Something Had Happened

Bernahl.

Bernahl was a tragic soul, too.

Among the countless Tarnished, two knights had come closest to becoming Elden Lord. Bernahl was one of them.

As the strongest knight of Roundtable Hold, Bernahl had distinguished himself and been granted the legendary Beast Champion Armor by the Two Fingers, envoys of the Greater Will.

The helmet that enclosed his entire head was incredibly sturdy, and it also embodied his oath to become lord: "I hear nothing and see nothing. I will only advance along the path I have chosen."

That resolve had made his path to lordship incredibly smooth-and brought it to an abrupt end.

The Tarnished looked toward the snowy mountains and Flame Peak on the horizon. Bernahl had reached that place once, too.

There, the guidance of grace pointed straight into the sky, where a floating city could faintly be seen above the clouds. As Bernahl puzzled over how to reach it, his Finger Maiden suddenly tapped his shoulder from behind. Her lips moved, as though she had said something.

But Bernahl could not hear her. He would only advance along the path he had chosen. And so he watched as tiny flames suddenly flickered across his Finger Maiden's body, before she leaped into Flame Peak.

Those sparks became a raging blaze. Amid his shock, Bernahl was transported to the Sky City that grace had pointed toward. But once the shock faded, only pain and grief remained.

He began to hate-to hate the Golden Order that had orchestrated this wretched fate. And so he resolved to take revenge on the Golden Order that toyed with people's hearts!

Bernahl joined Volcano Manor and called himself a Recusant. He abandoned the path to lordship and embarked on the Path of Blasphemy. He despised the plunderers of Volcano Manor who seized power merely to satisfy their own desires, and he knew he was doomed to a miserable end. But his maiden was dead. He no longer had the heart to distinguish right from wrong. The only thing he could do was keep advancing along his chosen path, as he always had. Either he would smash the Golden Order, or the Golden Order would smash him.

Why had it come to this?

Perhaps Bernahl's goal had never been to become lord in the first place, but to protect others.

The Tarnished did not know the answer. The one who truly knew was the girl who had set out on that journey with Bernahl. Sadly, she was already dead.

A lonely would-be lord. That was Bernahl. That was his story.

Last time, the Tarnished had received Bernahl's help, too. Not only had they joined forces to defeat the Godskin Duo, but before his sacrifice, Bernahl had also given the Tarnished all his belongings, including his armor and weapons. Of course, it was best not to ask why he had sacrificed himself. In any case, the [Blasphemous Claw] Bernahl had left him was crucial. It had been a key factor in his victory over the "Black Blade."

The Bernahl of the present clearly did not know the Tarnished yet, and the Tarnished had no intention of letting his good friend Bernahl "sacrifice himself" again. Bernahl was currently acting as Volcano Manor's purchasing agent. Anyone who had done business knew just how important that role was. The Tarnished immediately arranged a lavish feast and welcomed him with the finest hospitality.

"Should we bring out the most expensive wine?" Kenneth Haight asked quietly.

"The most expensive wine is for entertaining outsiders. We're entertaining a friend," the Tarnished said. "Bring out the strongest!"

Bernahl froze for a moment, then smiled.

He had not accepted this assignment willingly, but now he felt it might not be as boring as he had imagined.

The feast began. Kenneth Haight kept them company at first, but this spoiled nobleman had a drinking capacity utterly at odds with his image. After a mere three hours, he slid under the table.

Once only the Tarnished and Bernahl remained, their drinking grew even more unrestrained. They started with cups, soon switched to bowls, and finally drank straight from the jugs.

Each had met his match. They drank from nightfall until dawn, with neither gaining the upper hand.

"Hic... Young people who can drink this much are rare... Hic... There was a time when I drank myself senseless to numb the pain. That's how I developed this tolerance... Hic... What about you?" Bernahl asked between drunken hiccups.

"I was addicted to alcohol once, too," the Tarnished replied.

"Why?"

The Tarnished gave a self-mocking smile. "People drink out of either great joy or great sorrow. Which do you think it was for me?"

Bernahl considered this. "When you drink because you're happy, it's easy to get drunk."

The Tarnished's smile deepened. "That's why we can never get drunk, no matter how much we want to."

"Yes. We can't get drunk, and we can't forget." Bernahl was not normally so talkative, but the alcohol had stirred his emotions. Looking at the snowy mountains faintly visible on the horizon beneath the morning sun, he said quietly, "There was a girl who died because of me."

The Tarnished looked toward the snowy mountains as well. "There was a girl who died because of me, too."

They fell silent. The Tarnished could not help singing that song again.

"At which station will we kiss goodbye? Only when parting do the wind and roses speak without end.

You and I lift our eyes to the snow, waiting for God to tear the lies apart, piece by piece.

At what age will we give in? The slow withdrawal of your fingertips is an art of its own.

Once you fanned love into flame, then cast it away, leaving me to gaze back down a road gone dark.

On snowy mountains, I drink the snow and listen to the passing wind pour out its heart.

I hear it speak of you, of a bouquet of roses you once received.

Let the swirling snow take the place of my tears, and send you radiant spring.

I am invincible, my feelings hidden deep.

Only the bright moon knows how fierce the journey was.

All that poignant beauty and sorrow, I alone must feel.

Like snow falling in winter, it is nothing so special."

Bernahl lost himself in the faintly sorrowful song. Memories long buried began assaulting him furiously, making him feel... even worse!

Fortunately, Kenneth Haight broke the mood. A drunken voice emerged from beneath the table. "So... Hic... The girl who died for you both... Hic... Was she the same girl?"

The Tarnished: "..."

Bernahl: "..."

The two exchanged a glance, then laughed together.

Bernahl suddenly asked, "You want to become Elden Lord?"

The Tarnished nodded. "Yes."

"Then may I ask you something?"

"Please do."

"Will you keep fighting? Even if the Golden Order is shattered beyond repair, will you still believe in the guidance of grace?"

"I will."

"Why?"

"Because the guidance of grace happens to align with my goal."

The unexpected answer made Bernahl pause. "What is your goal?"

"To become Elden Lord," the Tarnished replied. "But not a lord of the gods-a lord of the people. If I want to protect the people and things I care about, then power is essential."

"Even if that power belongs to the Golden Order?"

"Power is power. What does ownership have to do with it? Once I have it, it's mine."

Bernahl fell silent. After a while, he spoke again. "Teach me that song."

The Tarnished: ?

"If you teach me, I'll sign a big order with you on behalf of Volcano Manor!"

The Tarnished: !!!

Bernahl soon learned the song. His weathered expression and deep baritone took its charm to another level. The moment he opened his mouth, not a single middle-aged or elderly woman in Limgrave or the Weeping Peninsula could keep her panties dry. The lonely would-be lord gained a crowd of fans and admirers, and became a little... less lonely.

He also kept his promise and signed a major order with Stormveil.

Just as Patches had said, the order was primarily for daily necessities such as food and clothing. Only thanks to the earlier reclamation of Summonwater Village and the resulting increase in production capacity could Limgrave take it on.

However, Bernahl required Limgrave to provide a batch of samples first so he could take them back to Volcano Manor. As long as its mistress, Tanith, was satisfied, they would pay fifty percent in advance, with the remaining fifty percent due upon completion of the order.

The terms were reasonable enough, but Stormveil still had everything to rebuild. The more runes they had on hand, the better. So the Tarnished argued his case and demanded a larger advance payment-preferably the full amount upfront.

Naturally, Bernahl could not agree to such an outrageous demand and immediately pushed back. The two launched into a long, heated negotiation, haggling over one or two percentage points at a time. In the end, the Tarnished used his home advantage to set the advance payment at seventy-eight percent.

After all, Stormveil was the only little patch of land in the entire Lands Between that had resumed production. It was entirely a seller's market. Volcano Manor had no choice.

Although Bernahl had lost, he did not care much. It was not his money, after all. Upon hearing that preparing the samples would take some time, he readily agreed and happily settled into Stormveil to enjoy its peaceful, tranquil life.

In the mornings, he joined the soldiers for their training runs.

At noon, he ate communal meals with the workers in the mess hall.

In the evenings, he played knights and robbers with the human and nonhuman children. He played the horse.

When things were busy, he helped with the work. When they were not, he trained alongside the soldiers and taught them combat skills they would never otherwise have been qualified to learn.

"Quickstep, Kick, Endure, War Cry, Spinning Slash, Impaling Thrust, Quickstep, Storm Blade, Parry... Combat skills are proof of a warrior's battles against disgrace, of defeat and death. They are also a lifetime's work, the most vivid stories of heroes, and they convey the meaning of battle and death. If you are truly prepared to die on the battlefield, if you have the resolve to protect others even at the cost of your own lives, then come and learn. These skills may not free you from fate's whims, but they can at least help you hold on a little longer before you fall. Let me make this clear: I will be very strict. Anyone afraid of hardship or exhaustion need not come!"

Bernahl had thought his words would scare quite a few people away. Instead, they drew even more people to him.

Why was that? Did everyone in Stormveil have something they wanted to protect?

"I do." A Demi-Human named Boc gave him the answer. "I want to protect my shack!"

Bernahl froze for a moment, then understood at once.

Why had Stormveil developed so quickly? Why had the Tarnished managed to gather so many people?

Because he had told them that people did not have to fight only for gods or faith. They could also fight for their own humble selves.

But what could they do when an individual's strength was too insignificant to defeat a god or a Demigod?

Simple. They could unite.

If one person was not enough, then ten thousand! If ten thousand were not enough, then a million!

Although Stormveil was still a long way from having a million people, the Tarnished was walking that road. One day, he would reach its end and use the strength of the many to make the gods see them in a new light.

Truly... remarkable!

I really want... to see the future he creates!

Sadly, his hands were already stained with blood-even that of his former companions. He had long since lost the right to join this great undertaking.

Volcano Manor's mistress had opened trade with Limgrave because she wanted to prop up a puppet to challenge the Royal Capital of Leyndell. Bernahl had initially thought the woman had some strategic ability. But compared with the Tarnished's straightforward, honorable approach, her little tricks were nothing more than children's games, unworthy of serious consideration.

Trying to buy off a mighty dragon with money? The Tarnished uses the Golden Order's power to pursue his own goals. Even the Golden Order can't win him over or buy him off. What makes you think you can, Tanith? Are you trimmed in gold or studded with diamonds?

When Volcano Manor had been ruled by Rykard, it had still possessed an iron backbone. But ever since Tanith took over its management, its former willingness to do whatever it took had become pure greed driven by desire.

Bernahl disliked Tanith. Whenever he imagined the woman's future humiliation, he could not help wanting to laugh out loud.

Amusing as that was, he had no intention of leaving Volcano Manor. He still needed its power, after all. Until that weapon was finished, he would continue to endure.

But that did not stop him from helping Stormveil.

Everyone wants to learn combat skills, do they? Fine. If they want to learn, I'll teach them everything. Go ahead and learn. Learn as much as possible, as much as you can. After all, this is the only thing I can pass on!

Bernahl began teaching without holding anything back. He even modified the combat skills to suit different races and sexes.

Sincerity was met with sincerity. Gradually, everyone stopped calling him "Lord Bernahl" and began calling him "Teacher Bernahl" instead, giving the lonely would-be lord a sense of belonging he had not felt in a long time.

The Tarnished knew nothing of this. He had been truly busy lately.

First, the Tree Sentinel had rejected his offer of recruitment. That was no surprise. As a knight utterly loyal to the Erdtree, he had never been especially likely to accept. The Tarnished had not held out much hope to begin with, and now could only banish him.

Second, to meet Volcano Manor's demands, Stormveil had once again expanded its production.

Clearing out roaming monsters, planning sites, assigning workers, building the necessary shacks and roads, and on and on... The Tarnished was rushed off his feet.

Still, being busy had its benefits. Over the past month, Limgrave and the Weeping Peninsula had undergone a complete transformation.

The old mud tracks had become neat, clean stone-paved roads. Horse-drawn carriages streamed back and forth, and construction was in full swing everywhere. Though everyone was busy, they were brimming with energy, with none of their former lifelessness. The reason was not particularly complicated: work had begun on a new residential district. Supposedly, it would contain not crude shacks, but stone-built "dormitories," sturdier and warmer. Lord Tarnished had promised that this winter, not a single human or nonhuman would freeze to death!

"He really will make any grand claim, won't he?" Bernahl sighed on a hillside.

"But I don't doubt he can do it." The Old Knight Istvan smiled as he gazed at the herds of cattle and sheep below. "Even though I've stayed in Limgrave all this time, I can barely recognize it. If the Tarnished can create one miracle, he can certainly create another."

"Yes, that lad truly is different." Bernahl asked Istvan, "How have these past few years treated you?"

"Same as always. I'm not as capable as you, so I've never had any grand ambitions." Istvan had long since made peace with himself and answered calmly before asking, "And you?"

Bernahl did not answer.

Istvan sighed. "You still can't let it go?"

Bernahl shook his head. "I won't let it go."

"Then you'll keep killing?" Istvan asked. "If Volcano Manor told you to kill me, would you carry out the order without hesitation, too?"

"I..."

Before Bernahl could finish, a clear horn blast suddenly rang out from the direction of Stormveil.

"What's going on?"

"That pattern... Something must have happened."

Something had indeed happened. Rogier had collapsed on the main road, covered in blood. As soon as someone found him, they informed the Tarnished.

"Roger, what happened? Didn't you go back to Roundtable Hold?" the Tarnished asked in surprise. Nothing like this had happened last time.

Rogier grabbed the Tarnished's collar with a blood-soaked hand. "Sir Gideon Ofnir is going to massacre the Village of the Albinaurics. Nepheli and I discovered it. Nepheli covered my escape, but Gideon's guards captured her! Tarnished, hurry and save Nepheli. You're the only person she can turn to!"