It had been some years since you last heard from the self-proclaimed "Scholar of the First Sin," the former Duke of Aldia. Though as powerful as he is mad, much of his own strength remains bound to the illusory kingdom beneath the old, stagnant lake. He cannot truly pass through the water's surface. Likewise, it is difficult for his servants to make the long journey from the utter West, the sunset end of the world. Of course, it is even more difficult to speak with someone such as yourself.

Some among Aldia's servants can scent your soul from among all Men and arise from the Deep Waters which touch upon the Abyss when you pass. Such monsters are often bent to grander tasks than being mere messengers. You knew the Duke was deadly serious when such a creature appeared before you and your companion. That wretched spawn of a mortal Man's nightmare informed you that you must soon meet a traveler arriving from the East.

By now, you were already embroiled in the Wars of Faith. In the wake of a renewed sun and remission of the Curse, local faiths have rebelled against the traditional Way of White across the continent. The matter in Carim turned particularly bloody due to a shift in royal power. Even historically faithful Astora finds itself in the midst of civil war. It seems delaying the apocalypse has done nothing for that part of human nature.

For the sake of the dream you share with the mad Duke – a world free of the cycle of Light and Dark – you agreed to the meeting. If nothing else, such a heretic as Aldia may have a solution to the fragmented faiths of Men.

Not long after, you and your companion have arrived at an inn you trust for its discretion. What is said here remains within these walls. Not even the Way of White's inquisitors have breached the sanctity of this place. Though you had been prepared to wait several days, you find the traveler in the common room.

As the messenger had stated, a veiled woman in a long gown towers over your contact. Both wear the loose-fitting garb of the most-distant East – from which your old foe, the Bewitched Knight Alonne had traveled. This traveler does not hold a swordsman's poise, nor a blood-crying blade. There is the plumed and demon-masked helm of that land, though this one holds a far kinder visage than the black-bladed berserkers who served the Bewitched Knight.

With the first word, you find no accent you might have expected. Rather, it's surprisingly disarming. You can almost smell the wind blowing from the sea. The warmth of sunset touches upon your skin. It's not just the accent of that lost kingdom beneath the mire. In spite of the foreign dress, the wearer is a native of the town you'd called home in your darkest time. This is a former peasant of Majula, the ruined hamlet where countless undead had sought to break the Curse before you found your lean escape.

With a movement that doesn't look quite right, the tall woman pulls out chairs for you and your companion. You can't make out her features or expression beneath the veil. Even her eyes are hidden, though you have long grown used to such things. Eyes are said to be windows to the soul, and undead often hide them early in the process of hollowing. You assume good faith and take a seat alongside your companion. The woman remains standing, hands clasped with the decorum of a noble lady. Not a servant, you note.

"Well, well," your contact says, looking you over, "the would-be Monarch."

You feel the burden of your Crown, both the physical weight and the spiritual pressure of the enchanted ring which seals your mind into your body.

"Don't mind me. Just curious about the sort of person to do it. To slay the failed Monarchs and take their Crowns. I didn't know the King, not really. But I did respect him immensely. At least until the end. When he betrayed the cause.

So, you're wondering who the hell I am and why that damned monster wants us to meet. I'm your predecessor, in more ways than one. We probably met some of the same undead while you were chasing the King's legacy and I was off doing that hack Duke's bidding. It's hard to tell when the sun itself stops working, but I was some odd years ahead of you. Well, anyway, that's the first part.

The other is that I was one of Aldia's old attempts at breaking the cycle. It almost worked, but I'm a bit of a special case. Do you still remember what it's like? To go hollow? The dread, the slipping, the fading? That old wound has healed well enough, hasn't it? That's the trick. I still feel it. Some undead after you Linked the Fire and staved off the Curse for another few hundred, but I still remember the hollowing, clear as day.

I have… perfect recall… when I'm not half out of my mind. Every little detail is packed away. Every book I've read. Everything I've killed. I was one of the first, you know. Undead, this cycle. My first death was right at the kingdom's peak. I wasn't there for the whole rise, and I was locked in Aldia's dungeon for most of the fall – but what I did see, I remember.

This is what Aldia wants you to know: what the King took from the giants and what he failed to take. But for that, I'll have to provide some context. And you might be a bit hazy on everything we saw down there after so long away. Grab a drink. This'll be a long story."

Orange soapstone tutorial:

You are the True Monarch, the one undead hero to recover the Lost Crowns and temporarily escape your fate. A later undead has restored the Age of Fire, but it will fade sooner than the last. With the help of the insane Aldia, you hope to find a way to permanently break the fate of Man.

Your companion is one you met on your journey through the lost kingdom of Drangleic. By the power of the Crowns, they too have gone beyond death. Whether friend or lover, they have accompanied you since you left Drangleic.

Your contact is long-winded but can't speak forever. At the beginning of each chapter and sometimes in the middle, the story will break. Ask questions in-character in your reviews, and your contact will answer them if appropriate.

Be wary of duke
but
hole…