(A/N: Update auxiliary chapters with three characters so check that out if you're interested. As always I left images of them in the comments of the chapter.)
XOXO
"No."
Irina's stomach dropped, the clasp of her hands tightening.
She'd expected such an answer. While he never showed any drop of hostility, Onyx did not hold the Golden Order and its people in high esteem. It made sense. He was such an open minded man, not accepting of what others considered an obvious truth, while the Order, though she'd never truly considered it until recent days, was the complete opposite.
How often was it anyone around so much as suggested questioning any of the Order's teachings? Never.
Tarnished status aside, a man like him would never end up a follower of the Golden Order.
"I see." Father didn't sound surprised either. Only curious. "Might I ask your reasoning?"
"I don't have any interest in sticking my nose in a fight between enslavers and their slaves." He said, his blunt nature not cowed by the knights all around them. She admired the infallible confidence he had but sometimes it felt like Onyx had no sense of self-preservation.
"Enslavers?! How dare you?" One knight shouted, his zeal shared by nearly everyone in the room, the clink and shifting of weapons filling the air. "We brought order to those creatures. We provided a life for them that their savage ways could never afford." Onyx hummed, something that incensed the knights further, more yells following.
"That's enough." Father said, stern declaration putting an immediate end to the justifications. "Fair enough, tarnished." Of course, he took no offense to Onyx's words. Few spoke of it now but her father's service to Godrick was far from traditional. There'd been a time when he fought in exchange for riches but that was before he met Mother. It was rare but some still whispered that he had no true loyalty to the Godrick or the Golden Order.
Not long ago she wouldn't have given a second thought about whether or not she was a follower of the Order despite that. It was all she knew. All she was taught by those around her.
Then she was forced to flee from her home, meeting Onyx in the process. A man who was nothing like what she'd been told to expect of tarnished and who's openminded approach to others couldn't help but make her question certain things.
Questions that could be considered sacrilegious.
"But there is something else I would ask of you, if you would hear it." Onyx must've nodded, Father continuing. "By this point, Castle Mourne is loss. Our objective is not to retake it but rather to ensure a treasured weapon here does not fall into enemy hands. To that end, we have been securing a route to retrieve it. Our final push will require every able sword we have." Irina clenched her hands. Simple enough to say but she could tell now, the countless groans filling the room difficult to ignore, that there weren't many here and even fewer capable of fighting. "Leave this place and take my daughter with you."
"But-"
"A battlefield is no place for you, Irina. You can not remain here." Father placed a hand on her shoulder, the familiar gentle squeeze anything but comforting. He was not like other knights of his rank, but he had this pride. Regardless of whether or not they were tarnished, the fact that he had asked a stranger for help with their fight? The fact that he was planning on even having the injured fight alongside him?
He was heading towards danger he may not be able to come back from.
"I can do that." Onyx said with a nod.
And that was that wasn't it? She'd failed to bring back any reinforcements. Only reunited with her father due to the kindness of another. And now her father was sending her away once more, this time prepped to march towards a fight he had little hope of winning.
And there wasn't a single thing she could do about it.
XOXO
These people were being left to die.
It hadn't been said aloud but right now, the mess hall turned makeshift infirmary held no one aside from groaning bedridden knights, excluding him and Irina. They'd stuck around for her benefit, the time spent with her father prolonged, but it hadn't been long since he set off with every knight still able to lift a weapon.
Whatever this treasured weapon was, it must be something to inspire a suicidal charge. That, or this whole situation was just another sign of how dogmatic the people of the Golden Order were. Maybe both?
Either way, neither of those applied to that man, Edgar. Their interaction had been brief, but Onyx could tell he lacked the same zeal as the others. Though that wasn't to say the man lacked motivation. He was leading the whole charge after all. Rather, the source of his motivation was quite different.
I wouldn't have made the same choice. Onyx thought while pushing off the wall. He'd have taken his family, flipped off the army unwilling to send help, and found something else to do with his life. Still there was something to respect about a man who could make such a choice. Whether it be honor, greed, or loyalty that was driving him, most in Edgar's position would've hesitated right up until the world forced a decision on them.
And that sort of inaction was an insidious form of surrender.
He stepped around the dead and dying knights, stopping beside Irina who had taken to doing her best to attend to those who could still speak. Not that there was much she could do, whatever supplies the group was had already exhausted. At best she could speak with them until what remained of their life flickered out.
She was distracting herself.
"Ready?" Onyx asked, stopping behind her.
Her hands, hovering over the freshly tightened bandages around the arm of a knight taking shallow breaths, froze. She kept quiet but came to a slow stand, turning to him. Her best was given towards maintaining some form of composure but acting wasn't her strong suit, small frown securely in place, and, as she took his arm, grip a measure too tight.
"You don't want to leave your father here, do you?" Her grip on him tightened further, the act answer enough for him. "I guess we should go keep an eye on him then."
"Sir Onyx? I…I thought you agreed to my father's request?"
"Did I?" He questioned, rubbing his chin. "I seem to remember saying that I could do what he asked. Not that I would." Irina was at a loss for a word, silence falling over them. "We can leave if that's what you want but you didn't come all this way this way just to have your father send you away again, did you?"
"…There is nothing I can do for him." She whispered.
"Maybe." He agreed. "But is that any reason to not try? To do something you don't want to?"
"I…" Her grip on him loosen. Slowly, bit by bit, strength returned to it. "I want to know if he's okay."
"Alright then." Onyx took the lead, heading towards the doorway Irina's father and the other knights had gone down.
XOXO
There turned out to be more to Castle Morne than a first glance revealed.
Blood, cut down misbegotten, and slaughtered knights. Using the signs of recent battle as a guide through the halls they found themselves making their way through the back end of the castle and down different flights of stairs. They followed the remnants left behind by the knights' final push until they emerged onto the castle's rare ramparts.
Salty air, something he was more familiar with during his time in this world, passed as Onyx led them over to the edge of the wall. Down below there were structures built into the side of the cliff, each lower than the last and meant to provide secure fortifications from possible attacks from the shifting seas ahead. That was the assumption anyways. He couldn't guess at any other reasoning behind the structures.
And running atop some of the old fortifications below them was Edgar and what few of his men remained. Whatever formations they made use of had been abandoned in favor of Edgar leading the way, wide, heavy swings of his halberd killing most misbegotten in their path.
Despite being heavily armored he was the fastest and strongest among their number. A skilled warrior. One that would definitely make for a worthwhile fight.
That said, he was one man and the tireless charge they were apart of didn't leave any room for pause. One by one those around Edgar were picked off. Some were tackled right over the castle walls, plummeting down below. Others were swarmed by more misbegotten than they could handle at once. The injuries of others simply caught up to them, blood loss and the like leading to collapse.
By the time Edgar reached the waters below, standing just beyond crumbling stone fortifications built around a small island with a single old tree at its center, he was alone. Within it awaited the largest misbegotten yet, its fiery red mane further separating it from its kin. Unlike them the giant sword it wielded, the blade itself made of what appeared to be the blade of smaller swords, wasn't just some rusty thing picked up from anywhere.
What an odd weapon. Onyx noted. He was sure there was some story behind its strange design, but he couldn't really tell if it was anything special at a distance.
Either way, it wasn't enough to cow Edgar, the man rushing in and attacking the misbegotten all on his own.
Slash for slash. Wound for wound.
The size difference met little, Edgar trading blows with the creature on even ground. His strikes might not be as heavy as the misbegotten, but he had experience with his weapon, the technique he wielded his halberd with keeping the fight from falling in the misbegotten's favor.
For a time.
Haggard breathing. A slow movement here and there. A slight misstep. Exhaustion was a clever killer that could catch anyone in its grasp, skilled or not. And Edgar, having been leading a losing battle for weeks on top of the mad dash just to get where he was, was in its palm.
At his best he might've been able to walk away from the fight, he certainly outclassed the misbegotten in terms of skill, but as he was now, even if he won, the injuries he'd sustain would bring him down afterwards.
Onyx used his free arm to take up his crossbow, aiming at the battle below.
He so often witnessed the oppressed and their oppressors fight one another, the song and dance always hitting the same beats, that he didn't particularly find much interest in getting involved in such things, but he'd taken a liking to Irina. And what kind of friend would sit around and watch their friend's father be killed when they could easily stop it?
A click filled the air, the fired bolt cutting through the air, falling as it lost momentum and-
It pierced the shoulder of the misbegotten's sword arm, slowing the blow it was in the middle of and allowing Edgar to slash at its chest without suffering a wound of his own.
Irina's hands fell away from his other arm as he moved to load another bolt, perhaps already aware of what he was doing but not daring to question it. One day she might lose her father, that was just the nature of life, but there was no reason to let her experience that pain when he was in a position to prevent it.
He raised his crossbow, took aim, and fired again.
XOXO
"You have my thanks." Edgard said through a grunt as he dropped himself to a seat along the rampart's edges. The tired and injured man had dragged himself up to them, halberd and that strange sword placed beside him. Irina was helping him get situated, desperate concern replaced with relief. "Sir Onyx, was it? I owe you not just for my daughter's life, but now mine as well it seems."
"Just helping out a friend." Onyx said, waving off the thanks. Had it not been for meeting her, if he by some chance found his way here, he likely would've watched the man perish from a distance without batting an eye. "I imagine you'll be taking that sword with you."
Edgar shifted, following his gaze towards the strange sword made of swords. "No." He stated firmly. "I have retrieved it from enemy hands and fulfilled my duty to Lord Godrick. My final duty to him." Exhaustion peeked into the tail end of his words. "The Grafted Blade is what it called. The stories surrounding its creation are full of blood and death. You are free to take it if that does not bother you."
Take it he would. Now that he got a closer look at the odd fusion of blades, the sizable sword had an aura about it. One he wouldn't mind taking the time to get a closer look at.
"Sounds like you don't plan on serving Godrick any longer." Onyx said.
"I have fulfilled my duty and upheld my word. Times have changed and there is no longer any purpose in serving such a lord." Edgar said. After a deep breath, he stood, Irina helping him. "I shall find a place where my daughter and I can live in safety. That is all that matters now."
Onyx offered Edgar a nod which was returned before the man grabbed his halberd and began to move past him with Irina in tow. He stepped up to the large sword and-
"Onyx?" He turned, quick steps approached him. Irina, uncaring of her blindness, bumped into his chest and in a flash wrapped him in a tight hug. "Thank you. Thank you for everything." She said, voice muffled against him.
Ah, right. For most people this would qualify as something of a goodbye. "Try and stay alive." He said, raising an arm and returning the gesture with a smile. "As long as were both still living there's always a chance we'll cross paths again."
"Yes. You do the same." Irina said. The tight hug lasted for a time before she finally pulled back, smiling, before she took off to help her father once more.
He was going to miss having her around. Boc and Cyclops weren't much fun to poke fun at and Torrent, well, he was amusing, but interpreting sounds and intention wasn't the same as an actual conversation.
It is what it is. He decided, turning away from fleeting figures and back to the sword.
Onyx grasped the spiraled metal handle.
Anger. Hot and searing, anger that dwarfed what most would ever feel in their lifetime flooded his sixth sense, both Torrent's and cyclops' nearby presence overshadowed wholly by it.
He allowed it to pass, no stranger to such phenomena, the supernatural heat melting away as clarity returned to his senses, the metal handle now cool to the touch. Second hand thrown in he lifted the blade with a huff, before quickly dropping it back down, his injured shoulder burning.
A weapon carrying remnants of the past. Perhaps the lingering anger of its previous wielder?
Peculiarities aside, lugging this thing around was going to be a pain in the ass…He was still going to do it until his curiosity was satisfied but its mysteries didn't make it any less of a pain.
XOXO
(A/N: You know what I'm here for. Spread 'em....Ahem, what I mean to say was hand over your powerstones. Yeah, that makes more sense.
Anyways, Irina questioning her faith, Edgar alive, and a new weapon in Onyx's grasp. All in all, a solid chapter if I do say so myself. Though revisiting castle Morne is definitely planned in the future for reasons I'd be surprised if anyone can predict. One of the far off ideas I was inspired to explore over the weekend.)