Silence reigned in the lower parts of Lothric for a short moment. Battered and broken, a once unyielding defender let go of its massive polearm. The steely shaft bounced off the ground with great echoes. It was followed soon by heavy knees that couldn't maintain their balance anymore. Finally, the Winged Knight let itself fully collapse forward like a giant tree. The cape on its back had been caked in blood and fat and his armor was smeared with the impacts of fire, blades and sorceries. This great enemy dissipated into myriad ashes, as the Curse of Undeath would have it.

The Ashen Ten were victorious this hour, but had grown tired in exchange. One or two let themselves fall to the ground, their limbs still reeling from the Winged Knight's heavy blows. A girl went to tend their injuries. A young hooded man used the opportunity to scavenge the area, as well as execute potentially half-sleeping corpses. An old wizard studied the remains of headless knights, pondering while he drank the blue broth of his flask. Yet another man sat on the stone circle placed around the statue of a cloacked figure. That fellow confidently pulled back the bloodied black hair that had covered the left side of his face, revealing a glowing red eye under a nasty scar.

"Ah~ that was fun." he chirped as he wiped the blood off his long curved blade. "Kehehe, for a moment I thought that spinning lardass was gonna flap those tiny wings and fly away." This proud rogue had always shown appreciation for shaded humor and gruesome fighting. A view that most of his party tolerated, but not all. A halberdier standing on his right planted his long haft in the pavement to catch his attention, and succeeded. Pavel frowned and shook his head at his comrade's vulgarity: "Such language... It was once a reasonable being, you could show some respect." And it was true that Hollowing had striped all reason from the defeated being, as it did most of the inhabitants of Lothric. Who could say what manner of person they had just battled against?

But against that sound reasonning, Kieran chuckled: "Aw what's the matter Monk-keeper? Did he remind you of your godly wards?" he said, judging his friend's social cercles from the memories of past targets. But despite his expectations, the herald was deeply puzzled by the statement: "Come again? No follower of the Way was ever that corpulent." The truth could be felt in the statement and the tilted expression. The cliche had been lost on this warrior from another age. Looking to the side, the assassin sighed. "... Other times other diets I suppose." But the man wasn't one to back away from an argument, no matter how shallow: "For the record, clerics nowadays are either pigs or sadists. Try not to reveal your... heh... sacred profession around strangers."

Pavel wasn't sure how to take this advice, but the grin gave him a clue: "Master Assassin, my friend, it would behoove you stop antagonising everyone like you do." advised our honest fellow. To which, again, the assassin responded: "Come now, it's all in good fun! I'm not harming anyone, unlike some people..." he replied while spying on the implied party that stood just a few steps away. And so, a green-haired girl took offense for a vein popped on her neck: "Yeah yeah, ah did a scabby act then y'all made me feel bad about it. Thanks fer da remindin'. Now do what Whitey says an' mind yer blabberin'!"

The situation wasn't getting anywhere good. The heart of the group, Lady Aveny, decided to interfere with a bright smile: "Now now my friends, let us remove those frowns and rejoice instead. Didn't we work well together? This poor warrior, may it find respite, was barely a challenge. We definitely improved compared to our fight against the Iudex. Give thanks to the Sun for granting his wisdom in our time of needs."

"Of course it wasn't a challenge... Ten against one isn't very fair." declared Alrof of Forossa behind them. The big man was busy relocating his dislocated right shoulder, yet the painful process didn't prevent him from joining the exchange: "Ow... Back in the days with my Company, each of us would take one monster each. Real warriors honoring the glory of Faraam. And now it's just... Well... Er..." Pak. Just as the bone was set back in place, his friends' silent glares pierced his heart. Alrof massaged his shoulder and cleared his throat. "Ahehem... No offense people, I'm not saying we fought wrong or that I don't like adventuring with you. I just... I'm looking forward to when we don't have to... I mean NEED, to stick together for every fight, because we'll all be strong, you know?"

From the beginning Alrof took the spot the goofy strongman of the group. And while he had trouble finding the right words at time, his heart was pure and true, that much was certain."No offense taken friend." assured Aroth of Astora, who was the first to meet him when they awoke in the Cemetary of Ash. "We understand your frustration, and you make a fair point. Once the way to the Lords is secured, we will satiate ourselves with well-earned souls." Alrof placed his iron helmet in a better position, as if trying to shake off his unease. He cheered nervously: "Yeah! That's what I was thinking. See? We barely met and we're all getting along. Erm... Mostly..." That was quite enough on the subject. Carra stretched her legs as she urged the group forward. "Oh sure, good talk scruffy. Now howsabout we check that survivor every'un saw but me?"

That matter was of importance. Information the Ashen Ten had gathered was scarce, and the few people the group had met had been either clueless or cryptic on the subject. They knew were to go, but not what or who awaited them. So, if there really were citizens left in Lothric City, it could shed light on the path they treaded. They gathered slowly before the building. The empty corpse of a Lothric Knight seated on the entrance of a noble's estate. This establishment directly neighbored the milicia headquarters, but was fully accessible from the ground. The wooden doorway protected by the armor was in decent shape, hinting at the sanctity of the interior. Whoever or whatver lied in there had been completely silent so far.

"Ya said it came in here." asked Carra. A statement old Gyron rectified immediately. "She entered, and she did not step out." The young Bloomseer still seemed skeptical."Yer sure it was a real person? Coulda been a Hollow." "Real person? It was a human with skin and heart. A young girl in a sad shape perhaps, but a thinking being nonetheless." assured the cleric. "She looked scared, I hope she's alright..." Regrettably, Carra was just as manic as the assassin when it came to argumenting over pointless things. She predictably shrugged and placed her last word in: "Aight, well we'll see about that aye? What are ya waitin' for?".

Osadin volunteered, the red cloth on his shoulder flowing with his movements. He confidently approached the door and knocked on its wood. "Excuse me?" he called. The sound of footsteps echoed from the inside, hurried and in short bursts. However, there was no vocal response. The easterling rubbed his short beard. "Odd... What is she doing?" Seconds later, Alrof came next to him. He banged his stuffy gauntlet on the door with a good rhythm and asked stongly but nicely: "Oh girl? The bad guys are gone, you can come out now." Silence was the answer. Alrof knocked again: "Everything alright in there? Hello?" to no avail. Perhaps the violence of battle had scared her from answering. However, leaving this opportunity behind wasn't gonna happen.

The Wise Gyron tried to analyze the situation. "When we saw her she had trouble escaping from a simple Hollow soldier. Thus, she is probably Undead, and could have lived in her childish state for dozens of lifetimes. Who knows what she must be thinking? Perhaps she is being cautious. Perhaps she is amused. She may also have escaped through another exit. There are dozens of possibilities." "Yeah like her bein' a Hollow an' she can't talk..." put Carra bluntly. Things had gone too slowly for her taste, as usual. She prepared a fireball in her left hand. "This ain't no hedder steel door. Imma burn it. Outta mah way!" Alrof and Osadin hurried away. Carra took a stance.

"Don't burn the door!" screamed a young girl, which forced Carra to stop her motion. "Please walk away! Do walk away! There's nothing here but dust and wood yes! No souls for you!"

Carra lifted an eyebrow, clicked her tongue and closed her hand. Her flames was as extinguished as her. "Real person, sod it...". The disappointment on her face pleased the sadist crawling in Kieran's soul. He gloated: "Awww don't give up so easily. Some Hollows can be full of life eh?" Again his red eye shifted towards another Unkindled, the young Volke this time. The little thief stayed silent but didn't avert his eyes from him.

Satisfied, our rude assassin slithered to the door and smacked it strongly: "Enough games girl! I enjoy a little resistance, but if you don't open the door I'm going for your limbs!". Not a logical choice of words, and a very violent act. "Kieran!" shouted a horrified Amon too late to change a thing. No-one was surprised when the hidden girl squealed: "No no no no! I-I don't want no! G-g-go away!" The girl was obviously crying now as her wails had intensified. The pure-hearted Aveny pushed Kieran aside immediately, she would not let a poor soul suffer such heartlessness: "Oh no... My child, please! Ignore this evil man. We are friendly I swear." she pleaded in a sweet tone. But the damage was done. "Leave and don't take my soul! Whimper. Leave the door and go away! Away..."

Gyron scolded the scary whipper-snapper with a wrinkled finger pointing at his scarred face. "Boy, you are beginning to annoy me. Threatening a girl you can't even see?" Kieran rolled his eyes, but clicked his tongue in self-disapproval. Maybe even he could admit it had been poor play on his part: "Tch... Alright I'm sorry. Old habits die hard. I swear it won't happen again." "It better be the case, this was reckless and out of order." said Aroth. While the Arklaw had played along with the wordplays and mockery, this proud knight would not laugh along this time. Under the accusing eye of his peers, Kieran retreated at Volke's side without complaints.

Meanwhile, the girl had calmed down a little. Perhaps hearing a feminine voice had been effective. "M-miss?" she called. "Yes child?" answered the Sun-lover, eager to assist. The young voice continued: "Y-you won't break the door yes? Be nice like?" Good, they could now discuss, and Aveny gladly reassured her: "I swear on the Sunlight that shines in my heart, we mean you no harm." After a pause, the brittle soul asked the kind lady."Miss Sunlight... Are you Ash?" Aveny turned away to have confirmation. According to the nod from the leader Aroth and the Wise Gyron, it seemed okay to reveal that fact about them. "Yes young one, I am Unkindled. We are Ash." The girl spoke stronger, she had found a bit of courage after that revelation: "Then... Is... Is my Lord here?". The term seemed important. "Your... Lord?" repeated the cleric. And the answer was: "Our savior, Lord Amon."

As soon as the name left her lips, nine pairs of eyes connected towards the man in question. Amon the Exile felt their pressure and cowered a little, scratching his cheek and looking to the side. "Ah... Well I... This is uncomfortable."

Aroth stepped in angrily and pushed his brother's pale chest against a wall: "What is this madness!?" he growled. " How could someone wait for you in this final age! And she names you a savior? A Lord!?". Not struggling against this violence, Amon gave a disoriented reply "Urk, I do not remember Brother! Mine thoughts were... I swear to you, this fateful encounter surprises me fiercely! I knew her voice felt somewhat familiar but few else. Please believe me!" Rage engulfed the ancient chevalier, he could barely contain his voice: "Lies! You have plotted this course in some way!". He then pulled his right arm back to prepare for a pummeling, but a Swift hand on his shoulder prevented further actions. "Ser Aroth, please, this is no way to behave." advised blade-master Osadin.

Reminded of the situation, Aroth looked at the rest of the group. His fit of anger had surprised them, but they might suspect his reasons nonetheless. He sighed inside his iron helm and reluctantly removed his left hand. The Steadfast Pavel found himself pondering: "What is it to be then? Do we allow them to converse? Should we hold a vote?" It was a good way to decide, let the majority speak, since the majority was not cursed with evil thoughts. The knight's stance was obvious. "I reject this interaction deeply. We can not take Amon's evil and schemes too lightly."

BUt to his surprise, Aveny was more open to the exchancge: "And I want to help this poor soul. We were called to help everyone in need, everyone under the Sun.". This humanitarian view affected all present, despite the redundant solar theme in Aveny's every prayer. For instance, Carra approved of her ideal: "Aye, who cares about complot or whatnot? There's a lil' girl in danger here." The rest of the group encouraged the assistance as well, if not by vertue at least for curiosity's sake. In the end, eight voices were in favor of seeing what Amon could do to help. No objection could be made now so Aroth removed his plea.

Without a word, the half-naked noble had made his way to the door. A raised finger carried his intent to his comrades; to please be quiet. He placed his ear against the door. He could hear the girl crying and muttering words without pause. "Screaming... They screamed... Why..? I want my Lord... I want Ash..." "Young lady?" he said gently. All present heard a gasp behind the door: "Ah... Yes?". Amon seemed pensive, as if trying to recollect something. Or perhaps it was an act as his brother would suspect. "May I inquire your name?" he asked nonetheless. Hesitantly, she replied. "I am... I am... You are?". "My name is Amon. But before you reach a conclusion, just know that my mem..."

The door opened before he could finish his formal address. The girl behind was panting heavily. When her deep blue iris met the pale eyes of the Noble Exile, the desperate expression turned to unbrindled joy. Before anyone could react, she hugged the visitor tightly. "Lord Amon!" she squeaked. "You're back! You're back!"

The girl now in plain sight, the ten warriors could see how this survivor was in her teenaged years. She was a frail young girl, and she was in a sorry state, as observed previously. Her figure was almost as thin as a Hollow's. Cuts and bruises littered her dirtied skin. The clothing she wore couldn't even be considered vestment anymore. The robe and shoes she seemed to posess in the past had almost disappeared, with mere threads remaining. Even the sleeves of her undertop had been completely scratched away from overuse. Her head was adorned with brown hair half-drenched in soot, a good portion of it was unkempt while the rest was braided into a long tail over her shoulder. It had been a while since she tended to her appearance, but she didn't seem to care anymore. She let herself slide at Amon's feet, crying a torrent of tears she had no way of stopping.

Thissubsister's wails put most of the audience at bay out of respect. But noble Aroth couldn't help but increase his suspicious and trust this to be an play of some sort. "Enough of this, girl. On your feet." he ordered. When she saw the fully plated knight advancing towards her, the little survivor jolted. "Eeek!" Impressed, she cowered behind Amon's legs like her life depended on it, grabbing the chains of his leggins with her thin and dirtied fingers. Amon was touched by this display, and opposed this aggressive approach: "Brother, be kind for once. We don't know what she has been through yet." This was not good enough reason in Aroth's eyes: "Tell her to cease this childish act and make her stand then. We have dire questions that need answering." he raised his hand to catch the little girl who closed her eyes in hope of protection. Amon didn't dare interfere on her behalf.

"Sod off! Yer scaring her!" growled Carra who placed herself between the two Carimites. Seeing the survivor in person had made her very protective for some reason, and Aroth was surprised by the change of stance: "You would defend her now? Be forewarned, I will not tolerate another low blow from you.". "Then don't give her a good reason Commander." said a relaxed Alrof. His large build mixed with a straight face, contrary to usual, had quite the effect on the two Ancient Undead. "Come on, take it easy, what's she gonna do? Kill us?" he insisted.

While the point made was good, the Arklaw's resolve was unshaken. He stepped back physically but not verbally: "For the good of this group we need to on the side of caution. If there to be a sign of malevolence against us, I will not stay my hand again." This menace loomed over the little creature now, and the fear forced her whimpers to lessen. Again blue-robed Aveny was the voice of reason: "Then please my companions, give those two some space." They all allowed the beautiful Exile to comfort the girl. He pushed her aside delicately, she was trembling. He squatted to put his head at her level. "I remember, glimpses of fearful eyes, and the sounds of laughter as the bolts flew into the night. You were the Undead girl captured and released in the Copse, were you not?"

As if these events were flooding back in her eyes, the girl searched in front of her without focus. It had happened so long ago, and the rising Curse had blurred the images, but she remembered. She remembered even though she wished to forget the horrible memories that had accompanied her to this day. "Yes, long ago I was running hard like. ALways affraid and not happy. But then you came and..." finally she dared raise her face and look at her saviour correctly. Correctly enough to notice a detail she missed. "Awawawa! My Lord!" she exclaimed, quickly hiding her eyes in her arms. The group was surprised by the outburst, though Amon remained calm and appeased them with his open hands. "What is it child?" he worried. To which she stuttered: "Y-y-y-yo... Chest!"

Of course, seeing the man of her dreams coming to the rescue with his exposed skin would impress her juvenile mind. Not a malevolence, but a sign of simple shyness. Immediately Amon put his chain armor back on. There was a sigh of disappointment behind him but he paid it no heed. "My apologies child... Twas rude of me not to acknowledge my debauchery." Once more the girl raised her head and kept her body straight. All could focus on the girl in her entirety. They reviewed her dark brown eyes and what remained of her clothes, on what lay behind the dust and the wounds. Her demeanor just now had been the perfect reminder for Amon's wonderings: "Could it be? Leliana?"

The girl bobbed her head in approbation for hearing her name had restored her. "Yes yes! Yes my Lord! Leliana of Melfia, yes! It's been so long long. B-but you didn't forget yes? You remember little Leliana really?" The gentleman calmly brushed the dirt off her clothes. "I never forget a face my dear. But I suppose this claim does not encompass memory alterations. It matters not... Are we welcome inside? Stone is no comfortable support to converse on." The small host observed the rest of the group. The colorful bunch had quite the effect on her, but she pressed her frail legs into motion nonetheless. "Good good... Come inside quick before the Hollows return and feel us please?."

While Aroth naturally kept his sword under his fingers, all the Unkindled agreed to follow her into the housing. The entry was spacious, extending forward for a few paces like an oversized hallway. This place had obviously been the home of wealthy nobles in the past. The colors of gold and silver could still be appraised, detailed tapisseries and beautiful earthenware embellished the place. However, a state of disrepair had drastically diminishedits appeal. Dust had formed thick layers over the furniture and old spider threads covered the corners. The stone walls were decayed and shed their rocky shells at the bottom. Many of the candles had melted, forming stalagmites under their props. All in all, the estate would appear abandonned if not for the girl's traces. drenched in dried blood had been laid over a sofa, little scupltures made of pebles and dead skin had been aligned on a small table near a barricaded window. The place smelled of rotten wood and dried blood that steamed from some of the smashed cabinets. Aroth of Astora clicked his tongue "This place reeks of baseness."

Osadin disapproved: "Ser? You're being awfully impolite. This girl gives us temporary shelter and you act like she insulted your honor?". After a few seconds of consideration came an appology: "Yes, tis not fit for my station to denigrate her... generosity." Whatever the case, the group took place on whatever furniture they could find. dining chairs, small crates, capped vases... Leliana sat on a long couch with gilded gold at the ends, it was in as sorry a state as her. The group waited in peace, despite the absence of bonfire. The upper levels had been obstructed by devris, which meant the only threat came from the entrance they had just closed.

Although the pyromancer hadn't found a decent seat yet, Amon could now focus on his friend from another time: "Leliana, what happened to you?" he inquired. Her own ash-riddled hands hugged her thin frame while her mind searched for the the words. "I... I was scared. It's been so long... I-I thought... I-I-I didn't want to hide and wait anymore. We heard the bells so so so many times... Nobody came. People died and the Hollows were here and I was alone and... And here you... You're here... And I...", she started hyperventilating but a pale hand on her shoulder calmed her down.

"Calm down, you're safe now.". The girl believed him, or perhaps she obeyed him: "What happened is I lived my Lord. Very lucky but I did yes. Not easy but can be when you don't die. I die when killed but not of age or food or normal life things, so I can move and run and learn to avoid the mad dead. That's about it yes..." It was then that Carra took a big mattress from a disassembled couch and threw it closer. Just like that she sat herself on it in a meditating pose, but her face was well in the moment. She addressed the girl like you address a friend in need: "Aight pumpkin, ya got some blendin' done on ya, ah'm sorry 'bout it. So... What was that Amon said about ya bein' hunted? Who did what an' where?". Apprehension kept a clear answer from exiting Leliana's lips: "Long long ago it was no? My Lord can tell you please?". Amon obliged her: "If my returning memories are to be trusted, it was..." he shrugged. "Who can say?" The fire-wielder didn't like that answer and neither did her surging Pyromancy Flame. "Haa!?" she snarled.

Our newfound hero tried to explain himself before his tatooed face received a different type of marking: "Please, put that away. My meaning was thus; there are too many culprits to begin with. Hunting Undead became something of a sport in many realms over the ages. A horrible and arrogant business with no sway against the Curse, as you can imagine. The sport of mad Kings and Nobilities seeking pleasure in the end of days. I shall not share the grim details here... Let it be known that I saved one victim. One among many I did not...".

This history lesson was a shock for many among the group, Alrof of Forossa was notably blown away: "By my beard, those stories about Undead Hunt... all true." The fallen Lord aquiesced, then addressed Carra: "I suspect the ones who trespassed the Great Swamp had a similar goal when they stole your young wards." Our blazing gal was rightfully pissed and punched her seating: "Bloody shit-faced rotten bastards bloody sold mah kids... Fer sum bloody funsies... Ah knew those godly tars shunk a way on 'em, but that'd better not be it..." her spiteful rant gave way to a lenghty sigh. Away from them she might have accepted that she seeing the younglings again was unlikely. Not her captors though, them she could punish still. Osadin waltzed in: "Just to be sure Carra. You do understand that Ser Pavel was blameless in this business?" Rolling her eyes at first, she perused the herald from feet to head before concluding: "...That's fer sure. He's too namby-pamby like ta do any of it aye." "Namby-pamby?" He had no idea what the expression meant but it felt better than Carra's previous insults. And so Pavel just let things stand.

The discussion had advanced a litlle, but it was time to resolve some mysteries. A Ruthless hitman called for the girl's attention and in a far more peaceful manner than his first attempt. "My dear, you've obviously done well surviving this terrible place. You're Undead like we are, I can sense that. So let me ask you this; what are you doing here? You could find a better place than this... old home... to survive until the Fire's back. At a bonfire for instance?"

"Bonfire? No no I can't use them yet, I need to... I was trying to... to..." Vitality left the girl's face as if she just recalled something, something dire. "I... I didn't..." Her mouth now moved without producing any sound. A short spasm went through her head and she curled up into a ball, sobbing harder than before.

"Leliana?" asked a very worried Amon. This time, even his touch didn't calm her down.

Beyond anyone's expectations, the young girl clenched her muscles erraticaly, like thunder had oursed through her. "Stupid Leliana... Stupid girl..." she accused herself. Her shivering intensified and her eyes lost their colors. Her nails dig into her amber-tinted skin. "You stupid useless girl!" She cursed herself more with each grasp, and sunking harder and harder. "You FAILED!" She started ripping her skin off by full bloody straps. It was a horrible sight.

"Gwyn preserve us! Stop her!" begged Pavel. Immediately, those nearest caught her arms, which made the girl convulse and scream like something had possessed her. Carra joined his effort and tried to keep her legs still. "EEYARGH!" Her shrieks of sadness and pain filled their ears. Something, a deep feeling of guilt and despair had poisoned her mind. Noone knew what do do. Thankfully, the crazed fit passed as Leliana's strength failed her. She stopped all activity and her limbs lost their tension.

Her numb body was balancing in the hands of her helpers who placed her back on the couch. Aveny did not hesitate to pull out her chime and summon her miracles. While this healing proceeded, Amon placed his palm against the girls face. She was bitting her lips and was stuck in her past, away from the group's reach. He couldn't believe what had happened. "Gods, what could have produced such despair?" Aroth of Carim derided his adopted brother: "What does it matter? Tis a madwoman you have aligned us with. Good ridance. Let us depart from this wretched place and resume our journey."

"How DARE you!" Accused a furious herald. "You want us to leave her to her fate? In such a state? You awful villain!" Pavel opposition was mirrored by booing and angry remarks from the other Unkindled. Despite the horrid event, they had taken cause with the survivor. The fact that Aroth couldn't factor this amused a sadistic killer: "Honestly your Lordship, I can't believe could be so cruel and unfair. And you were appointed judicator of Carim like this?" The proud leader definitely did not expect such a rebuttal. The shame made him sweat inside his armor, he had to defend his case: "You misunderstand the point. Please, we must be pragmatic in our approach."

For once, Alrof disaggreed with the Commander's statement: "Pragmatically, the girl's hurt, the girl's alone, and she needs us, man. End of story." Yet the Arklaw just would not quit: "After everything you have seen and heard, how can you decide such a thing so quickly?" Amon interrupted him: "Brother, can we wait until the girl is wholly saved before we indulge your paranoid drivel?" Hearing his brother's unappaled voice was one more drop in a chalice of spite. "Silence Kinslayer! This is all..." Here and then, the looks on nine faces made him realise he was fighting a losing battle, and was only worsening his position. Aroth knew he had to retreat. "...Fine then."

And so a majority had refused once again to act against the young survivor. Still, in the minority's eyes, this situation was ridiculous. Has my brother won that much influence over them? Do they not remember the crimes I charged him with? They have just met this mad girl, what is driving them so? He couldn't understand, wouldn't understand. Now he had to play along and observe.

Thus the girl was pin a comfortable position top of the long couch, her make-shift bed most-likely for Undead. Volke stood very closely Aveny was finishing praying for her and wiping the blood away from her forehead. With tenderness never witnessed before, Amon carefully placed the girl's head on her side. He brought his gold Estus Flask to her mouth and slowly tilted it. Half-dazed, the poor survivor let the mystical fluid flow into her. The wound on her head healed in seconds, but not her spirit's. "Sorry... I'm so sorry..." she repeated with tears in her eyes. Amon left her in Aveny's care. "Rest and recover for now." he advised the weeping child.

The event had shaken the group in many ways. If they couldn't save one soul, how could they save the world? Some among them felt a weight added on their shoulders while others tried to converse and make sense of the situation. It took them a while, but the absence of danger outside left them alone in their ponderings. Volke was, as usual, exploring the grounds. His search came up void and he took a seat below the girl to observe her recovery. Osadin, Pavel and Carra formed a group. Gyron and Alrof elected to watch the exit for eventual Hollows, and perhaps to banter a bit more.

Young Volke had finished exploring the mansion. His search came up empty handed apparently, unsurprisinging considering the upper levels were unaccessible and that the Leliana had sejourned here for an eternity. As such, he joined the girl's side without saying any word. He stayed at the edge of her feet and observed her like a shy cat observes a candle's light, afraid to place its paw on it. If one could paint a picture of the scene now, and earn quite a profit from the subjective assets the situation provided. A brooding knight in the back, unable to bear hostilities. An injured girl surrounded by a noble, a thief and a priest. A known killer observing his friends with a grim smirk. A warrior in his prime conversing with an aged wizard, both standing by an open door. A straight-faced man and an excitable woman exchanging concepts without tearing each-other apart. Quite the picture indeed.

At last the forlorn girl had recovered enough to thank her helper: "Thanks miss Sunlight..." The bald girl smiled and caressed her patient's forehead: "Just praise the Sun the next time you stand outside, and let its rays invigorate you." A peculiar prescription to a sulking girl hidding among the rubbles, certainly. Politeness called for her to nod anyway: "Er... I will..?" She now addressed her hero. "I'm very very sorry my Lord. Haven't spoken to anyone in ages yes. And when I think about what I... I... I tried to hold it in..." A raised hand invited her to remain still: "Tis alright. You shall talk about it when you feel the inclined to." She trembled again, and felt the need to scratch away returning: "Yes, please, later..."

A grave secret laid inside her young The two sentinels were called back so that everyone might hear what she had to say. The talk began with Gyron. As a teacher, he was used to talking with young people, and chose a soothing tone of voice. "You've been very brave so far young one, but we have a duty to fulfill. We need information. As such, little Leliana, what can you say the situation here in Lothric?"

Still laid on the couch, Leliana sighed: "Bad, Old mister. Very bad. There's the Curse, it's everywhere. And also the Knights and their war. There was the Three Pillars and the Angels that started fighting it out one day. Reds against blues, everywhere like. The Curse got them too and they kept the war anyway... And uhm... There's some infection on the Wall that screams and crushes everything it sees. Red eyes and black mud, is very bad. But the real problem is the numbers. There's too many dead people around, more than the city should have before.". "What do you mean?" inquired Osadin. She looked away pensively. "How to say... Before the bells, the Curse was simple like. There would be Hollow in one place, but not more than at first. Never change where they are or what they do. It's like recipe that never moves. But one day it was not like before. There were more Hollow here, and less there. They come back in place when killed also, but... I don't know how to explain good like." there was chatter among the group, but they were shushed by a combined motherly growl from Aveny and Carra. Leliana continued. "I mean... In normal they walk around in repeat from before they turned. Guards walk for duty, Knights fight Knights, the praying ones keep praying, yes? And when they see the new like Leliana or friends or the Ash like you, they attack and attack always. But sometimes they don't move even if they see or smell or listen... Not just because of memory before the turn I mean. It's all unnatural, and I mean more than unnatural should be. Ahah! But there is good! Good thing is I can move more calm now. Some Knights are more slow, and I can kick kick the little ones and I go here. But no matter what changed, everyone was dying more and more."

Everything was consistent with what the party had encountered before. The ambush when they first arrived atop the High Wall... Hollows attracted by sound sometimes and sometimes not... The Lothric Knight's strength being different from with Kieran's memories was yet another such mystery. This confirmation intrigued Gyron to great length. "What happen after."

The girl pursued her report: "I don't what started what or when now... The city is high in the sky now. There were some old hump-people that came and came and died. People think it as a sign to go away fast. City in the air or no, it was too dangerous to stay yes? But then a big monster appeared. Vordt. Vordt killed everyone who tried to escape. All my friends are dead now... Everyone's scared now... Nobody leaves the buildings... Or maybe they all leaved and died... Or they died and didn't leave... I... I didn't meet anyone good sane in a long long time. Not the smith, not the guards, not my friends..." she paused and took a deep breath, she was done. Her words were considered for a moment of silence.

"Phew... I know the feeling. The Undead are good at sucking the life out of cities. By the way, what is a Vordt?" asked Alrof who smelled a challenge. She answered with difficulties: "A dog man, made of metal. He can freeze and crush everything." Osadin twirled his moustache. "My brother spoke about that particular mongrel, remember? What was its namesake again...". "The dog of the Boreal valley. Something of the like." supposed Aroth from the corner of the room. "Another thing in our way. But the path to the Castle should be clear then, no?" presumed Pavel. Leliana shook her little head. "Not anymore no... There's a group of Castle Knights that guards the church. Too many many. They're slow and don't move if you don't try to go in the church, but they kill very much if you go, yes." The lean paladin Pavel sighed: "Does that mean we have to get stronger first? Linking the Fist Flame is getting more harduous with every spent second."

The little girl realised something: "Er... Are you Unkindled like Miss Sunlight and my Lord?". Pavel placed a hand to his heart. "Indeed we are." She counted the members: "All ten?" A common nod answered the question. "Ah.. Ahaha... So many of you. This is not natural too, not natural. But you ARE Ash and you have my Lord... That means... That means lots of hope and everything will be alright, yes?". This was an hopeful statement from a girl who just harmed herself su muh, but it had an efftect. "Well people seem to think so." chuckled Kieran who was perusing some weapons nailed above the chimney. They stood unavailable due to the Undead Curse making them intangible to his fingers. A pity. "The failures who turned to dust are the universe's best chance of survival, isn't it poetic?" he finished.

Gyron asked a question in turn: "Yes this is a critical part. Leliana, what do you know of those who succeeded. What of the Lords of Cinders, child?" "The Lords. The bells toll for the first time to wake them, then again for the Ashes who come for cinder. Is what they say. But they did not come in the city I think no. Really I don't know much. Ah but good Leliana knows that the Good Princes are in the Castle for sure. The Princes stay here for reasons my friends didn't like no. And there was the Blue and Red war because strong people didn't like it too. The war of little wings Knights and normal Knights like you see outside is because the Princes... Erm... they don't want to burn I think."

A grave detail, the Princes of Lothric had refused to serve the Fire, while other unwilling Lords of Cinder did not even pass through the city. It would take time and effort to find them, surely. But the Royals who seemed to be the closest available target. The way of the Unkindled ones was getting more intricate, but at least they had some light to guide them now. Amon stood up: "I thank you for your time Leliana. How can we repay you now?"

Her eyes brightened up and she pushed herself up with great effort. "Let me serve you again, please! Oh! You are Ash, send me to your Shrine with a poof yes? I have things to sell and ideas to give." Nobody present knew exactly what she meant by poof. The girl was happy to explain: "You don't remember? If we swear to serve Ash, we can join the safe place. It's what my friends said before I stop seeing them. I touch your hand, say a good speech and I transport away just like that. Disappear here and appear there, poof!"

A direct means of transportation using only spoken words? Kieran was most intrigued by this novel abitlity: "Unkindled can do everything can't they? What else is there? Can we control dust and talk to dead trees or something?" Leliana still did not like his voice or his eye: "I... I don't know, maybe? You're scary." The manslayer bowed nobily: "Thank you. You are terrifying as well my beautiful pile of secrets." Aroth tired of this frivolous talk: "Must I conclude you will all welcome her to the sacred grounds of Firelink Shrine?" Kieran shrugged. "Why not? The place could use a little touch of youth. As I said, she's a scary little girl, but it's alright to be afraid of her powers, Ô proud defender of the realm that you are." Aroth of Carim muttered something untowards, and looked away. He knew he couldn't affect the outcome anymore. Amon seized this opportunity to seal the pact: "So shall it be. Enonce your oath, innocent one. In Firelink Shrine your safety shall be guaranteed."

The girl took a deep breath. Wide-eyed, she gazed into her savior's face: "Touch my hand please..." Amon executed the request earnestly. The girl smiled: "I, Leliana of Melfia, do solemnly swear allegiance to Lord Amon and his friends. I'll serve you all and help make it all natural again yes?" With those final words, a gust of hot wind swirled from her shadow. The girl vanished completely. The effect was similar to using certain items that returned their users to a bonfire or a place of rest. As such, noone was alarmed by what had happened. "... I like her... She is warm..." announced Volke who had not uttered a word in ages.

"Hey lad! Been a while, how you doing? Haven't heard you in forever." quiped the axeman, glad to hear the Withdrawn boy for once. "Wait a minute, warm?" something had tickled the warrior's mind. "AH! I remember now, Melfia is that country with that Magic Academy or whatnot! Yeah that's the o... Oops..." What came next was predictable. "YOU COULDN'T MENTION THIS BEFORE!?" reprimanded the old seeker of sorcery with impossible anger. It wasn't two seconds before his arms were tightly bound on Alrof's furry coat-of-arms. "Soooorry!" begged the bruiser. Yet contrary to last time, thankfulky, the old man released his deathly grip on his own. Decisively he flipped his sorcerer robe around and began walking towards the exit. "I am going back to her." he grumbled, and before anyone opposed his decision, he explained: "I will NOT throw arrows all day like a novice! There will be no step further until I have learned what she has to offer."

Amon tried to bargain with him: "Leliana IS a student. Adept in pyromancies and sorceries, true, but a student nonetheless. Do not come at her aggressively, I beg of you." Reason carved its way through this starving beast of a magus. "Hnng... But she HAS spells, doesn't she? I will treat her with deference and restraint then...". Carra placed herself in his path. A blue and messy eyebrow raised itself above the aged eyes. "What are you doing? I swear I shall not harm her.". scratched her head: "Aight... You are scary when ya wanna aye. An' yer smart enough ta not kick her about aye. The thing is... If mah sense of orientation ain't rusted up, there's an elevator up thataway. It'll take ya back ta da first bonfire. Howsabout ya comin' with me eh?"

This was no lie. Plus Carra had definitely showed interest in protecting the girl. The tragedy they both had gone through would uinsure the newcomer's protection. Gyron definitely saw the value of a shortcut as well. "Lead the way please." he agreed. Aroth pushed the idea forward with a little twist. "You should accompany her, all of you. Amon and I have much to talk about, privately." Was stubbornness a value shared by every single Unkindled? That would make sense actually. "You don't know how to give up, do you?" commented the easterling. He knew much about brotherly rivalry himself. Surprisingly, the rejected Lord of Carim motionned the idea forward: "Don't worry about it. Run along friends, and let me free my sibling of any doubts." His grey eyes shinned with confidence as he said this.

In the end, eight people exited the estate one by one. The last of them, the somber Kieran, had smelled trouble and took his time walking away from it. Aroth's silent stare forced him to join the departing group. "Try not to kill yourselves too much! Fuhahaha!" he cackled. Finally, the two ancient warriors were left alone in the estate. Aroth removed his iron helm and made it enter his inner realm. Now his mien was clear, its anger obvious. and the straight scar under his eye was strangely bleeding. Confrontation was now inevitable: "Nice spectacle, Lord Amon." scoffed the knight. This word wasn't to the taste of our pale warrior. "A spectacle, was it?"

"What esle could it be?" insisted Aroth. "A servant of such... devotion to you has joined our cause. But her presence in this city was no coincidence. You forced her onto this path so that she may encounter us." Amon took it as a jest :"Again with this? Are you quite serious? She survived on her own for..." presenting the quantity of dust around them. "...Ages, no doubt longer. Yet she is a child still, and her mind has struggled to retain sanity. Can you not understand how she must feel at present? Can you not see the tenacity of her spirit?" Aroth paced around his prey, trying to clear his anger with great difficulty: "Oh I'm certain you understand her perfectly. A debt can lead to many things, things even a pure soul might come to regret, horrible acts with dire consequences."

"You think I planned for this to happen? That she may be an agent of chaos and murder? Intriguing. How and why would I even do such a thing? Don't be ridiculous. A young Undead girl in my debt has offered her services once more. Tis good news and you should applaud my ressourcefulness." insisted the accused. Aroth nodded sardonnically: "Certainly you are ressourceful. And you are also a conniving wretch. A dangerous mixture of skills, one I cannot allow."

Without further warning, Aroth grabbed his brother by the shoulders and pushed him towards a nearby wall. Amon didn't counter this aggression, nor did he didn't resist the metal arm that was starting to press against his throat. "Urg... Do not be so rough on the neck Brother. Ngh... One cannot talk without a breath.". But the pressure only intensified. "How?" questionned the angered warrior. "How can you behave like you do? Knowing what you know, after doing what you did? How do you walk with so high a spirit I wonder. Oh, of course... There must be a plot stirring in the back of this twisted mind of yours. Tis obvious. A way to take revenge for the Justice I applied to you?"

"Cough... Father always said I was quite keen." With his free hand, the knight slapped his brother's cheek. There was nothing noble in this act. Blood stained the fingers of the gauntlet and Aroth snarled: "Do not speak of him! Do not taint his name with your mouth. You may have his blood, but only WE shared his vision." The injured party liked the inside of his mouth and spit it on the floor. "And the madness that came with it." he rebuked.

A second backhand flew against the pale cheek, the blood landed on Aroth's face this time. Despite a certain liberty of movement, for his legs and arms were free, the Lawless Unkindled did not resist this mistreatment. "That glib of yours..." continued the tortionner. "The subtext of which eroding the walls of my patience. Provocation, at every turn. You dance your way around the others as if you were the victim..." he now used his hand to strangle Amon directly. He started suffocating. Tapping out offered no release, only further declaration of intent by his warden: "I will admit this much; I believed you for a short time. I believed that you had changed your heart and were ready to accomplish our work. But I know better! Now tell me, what be your plans? You and that urchin of yours?"

A few fingers unclenched theselves to permit a response: "Cough cough...You don't have to rely on pointless torture. Liliana... She is endebted to me, I sheltered her from harm. That is all. ". Not enough, not good nor precise enough for the prosecutor. "What more? Reveal her purpose!". No change in Amon's glare could tell what he was hiding, only a hint of embarassment. "I... Do not remember..." he gasped out. And of course the rage in Aroth's heart grew in size. "How convenient would that not be?"

eyes were red from the pressure, his bleached face turning violet with each moment but he managed to gasp out more words: "You do realise... That I cannot... tell lies?"

Aroth punched the murderer's exposed guts, in a soft spot that made the receiving party curl immediately. Now on the ground, Amon pained to regain his breath. But Aroth was not finished. He kicked the face square, and the man ended up on his back. AMon walked towards him like an executionner headed for the stand: "If you do not reveal the truth, I swear on the name of Father that I will shatter her until her hollowed form weeps in a dark corner for all eternity. No matter how much it costs me, no matter how much it blackens my soul, I will NOT fail in my task again."

Frightened by the prospect of losing his old friend, there was another plea made: "I do not remember... If I did, I would tell you. You know this, please don't harm her...". But Aroth's mind was riding upon this wave of suspicions and sheer anger. The patricide had no way to stop him now. HIs brother's neck was a perfect fit for an iron boot. "A weak pitiful man like you, rejecting EVERTHING your house built. Have you no regret? The Power, the Glory, the Duty!" He scoffed. "Bah! Arstor was right, we should have impaled you atop the manor, allowing the carrions to feed off your sins for the rest of eternity! Ah... But I foolishly offered to exile the son of my benefactor. A deficiency on my part... The new Earl of Carim, our brother, was wiser that day. He knew you would stand against us again." He pressed his feet harder. "A situation that I should rectify, posthaste."

The end approached. Eyeballs were rolling for the back of the head, foam exited the side of the mouth. But still Amon suffured through without resisting and without admission of guilt. All for naught, or so it would appear. At long last Aroth sighed and released his hold. The blood was allowed to flow back into the loser's head and awakened his senses. Amon turned his body to the side, coughing and wheezing from the ordeal. He inhaled as much air as possible, like a diver returning from the depth of the sea. The last drops of his Estus Flask would calm his dying throat. Little by little the marks of the torture dissipated. Aroth, meanwhile, simply observed. Back on his feet at last, Amon defied his better with a lengthy glance. With gritted teeth, he brushed the blood on his mouth and dueled at the prideful blue eyes. There was rage boiling within Amon for this mistreatment, but his actions remained deprived of aggression: "You beast..." he cursed. "Spilling my blood again, monologuing all the while... Are you pleased? Or have you finally realised your display was pointless?"

"Quite." admitted the knight with disgust. "You are Undead, a state I share. Killing you would solve nothing and produce questions among our comrades. Even if it lead to your insanity, which I doubt, there could still be a contigency I do not know about. After all, I have no way of making you admit information I cannot know is true. What more... Your lapses in memories are an issue I suffer as well."

Amon and Aroth, prisonners of circumstances, unable to die and unable to reach the truth. "Heh... And the only way we know can remedy our condition, as far as we know..." started the first. "...Is for us to absorb souls." finished the second. Now completely clean, Amon used his hands to compare their standings: "I shall never know your history, and learn my secrets you cannot, Cough... if you suppose I do possess some... But I think this duel goes to me."

The justiciar punched the craggy stone walls with force. This situation was unbearable. Did Amon plot everything thus far? Did he engineer this state of forgetfulness? How far can he have prepared? Are there conspirators amongst the Ten? Curse his mind, and curse this weakness in my being... There was no way to tell the real from the conspiracy anymore. Now, the Arklaw would simply have to endure whatever came next, and hope his own memories might shed light on the situation. Amon stood back on his feet, his injuries healed and his moral restored like nothing had occured at all. "Can't you see? Fate, in its great irony, bade me to your side in order to save this dying world. Like it or not, I shan't leave your side nor hide from it until the deed is done. And if either of us have hidden plans, there is nothing any of us can do to oppose them."

It repeated the obvious, but Aroth could only play along now: "Aye, twould seem so. But know this Hated One, no matter what trickery you have planned, I shall be ever victorious. So will it be." "Oh, yes. Gutsy declaration. Bully for you." Standing on the porch, the nemesis called out. "Come on then. Time to rejoin the fold and kept the fires of our rivalry alit, Dear Brother." Aroth coldly crossed his arms as he considered his sibling in silence. Murderer, Kinslayer, Traitor, Monster , Lawless, and Slaughterer were the titles his brother had earned. Those were titles that he, as Arklaw of Carim, had imprinted upon his brother's face. But for now, he could only follow him back into the city of Lothric.