Western Liurnia was the stronghold of the Carian Royal Family, with the massive Caria Manor sitting at the end of the road. This path had been the final objective for the Academy's invading forces. As the Tarnished traveled, he saw the ground littered with broken swords and shattered armor—the grim debris of a war that had only recently ground to a halt.
"The Cuckoo Knights lost this battle... but they won't let go so easily," Aenophe remarked, looking at the wreckage. She, like all Black Knives, knew this region well. After all, their other "employer" resided here.
During the war, the Black Knives had remained uninvolved. Their contract with the Lunar Princess was complete, and they had no reason to bleed in a regional conflict. Hunted by the powers above, they were merely looking for a place to hide and wait for their Destined Death.
Though, as it turned out, that "Destined Death" had instead become a journey with a King.
As they reached the foothills of the Minor Erdtree, they discovered a stone spire. Its architecture mirrored the sorcerers' towers they had seen before, but this one lacked a magical seal. Instead, the ground floor was dominated by a large statue of Queen Marika.
"Why is there a statue of Marika here?" The Tarnished circled the figure, finding no ladders to the upper floors—only a small opening in the ceiling.
"It appears to be a puzzle or a hidden mechanism," Aenophe judged, her assassin's instincts twitching.
"A mechanism? I'm not looking for it." The Tarnished leaped, digging his fingers into the vertical stone wall. With the raw strength of a mountain lion, he scaled the interior and pulled himself onto the top floor in a single breath.
"Only fools look for levers. Did you learn something?" he called down to the former assassin.
"Truly impressive, My Lord." Aenophe gave a respectful clap. Then, she emulated him. Black Knives maintained lean, light frames to reduce error in their movements. With a light hop and a few graceful wall-kicks, she flowed up the wall like a ribbon in the wind, reaching the top even faster than the Tarnished.
"Not a sound when you land. Classic Black Knife."
"You flatter me... let us continue." She bowed slightly. The upper room contained a chest, and within it, another Memory Stone.
"I heard these stones are Moon Fragments of the Nox. Do you know anything about that?" the Tarnished asked, wondering if her Numen heritage gave her insight.
"Apologies, My Lord. The events of the ancient past are murky even to us. I only know that the Nox once plotted to create their own King and God—and attempted to wound the Greater Will."
"Creating gods and wounding the heavens... quite the ambitious lot. But looking at their fate, they failed miserably." They had been struck down by a meteorite and buried underground. Now, only ruins like the Uld Palace remained as testament to their defiance.
As they left the tower, they saw the Erdtree Avatar patrolling the Minor Erdtree ahead. Usually, these sentinels waited for intruders, but this one seemed on high alert.
(Is it sensing the Fire God's spark?) the Tarnished wondered.
He gestured to Aenophe. She moved with lethal grace, her dagger glowing with the power of the Rune of Death. In a blur of motion, she carved scarlet arcs through the Avatar's wooden frame. Destined Death ignited upon its bark; within moments, the massive sentinel crumbled into dead, blackened wood. The Tarnished caught the Crystal Tears as they flew from its remains.
"Wait, this is...?" He looked at the Ruptured Crystal Tear. A concoction that made the imbiber explode like a living bomb. "Great. A gift for those with a death wish."
Further ahead, the familiar purple glow of an Evergaol pulsed against the cliffs. When the Tarnished entered, he found himself facing a massive Troll clad in Carian Knight armor, wielding a colossal greatsword.
"Vile Cuckoos! Come and face me! I, Bols, shall defend the Queen and Caria to my last breath!" the Troll roared, raising his blade.
"Hold it!" The Tarnished raised a hand. "Look closer. I'm not a Cuckoo."
"Eh? Oh... a Tarnished. Wait! Why are you here? To loot the ruins in the chaos!?" Bols bellowed. Trolls had massive lungs; his roar alone carried enough force to stagger a lesser man.
"You have some wit, but not much. Stop shouting."
"How dare you! I am a Carian Knight! My helm and my sword are symbols of my intellect!" Bols raised his blade with immense pride. "Do you wish to see my sorcery?"
"No need. Were you captured by the Cuckoos?"
"The cowards ambushed me. In a fair fight, they are nothing!" Bols slammed his fist into the ground.
"What if I let you out?"
Bols paused, suspicious. "Why help me? What do you want?"
"Do you know Moongrum? He's a Carian Knight too. I assume you're comrades."
"Moongrum! Yes, a most elegant knight. The pride of Caria!" Bols puffed out his chest.
"I have a bit of history with him. I have a certain... fondness for Caria. Consider this a favor to a colleague."
"I see... How is Moongrum? And the Queen?" Bols asked anxiously.
"Moongrum is fine, but your Queen... she's not herself. She's locked away and won't speak to anyone. Moongrum is still there, guarding her."
Bols slumped, his massive shoulders dropping. "The Queen's grace... I can never repay it." He knelt on the ground. After the Giant Wars, Trolls were branded as traitors and treated with cold contempt. But not all were traitors; Bols and the war-counselor Iji were among those who had found sanctuary and honor under Rennala's moon. Without her, they would be slaves.
"Enough moping. Let's get you out." The Tarnished transformed his arms into dragon claws and gripped the spatial rift of the Gaol. With a roar of effort, he physically tore the prison apart.
"Incredible strength!" Bols gasped.
"Go on. You're free," the Tarnished said.
"Thank you, warrior! If you continue ahead, you will reach Caria Manor. There is a Troll counselor there named Iji; he will welcome a hero like you. As for me, Queen Rennala comes first. I must head to the Academy to rejoin Moongrum!"
Bols reached into his helmet—a comical sight—and pulled out a small, ornate book. "This contains my Greatblade Phalanx. It is a powerful sorcery. Take it as a token of my gratitude!"
The Troll took off toward the Academy at a dead sprint. The Tarnished wanted to tell him he needed a key to get in, but the giant was gone before he could speak.
"Well... Moongrum's inside. He'll figure it out." The Tarnished looked at the blue-bound spellbook. It was elegant, noble. Maybe Sellen can teach me this, he thought.
He looked ahead. Two landmarks stood out: the Four Belfries to the west, and behind them, the sprawling, mist-shrouded Caria Manor.
"Be careful, My Lord..." Aenophe whispered. "The Manor is protected by many defensive sigils. Entering blindly is dangerous."
"You seem very familiar with this place, Aenophe."
She lowered her head, hesitant. "I..."
"I know. Secrets. Don't worry about it." The Tarnished patted her shoulder. She relaxed slightly, her rigid sense of "Master and Servant" softening just a fraction. She realized her Master was a man of freedom; he likely didn't want a stiff subordinate, but a partner. She would have to learn to change.