That Day, the King Dropped His Brain

(Oh King, even if the guidance is already shattered, please leave your brain behind.)

The rain started in the middle of the night.

The cold dampness pervaded everywhere, soaking the leather, seeping into the soil, and drilling into the largest tent at the center of the tribe.

Inside the tent, the firelight flickered, casting two towering, opposing figures in distorted shadows on the trembling walls.

Hoarah Loux stood beside the hearth, like a statue of a god just hewn from the mountain rock.

Beside his feet rested a greataxe nearly as tall as him, its coarse wooden handle polished to a dark, oily sheen from years of gripping, and the axe blade retained dark brown spots-the blood and fat of enemies.

Horace Loux stood opposite him, a little farther away.

He lacked his elder brother's terrifying physique that seemed ready to burst the tent, yet he was also tall and upright.

There was little expression on his face, and his soaked black hair clung to his forehead, making his complexion look excessively pale.

The rain had likewise soaked his more intricately styled leather armor.

His eyes watched Hoarah Loux.

"You've always been smarter than me, Asei," Hoarah Loux's voice sounded first.

"No one in the tribe denies this. You know the stars in the sky, remember the names of ancestors ten generations back, and can deduce everything from the slightest traces of prey... When Father was around, he often said your wisdom was a gift."

He paused, taking a small step forward.

"But this time, you are wrong."

Horace Loux's eyelashes twitched imperceptibly, and he said nothing.

"The Golden Order, that radiance," Hoarah Loux's hand lifted, not clenched into a fist, but spread open, as if to grasp that non-existent golden brilliance.

"Can't you feel it? That is not deceit, nor charm. That is shelter. With it, our children won't have to freeze their toes off in winter nights, our women won't have to die in vain from difficult labor and foul diseases, and our warriors won't have to fight to the last drop of blood for a tiny patch of hunting ground, a single spring!"

His voice grew louder and louder, his chest heaving, and the stubborn light in his eyes almost burst forth.

"That woman, Marika... She has brought possibility. An Empyrean? So what! She chose me, she chose us! She gave us a place, a future!"

"Battle?" Horace Loux finally spoke, his voice not loud, yet exceptionally clear.

"Whose blood to shed? Whose people to die? Are the lives of our tribal warriors kneaded from mud, or scraped together by wind and snow? Born of parents, flesh and blood-to fill that bottomless pit for a picked-up 'Empyrean' and the illusory 'Law' she speaks of?"

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze sweeping across the corner of the tent, where a few rolls of tattered banners and a few cracked pieces of leather armor were piled at random.

They were all relics of the tribal warriors.

"Big brother, look at these. They trust you, follow you, and hand their lives over to you. And then what? They die in some inexplicable dispute, and not even a few pieces of their corpses can be found. Now, you are going to lead the rest of the people to fight a larger, even more boundless war? For what? A name?"

"It is not for a tree, nor a name!" Hoarah Loux roared, the handle of his greataxe gripped so hard it creaked.

"It is to stop running! Asei, you always talk about your 'doors' and your 'other worlds'. Yes, I believe you have some skills we don't understand. But run once, and there will be a second time! We took boats to come here, and left here, arriving at the peaceful world you spoke of, and then what? If there is injustice there too, oppression too, and battles that must be faced, do we run again? Keep running, all the way to the end of the universe, like a lame direwolf tucking its tail between its legs?"

His gaze was as sharp as a spear, pinning his younger brother in place.

"Running never solves anything! Power, dignity, space to survive-they are fought for, wrestled for, not hidden for! Marika has given us a chance, a chance to stand tall with dignity! Miss it, and we and our descendants will forever remain just 'barbarians', dust waiting to be devoured by other laws or to fend for ourselves and perish in this wilderness."

The rain outside the tent suddenly intensified, and the howling wind tugged at the tent, making it groan under the unbearable strain.

A pale flash of lightning tore across the sky, instantly illuminating two faces.

The firelight leaped wildly in Hoarah Loux's eyes, and he grabbed his younger brother's hand, gripping it tightly.

"I must go and fight, Asei. For the tribe, and also for... all those who, like us, struggle to survive in mud and blood. The banner of Golden Godfrey has already been raised, and the warriors' hearts are burning. This is the path we have chosen."

Horace Loux quietly watched him, the ball of fire in his elder brother's eyes bright enough to almost scorch his vision.

Something furry seemed to be handed over from within the palm.

He shook his head.

"Then go and fight, big brother." His voice was terrifyingly steady, as if the fierce argument just now had never happened.

He no longer looked at Hoarah Loux, turning around and lifting the heavy tent flap.

His retreating figure merged into the pitch-black rainstorm outside, his voice cut intermittently by the wind and rain, yet sent back with every word clear:

"But don't expect... that I will stand by and watch."

Returning to his own camp, the rain outside the tent battered the animal skins, yet it felt as though it were hammering against Horace Loux's heart.

He stripped off his soaked leather armor, tossing it aside at random.

The embers in the charcoal brazier were faintly red, and he added a few dry dung cakes, watching the flames leap up anew before sitting down on the crude wooden couch spread with animal skins, vigorously rubbing his face with both hands.

The cold rainwater calmed his feverish mind, but his heart sank heavily.

Hoarah Loux had not come to negotiate; he had come to announce.

The banner of Golden Godfrey had already been raised, and the blood of the warriors had already been ignited.

The vast majority of the tribe, especially the young and strong warriors, would follow that golden light that seemed to bring glory and warmth, following their invincible chieftain.

His words, as the "smart" younger brother, were as light as a goose feather in the face of the choice between iron and blood.

And as a transmigrator, he knew the history; the fragmented information revealed in the game told him that Marika would succeed, and the Golden Order would shroud the Lands Between.

Godfrey, the First Elden Lord, would become the consort of the Empyrean, conquering in all directions and sweeping across the world.

But Hoarah Loux, his eldest brother, would eventually be "stripped of Grace" and exiled from the Lands Between, along with the warriors under his command, embarking on what was known as the path of the Tarnished.

Although the game hints that the exile of the first Elden Lord might have been Marika's contingency plan, Horace Loux truly didn't want to place the entire tribe in Marika's hands.

Horace Loux didn't trust Marika, and he trusted the Fingers behind her even less.

That woman had indeed brought the possibility of order and protection, but she was herself a mass of contradictions.

Divinity? Humanity? Who could say which would prevail?

He couldn't entrust the entire tribe, or his elder brother's fate, to the whim of such a being.

He quietly took stock of what he could rely on.

He had two golden fingers.

The first was called Great Runes, an independent system in which one gained power by issuing and obeying Great Runes.

For example, one could swear an oath to [never kill] in exchange for powerful regenerative abilities.

The closer an oath's terms were to the power gained in exchange, and the more they aligned with the oath-taker's will, the greater the chance of success.

For example, trading [not eating meat] for increased stamina had a high chance of success, but trading it for invincibility was impossible.

Its greatest value lay in being a system that could be passed on. As the core of that system, Horace Loux had an advantage no one else could make up for—he could cancel oaths at any time and forcibly impose Great Runes on others.

Anyone else who swore an oath would suffer terrible backlash if they broke it.

The second was the Gate of Myriad Laws. As long as he paid energy, he could travel to other worlds.

The more energy he paid, the more precisely he could choose the world he went to.

That was the fundamental reason he had brought the tribe away.

The fragmented storytelling in Elden Ring made the plot somewhat unclear.

I've tried to be as accurate as possible. Let me know if I've missed anything.

P.S. The first Elden Lord should have been Marika's consort before she became a god.

The Secret Rite Scroll from the DLC:

[The return of a god requires a lord to draw them back; a lord's soul requires a vessel to dwell in.]

This indicates that becoming a god requires a lord. Based on Godfrey's "First Elden Lord" entry, that lord should be Godfrey.

The fact that the lord received a talisman also supports the idea that Godfrey was bestowed lordship in the Land of Shadow.

["Kindly Miquella spoke of the beginning, the seduction, and the betrayal."]

The word "seduction" is very pointed...

The old Hornsent woman in Belurat: [Accursed child of a harlot.]

But the English term corresponding to the original is "wanton strumpet" (a wanton whore).

The Japanese term for an adulterous woman is also often used to describe a treacherous slut.

So Marika may well have seduced Godfrey-"La Dagang" got her hooks in him?

The Rusted Anchor: ["An armament fashioned from an anchor rusted by the sea. The four prongs are thick and sharp, giving the weapon piercing attacks. It is said that, when the Tarnished followed their lord in leaving the Lands Between, a certain ship was left behind."] This indicates that they left by ship, so they must have arrived by ship as well.