Maren's story

Maren wore shackles on her wrists and an iron ball chained to her ankle. Dressed in an ordinary maid's uniform, she held a broom and silently swept Stormveil's courtyard.

"No need, to worry," Vila told Tarnished. "I, disarmed her, completely. Her weapons, were confiscated, too. She cannot, hurt anyone."

"That's not what I'm worried about." Tarnished looked toward the frail figure in the distance. "Is the story you told me true?"

"I, don't know." Vila fell silent for a moment. "After, that night, we, scattered and fled. That was, when Maren, met him."

After finishing her work, Maren sat in a courtyard along the side of Stormveil Castle, her back against an ancient tree. Whenever the wind blew, the few remaining leaves rustled overhead, like whispers from the dead.

The children secretly called her "the statue lady."

Ever since Tarnished brought her back to Stormveil, she had always sat like this whenever she wasn't working. The soldiers of Stormveil Castle kept a respectful distance. They didn't know who she was, but the icy chill in Maren's eyes told them all they needed to know.

The children, however, understood none of that. To them, she was simply a lady who always sat in the courtyard, as quiet as a statue.

Years ago, after the night that changed the history of the Lands Between, Maren fled to Liurnia with wounds that had yet to heal. The Black Knife Assassins scattered like seeds blown apart by the wind, each searching for somewhere to hide. She wandered along the lake, where the light of Raya Lucaria Academy reflected off the water and stung her eyes, accustomed as they were to darkness.

Her pursuers arrived sooner than she expected. They weren't knights of the Golden Lineage, but sorcerers from Raya Lucaria Academy. They were unusually sensitive to the presence of death sorcery, and the traces of "destined death" clinging to Maren shone like a beacon in the night.

"Assassin who defiles life!" Cold light flared from the sorcerers' staffs, and Glintstone Pebbles rained down on her.

Maren drew her black knife, specially treated so it would not reflect light, and barely deflected a few attacks. Normally, she could have escaped with ease, but the wounds she had suffered while fleeing Leyndell hampered her movements. A Glintstone Pebble struck her shoulder. She staggered backward and fell into the shallows beside the lake.

Just as she prepared to meet her death, a figure appeared between her and the sorcerers.

"Executing a wounded woman without trial on Liurnian soil-is this how the Academy conducts itself?"

The man's voice was calm but forceful. He wore sorcerer's robes similar to those of the Academy, though their colors were more subdued.

"Rogesi!" the lead sorcerer snapped. "You traitor who studies forbidden arts! Stand aside!"

The man called Rogesi did not back down. "I study death to guide lost souls, not to hunt people blindly as you do."

As they argued, Rogesi traced a complex pattern with his staff. A barrier rose before him and Maren, blocking the sorcerers' attacks. He turned to help her up and said quietly, "Come with me."

"Why did he save you?" A little girl's voice pulled Maren out of her memories.

Maren lowered her head slightly and saw a girl of no more than six or seven standing before her, clutching a worn rag doll. She had no idea when the child had approached. Once, she would never have made such a mistake.

"Ella! Don't bother her!" A slightly older boy ran over. He was not human, but a demi-human child. He nervously tugged at the little girl, though his eyes darted toward Maren with curiosity.

Maren did not answer. She merely turned her gaze back into the distance. The children hesitated for a moment, then finally ran off.

But the next day, they came again.

Rogesi's cottage lay hidden on the eastern shore of Liurnia's lake district, surrounded by dense woods and a set of catacombs. Only a concealed path led there. His home was piled with scrolls and books, most concerning death sorcery and the guidance of souls.

"You shouldn't have saved me," Maren said, pressing a hand over her bleeding wound. "I'm a Black Knife Assassin."

Rogesi was grinding medicinal herbs and did not look up. "I know who you are, Maren. I also know you took part in that assassination."

Maren's gaze sharpened abruptly. "How do you know my name?"

Rogesi finally raised his head. His eyes were an unusual violet, like the sky at dusk. "Death leaves traces, Maren. And I study death-I can 'read' the traces of death entwined around you."

He set down the herbs and walked to the bedside. "Godwyn's death changed everything. The boundary between life and death was broken, and countless souls lost their way. I study these things to help those souls, not to judge the living."

Maren remained silent for a long time. "You don't think we're sinners?"

"Destined death should not be controlled by mortals," Rogesi said calmly. "But what's done is done. What matters most now is how we face the consequences."

Over the following days, Maren slowly came to understand Rogesi's research. He was trying to find a way to guide the souls lost because of flaws in the Golden Order. The Academy considered his research heresy, but he persisted.

"Death is part of life, not its opposite," he once told Maren. "Denying it and fearing it will only make everything worse."

Maren found herself beginning to look forward to these conversations with Rogesi. Among the Black Knives, she had learned to kill and hide, but had never considered the meaning of life and death. Rogesi's wisdom and acceptance showed her another world.

Yet those peaceful days did not last long.

"What are you thinking about, statue lady?"

This time, there was a group of children-three of them, standing a few steps away from Maren. The one asking was the demi-human child in the middle. He was missing a front tooth, which gave his words a slight whistle.

For once, Maren answered. "Someone I once knew."

The children looked at one another, seemingly surprised that she could speak at all. The gap-toothed demi-human child worked up the courage to step forward and offer her a piece of cake wrapped in a clean leaf. "Aunt Mary from the kitchen gave us this. You can have some."

Maren looked at the crudely made cake without reaching for it. The demi-human child waited a while, then finally set it on a stone beside her and ran off with his friends.

The raid caught them completely off guard.

It was a rainy night. Thunder masked the sound of footsteps, and Maren and Rogesi only noticed the danger once the cottage had been surrounded.

"Rogesi! Hand over the Black Knife Assassin, or you will share her guilt!" The Academy sorcerer's voice sounded distorted and unfamiliar through the rain.

Rogesi calmly opened the door. Maren followed close behind, her black knife already in hand.

More than a dozen sorcerers stood outside, their staffs glowing a ghostly blue in the rain.

"She is no longer a Black Knife Assassin," Rogesi said, his voice calm and firm. "She is merely someone seeking redemption."

"Those who consort with death will be consumed by it, Rogesi. This is the path you chose."

The battle erupted in an instant. Glintstone Sorcery lit up the rainy night, and Maren's black knife danced through the darkness, every strike claiming an enemy. But she knew they were too badly outnumbered to endure a prolonged fight.

"Go to the catacombs!" Rogesi said quietly during a lull in the fighting. "I told you how to reach the hidden chamber."

"We're going together," Maren said resolutely.

Rogesi shook his head. "Someone has to buy time."

In the instant Maren was distracted, a Great Glintstone Shard struck Rogesi. He staggered, and the light of his staff abruptly dimmed.

"No!" Maren's cry vanished beneath the thunder.

Rogesi turned to face her. Blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, but his violet eyes remained calm. "Maren, death is not the end, but another beginning. Remember that."

He raised his staff and used the last of his strength to release a blinding light. Within it, Maren felt a gentle force push her far away.

"Don't worry," Rogesi's voice whispered in her ear. "I'll catch up. Wait for me in the hidden chamber!"

When the light faded, Maren found herself far from the battlefield, standing at the entrance to the catacombs. In the distance, Rogesi's cottage burned in the rain, like a torch briefly flaring in the night.

She fell to her knees and, for the first time, felt a chill colder than death.

Maren looked down at the little wooden carving in her hand. It was a roughly carved bird, secretly left by some child in the spot where she always sat.

She gently stroked the carving, feeling its rough grooves. In the distance, the children's laughter drifted on the wind, like a few fragments of wholeness left in a shattered world.

Rogesi had once said that even in the deepest darkness, there would be faint glimmers of light, like stars in the night sky-distant, but real.

Maren tightened her grip on the carving, and something flickered faintly in her eyes. It was no dramatic transformation, only a nearly invisible crack in the walls around her heart.

And through that crack, a faint ray of light finally shone.

Maren told Vila what had happened to her, and Vila passed the story on to Tarnished.

Her ordeal was certainly heartrending, but Tarnished had little time to dwell on sorrow.

He was busy. As Rogesi had said, what was done was done; what mattered most was facing the consequences. Rebuilding the Lands Between was what kept Tarnished occupied.

While relations were still in their honeymoon phase, Stormveil signed a formal trade agreement with Raya Lucaria Academy. Large shipments of goods traveled from Limgrave to Liurnia every day.

The sorcerers were very pleased with Tarnished's "good sense," enjoying all manner of goods purchased at a tenth of their market price without the slightest qualm. In their arrogance, they saw nothing wrong with this. They were noble sorcerers, after all; receiving tribute from non-mages was only natural.

Tarnished showed no dissatisfaction either. Instead, he actively accommodated the sorcerers' various unreasonable demands.

To ensure supplies reached them, he deployed troops to clear bandits from the route. To keep the roads open, he paid out of his own pocket to send workers to rebuild the collapsed bridge.

Fia, D, Rogier, and the others who lacked an eye for military affairs were still puzzling over Tarnished's tireless willingness to serve, but those two old hands, Kenneth and Edgar, had already understood everything.

Clearing bandits ensured ease of movement. Repairing the bridge was really about establishing a route.

What was the greatest danger when fighting sorcerers? Being worn down by attacks from a distance, of course.

The roads outside the Academy were currently a wreck. Even walking along them normally was difficult, never mind doing so with a pack of sorcerers firing pew-pew-pew from afar once battle began. But once the bridge leading straight to the Academy was repaired, troops could move through quickly, reducing the threat of ranged sorcery by more than half. Compared with that, the cost of repairs was negligible-after all, the bridge would need repairing anyway once they took the Academy.

Of course, none of these schemes could be aired in public. Tarnished never said it outright, and Kenneth and Edgar did not explain it to the others. The three maintained an unspoken understanding. Their public explanation was this: to promote exchanges between Limgrave and Liurnia in a spirit of mutual assistance and shared progress, Stormveil would fund and oversee the rebuilding of the bridge leading directly to Raya Lucaria Academy, free of charge. Stormveil also pledged to hire only local workers, helping Liurnia create jobs and stabilize employment.

"Heh, the day this road is finished will probably be the day the Academy falls." The bald Patches crouched on a hilltop, smiling as he watched the distant construction site. Several sorcerers proudly inspected the work, unaware that Tarnished's sugar-coated bullets had already struck them squarely.

Henricus brought back a large collection of artwork, along with intelligence on Stormveil's current state.

After hearing about Tarnished's governing policies, the mistress of Volcano Manor gave a contemptuous laugh.

Henricus knelt on one knee. "Tarnished is certainly skilled at winning people over. It isn't just humans who are utterly devoted to him now; many nonhuman races have joined him too. At this rate, Stormveil will become a force to be reckoned with. We should make preparations now!"

"It isn't that serious." A trace of mockery curled the lips of Tanith, the manor's mistress. "I grew up in the slums. I know better than anyone what human nature is like. Greed is a poison more vicious than scarlet rot. Neither humans nor gods can escape it. You say this ruler called Tarnished is selfless and devoted to his people. I see only two possibilities: first, he's an exceptional actor who fooled you; second, he hasn't held power long enough to taste its sweetness."

"You mean...?"

"All people fall into corruption, and power is the strongest catalyst. Once they taste its delights, even the greatest heroes rot. You've already seen countless examples, haven't you?"

Henricus recalled the heaps of bones in the serpent pit and lowered his head, his brow covered in cold sweat.

"But waiting for Tarnished to discover the sweetness of power himself would take too long. Let me help him see what truly lies in his heart." Stroking a painting, Tanith continued, "I hear Stormveil is working with the Academy? If anything can rival greed, it would have to be arrogance. Patches, I'll leave this to you. Any objections?"

"Heh, a piece of cake."

Patches emerged from his recollection, stood with a grin, and brushed the dust off his backside.

"Slipping in under cover is a fine plan, but what sort of revenge will those arrogant sorcerer lords take if they find out? Tarnished, let's see what happens. Once I give you this kick, will you climb back up, or will you never recover? Hee hee hee..."