Gawain led Irina and the large procession of followers into the city. Master Iji's quarters had been prepared in advance, and Gawain immediately unloaded a warehouse's worth of smithing stones—obtained from Ranni—at the forge. It was high time he gave his soldiers' weapons a massive upgrade.
As for the rest of the newcomers, they had to make do with open spaces for the time being. This was the standard first-night experience for most Tarnished who came to Stormveil for sanctuary. A proper district would have to be planned on the outskirts later.
The Fire Monks required no management at all. Under Gerry's leadership, they found a spot, lit a bonfire, and huddled together. The scene perfectly fit the stereotype of a religious cult plotting a dark scheme.
The Albinaurics, on the other hand, seemed quite relaxed once they were settled. They had never asked for a luxurious life; all they wanted was a safe zone under protection. As long as that condition was met, they would have been content even living in a poison marsh.
The only real issue was the Albinaurics' reputation. "Albinauric Bloodclots" weren't exactly seen as a good thing by most, especially Tarnished, and the "Albinauric Pot" was a notorious tool used to block the restorative effects of the Flask of Crimson Tears.
To put it bluntly, the Albinauric race had been designed with many inherent flaws. Solving them would likely require the power of Queen Marika's Great Rune.
Upon reaching his familiar office, Gawain found Edgar sitting at his desk, buried in paperwork. Even when Gawain entered, Edgar didn't seem to notice; he simply let out a yawn and continued with his tasks.
Though he didn't look physically different, Gawain could sense a thick aura of "resentment" swirling around him. It was hard to imagine just how much overtime Edgar had pulled in Gawain's absence to end up like this.
After Irina urged her father to go get some rest, she rubbed her own temples. Lately, a mountain of various issues had piled up, enough to make anyone's head spin. However, now that the basic framework was established, things should get easier.
"Sister Althea set off for the Caelid front only the day before yesterday," Irina reported. "The newly recruited Tarnished are also shaping up into a proper fighting force under Istvan's training."
"The manpower shortage should be mostly resolved now. I have to say, it's a good thing you got so many smithing stones from the Carian Royals. Otherwise, relying solely on the output of Limgrave's tunnels, we'd have a hard time dealing with those rot-monsters."
Gawain breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that his "fifty good brothers" could now hold the line. This meant his military strength was no longer spread so thin.
Aside from the one clearing out the Siofra River, the other two Crucible Knights had returned to Stormveil. A city this size needed some heavyweight combatants to hold the fort besides himself.
"That's good. It seems we don't need to worry about Caelid for a while. If we hold out a bit longer, I'll be able to find the time to clear out that swamp once and for all."
"Judging by your tone, the negotiations went well?" Irina asked. "Bringing back a royal blacksmith, all those stones, and that sword on your back... that Carian Princess is certainly generous. She's nothing like the rumors."
Gawain looked down at the faint blue light swirling around him. He had to admit, he really had "hit the jackpot with a sugar mommy" this time.
"She was indeed more generous than I expected. Of course, it comes with conditions. I'll need to make a personal trip to the Eternal City underground. I just hope the Nox survivors hiding down there are a bit friendlier."
Irina smiled. She didn't know the specifics of Nokron, but she figured that even if things turned violent, it wouldn't be much different from what happened at the Town of Sorcery, Sellia.
Speaking of Sellia, those descendants of the Eternal City were expected to relocate en masse in a couple of days. The delay was mainly due to them helping set up teleporters along the route. Such convenient technology at key nodes would save an immense amount of travel time.
Pulling her thoughts back, she produced a thick scroll.
"I've recorded all the changes in the city over the past few days. Remember those concepts you mentioned to me? Take a look and see if this development matches your expectations."
Gawain took the scroll and scanned it. After skipping over the dense columns of figures, the summary of the situation left him very satisfied. Everything seemed to be heading in the right direction.
The Tarnished, who were once hunted by every faction, had mostly gathered here. Aside from the elites chosen for the army, the majority could live a life of leisure in the city, so long as they followed the rules—which were easy enough for them to obey.
Of course, most Tarnished were the descendants of warriors. For those who wanted to "climb the ladder" and weren't content with mediocrity, they could choose to complete commissions or work as mercenaries—escorting merchant caravans through the wilds or brawling with Runebears and Giant Octopuses.
Earning Runes through merit allowed them to seek out Maidens in the city to level up. This had already become a common phenomenon.
By now, Therolina had fully adapted to city life. While she had found her own hero to serve, it didn't stop her from training novice Maidens. After passing on some experience, these Finger Maidens could handle level-up services independently, earning a small fee to support themselves.
Some of the more enterprising Maidens even worked in the city's perfumery shops, cross-selling various aromatics. These items were highly practical for combat and support, and they did a fine job of separating the Tarnished from their hard-earned Runes.
This, of course, wouldn't have been possible without Philia's full support. As expected of a perfumer from the Royal Capital, her vision and business acumen were staggering. While she was busy cultivating poisonous mold-mushrooms on one hand, she was also running the perfumery shops in the city with great success.
In Gawain's eyes, "leveling up" shouldn't be some lofty, gatekept privilege. Simply put, as long as one could see Grace and possessed basic aptitude, a Finger Maiden could help convert Runes into strength.
He never intended for Grace to be a private resource. If given the chance, he would never humanly strip someone of their Grace the way Marika did. After all, allowing everyone to bask in warmth was the shared aspiration of every Warrior of Sunlight.
Speaking of shops, the progress was better than he had imagined. Without the harsh management of Godrick's era and with the rapid construction help of the "ultimate workhorses"—the Trolls—a proper marketplace had emerged. It was a fledgling but functional commercial district.
Irina had already partitioned off an area for the city's residents. The mainstay of the vendors were the Nomadic Merchants led by Kalé. Their primary competitors were Tarnished who had moved from the Roundtable Hold or opened branch shops, selling a dizzying array of goods from god-knows-where.
Incidentally, aside from a few rare items, the residents of Limgrave were now largely free from hunger. Despite the Lands Between being a chaotic mess, and the mental collapse caused by the Shattering, the wilderness remained vibrant and brimming with life. Food was not an issue.
With Giant Octopuses, Runebears, and Basilisks everywhere, this land—where even the plants wanted to kill you—was almost excessively rich in food sources. Someone had even figured out a way to detoxify and eat Basilisks. Of course, the prerequisite was being able to beat your food in a fight.
Gawain felt that leaving matters to Irina and her father had been the right call. Originally, he had only considered that Edgar had experience managing Castle Morne, so he felt comfortable leaving things to him while he was away.
The biggest surprise, however, was Irina. She had truly understood the half-baked ideas he had blathered about during his idle hours. Her execution was far better than anything he could have achieved as a "hands-off boss."
After all, his specialty was "clearing out everything in his path." Applying that logic to city management would have been a bit too extreme.
"So, when do you leave for Nokron?" Irina asked. "I assume the entrance is that crater blasted into the ground recently?"
"Exactly. Now that the stars are moving again, the fates of many are shifting. The long-closed paths are open once more. The longer we wait, the higher the chance of complications."
"I'll set off after the Sellians arrive. But before that, there's one very important thing I need to get."
"What could be so important to you?"
Gawain looked out the window, toward the location in his memory.
"The 'other me' of this world, of course. You'll understand later."
"Another you? But in my eyes, you are one of a kind."
"That is true. And she is a one-of-a-kind individual as well."
Early the next morning, Gawain left Stormveil alone. He wanted to go to a specific place. He wasn't entirely sure if "she" would exist here, as she was technically cut content—an NPC that didn't exist in the base game's physical world.
But he wanted to try his luck. Perhaps, now that the path was open, she had truly appeared on the surface. After passing through the Murkwater riverbed, a shack appeared ahead—the Artist's Shack.
In the base game, only a painting used for a puzzle appeared here. But if the cut content was included, this was the place where one first met the "Big Bro"... no, he couldn't call it that anymore. It was the meeting place for the Great Mimic Tear, Asimi.
As it turned out, his hunch was right. Just as he thought, hidden within the shack was a writhing mass of silver substance—identical to a Mimic Tear!
Gawain nearly choked up. This felt even more emotional than the first time he had met Ranni or Melina.
In terms of sentiment, Ranni could be married, but after her questline ended, you wouldn't see her again until the ending—she didn't even have a summon sign. Melina was even worse; because so much of her dialogue was cut, she had become a wooden "repeat-after-me" machine.
During the long days and nights of being beaten down by main bosses, many NPCs might have helped him once or twice, but they either died or turned against him. They rarely stayed for long.
Only one figure had stayed by his side from the moment he entered the Eternal City and claimed the ashes. They had fought through every battle with him, standing by him from the first meeting until the final ending. Even Millicent, who had the most assists, couldn't compare.
That was the true Elden Lord—the Mimic Tear. In the presence of the Mimic, Gawain felt like a lowly Spirit-Calling Snail. Ever since he had personally witnessed his +10 Mimic Tear cut down a boss that had been wiping the floor with him, no other Spirit Ash could ever replace the Mimic's place in his heart.
If the questline hadn't been deleted, this was the first meeting point. Asimi was a member of the Silver Tears, but only this specific individual, who had developed self-awareness, possessed the potential to become the "Lord of Night."
However, the ending of that cut quest was quite tragic. After absorbing two flasks, the Mimic Tear would reach its complete form and become the Lord of Night in the Eternal City. But it would end up fighting the Tarnished for the ridiculous reason that "two kings cannot coexist." After being killed, it would still speak of its host's kindness with no resentment, eventually becoming a mindless Spirit Ash that only knew how to fight.
In Gawain's eyes, that was just "the old fox" (Miyazaki) refusing to give a happy ending for the sake of it. If the goal was to find a Lord of Night for the Eternal City, Gawain truly couldn't think of a better choice than the Mimic Tear.
After all, they were experimental products created by the Nox to make a King. They mimicked everything about the host—outer appearance and personality. It was essentially like having a self-aware, gender-swapped alt-account to help manage things. What better choice could there be? The Nox survivors likely wouldn't object either.
As Gawain slowly approached, Asimi, hiding among the rafters, sensed a threat. The intruder had clearly discovered her, but she had nowhere to hide. She was too weak.
After the path from Nokron to the surface had been blasted open, she had left the underworld driven by instinct, seeking a suitable host. She had traveled through the Mistwood to reach the Artist's Shack.
During this journey, some mysterious accident had occurred, and she had awakened a sense of self. She no longer crawled aimlessly like her kin; she could think, she possessed wisdom. It was as if she had awakened from a long sleep into a new life.
But with new life came not just joy, but fear and anxiety. The world outside was far too dangerous. She had to reach the cradle of tears in the Eternal City—the contents of the Great Cup—to gain more strength.
Ever since her awakening, she understood her mission. It was something etched into the instincts of a Mimic Tear since its design: to mimic everything, to become strong, and finally to become the Lord of Night that the Nox survivors had long awaited.
But currently, her power was far too small. If she could gain the protection of a powerful host, that would be ideal. Originally, she had planned to quietly find a suitable candidate, but an accident had come for her first.
Asimi listened to the footsteps approaching the shack. She knew that to survive, she either had to run immediately or hope that the stranger would take her in.
She quickly dismissed the first option. As the footsteps drew closer, she could sense that the person was terrifyingly strong. An immeasurable power seemed hidden within him, giving her a sensation of intense heat.
She steeled her resolve. Hiding was no longer an option. Even if she escaped this time, she likely wouldn't last much longer. She would gamble on whether the stranger would accept her.
Asimi writhed and dropped from the rafters, bouncing on the ground like a slime several times before steadying herself. Then, she looked at the powerful human before her.
The man was staring straight at her. The intensity of his gaze nearly made her lose her shape and dissolve into a puddle of mush. Her mind raced—what did the Nox people like in a form? She began to writhe, shifting her shape while trying to appear as harmless as possible.
Just as Asimi was wondering how to express her intent, she felt a wave of confusion. Why did the man's expression lack any hostility? Instead, he looked... utterly thrilled?
────────────────────────────────────────
Support me here: https://[email protected]/AuAuMon
Elden Ring: In the Name of Ash (189 chapter - Ongoing)
Join the journey and become part of the story!
────────────────────────────────────────