No shame in it.

[blessedwithlove]

Its omnipresence was still daunting.

Even as its grip slackened, the Greater Will still dominated the land. The golden light of the Erdtree illuminated Limgrave day and night. Turn your back to it, and you would see its children, mere seedlings that towered over all but their progenitor. Cast your eyes down, and you would see a Tree Sentinel patrolling astride his horse. Twice the size of a lowborn knight, clad all in gilt finery.

There was scarcely a tree in the Lands Between without a golden cast to its leaves. Blessed with Grace-given life, said the Golden Order. Autumnal, said others. The end of a millennial season.

It was little wonder that the Tarnished were still captivated. Without a more intimate knowledge of the Lands Between, they saw only the Erdtree's radiance, not the bare and dying branches. They flocked toward it like moths.

What fools they were. Intelligent, some of them, but fools all the same. Generations of hatred and scorn upheld by the Two Fingers, and now they answered the call to service? How could one be so delusional as to think the Golden Order would truly welcome them home with love?

No. They were being used, and he felt no shame in doing the same. Those who stayed loyal were fitting sacrifice, providing the materials he needed to guide the doubting toward truth.

And then there were the particularly hapless. That last girl and her companions, good heavens. He'd almost wanted to follow them, just to spectate. But he had his calling to attend to. Tarnished sailing from the west found the beaches of Limgrave the only place to row ashore, and they all passed by the statue-topped monument of the Fringefolk Hero's Grave. He had his pick of them all here, and sent them off toward the brooding walls of Stormveil Castle. Lords, vassals, rich and wretched alike. They came to take the measure of the hills beyond, and to rest at its Site of Grace.

The pallid little thing swirled and danced, leaving uncomfortably moving afterimages on the eyes if one stared too long. But it was warm enough at night to almost render a fire superfluous, and it warded off the beasts that stalked and soared over the lowlands to the south. Even the Tree Guardian kept a respectful distance, the brainlessly devout pillock.

After years of bloody toil in war, sleeping in the dirt beside a symbol of everything he rejected wasn't that much of a hardship. Though on nights when rain blew up from the Weeping Lands or the sea air took on a particular chill, he was forced to retreat into the entrance to the grave itself. There were the occasional noises deep below, the senile mutterings of deathless nobility trapped in the subterranean graveyard. None of them had yet figured out how to operate the lift, and he doubted any of them would.

He couldn't decide if they were the unlucky ones, or if that honor went to the desiccated starveling pinned to a martyr's bough outside on the hill. It barely ever lifted its head, and fortunately, it hadn't voiced an opinion about anything in days. He was no longer a merciful and compassionate war surgeon, but if that thing interrupted his speech to a Tarnished again, he'd find that old mercy within himself and tear it to pieces. Perhaps he'd do it anyway, save him the trouble later.

Ah, no. That would have to wait. He could hear something coming.

Comments

[blessedwithlove]

A thousand years? He... truly, that told him nothing. "I cannot tell you how long since I took those vows. Certainly not beyond the fog. Perhaps it's been that long." There were sorcerers that had an obsession with time, and Tarnished occasionally asked him questions about history, insistent on the numbers of it all. But time was a fully immaterial thing to him. Why would time matter, beyond the space of a few days? Action was all that mattered. Event, consequence, and oaths that kept a person true.

He had only one vague sense of grander time in motion--watching the Erdtree fail. He knew it had more leaves before, but he could not remember their extent.

"There are none like Him." It made his heart ache so sweetly, just to think of their Lord. "And the Golden Order despises Him for this. Mention Him to no one, my dear, unless I do so first." Bloody Fingers might sometimes proclaim their loyalties openly, but Ayatan had already declared herself an assassin. And her eyes--perhaps she'd be able to hide the blood's effects. Tame them.

They would have to find out, of course. That was inevitable. No matter what happened, she would be a wonderful bloodletter.

[orokid]

It was really interesting listening to how he spoke of his lord and she had no idea how her eyes lit up a bit more or how she had the faintest of smiles. Even better was how the Golden Order, which only put a sour taste in her mouth so far, despised him. And that was a definite appeal. That and the promise of love, of rebuilding the world.

"I won't, don't worry." He would have learned about her skills, or figured it out, eventually. Better she had told him, gave him her trust, than to risk anything.

Fingers tapped at her leg for a moment, thoughtful, gazing at the carnage they'd left around them. None of these people seemed in their right minds, it was a kindness they had done them and themselves.

"I don't think I've ever willingly pledged myself to a cause but... I think I would with this."

[blessedwithlove]

There was a moment of tension in the silence as she studied the bodies. Had he made a mistake? Would she be true to her word? He should not mention these things until a candidate was ready to prove themselves, and who knew how long that might be, how he would even conduct such a trial for one so spurned by the Golden Order--

[And then she made her reply, and he froze. He'd always made the offer to the Tarnished he selected, with hope and pride and the dearest wish that they should please his Lord. And Ayatan now offered herself to His service.

"Oh, dear one--" He was so overcome that for a moment, words were simply insufficient. He reached out and touched her arm, and yet that still wasn't enough, leaning in close to hug her. He only just retained the presence of mind to place his arms around her shoulders, avoiding the half-healed wounds on her back.

[orokid]

Varré caught her by surprise when his hand touched her arm and even more when his arms wrapped around her. For a moment, all she could do was freeze as her mind slowly connected the dots of what was happening.

And then her muscles went lax and she leaned against him, arms wrapping around him in turn. It was warm and she'd forgotten what it felt like to really be held by anyone. How could she not savor it now after so long? She hadn't realized how much she needed that or how much it meant to him. And she was, admittedly, happy for both.

"You don't have to worry about me saying anything. And I'll do anything to help." And she wouldn't let anyone hurt him.

[blessedwithlove]

"Oh dear one, I am blessed to hear you say this," his voice was a fervent murmur, heart swelling with pride for this wonderful child.

He pulled back enough to look at her, yellow eyes glimmering slightly with emotion. "There are trials to be held for inductees, and I will ensure you have all that you require to succeed, on your own merits." It had to be her own work. A sign of her devotion, not his. But the two could still be joined together.

"You will be a knight like no other, dear one." A maidenless killer from such foreign lands, willingly offering herself to the Dynasty. How beautiful it was, even now!

[orokid]

That wouldn’t be hard, she thought. Her skills had been carefully trained and she was getting used to using this particular skillset now. Back home, she could usually just plow through enemies with the armoury she had on her Orbiter.

“Do you know a good training ground I could use?” If she would be a knight, if there were trials, she wanted to be ready, didn’t want to disappoint Varré. Or the mysterious Luminary Mohg.

[blessedwithlove]

"There are many. These soldiers will continue to be of use, once Grace returns them to their sad little lives." He gestures to the bodies with a dismissive wave. "But we'll have to push further. The trials test the commitment of a Tarnished, and make them safe from the Greater Will. You are so prepared already, dear one, but we cannot leave these things to chance."

"To the Grace first. Though it is an unlovely thing, it is still important. And we may use it for our own ends." She needed to heal those injuries as well. And he needed to know if the ritual had succeeded. He was certain it had. But he still needed to see.

[orokid]

Safe from the Greater Will, that was an interesting thought. What extents did others go to in order to escape their influence if they didn't have Varré's confidence in them? Which only made her more appreciative of him and grateful. Especially with his belief of how prepared she already was.

"I understand that. Sometimes you have to deal with a few distasteful things for your end goal, right?"

And the relief Grace had given her before, when she was still suffering most of Ballas' stab, sounded nice. Even if Varré had helped with most of it. She really did want to be at her best for these trials. Which meant healing and some actual sleep, if she could make herself relax enough.

"Could you tell me more on the way? Or would that give away too much?"

[blessedwithlove]

"Indeed. The Two Fingers still enforce the designs of the Greater Will, but their influence wanes. We take advantage of their disarray."

He began to walk, adjusting his bundle of gathered supplies to hang more comfortably from his shoulder. "I can only say so much--but for the first trial, I suppose there's no harm in it. There are Tarnished throughout these lands, but the Two Fingers draw you apart through subtle means. Almost like that marvelous trick of yours." Ayatan seemed to become intangible when she disappeared.

"There are many beyond saving among these hidden Tarnished--brutes that have no love for our kind. They are the first trial."

Perhaps Ayatan would find the bloody fingers distasteful as well. But she seemed such a sensible girl. She would understand their use.

[orokid]

Tarnished with no love for others, violent, and... hidden by the Two Fingers? Protected rather than scorned? Why? Because it served them and their Greater Will somehow?

"So the Two Fingers and Greater Will just hide Tarnished who kill others. Favoritism?" She looked thoughtful for a moment, following along and making sure her own bag was closed tightly.

"I'm not sure there's much you could say to make me dislike them more." Hate, more like. She was definitely leaning towards hate when it came to the Greater Will and Two Fingers.

[blessedwithlove]

"Of course they have their favorites." The acid edge to his words was seeping back again. "The Greater Will defines life and death, granting eternity to those who serve its designs."

He gestures back the way they came. "Those grey-skinned louts are many times familiar with the process. They may have been acquainted with the knives of my order already." Why keep a broken man alive, when he'll be restored quicker by death?

[orokid]

Acid matched for acid, she already didn't mind the idea of getting rid of the Greater Will's pets. It was almost frightening, how easily she could slip back into this habit but it was easy to justify. She was still protecting people, protecting Varré and his lord. Their lord?

Soon.

She'd prove herself.

"If they revive so easily, can we make sure that the Greater Wills 'pets' will stay dead after the trials? Or no?"

[blessedwithlove]

"There are tells, some of which you may come to appreciate." There were subtleties in how they bled out. Ways that the elect differed from the spurned.

"But it can be difficult to know for certain. Permanence is not the object of the trial, it is to test your temperament and taste for noble blood." She killed the common freely enough. But that was not unexpected. Every Tarnished who came here knew that killing was inevitable. Whether she knew it or not, she was following the trend.

"And even a death one returns from is injury all the same." She seemed familiar with that, at least.

[orokid]

"Nobles are easy. Cocky." The words came without a thought. Noble Orokin praising Tenno, unaware that they were poised to slaughter. She knew these wouldn't be so simple as the Orokin though. It seemed anyone, everyone really, could fight here. It would be more like fighting the Dax.

"Done enough, it would break their spirit." And their trust in the Greater Will, one would hope. It would break anyones spirit, really, to die repeatedly with no end in sight.

And their favorites were a good mark for that.

"That's enough, I won't fail."

[blessedwithlove]

What a delightfully vicious response. She really would find a place for herself among the knights, as long as the trials go well.

"I have confidence in that. Once you are stronger. You are skilled, but Tarnished granted the guidance of a Finger Maiden are reshaped to further the Order's will. They may serve a dying master, but they still feast on the scraps tossed their way."

[orokid]

It, honestly, chafed to think she wasn't quite strong enough yet but she was still just a teenager physically. While the Void had enhanced her, what if that could go further?

"The Golden Order and their Finger Maidens can't use that to brainwash Tarnished, can they?"

It was a thought that struck her suddenly, with how they all seemed to go hand-in-hand so far. How else could they keep every Tarnished who came here in line? At least, those who had Maidens, but how often did someone end up Maidenless like her?

How deep did it all go? How long had Varré and Luminary Mohg been working to save this broken world?

[blessedwithlove]

"Goodness, what a ghastly thought." He was sure the Two Fingers would have done such a thing if they could. "No, they've no such power. Mortals are perfectly capable of making their own foolish decisions."

He could see down to the road now--there'd be a grace nearby, tucked away in a little glen that hid it from sight. "The Two Fingers lose their grip on the world, day by day. And by the foresight of our Luminary, we can take advantage of that loss."

[orokid]

She couldn't help but consider all the possibilities. The Orokin had once managed to leash the Tenno good and tight, especially with the threat of the Myrmidon. It was a relief to know they couldn't pull that kind of nonsense though.

"It's good he did. If he hadn't, I wonder if there would be many others who would even consider going against them otherwise." It didn't seem like it. There was a lot to consider but, so far, she hadn't found reason to regret her choices.

"I think I see a sign of Grace?" It was faint but her eyes caught the glimmer of it and she let out a soft sigh. A bit of rest would be nice before any trials or training.

[blessedwithlove]

"One can only hope that more will share in His vision, now that such things are possible." To turn against the Golden Order was to risk much. But in service to such a Lord? It was only right.

And he'd risked so mach to give Ayatan a better chance at joining them. She'd taken on more runes from her killing yesterday, and more this morning. It would be enough of a catalyst, so long as the Mother's truth could twist grace into a tool for holy work.

"Indeed. We're almost there." Then he could find out for certain whether the ritual had worked.

The blessed dream had stripped away his pain, but perhaps it would return. He was ready for it.

[orokid]

If there was one thing she'd ever thank the Orokin for, it would be the skills they forced on the Tenno for the sake of war and 'protection' of them. And it was almost poetic now, the Golden Lords skills used to turn on this Golden Order. Not that they'd done anything to secure her loyalty.

Not like Varré and his lord, mysterious as the latter still was. In a world where so many people were almost out of their minds and a higher power that didn't give a damn, Varré showed a good example of what the world needed. And if he was symbolic of the rest of the dynasty-

She wanted to help, wanted to see this world improve. It had promise, not everyone was lost. And... it already felt like she'd found a family. Something she hadn't had in a millenia.

"I'm sure that they will. We can show them." Even if it was perhaps too early to consider herself part of it all, Ayatan couldn't help her words or the hope of it.

[blessedwithlove]

"And we shall." He was smiling beneath his mask. How freeing it was, to set aside false piety and let true conviction be known.

The Grace floated placidly as they approached, utterly without heed to the breeze that blew down from Stormveil. "Tend to your wounds first, dear one, then we can test the limits of what Grace may provide its foes."

[orokid]

Luckily, she'd managed this excursion with only a few cuts and bruises. Though the chance to just sit and properly rest this time, now that she was actually feeling how much energy she'd exerted. It was worth it though, helping Varré, finding some purpose.

What wounds she has were dealt with quickly and easily before she settled, setting her dagger and amp off to the side in the of chance they have time to get any sleep. Varré clearly had ideas in mind and, for now, she was content to go along with the flow of things.

"How do we start?"

[blessedwithlove]

He steels himself for what might come, as the Grace stirs to Ayatan's touch. Ever since receiving his Lord's blessing, he has remained untouched by Grace. A further blessing, he thinks, for he remembers how it felt.

Golden light would press against him and through him, a blinding flash, and flesh restored. If he was exhausted and slept, then he would be renewed and awoken. If he was wounded and could not hold a knife, all would be repaired.

And if death found him, Grace seemed to be there also, in that same moment. His pain and blood mixed suddenly with gold, and he would be returned to the camp, appearing amongst the living yet again.

He grew to hate it so. For on the days when Grace was given, there would be no rest. Their bodies were restored, what else mattered to their scheming lords?

Luminary Mohg did him such kindness, to free him from Grace's awful clutches. For so long now, the golden light has simply parted around him, like water against unfeeling stone. It has been blessed relief, a gift he accepted so gratefully.

And so in the name of his Lord, he has willingly returned to Grace. Not to be its plaything, but to take from it.

The light rises from the little mote, and the light washes over him, blinding him. Not with gold, but red. The pain flares again, every vein aflame for the briefest moment that almost brings him to his knees. Instead he stands, transfixed, slowly realizing what's been done to him.

He can feel it. Every movement of his fingers reverberates with the tiniest motes of light, a connection as delicate and ensnaring as spidersilk. Every flex and twitch pulling at it. At the runes that cling to Ayatan.

"Oh dear one, it worked."

He sinks down to kneel there beside her, eyes wide and gleaming with the light that still flickers there, like red motes of Grace. They leave him half-blind. Perhaps they'll fade, once they're no longer needed. Perhaps they'll stay. In this moment, he doesn't care.

"Runes will be your strength. The Greater Will cannot keep that from you."