The Emerald Herald gazed longingly at the horizon of Majula, where the amber sun met the softly-churning waves of the sea. Her mind was plagued by all of the troubles that would soon come, her head hung with the weight of her burden. She was to guide the new monarch through trials and tribulations, to strengthen her soul lest she fail as so many had before, to put an end to the cycle that wore down would-be monarchs time and time again.

All of that, and her stomach was growling.

Then she felt her, the Bearer of the Curse, approaching through one of the paths that took her out into the troubled land of Drangleic. The Emerald Herald glided down the stairs of the monument and saw the Bearer approaching the bonfire with a purposeful stride. They arrived at the same time, the heat of the flames licking at their flesh.

"Is that a shard you've found?" The Emerald Herald could sense the crystalline shard in the Bearer's pocket.

"It is, my Herald. The Bearer bent her knee before the Herald and held the shard out.

"I can do nothing," The Herald said, and even through the helmet, she could see the confusion on the Bearer's face. "My strength has withered. Without the will to bring light, without sustenance, I can not mend what was broken."

"Tell me what I must bring you," The Bearer requested. "Be it beast or man or god."

"Steak," the Herald answered, "with sweet potatoes and carrot slaw."

"… My Herald?" The Bearer glanced up.

"Sweet Shalquoir lays claim to many things. Seek her, Bearer, and return with the components that may restore my ailing soul."

"At once." The Bearer rose to her feet and hurried off. The Emerald Herald smiled to herself.

The Plain Doll stared at her fingers as she sat in the Hunter's Dream, waiting for the time when her Hunter would return. There was no dust but that which was already there, no grime but that which the Hunter's boots trod in with, yet still her form was becoming soiled. Her porcelain skin fading and staining, while her clothes grew heavy with entropy. Even when she slept, she could feel herself slowing down. It would soon be time to clean herself again, maintenance that Gehrman had long since abandoned in the wake of his somber madness.

The Doll laid the duster out on the table, along with a collection of rags, a hair brush, and a basin of water mixed with some powdery substance the Messengers brought her. She had just removed her hat when the familiar footfalls of the Hunter graced her ears.

"Welcome home, good Hunter." The Doll turned where she stood in took in the sight of her hunter, all limbs and black and dripping with blood. "There is something I must ask of you, a sweet favor. Without it, I may soon fall still no matter your perception..." She traced her fingertips along the table beside her. "My flesh requires cleaning, my joints oiling, my hair brushing, my clothes restored. Will… Will you help me with this, good hunter?"

"If that's your wish." The Hunter removed her blood-slick coat and tossed it to the side with one fluid motion, followed by her gloves and the rest of her blooded attire. Before long, she was removing the doll's dress, her killing hands now decorated in soft cotton gloves and her blades replaced with warm rags. Who could have thought one so fearsome would lend themselves so well to the care of a simple plain doll?

The Firekeeper frowned beneath her mask as she sat at the base of the shrine, on the ash-covered steps that led to thrones and the world beyond. She had been walking for as long as she could remember, so much so that she could have traced her path through nothing more than the feel of the ground beneath her soot-stained feet. Today, they had decided to rebel and face her with aches and pains that led her to long for nothing more than a comfortable seat. If only there were some way to ease them…

The sound of clanking armor echoed around Firelink Shrine and The Firekeeper's head raised.

"Ashen One," the Firekeeper called out. She was getting closer and closer, then she stopped, just before her. "I can feel the sovereignless souls within you. Have you come to take nourishment?"

"I have," the Ashen One replied. "I've enough to bring fire to all the world."

"Oh..." The Firekeeper turned her head off to the side, as though she'd heard something sad.

"What troubles you, Firekeeper?" The Ashen one was firm and sharp, but tempered. The Firekeeper had always liked that about her.

"The humanities that flow within me, those that allow me to grant your heart's desire… They are blocked. The darkness pools near the earth. I cannot grant you that which you seek."

"Not at all?"

"There is… One way." The Firekeeper propped her feet up on the stairs beneath her. "With water and finger, ease the tensions that prevent their flow."

"… You want me to rub your feet?"

"In so many words… Yes." the Firekeeper said.

"I'm not certain that's how Firekeepers work."

"Ashen One… I lost my eyes for the sake of tending to the flames. Have you done the same?"

"I have not."

"Then please… Do not doubt me so." The Firekeeper held up her foot. "Begin with the right one. The impediment is most severe there."