"So... where exactly is this Glintstone Dragon again?" The Tarnished stood before a cluster of ruins, resting at a Site of Grace.
"Perhaps... we could find a local to ask?" Melina suggested, her spectral form shimmering in the cool Liurnian air.
"I just hope they don't try to turn me into a pincushion first," the Tarnished muttered. Sorcerers were notoriously prickly, and with a civil war raging, finding a peaceful conversationalist was harder than finding a needle in a haystack.
"Wait... what are those ahead?" Melina looked toward a group of figures patrolling the shallow waters in a rhythmic, waddling line. As they drew closer, she identified them. "Albinaurics... quite a large group of them."
"Albinaurics? What the hell are they?" The Tarnished squinted at the silver, bulbous creatures. They had oversized, frog-like heads on top of obese, squat bodies. They looked... well, a bit dim-witted.
"They are artificial lifeforms created by the Academy... essentially biological weapons."
"The Academy really loves playing God, don't they? By the way, your memory for trivia is getting better." The more time he spent with Melina, the more he realized her amnesia was selective. She forgot her purpose and identity, but her knowledge of the world's lore remained sharp.
"I... I do not know how I know," Melina whispered, looking away.
"It'll come back." The Tarnished reached out and patted her head. He paused. (She actually has some physical weight... she's not a standard spirit.)
"They are coming this way," Melina noted. The Albinaurics had spotted them. They brandished strange, wave-shaped weapons—curved clubs, rippling blades, and flat iron plates that looked like water frozen in metal.
"Everything they have is wavy. Do they have a theme?"
"They are said to possess the power of the Ripple," Melina explained. "Their origin is tied to it... they are likely built to harness that specific frequency."
The Albinaurics began croaking and chirping in a language the Tarnished didn't understand. Suddenly, they curled their bloated bodies into balls and began rolling toward him like oversized silver boulders.
"Are you kidding me?!" The Tarnished dodged as the first one somersaulted past.
"Watch out for their blood!" Melina warned. "It is Albinauric blood—it can suppress the potency of the Golden Grace."
A substance that suppresses the Erdtree's power? The Tarnished went on the offensive. He wove through the rolling "wheels" of silver flesh, slicing with his curved blade. When his steel bit into them, they didn't bleed red; they leaked a thick, viscous silver fluid.
As their comrades fell, the remaining Albinaurics grew more frantic, their croaks turning into desperate shrieks. Finally, only one remained, staring blankly at the pile of its fallen kin before the Tarnished's blade ended its vigil.
"They really are just fodder," the Tarnished mused. They reminded him of Trolls—most of whom were brain-damaged or hollowed out. These Albinaurics seemed to possess almost no higher reasoning.
"The Academy's handiwork..." If the sorcerers were mass-producing these things, they were clearly preparing for a long, bloody resistance against the Capital.
"Internal wars... always the same stupidity." He looked toward the distant silhouettes of the Academy. "Since I'm here, I should look into Sellen's history. I want to see if she's actually the 'monster' they claim she is."
The Tarnished rode Torrent through the mist-shrouded wetlands, searching for signs of Smarag. Along the way, he passed several small stone pavilions. Some housed statues of a weeping woman; others contained shimmering blue portals.
As he approached one of the portals, a youthful, slightly breathless female voice called out.
"Excuse me! You there... please wait a moment!"
The Tarnished stopped and looked toward a small girl. She was petite and had a cute, innocent face, but she walked with a pronounced, painful-looking hunch.
"Yes, you... please, come here," the girl said.
(Seems normal enough,) the Tarnished thought. In the Lands Between, "normal" just meant "not trying to eat my face within the first five seconds."
"Hello... it's a bit cold out here, isn't it?" the girl began, trying to sound mature and refined. "I am traveling on my master's orders."
"Right. The weather," the Tarnished said dryly.
"But... I have run into trouble. A blackguard attacked me, and I am quite distressed."
"You want something from me."
"Yes... he stole a necklace that is very dear to me. He is a Tarnished, like yourself. If you do not wish to fight your own kind, I understand."
"You're a kind-hearted one, aren't you?" The Tarnished tilted his head. "Do I look that violent? I'll just go ask for it back. Maybe pay him a few Runes. No need for a massacre over a trinket."
"You'll help? Oh, thank you! I am so lucky to have met a good person like you." She pointed toward a dilapidated shack in the distance. "The blackguard is resting in that empty house."
As the Tarnished approached the shack, the smell of savory broth filled the air. Inside, a man in a rusted iron mask was hunched over a large pot, boiling bright red prawns.
"Yeah? Who are you? Looking for trouble?" the man barked, not looking up.
"You're quite the character, boiling prawns in the middle of a warzone."
"What, you like prawns too? I'll sell you some, cheap." The man's attitude softened instantly. In his world, anyone who appreciated good seafood couldn't be all bad.
"I'll take the whole pot."
"Deal, I'll—Wait, what? You want the whole thing?"
"Aren't you selling them?"
"I'm boiling them for me! One girl tries to eat for free, and now a Tarnished wants to hijack the whole pot. Unbelievable."
"Oh, right. I forgot why I came," the Tarnished said, tapping his forehead. "Give me the necklace."
"Hah? Oh... the girl sent you. Fine, I'll give it back. I just picked it up on a whim. But you gotta show some 'sincerity' first," the man said, holding out a hand for Runes.
"Give it back, or I eat the prawns. Right now."
"Are you mental?! You'd rather fight me over a pot of prawns than just pay for the necklace?!"
"I've changed my mind. I'm a bandit now. The prawns or the necklace. Choose."
"You—! Fine! Take it!" The man threw the necklace at him. He could sense the Tarnished was dangerous, and a necklace wasn't worth his life—or his lunch. "You're a bigger thug than I am!"
"I learned from the best. A certain bald man back in the day," the Tarnished chuckled. He tossed a hefty pouch of Runes at the man.
"Is this... for two prawns?" The 'Blackguard' stared at the amount of Runes.
"Take it or leave it."
"Only a fool would leave it." The man pocketed the Runes. "Heh. I guess prawn-lovers really aren't bad people. Even if they are a bit touched in the head."
"Call it what you want. Why is a Tarnished like you out here boiling prawns anyway?"
"Why not? Can you see the Guidance of Grace?" The Tarnished nodded. "Must be nice. I can't see a damn thing. They summoned a petty crook like me to become 'Elden Lord' and didn't even give me a map or a light. The Golden Tree is full of it, if you ask me."
"Agreed. It's a mess."
"I was a thug back home. I thought I'd make it big here. But without Grace, I'm just a guy in a shack boiling shellfish. I bet the Erdtree is just looking for cheap labor. No pay, heavy lifting, and a high chance of death. Total scam."
"Exactly," the Tarnished nodded. He liked this guy's honesty. "You're a sharp one. Why'd you take the girl's necklace, though? You said you didn't care about it."
"Take it? That little brat is too naive for her own good. She ate my prawns and didn't have a single Rune on her. I took the necklace as collateral. You tell her she needs to be more careful, or someone less 'kind' than me will do much worse."
"I'll tell her. If I want more prawns, I'll know where to find you."
"Yeah, yeah. Just bring Runes next time!"