Marika ignored her husband's fussing. She had a vague feeling that Horace knew far more than he had revealed.
She stopped pressing him and nodded. "...I understand. I'll discuss the specific military preparations with Godfrey."
With the matter settled for the moment, Horace left the somber atmosphere of Leyndell and returned to Caria.
He did need time to prepare, but not entirely for the "Crusade."
Sitting in the regent's study in Caria Manor, Horace tapped his fingertips unconsciously against the desk.
"To put the 'Thousand-Year Contest' into operation and truly bypass the existing system of Law, there's no getting around the Fingers," he murmured to himself.
The power to choose Empyreans had always rested with the Fingers. Other ordinary Two Fingers, or even the special Three Fingers, might still be negotiated with, deceived, or even suppressed, but the most troublesome was undoubtedly Metyr, Mother of Fingers.
She was the daughter of the Greater Will. The Tarnished might have been able to defeat her single-handedly in the game, but that was a game, after all-a "story" full of protagonist privileges and gameplay mechanics.
In reality, just what authority, strength, and trump cards did this mother of all Fingers possess?
There was no predicting that at all. He absolutely could not take her lightly.
"I need to bring in help and prepare thoroughly." Horace began organizing his thoughts.
"First, the best way to deal with the Fingers is with a weapon specifically designed to counter them."
That weapon made specifically against the Fingers, the "Fingerslayer Blade," lay hidden beneath Limgrave, deep within Nokron, the sunken Eternal City.
"I need to go get it."
Horace pondered. "I'm just not sure whether I have that 'Fate'...but it shouldn't be much of a problem, right?"
By rights, he counted as a Lord of Night too...he