though his ears were practically twitching.
"This way... Lord White Wolf." She stepped aside, and as soon as the Tarnished entered, she barred the door behind them.
"Who are you? Have we met?" He surveyed the room. It was warm, filled with the scent of incense and a lived-in comfort.
"Forgive me. My name is Fia. We have never met in person," she said, offering a graceful bow.
"Never met? But you seem to know an awful lot about me. Are you the descendant of an old friend?"
"In a way. My people have known of you for generations."
"Oh?"
"I am a Deathbed Companion. Does that clarify things?" She watched his reaction closely.
"Deathbed... ah, I see. So you are of their lineage." The Tarnished felt a pang of nostalgia. He had crossed paths with the Deathbed Companions long before he ever set foot in the Lands Between. He never expected their descendants to track him down here.
"Indeed." Fia nodded. "My kin and I have been searching for you for a very long time."
"And why is that?"
"To repay a debt of gratitude."
"I don't recall doing anything that warrants a multi-generational debt." Back then, he was young, arrogant, and possessed of a wandering spirit. He had saved many people in his travels across the fog; she was likely referring to one of those forgotten deeds.
" 'Freedom and Self'... that is what you told them, was it not?" Fia smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
"I might have. What of it?"
"It was because of you that the Deathbed Companions gained the right to choose—the right to basic freedom. We were no longer forced to lie with the dead against our will."
"How does that have anything to do with me?"
"A Deathbed Companion's duty is to embrace heroes, taking their warmth to pass it on to a deceased noble, that they may live again. In the past, we had no choice. Duty was everything. Few of us ever lived a life of our own."
"And you're telling me one sentence from a wandering mercenary changed an entire tradition?" He was skeptical.
"It did," Fia insisted. "You saved our people during that great crisis. Our ancestors were captivated by your strength and your untethered spirit. From that day on, the 'White Wolf' became more than a man to us—you became an icon. Our ancestors took your words as gospel, and it was enough to shift the foundations of our culture. You are the highest ideal for any Companion."
"..." The Tarnished was speechless. A casual remark made in his youth had apparently reshaped an entire society.
"When news of your 'death' reached us, many of my ancestors spent their lives searching for your remains, but to no avail. Everything about you seemed to have been buried. Even the Blood Wolf Medals, crafted to resonate with your bloodline, could find no trace of you..."
"I had no idea."
"Heh. To outsiders, our ways are considered shameful, but we cared not. As the ages passed, this was handed down to me." Fia reached into her collar and pulled out a shimmering red-and-silver medal, polished to a mirror shine.
"Where did this come from? It actually resonates with my blood?"
"After that crisis, you asked for no reward. You simply said 'Everything for Freedom' and walked away. To find you, our elders gathered the blood you had shed in battle and used our arts to craft these medals. Every tribeswoman carries one, but mine... mine is the original."
Everything for Freedom... The Tarnished felt a cold shiver of embarrassment. The dark history of my youth is coming back to haunt me. I was such a chuunibyou.
"Heh... I should thank the Grace for letting me meet you in my lifetime. And perhaps I should thank my exile as well."
"Exile? What happened?"
"We didn't know you had come to the Lands Between. When word reached us that you had been stripped of Grace and hounded from the realm, my people were incensed. That their hero was discarded... it made them loathe the Grace itself. When I awoke to the Guidance of Grace, I was seen as a traitor and cast out."
"I see... quite the twist of fate."
"Lord..." Fia's cheeks took on a faint rosy hue. "If you do not mind... may I feel your warmth? The 'warmth of freedom' that my people have worshipped for so long?"
"Watch yourself. Didn't you say you have your freedom now? Are you still set on being a Deathbed Companion?"
"Please, do not misunderstand... I have no wish to lie with the dead."
"Then what is it you want?"
"As you once said, life must be free, and one must have their own choices. So... if I may... I wish to be a Wolf-bed Companion."
"..."
"Huh?" What is it with this return trip? Is my charisma stat suddenly off the charts?
"I have waited for you. I have turned away countless 'heroes' and abandoned the path of the dead, all for the chance to stay by your side."
"Are you serious?"
"I am not forcing myself. I feel blessed to have met you. Even though this is our first meeting, your aura brings me a peace I have never known. This is why my people followed you."
The Tarnished sighed, looking at the girl's resolute eyes. "Fine. I suppose I have to take responsibility for the seeds I sowed. But you must promise that everything you do from here on is of your own will. Don't let my 'reputation for freedom' be tarnished by you acting like a slave."
"Thank you... I understand." Fia stepped closer, and with a touch of shyness, she pulled his head into her embrace.
(Not bad... not bad at all.)
"Past or future, Fia's embrace... everything Fia has belongs only to you. I have waited so long. If you will have me, I shall follow you forever."
"I wish to know the real you—the man behind the legends."
"That's a very touching speech, but you're holding me so tight I can't breathe." It was soft, yes, but she was squeezing with surprising strength. His face was buried in her "magnificent" chest, and he was starting to see stars.
"I-I'm so sorry! This is my first time... I'm not very practiced. I will work harder!" She loosened her grip immediately.
"Phew. Almost died right there. An army of giants wasn't that terrifying."
"My deepest apologies... but you are so warm." This was her first intimate contact with a man, a rarity for a Companion who hadn't yet begun her "duty." But even before her exile, her tribe had known of her obsession with the White Wolf hero. Her destiny had changed the moment she first heard the word "freedom."
Outside, Hewg had stopped working, his ears straining. Why haven't they come out? What does that girl have to do with the White Wolf? But Fia's room was sealed with powerful silencing wards.
"Bah! Forget it!" He shook his head and went back to his anvil.
"Lord White Wolf... are you aware that your name is being used by another? The founder of this very Hold?" Fia asked softly, stroking his back.
"I'm aware."
"When I was exiled to the Lands Between, I heard rumors of Vargram the Raging Wolf and his organization. I came here seeking the hero of my stories, but the more I heard of him, the more I knew it wasn't you. It didn't fit. Now, I see why."
"This won't end quietly. He robbed my grave. I'll have to have a 'chat' with this imposter soon."
"Ah... one more thing. I have a foster father who was very kind to me when I first arrived. He is the reason I found this place. If you encounter him, please... help him."
"His name is Lionel."
"Lionel? Talk about a small world."
"You know him? A comrade from the old wars?"
"Something like that."
"No wonder he brought me here... he must have heard your name associated with this place. But I do not believe he has met the man using your identity..."
"I'll look for him. But what about you? What are your plans?"
"I shall follow you," Fia said, tightening her embrace slightly—this time, with much more gentleness.
"I'm going to commit blasphemy and slay a god."
"I do not care."
"I might die."
"Then Fia will use her own life-force to bring you back. And if that fails... I shall die with you." Her voice was absolute.
"Then I'll have to make sure that doesn't happen. I've no intention of letting anyone die for me." He smiled and looked at her.
"I will be with you always. May your path be blessed."
•
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