Ansbach remembered.
When Mohg appeared, the surge of emotion hit him like a storm. His eyes went vacant for a moment before he clutched his head, writhing in pain as fragments of memory tore through the haze clouding his mind.
Then, like a flood bursting through a dam, his memories returned all at once.
"Forgive me... I lost my composure for a moment."
Now freed from the enchantment's grip, the old knight raised his head, his tone conflicted and uncertain.
"I remember now. In order to break the charm that bound my lord, Lord Mohg, I once challenged Lord Miquella himself. But I failed—and instead found myself hopelessly drawn to him..."
He paused, his voice trembling.
"I was arrogant. I thought that through sheer training and will, I could confront a god... but such a thing was impossible from the very start."
As the memories deepened, Ansbach's eyes dimmed, and his voice grew unsteady.
"That lord... is a monster."
"He has a heart so pure, radiating with divine light—and yet, through love, he gently dissolves the hearts of others."
"I was terrified of him... from the depths of my soul."
Hearing Ansbach's words, Mohg nodded gravely, clearly sharing the sentiment.
After the two exchanged brief words of reunion and caught up on their circumstances, Ansbach's gaze turned toward Lloyd. His tone was hesitant.
"Lord Mohg... may I ask who this gentleman is?"
He had already learned some things about Lloyd from Leda, but it was obvious that the man's true identity was far more complicated than she had made it sound.
Yet, rather than answering right away as he usually would, Mohg fell into a strange silence.
Because truthfully... explaining their relationship was tricky.
Friends? Brothers? Or perhaps—father and son?
All of them could fit, and yet none seemed quite right.
While Mohg wrestled with the question, Lloyd, noticing his discomfort, chose not to speak.
But someone else had no such restraint.
"In a certain sense, their relationship is 'father and son.' Don't get the wrong idea—I mean Lloyd is Mohg's father."
A familiar voice cut in suddenly—Elizabeth, who had appeared out of nowhere, answered for them both.
Ansbach blinked, taken aback. Then realization dawned across his face.
"Then... could it be... you are the legendary Tarnished? The one who gathered the Great Runes and stands ready to claim the Elden Throne?"
After all, Marika was Mohg's mother. It would make sense that the Elden Lord could be considered Mohg's father.
Ansbach's reasoning sounded solid enough—until the maid-like woman before him shook her head with a faint smile.
"You're only half right. He is indeed that Tarnished who collected many Great Runes—but that's not the reason for their relationship."
Then, the woman—her tone playful—pointed to herself.
"Why don't you take another good look at me?"
Look at her? What was she implying—wait... no way.
The realization hit him like a thunderbolt.
Once Ansbach recognized who Elizabeth truly was, his mind went completely blank.
Not just because of Mohg—but because of what it meant for him.
As the former Chief of the Pureblood Knights, he too had once wielded Bloodflame and worshipped the True Mother. Which, by logic... meant that not only Mohg, but even he himself technically had to call Lloyd "Father."
The thought alone was too much.
After a long, heavy silence, Lloyd finally spoke.
"Let's just... not get into that."
At his words, both Mohg and Ansbach let out identical sighs of relief.
They quickly dropped the subject and shifted back to practical matters.
"So Lord Godwyn's soul is in Miquella's possession? No wonder... I'd been wondering who that golden figure summoned by Lord Miquella was."
"If you wish for me to stay behind and assist in locating Lord Miquella—and retrieving Lord Godwyn's soul—then of course, I'll do it without hesitation."
"Though my old bones aren't what they used to be on the battlefield, I should still be of some use. And outside of combat, I can lend my support in other ways as well...
"Don't let my appearance fool you—I was once something of a scholar, you know. Haha..."
And with that, the matter was decided.
After confirming that Ansbach would remain behind, continuing his undercover role to assist Lloyd, Mohg chose not to linger. Prolonged conversation risked drawing suspicion, so after verifying the situation one last time, he returned to the Dynasty of Blood.
Back at the cross-marked site, Lloyd exchanged a few pieces of intelligence with Ansbach before moving on to speak with the others gathered there.
The first was the warrior who called herself a "Redmane."
"Ah, I've heard about you from Leda."
"You're that Tarnished guided by Lord Miquella as well, right?"
The broad-shouldered woman stood with one hand resting on her greatsword, the other scratching her head. It was clear that conversation wasn't her strong suit.
"My name is Freyja. I once fought alongside General Radahn."
Freyja—Lloyd recognized the name.
During his time with Radahn, the general had mentioned her once: his "Royal Knight." She'd gone missing long ago—neither found alive nor dead—and Radahn had asked Lloyd to keep an eye out for her, to let him know if he ever crossed paths with her.
As for what a "Royal Knight" was supposed to mean...
"The strongest fighter among the Redmanes—but also the dumbest,"
as one red-haired pony, who preferred to remain unnamed, had put it.
And it wasn't just that red-haired mare who thought so. Even earlier, while speaking with Ansbach, when the topic of Radahn came up and Lloyd mentioned the possibility of recruiting Freyja, the veteran had paused in thought before giving his warning:
"I do not doubt Miss Freyja's loyalty to General Radahn, nor do I believe she would refuse your invitation. But I can't say I trust her... intellect. I mean, her ability to keep up the disguise."
When even someone as reserved as Ansbach was willing to phrase it that way, that alone spoke volumes about Freyja's reputation.
Yet after actually meeting her, Lloyd realized that even Ansbach had been generous in his assessment.
It wasn't that she was bad at "acting."
It was that she was the embodiment of "Fight first, think later!"—the kind of pure musclehead who could make even Nepheli look like a tactician.
Say what you will about Gideon the All-Knowing's failures as a father, at least he'd made sure Nepheli got an education. Freyja, on the other hand, struggled even with reading and writing. Whatever level of literacy she had now was only thanks to some recent, painstaking lessons from Ansbach.
And when that topic came up, even the ever-stoic veteran's face would twitch slightly, as if haunted by some traumatic memory.
"I've mentioned before, haven't I? How Lord Miquella terrifies me?"
"But if I had to choose between facing Lord Miquella again or teaching Miss Freyja her letters..." He paused, expression darkening. "I'd pick the former without hesitation."
That said, Lloyd actually found Freyja surprisingly likable.
For all her lack of intellect, she was honest, straightforward, and genuinely kindhearted. Strong in battle, cheerful in spirit, always eager to help—it only took a few minutes of conversation for Lloyd to be sure that if a fight ever broke out nearby, all he'd have to do was shout once, and Freyja would come charging in to help.
"If you ever need me on the field, just holler," she said with a grin.
Their conversation ended on that note.
Next, Lloyd's attention turned to another figure nearby—a round, heavyset man sitting cross-legged on the ground, his entire body encased in bulky armor.
"Nice to meet you," Lloyd greeted as he approached.
A deep, muffled voice echoed from within the helm, earnest and slightly clumsy in tone.
"We are companions, working together... for Lord Miquella."
"Everyone has prepared many things... together..."
Ah. A merchant type, then.
Lloyd nodded, opened the man's trade inventory, and bought a few items.
When the transaction was done—perhaps because of the purchase, or maybe just Lloyd's attitude—the merchant, whose name was Moor, relaxed noticeably. His voice grew less stiff, his tone softening as he spoke.
"Preparing things... brings me joy..."
"Because of you, Lady Leda, and the others... and the Gathering Bugs..."
"Everyone will be happy."
"What are Gathering Bugs?" Lloyd asked.
Moor's reply was dull and flat. "Gathering Bugs... are just Gathering Bugs..."
Right. Definitely something off with this one too.
After finishing his talk with Moor, Lloyd turned his attention to the last figure in the clearing—the one standing farthest from the others, the most distinct among them.
"Hmph. So you're chasing after Miquella as well?"
The man wearing a caterpillar mask let out a cold snort as Lloyd approached. His tone was anything but friendly.
"Then, according to that woman, you and I are companions."
"But don't get the wrong idea. That doesn't mean I've forgiven any of you."
"The Erdtree is our enemy. Marika betrayed us—she burned our people."
"Even if Miquella sincerely repented, even if I believe his vow of redemption... I still have no fondness for your kind."
He paused briefly, then turned his gaze toward the distant Shadow City.
"But a promise is a promise."
"Since we both seek Miquella, as companions, I'll tell you what I know—where the Cross Marks are located."
"...Continue your pursuit of Miquella."
"As long as you keep following that path, you will not be my enemy."
After saying that, the Hornsent handed Lloyd a map marked with several symbols. Then, without another word, he turned his eyes back toward the Shadow City, ending the conversation.
"That's just how he is. Don't take it personally," Leda said softly when Lloyd returned.
"The Hornsent are a withdrawn race by nature. After being nearly wiped out by the Golden Lineage, their hatred toward us only deepened. Even if they now follow Lord Miquella, such hostility is to be expected. It isn't directed solely at you—any human would get the same treatment."
"I'm not taking it personally."
Lloyd lifted his head to glance at the Hornsent still standing in the distance, then shook his head.
"After all, I don't make a habit of holding grudges against the dead."
Leda blinked.
"...You mean to kill him?"
"No. I mean he's already dead."
Lloyd's gaze softened as he looked at the Hornsent, a hint of nostalgia flickering in his eyes. His tone grew faintly wistful.
"I've been in this place a long time, but this is the first time I've seen someone whose body and soul remain intact... yet whose will is completely gone."
"Truly nostalgic."
He wasn't exaggerating. The Hornsent's condition was exactly that.
Lloyd hadn't even needed to check closely—his Dark Souls-born instincts were enough. The moment he approached, he could sense it, the unmistakable "stench of undeath" clinging to the man.
It wasn't physical death. Nor a wound to the soul. It was the death of will itself.
The Hornsent might look normal now, but only because he was being propped up by Miquella's enchantment—and by the remnants of his obsession with vengeance. What stood there was no more than a shell... much like a certain empty vessel Lloyd carried himself.
The difference, though, was that his own shell had been hollowed out by fragmented souls and corruption. The Hornsent had neither of those excuses...
And it wasn't just him.
Turning his eyes toward the nearby white staircase, Lloyd followed its path upward to a large, sealed gray gate.
Beyond that gate lay a grand, ancient city—majestic even in decay.
Tower Town, Beret.
Because a certain mama's boy had spent too long sulking in isolation, the Hornsent purge he'd been tasked with had stalled without his leadership.
And since this city was the heart of Hornsent civilization, where all their remaining strength had gathered, their resistance had been formidable. Even now, Messmer's army had yet to breach its walls. Within still survived the last remnants of the Hornsent and their dying culture.
Later, after a certain band of Ashen Ones nudged that mama's boy out of his depressive little fortress, he'd finally returned to the field. But by then, between his previous negligence and the new chaos those Ashen Ones had stirred up, he hadn't managed to deal with this place. That's why it still stood today.
But now...
"A war between races and civilizations, huh..."
Lloyd gazed up at the distant Tower Town and shook his head. He offered no judgment—and had no intention to.
Watching his expression, Leda suddenly realized something.
"You want to go inside and take a look?"
"Of course."
Lloyd nodded.
"You can sense it too, right? There's Miquella's aura in there…"
Of course, what he really meant was the mission marker—the hint left to him by the Miquella Needle.
At his words, Leda raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise crossing her face.
This man's attunement to Miquella's presence was sharper than she'd expected.
"Then let's go in together," she said after a brief pause.
"Just the two of us."
It wasn't that Leda harbored any special feelings toward Lloyd. Rather, aside from the two of them, none of the others possessed the ability to track Miquella's presence. In other words, they were drawn by Lady Miquella's allure, but hadn't received her true guidance.
To Leda, those without Miquella's guidance—no matter how they called themselves "companions"—weren't truly chosen. They couldn't be considered part of her lord's circle.
But Lloyd was different. Not only was he a fellow companion, he too bore the mark of Miquella's guidance.
That alone was enough for Leda to see him as one of her own, even if they had never met before.
Lloyd didn't refuse her invitation.
After all, when it came to tracking Miquella, Leda's skills were unmatched. If she claimed second place, no one would dare claim first. Having her along would only make things easier.
As for the others, since traces of Miquella's aura appeared in multiple locations, they had all scattered to investigate.
Except for Mool.
That simple-minded merchant still hadn't figured out what was going on. He wasn't a fighter anyway—just sold goods, and had no plans to move from his spot.
After exchanging brief introductions with the others, the group dispersed, each going their own way.
Once everyone was gone, Lloyd and Leda climbed the stairs together, pushed open the gates of Tower Town, and stepped inside.
...
"Uh…"
Leda hesitated as she watched Lloyd pulverize yet another Hornsent warrior into dust. Without missing a beat, he drew his Golden Dragon Thunder Greatsword, cutting down a group of black spirits lurking nearby, then ducked into a narrow alley to drag out and skewer a scorpion hiding there.
She wanted to say something—but didn't know where to begin.
Truth be told, Leda was well aware of her own reputation. Her methods were harsh—extreme, even—and she didn't deny it.
But watching Lloyd now, methodically turning over every corner to crush even the smallest insect, hunting down anything that moved whether it provoked him or not…
For the first time, she understood how other people must have felt about her.
"Aren't you... being a bit extreme?" she asked at last.
"We're only here to find Lord Miquella. You don't have to go this far, do you?"
"It doesn't slow us down," Lloyd replied casually. "Consider it... entertainment."
He said this as he conjured another spell from his catalyst—sniping two archers perched high above without even looking up.
Entertainment...
Leda's mouth twitched. For a moment, she didn't know how to respond to that.
But as her mind wandered over his words, her attention slipped.
From the roadside, a small, unassuming black creature slowly lifted its head. Rising to its feet, it began to stagger toward her.
It looked so weak, so harmless, that even as it drew closer, Leda didn't bother to take notice.
Then it stopped—suddenly, unnaturally—and in that instant, alarm bells exploded in her mind.
Wait—something's wrong.
But it was already too late.
A mass of blackness burst from the creature's neck, expanding in an instant into a writhing, tar-like abomination that lunged toward her.
Unaccustomed to using a shield, and caught completely off guard at such close range, Leda could only draw her sword in a desperate attempt to block. She could already picture herself being flung backward, battered and humiliated.
Then—
Boom.
The monster struck, detonating a wave of darkness.
But the expected pain never came.
A shield had appeared before her, intercepting the creature's blow. Then, in the same breath, Lloyd drew the Sword of Night and Flame and unleashed a sweeping arc of fire, burning the abomination to ash.
"We're still in a fight," he said, glancing back at her. "Don't lose focus."
Leda blinked, staring first at the pile of smoldering ash, then at the man standing before her.
After a moment of silence, she lowered her sword slightly and nodded.
"...Sorry."
"I'll be more careful."