A kind soul

The Tarnished stood atop one of Stormveil Castle's walls. Once he had properly entered the castle, he found far more enemies than there had been outside. Rather than press onward, however, he returned to the edge of the lift shaft and peered down.

During his fight with the Banished Knight, he had sensed a somewhat familiar presence below. It felt exactly like Kale Basha and the other Crucible Knights. Unless he was mistaken, it belonged to Enkuro, the Crucible Knight who had entered Stormveil Castle to hunt Godrick, only to get lost.

After a moment's thought, the Tarnished jumped straight down. He was not worried about being unable to return, since he remembered a lift down there-the very one behind him. Know yourself and your enemy, and you would win every battle. He had therefore committed almost every place he had fought in to memory. Unless somewhere had changed drastically, he was a living map.

"Ending up somewhere like this certainly suits him... Hm? What was that?" With a squelch, the Tarnished landed in the grass and felt something beneath his foot. He looked down to find a golden beetle pushing a ball of dung. By now, he had crushed the beetle beyond recognition.

"A Teardrop Scarab... Unlucky little bastard."

Teardrop Scarabs were among the creatures born of the age of the Erdtree, and their history stretched back a very long way. Their duty, as their nature suggested, concerned dung. The Erdtree was not merely fiercely intolerant of outsiders; it would not permit even a speck of filth. Yet living creatures in the Lands Between inevitably produced waste. To preserve its dignity and avoid accusations of cruelty, the early Erdtree had brought forth creatures that cleared away filth. These were the Teardrop Scarabs.

Teardrop Scarabs were immensely numerous, scattered throughout the Lands Between. Sometimes they carried away special substances along with the filth, and many people in the past had hunted them for treasures.

When there was no filth to clear away, they instinctively rolled balls of mud instead. The pure golden power within their bodies imbued those balls with a trace of Grace, making them exceedingly precious and granting them the power of Grace as well.

In short, they were creatures protected by the Erdtree, with a standing even higher than Trolls and Misbegotten.

"Who goes there?" A grim voice came from ahead. It was not loud, but it carried a faint authority that seemed to cow the surrounding woods. Even the grass in front of the Tarnished trembled unnaturally.

"You sound lively, Mr. No Sense of Direction." The Tarnished strode toward the voice.

"Who are you? Wait..." Enkuro began studying the Tarnished, sensing the presence of the Aspects of the Crucible within him.

"A change of clothes, and you don't recognize me? What a fragile bond between comrades." The Tarnished feigned hurt.

"...White Wolf... Is that you?" That voice, which practically begged for a punch, finally made Enkuro recognize him.

"Same as ever, I see. How did you end up here? Weren't you going to kill Godrick?"

"It really is you... So you've met Kale Basha? Haha, I never thought you'd return to the Lands Between." Now certain of his identity, Enkuro planted his greatsword in the ground and looked at the Tarnished.

"I have a few things to take care of. Fulfill that promise, and realize a little dream of mine while I'm at it," the Tarnished said with a chuckle.

"A little dream... Ha. You have little dreams?" The man before him was arrogant and unrestrained. From Marika herself down to stray dogs in mountain villages, who did not get a headache at the sight of him? Anything he called a minor matter was bound to be anything but.

"Compared to curing your sense of direction, it's a little dream," the Tarnished teased.

"..." His fist clenched. Hard.

"All right, enough joking. I'm after Godrick too. You know he and I are related. By rights, I should be the one to handle this."

"As a knight who follows our king, I have a duty too."

"Oh, give it a rest. By the time you find him, the Erdtree will have wilted." The Tarnished shrugged.

"It won't... It really won't." Enkuro stubbornly refused to admit it.

"If Ordovist hadn't made a special connection with you and taken you everywhere, where do you think you'd have wandered off to?" Enkuro's lack of direction was practically divine, enough to create an entire law of getting lost. If Ordovist, one of the First Seats at the time, had not forged a soul connection specifically with this directionless knight, they would have lost each other in Leyndell long ago.

"The First Seat's guidance really is good." This time, Enkuro nodded honestly.

"I don't know that technique, and I don't want to drag you along." Searching for Godrick while also having to search for him would be nothing but needless trouble.

"...I can kill Godrick with one swing. Taking me along can't hurt!" Enkuro suddenly exerted force through his hand, and his greatsword shattered the ground beneath it.

"Get lost! This is a cliff. You can fly, but I haven't learned how yet." The Tarnished kicked the Crucible Knight's greatsword.

"A miscalculation." Only then did Enkuro withdraw his oppressive aura.

"Just getting you out of Stormveil is giving me a headache. Taking you to fight Godrick isn't exactly practical." The Tarnished felt troubled. They were comrades, after all, and abandoning him was not his style.

"You don't need to worry about that." A golden vortex descended from the sky beside them.

"Kale Basha? Is that you?"

"I came because I was worried about this fellow too. Leave him to me. I happen to know the First Seat's secret art." Kale Basha struck Enkuro's chest with his hand, and the mark of the primordial Erdtree flickered there.

"I'll leave Godrick to you. With you here, there's no need for us. Enkuro and I will go look for our other comrades. Until we meet again."

"Huh?" Kale Basha left as abruptly as he had arrived. Before Enkuro could even react, he had taken him away, and both vanished without a trace.

What was that about... Never mind. They have their business, and I have mine. The Tarnished continued onward, took the lift he remembered, and returned to the tower atop the wall.

"How strange... Where could that thing be? Stormveil Castle is far larger than I imagined." Inside one of the buildings, a man in a pointed hat pondered his predicament.

The man in the large hat occasionally poked his head out to check the situation outside. Clearly, he was hiding from someone. His eyes had long since lost all their color, which explained why the soldiers were hunting him down.

Tarnished were being hunted here, yet he had still chosen to enter the castle at a time like this, all to find a certain object.

"Still... Someone defeated that formidable warrior in Stormgate Tunnel. I can't let this opportunity slip away." The man smiled faintly.

"What's going on? Why is it so loud outside?" Fierce fighting and explosions erupted outside, accompanied by an endless chorus of screams. He was just about to peek out again when an Exile Soldier came flying through the window like a kite with its string cut.

"D-damned Tarnished!" The Exile Soldier seemed to have broken every bone in his body. Only his mouth still worked.

"Still mouthing off when you're about to die. I can just imagine what sort of manners Godrick has." An armored man leaped into the building, his voice irreverent and his stride brazen.

What is going on... Someone actually fought their way into Stormveil Castle? The man in the large hat was stunned by the sight. He huddled in a corner, doing his best to stay out of the chaos.

"Tarnished, you..." Before the Exile Soldier could finish, the Tarnished blasted a horrifying bloody hole through his chest, killing him on the spot.

"A worthless lord with a pack of worthless soldiers. A perfect match." The Tarnished casually flicked the blood from his arm, then noticed the man in the large hat in the corner.

"That outfit..." The Tarnished stared at him. The scrutiny made the man's skin crawl; he had just witnessed this terrifying fighter's strength firsthand.

"This is... our first meeting, isn't it? Hello, my name is Rogier." Suppressing his fear, the man in the large hat still chose a friendly approach.

"Just call me Tarnished. Seems I gave you a fright." The Tarnished held out his hand to Rogier.

"Ahahaha... A pleasure, a pleasure." Once Rogier saw that the Tarnished truly meant him no harm, he extended his hand as well, then added, "As you can see, I'm a sorcerer."

"I thought so... Though a sorcerer as easygoing as you is a rare sight." Sellen was another. Have sorcerers in later generations finally shaken off those rotten habits?

"Ah... Is that so?" Rogier paused. "You seem very strong. Those soldiers were hunting me, and I had no choice but to take shelter here. Thank you for dealing with them."

"Just a coincidence. Why did you come to this castle? You don't seem entirely unfamiliar with it."

"As far as I know, something very important to me is here. Even though I knew the castle was hunting Tarnished..." Rogier's voice was firm, and the Tarnished gave a slight nod.

"Speaking of which, why have you come here?" Rogier asked again. The Tarnished said little, merely tipping his chin toward the depths of Stormveil Castle.

"I see. Did you come to challenge Godrick for his Great Rune, then... Does that mean you can see the guidance of Grace?" Rogier looked rather envious.

"I truly envy you... Being able to see the guidance of Grace. I'm Tarnished, just like you, but I lost sight of that guidance long ago... Still, I remember what first brought me to the Lands Between."

"Yes and no," the Tarnished said slowly. "I'm not here to kill Godrick just for his Great Rune. I have other reasons too."

"I see..." Rogier nodded thoughtfully, without asking further about those other reasons.

"..." The Tarnished suddenly studied Rogier again.

"What is it...?" Rogier looked puzzled.

The Tarnished had noticed the sword at Rogier's waist. He could sense magic within it.

"You're a melee sorcerer?"

"Haha, you noticed? I do know a few magic-related combat skills. Would you like to learn? I can teach you... We're both Tarnished, and I'd like to help you this way." Rogier's words were sincere.

"You really are a nice fellow." This man was every bit as much of a softhearted soul as Istvan.

"The world has grown cold, and troubled times are upon us... But I don't want to assume the worst of everyone. The world may be cruel, but I still want to leave people a little kindness... You probably think I'm naïve." Rogier gave a bitter smile.

"Well said. I like you." The Tarnished smiled and patted his shoulder.

"Thank you for understanding. You don't seem as fierce as I thought." Rogier laughed.

"How am I fierce? Don't look straight at me and make things up."

"Anyway, back to the point. I'm looking for a weapon that can serve as a sorcery catalyst. You should know how to make that happen, right?"

"Ah, that certainly isn't simple, but it's not impossible either. There are two methods. First, I could infuse your weapon with magic, but that wouldn't last forever. It would eventually run out. Second, you could nurture the weapon with glintstone crystals until it adapted to magical power. After all, ordinary weapons and the catalysts sorcerers use are fundamentally different."

An ordinary weapon generally required little more than suitable forging materials and some power infused into it. A sorcerer's catalyst was different. Large amounts of glintstone were used from the moment it was forged, allowing it to produce a continuous supply of magic. A sorcerer's catalyst drew magic from two sources. The first was the reserve provided by its own glintstone, which could be exhausted just like the magic in an infused weapon. The second was its ability to absorb the glintstone energy drifting through the Lands Between.

This was the fundamental difference between a sorcery catalyst and a magic-infused weapon. From the moment it was completed, a catalyst possessed an affinity for magic and could directly absorb glintstone power from its surroundings. An ordinary infused weapon could not. Transforming an infused weapon into a catalyst required vast quantities of glintstone crystals, far more than forging a catalyst in the first place.

"I've heard of that, but it doesn't sound very simple."

"This method requires a great many glintstone crystals and a considerable amount of time. For now, I can only teach you a few simple combat skills. If you truly want to turn your sword into a full-fledged catalyst, your best option is to go to Liurnia."

"A great many glintstone crystals, huh. Those won't be easy to get."

"Sorcery is a troublesome business. As you know, the Lands Between has more than just glintstone sorcery. There's the Full Moon, along with other forms of sorcery. Adapting to each of them is very difficult." Rogier knew the difficulties of sorcery well. Unlike sorcery, incantations relied on faith; practitioners of ordinary incantations could perform miracles as long as they possessed that faith.

Sorcerers, however, had far too much to consider. Many spent their entire lives barely managing to grasp the basics. It was a very long road.