"Here's your necklace," the Tarnished said, walking toward the girl with the trinket dangling from his fingers.
"You're back! Oh, it truly is my necklace. Thank you... you are a savior," Rya said, taking it delicately and stowing it away as if it were a holy relic.
"I haven't introduced myself properly. I am Rya, a scout in service to Lady Tanith of Volcano Manor."
"Volcano Manor? So you're based out of Mt. Gelmir?"
"Yes. You know of it? Good. We are seeking those with the potential of a hero, and it is my duty to recruit them. You are strong—not just in body, but in spirit. You have the resolve to cross blades with your own kin. Lady Tanith prizes such quality."
(Killing kin is a "quality" now?) the Tarnished thought, raising an eyebrow.
"Please, take this." Rya handed him an envelope. "An invitation to Volcano Manor. To a Tarnished with the potential of a hero: proceed to the Altus Plateau, where the Erdtree stands. You are not a commoner content to merely stare at the tree from afar while wandering the wastes. Once your strength is proven, the Manor will formally accept you as one of our own family."
The Tarnished stared at the invitation. At first glance, it sounded like a typical rebellion recruitment, but something felt... off. He looked at Rya's face; she looked incredibly earnest, almost naive.
(This girl probably has less common sense than Melina. Even if there's a conspiracy, she'd be the last to know.)
"Fine. I'll look into it."
"One more thing," Rya added. "The Grand Lift of Dectus used to connect Liurnia and Altus, but it hasn't moved in an age. The main road is in ruins. If you seek the Plateau, try the Ruin-Strewn Precipice at the northern tip of the lake. It's an old mining tunnel that cuts through the mountain."
"The Precipice... I heard about that plan before the exile. I didn't think they actually finished it."
"It is a viable path. I believe you will be a hero, Vargram. I look forward to our reunion on the Plateau." Rya waved and vanished into the mist.
(How did she get here from the volcano alone? Ah, I see...) The Tarnished noticed a faint, shimmering ward around the space she had occupied—a spell for concealing presence and dampening damage.
The Tarnished returned to the blue portal and stepped through. He materialized before a massive, elegant gate. This was the seat of power in Liurnia: Raya Lucaria Academy.
"A seal? How boring. If it were a regular door, I'd have kicked it down by now."
The gate was blocked by a shimmering blue glyph—a complex magical lock. In the Lands Between, seals were the ultimate defense, often layered with counter-curses to punish anyone trying to break them with brute force.
"Looks like I have to find the key." He glanced at a corner near the gate and saw a slumped figure. It was a sorcerer, long dead, clutching a piece of parchment. "Trying to get back in, were you?"
The dead man's hand pointed toward the Academy. The parchment was a map—a "Meeting Place" Map. It indicated a small island in the lake to the west of the Academy.
The Tarnished pocketed the map and followed the trail toward a nearby Site of Grace. As he walked, a rasping, deathly voice called out.
"You... there..."
He turned to see a Finger Reader Crone, hunched and shivering. "Come to the old woman... let me read your fingers..."
The Tarnished hesitated, but eventually walked over. The Crone grabbed his hand, her milky eyes widening.
"Oh... oh... you have a thread tied to Lord Miquella," she wheezed. "Slaughter, slaughter, and more slaughter... but the All-Knowing will not have his way. Because you will take it from the jar. Hehe... heeheehee!"
The Tarnished frowned. (Miquella? The Empyrean? And 'All-Knowing'... Gideon Ofnir. What is he slaughtering, and what am I taking from a jar? It sounds like Gideon and I are on a collision course.)
He didn't stick around for more riddles. He summoned Torrent and rode to the next Grace, picking up the map for Northern Liurnia along the way.
"A strange design," Melina remarked, appearing beside him as he studied the chart.
"It's an updated map. My old ones didn't have this much detail." He scanned the landmarks. "There's the Academy, and to the north, Caria Manor. But Sellen's catacomb isn't marked."
"Tarnished... what are you thinking about?" Melina asked, leaning in.
"Just wondering where that dragon Smarag is hiding."
"I see..."
The air went quiet. Then, Melina spoke again. "The Crystal Tears... you haven't used them yet."
"Whoa, you actually started a conversation for once." The Tarnished looked surprised. "That's rarer than Godfrey doing a jig."
Melina looked slightly taken abashed by her own forwardness. She was becoming accustomed to his presence—it felt odd not to speak.
"You're right, though. I should mix a Physic." He pulled out the tears he'd gathered from the Erdtree Avatars.
"Opaline Bubbletear... and Crimson Crystal Tear," Melina identified them.
"The Bubbletear grants a one-time shield, and the Crimson one restores health. Good for emergencies." He mixed them into his Flask of Wondrous Physick.
"Be careful," Melina warned. "Do not mix too many. Some tears are unstable—like the Ruptured Crystal Tear. It will cause you to... ascend, quite literally."
"I know. I've seen people blow themselves up trying to play alchemist. I'll stick to the safe stuff for now."
As he headed toward the island marked on the sorcerer's map, the water began to change. The pale blue of Liurnia's lake was being stained by a faint, sickly crimson. His nose caught the metallic scent of fresh blood.
"A battle?"
He rounded a bend and stopped. It wasn't a battle. It was a church—the Rose Church—and it was being slowly consumed by pulsating, red fleshy growths that looked like overgrown roses. It was grotesque.
"How long are you going to hide?" the Tarnished called out to a nearby pool of blood.
"Hmph. As expected of the man who killed Varre and Nerijus. Your senses are sharp."
A man in ornate, dark noble's garb rose from the pool of blood as if stepping out of a doorway.
"The Mohgwyn Dynasty... You people are persistent," the Tarnished mocked. "I kill two of your guys, and you send a third to deliver flowers?"
"Our Lord's new Dynasty will soon rule the Lands Between," the man said confidently. "I will give you one chance. Join us. Our Lord will overlook your previous transgressions. With your strength, the blood will flow even more vibrantly."
The Tarnished laughed. "You're serious? I kill your best recruiters, and you want to hire me? You people are desperate."
"You are strong... stronger than Nerijus. We need—"
"You need to realize your time is up."
In a flash, the Tarnished was behind the man. He didn't use fire or gold. He used the frost he'd honed.
"Fleeting... kid."
CRACK.
The man didn't even have time to scream before he was encased in a pillar of jagged ice. The Tarnished gave the ice a light tap, and the "Noble" shattered into a thousand frozen shards that dissolved into the lake.
"I told the first guy... I'll kill every last one of you blood-suckers I find."