"My friend... I once aspired to be a scholar, which is why I've been investigating the truth behind the Night of the Black Knives," Rogier began, his tone slightly apologetic. "But as you can see, my legs... well, while we Tarnished have great recovery, there is a lingering trace of Deathblight within me. I need time to excise it. Could I ask a favor of you?"
The Tarnished nodded without hesitation.
"Thank you. As I mentioned, the plot began with assassins using blades imbued with the Rune of Death. Such a ritual inevitably leaves a trace—a 'Black Knife Print.' If we can find one, I might be able to decipher the identities of those behind it. I've heard rumors of Black Knife activity in Liurnia. If they haven't moved on, you might find a lead there. Once I've recovered, I'll join you."
"I'll keep an eye out. Liurnia is my next destination anyway," the Tarnished replied. After a few more words of encouragement, he bid Rogier farewell.
In a dimly lit, secluded chamber of the Hold, a hunched old woman with empty eyes watched the Two Fingers. The massive, hairy digits were writhing unnaturally, their bristles swaying as they broadcasted a silent, celestial message.
"Ah... a new Tarnished with the attributes of a Lord has appeared," the old woman croaked, a faint smile touching her withered lips.
As the Tarnished passed through the main hall, he noticed the large, previously sealed double doors were now slightly ajar. A low, rhythmic thumping emanated from within. Curious, he approached.
"Newcomer... enter," a rasping, ancient voice called out. The doors creaked open fully, revealing a scene that sent a jolt of confusion through the Tarnished's mind.
(Two Fingers? And that old woman... Enia? No, she shouldn't be...) Beneath his helm, his brow furrowed.
"Welcome, Tarnished," the old woman said, her voice gravelly but warm. "See how the Fingers tremble? They welcome you, the one who has claimed a Great Rune."
The Tarnished walked into the room, his gaze fixed on the Fingers. They looked grotesque—scarred, covered in coarse hair, and possessing a disturbing, alien vitality.
"I am Enia, the Finger Reader," she continued. "The Fingers are the envoys of the Greater Will, and I am the crone who interprets their words."
The Tarnished's expression grew even more troubled. (Wait... Enia passed away from old age long before I was exiled. And these Fingers feel familiar, yet wrong. She doesn't recognize me either. Is this timeline... or this world... different?)
He suppressed his questions and looked at the Fingers as they began to twitch violently.
"The Fingers speak!" Enia's voice dropped an octave, resonating with a strange power. "Hearken to the words of the envoy: The Great Elden Ring is the Golden Order. It gives the world its laws, its life, and its grace."
"But the Ring is shattered. To break the Law is a cardinal sin, and the world now weeps with curse and misfortune. Yet, the Greater Will has not abandoned us."
(Really? Do you actually believe that, Fingers?) the Tarnished thought with a cold internal sneer.
"Therefore, you Tarnished were beckoned. Given grace, and a mission: Seek the Great Runes, become the Elden Lord, and repair the Golden Order."
(Convenient. You want us to clean up your mess,) he mused.
Enia shifted her tone back to her own. "The Fingers say the Demigods have fallen from grace. They were given shards—the Great Runes—but they were driven mad by power. None of them are fit to be Lord. That is why you are guided to slay them and take what is theirs."
"So I need two Great Runes to enter the Capital?" the Tarnished asked, testing her.
"Indeed. Long ago, the Greater Will abandoned those children. Do not hesitate, Tarnished. Slaughter them. Plunder them."
Slaughter and plunder... The Tarnished noted the bloodlust in the "divine" command. If he only needed two, Godrick's was one. Mohg—his likely target—would be the second. That would be enough for the gate.
"But be wary," Enia added. "The Demigods are the children of Queen Marika the Eternal. Only Godrick is a distant descendant, his blood thinned and weak."
The Tarnished froze. Only Godrick is a descendant? That didn't make sense. Marika had many direct children. As the sworn brother of Godfrey and Marika, he knew them all. But some of the names Gideon had mentioned earlier—Malenia, Miquella, Radahn—were unfamiliar to him.
Did she have more children after I was exiled? But Godfrey left with me... unless...
(Marika... what did you do after we left?)
"Tarnished? Do you wish to turn the Remembrance of the Grafted into power?" Enia asked, seeing him lost in thought.
"Godrick's power? No thanks. It's embarrassing," the Tarnished waved a hand dismissively.
Enia chuckled. "You are a curious one. Most Tarnished would kill for a taste of a Demigod's strength."
"I have his Rune. That's enough. Though I haven't activated it yet."
"Seek out the Rune Arcs," Enia advised. "They are shards of the Ring's vessel. Use them, and your Great Rune will sing with life."
As he left the chamber, he passed Hewg, the Misbegotten smith. Hewg stopped hammering for a moment.
"Hmph. You've obtained a Great Rune, I see. What now? Ready to forge a weapon to slay a god?" There was a spark of pride in the smith's eyes.
"Not yet, Hewg. I'm going to see Fia."
"Bah! Sinking into the comforts of a woman's embrace? Your Rune will be snatched by a hungrier wolf if you grow soft. I'll make sure your headstone is straight, at least."
"I appreciate the vote of confidence," the Tarnished shot back as he knocked on Fia's door.
Inside, the atmosphere was soft and smelling of incense. "Welcome back, Lord Vargram..." Fia said, inviting him to sit. "You feel stronger. The throne draws closer."
"I need one more Rune to breach the Capital," the Tarnished said, removing his helm. His face showed the weariness of a man watching his "nephews" ruin his home. "But it's not just about the Runes. I need to understand what happened to this family. The Shattering, the Black Knives... it's all a mess."
"The Shattering was a war of ambition," Fia whispered. "The children fought for their own visions of the world. Some even formed alliances to siege the Capital, but none could break the defenses of the Veiled Monarch."
"Brothers and sisters killing each other... fools," the Tarnished muttered. "These 'kids' need a stern lesson."
"Perhaps," Fia smiled gently. "But please, talk to them if you can. Some may have reasons beyond simple greed. As an elder, perhaps you can see what they cannot."
The Tarnished nodded. He knew he wasn't strong enough yet to challenge the Greater Will itself, but he had time. The "Upper Powers" would likely send assassins—the Black Knives or others—to stop a Tarnished who spoke of liberation, but he didn't care.
His goal was clear: Explore Liurnia, solve the mystery of the Night of the Black Knives, and find out exactly what Marika was thinking when she broke the world.
•
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