Crucible Knight Redd stood silently in his sealed prison, resting. He had spent countless years here. But to a Crucible Knight, time meant little. Their lifespans were immeasurable — even Redd himself did not know how long he might live.
In the beginning, he carved a mark on the stone floor with a shard of rock for every passing day. The floor was soon covered in scratches, halting at the number 2,639. When the shard finally ground itself into dust, he abandoned the habit. There was no need to keep counting. After all, Godrick would never release him.
Yet Redd bore no regret. As one who had once followed Godfrey into battle, he had witnessed with his own eyes the rise of the Golden Lineage. He had also borne witness to the birth and growth of its children. That frail, trembling figure — who, though weak and terrified, still raised his voice to command soldiers — remained vivid in his memory.
That was why he could not forgive Godrick for turning to grafting. Even after he exhausted every effort to dissuade him, Godrick still chose that path.
Today, however, something was different. Two intruders had broken into the sealed prison.
They were none other than Lucian and Elyssa. Though long confined, Redd's instincts had not dulled. The instant the two stepped inside, he fixed his gaze upon them.
"A Banished Knight… and a Zamoran. Why do the two of you appear here?" He drew his greatsword, unfastened his massive shield, and raised his guard.
Stormveil had its share of wandering knights, yes — but a Zamoran had no reason to set foot in Limgrave. These two were clearly from elsewhere. Whatever their purpose, he would tread carefully.
Lucian removed his helm, revealing the faded eyes of a Tarnished. "Easy. We've come to release you."
"As you see, I'm Tarnished. My ancestors once fought at your side."
He stretched out a hand toward Redd, though from a safe distance. "We're here to bring down Godrick. If you'll fight with us, we'll set you free."
"To slay Godrick… I refuse."
Lucian blinked in surprise, not the answer he had expected. "What? Then you weren't imprisoned here by him?"
"I was," Redd answered plainly.
"Then do you not desire vengeance?"
His helm concealed his expression, but his voice was steady. "I have no need for vengeance, nor is there hatred in my heart."
"My imprisonment is punishment of my own making. As his guardian, it was not my place to interfere with his decisions. I overstepped."
"And yet… it was something I could not forsake. No matter what, I had to try. I had to see that child walk the right path."
In the end, Redd was released from his prison.
Knowing their goal was to slay Godrick, he had prepared himself to fight them. For no matter when, no matter his circumstances — so long as he still called himself guardian of the Golden Lineage, he could not abandon his oath to protect its blood.
Blind loyalty? Perhaps. But Redd cared little for others' judgment.
The two before him, however, were formidable. He bided his time, watching for an opening.
Lucian, for his part, had no desire to cut him down. The Crucible Knight seemed to know much — perhaps even too much. His familiarity with the young Godrick was telling. He called him "that child". He must have known Godrick before the grafting, perhaps even watched him grow. An ancient relic of a man, then, who might carry truths hidden from the world.
Lucian was always eager for such secrets.
But when Redd still did not strike, Lucian simply left a parting remark and walked away with Elyssa. "If you won't fight, then don't. Walk free."
Redd froze.
They left… without even closing the prison door behind them. Now he wavered — to leave, or remain? No one willingly rots away in a cell. If he stayed, he would die within these walls. But to return to Godrick would be impossible. Knowing him, Godrick would think he had betrayed him.
And yet, those two — though enemies of Godrick, had freed him.
Redd was a man of absolutes: he repaid debts as surely as he avenged wrongs. He was stubborn to the core. Thus, until they struck at Godrick, he could not lift his sword against them.
Very well. He would shadow them, then. Watch them closely. And when they finally moved against Godrick, he would intervene. Even if he could not win, he would at least drag Godrick's broken body from the brink.
Perhaps, if Godrick beheld enemies too great for even grafting to overcome, he might turn back. But no — the Godrick of today was no longer the boy Redd had known. When pressed, he would only hunger for stronger limbs to graft.
And so, a strange company advanced upon Stormveil. Lucian and Elyssa at the front, and Redd soaring distantly above, wings outstretched.
Lucian paid him no mind. He had left the cell and made no move to fight, likely he would not strike first. A kind fool who bore Godrick no grudge after countless years imprisoned. Rare indeed in this world.
But even if he was not so harmless, what did it matter? Should he attack, he would only die elsewhere. For neither Lucian nor Elyssa feared him in single combat — much less the two together.
As they traveled, Lucian searched the roadside for a ruined hut. He hoped to find the girl in the red hood, but the path yielded nothing. No ruined house, no girl.
Instead, he found a small illusory tree, and beside it, a Golden Seed. A prize beyond measure — to fashion a Sacred Flask. Such gifts could never be too many.
Further on, in the woods, he spied a hidden cabin, beside which stood a great bird's-eye telescope. He rode toward it at once, but upon arrival, the scene was not what he expected.
Inside was no maiden in red, but a soldier in uniform, and several towering wooden perches. Upon one of them stood a massive Stormhawk.
The soldier leapt up in alarm at their intrusion, but Lucian's sword pierced his chest before he could act. The hawk flapped its wings, but made no move to attack. Of course — it served the Ancient King.
Lucian found a letter upon the table: a report on the battle at the Gatefront, clearly meant to be borne to Godrick by the hawk.
After a moment's thought, he scrawled an additional line upon the back of the missive, bound it to the hawk's leg, and let it fly.