"Lord Raven." The old servant recognized Raven and struggled to offer a bow, but Raven grabbed him before he could.
"There's no time. We must leave at once," Raven said, glancing at their surroundings. "This place is about to collapse."
The main structure of the manor was stone, which typically wouldn't collapse easily from fire. However, the fierce battles between the guests and the Volcano soldiers had brought down numerous load-bearing walls, and Hotspur's Aspect of the Crucible: Tail had caused severe structural damage. Now, with the intense heat causing the stone to crack and shatter, the entire manor was teetering on the brink of ruin.
As the old servant crawled out of the kitchen, he spotted the Crucible Knight. "Sir Hotspur! Have you defeated the invaders? Oh, your arms—"
Hotspur looked away, embarrassed, and did not answer.
"Lord Raven," the old man pleaded, "Sir Hotspur is gravely injured. Can you treat him as well?"
"I am effectively his prisoner now," Hotspur finally spoke. "The manor's garrison has been disarmed."
The old servant was stunned, looking at Raven in disbelief. "But Lord Rykard... Lord Rykard..."
"Rykard is not dead," Raven said. "However, I do not believe he will ever return to this manor."
"He won't return? Does he... does he no longer need me to be his cook?"
Seeing the old man's soul-crushed expression, Raven shook his head and turned away. "We have to go."
"Grandpa, don't cry," Rya whispered. She was draped over Raven's shoulder like a noodle, reaching out a hand to wipe the tears from the old man's eyes.
"Your long service to the manor is over. Retiring early isn't a bad thing," Raven said casually, conjuring an icy mist to carve a path through the flames. "Or, you can come with me. An experienced chef is welcome anywhere."
"The hallway has collapsed!" Hotspur shouted.
"This way!" Raven raised his staff, firing a barrage of Glintstone Pebbles that blasted a hole through the wall. Hotspur took the lead; though his arms—pierced by the Godskin Noble—were useless, nothing could stop him when he put his shoulder into a charge.
After smashing through a dozen walls, the group reached the edge of the building. A sliver of daylight pierced through the thick smoke.
Holstering his staff at his waist, Raven took the little man-serpent from his shoulder and held her horizontally in his arms. He leapt through the jagged breach in the outer wall. Rya let out a startled cry, her tail curling up to grip Raven's neck tightly.
Upon landing, Raven bent his knees, dipping his arms to gently absorb the impact for Rya. A moment later, there was a thunderous thud as Hotspur slammed into the ground, leaving a crater. His right leg was buried in the dirt, but he pulled it out as if it were nothing.
Setting Rya down, Raven looked up and shouted to the old man above, "Jump! I'll catch you!"
There was no response.
"Grandpa!" Rya cried out.
"Damn it, he must have passed out from the smoke. I'll go get him," Raven muttered. He kicked off the wall and began to run vertically up the masonry.
In moments, he was back inside the breach. He looked around but couldn't find the old servant. When he looked deeper into the building, he saw the old man walking away, his back toward Raven, heading into the heart of the manor.
"What are you doing?!"
"Lord Raven," the old man called back, hearing the shout. "Please, just go. Don't worry about these old bones. I... I don't want to leave this manor."
"What nonsense are you talking about? This place is falling apart!" Raven suddenly recoiled as a section of the scorched ceiling collapsed, completely sealing the corridor.
"I am afraid of the world outside. It is far too complicated for me."
The old servant leaned over, offering a deep bow in Raven's direction, even though he could not see through the rubble. "Little Rya is a good child. I leave her in your care."
He turned and walked deeper into the manor. The sound of magic blasting stone grew distant until it vanished entirely.
Along the way, three heavy beams crashed down beside him, yet not a single one touched him. A door suddenly exploded, a backdraft of fire filling the hall, but he had just turned into the stairwell; the flames only grazed his back, singeing his clothes.
He believed his end had long been ordained. This conviction granted him a strange immunity—a temporary immortality—that allowed him to walk through the roaring inferno unscathed. He navigated the corridors until he reached his own bedroom, closed the door, and lay down on his wooden cot, watching the black smoke swirl against the ceiling.
He had entered the manor at the age of ten as a kitchen boy, working until he finally took charge. He had married a maid who worked in the manor. Because she loved drinking vegetable soup before bed, he always remembered to make a small, thick pot of it before finishing his shift, bringing it back to share with her. Every night was a new recipe.
His wife had fallen ill five years ago and passed before him. After burying her, he continued his life as before, keeping the habit of the nightly soup, though he stopped inventing new recipes. Under the Praetor's protection, the small world of the manor had been so quiet, so peaceful, without a single ripple.
Sixty years of such a life, until the manor collapsed.
Watching the cracks spread across the ceiling, he folded his hands over his chest, mimicking the Erdtree prayer gesture Nurse Emma used to make. His missing finger made the gesture look clumsy and incomplete.
"Whatever god is listening, please... let little Rya grow up safe and happy..."
Raven blasted through a side wall to bypass the blockage, only to find further obstructions. Thick smoke billowed, and the walls were marked with square scorch marks where oil paintings had once hung, now reduced to ash.
Even with his Blind Spot sensory technique, he could find no trace of the old servant. Raven finally gave up the search. Bending his knees, he used Bloodhound's Step twice to escape through the breach.
"Fairy Sister, where is Grandpa?" the little man-serpent asked anxiously.
"He..." Raven didn't know how to say it. "He chose to stay inside the manor."
Large tears welled in Rya's eyes. Without a word, she began to crawl toward the burning building.
"It's dangerous!" Raven caught her.
"I have to save Grandpa!" Rya wailed, her tail and feet leaving the ground as she squirmed and struggled in Raven's arms.
With a massive roar, half of the manor collapsed entirely. Raven leapt back a dozen meters, avoiding the billowing clouds of dust.
Rya stared blankly at the ruined manor, her tail drooping.
Letting Rya bury her face in his chest and cry, Raven tilted his staff, the tip glowing with the light of Carian sedation magic. Only when Rya had cried herself into a deep sleep under the spell's influence did he holster his staff.
Carrying Rya, Raven walked toward Tanith.
"You will keep your promise, won't you?" Tanith asked softly.
"Of course. Even without our deal, I have a responsibility to care for my brother's daughter," Raven said. "But are you certain you want to hand her to me? It will be a long time before Rykard meets Destined Death. Until then, I don't think the Golden Lineage can breach the volcano."
"She does not belong here."
"Then, before we part, hold her one last time. Say your goodbyes," Raven said, attempting to shift Rya from his arms. "I don't know when you'll see her again."
"Shh, do not wake her." Tanith stopped him.
For the first time, this woman—usually as cold as a serpent—showed a look of profound tenderness. She slowly reached a hand toward Rya as if to stroke her face, but she withdrew it before making contact.
"Take her away."
"Rykard said you had no feelings for him," Raven recalled the Praetor's words from the banquet the night he arrived. It felt like a lifetime ago. "Is that true?"
"I loved not the man in reality, but the perfect phantom in my heart. Loving a woman like me... it must have been very painful for him." Tanith's gaze shifted between Raven and the Ancient Dragon nearby. She gave a faint, soft smile. "Farewell."
"Farewell," Raven nodded and turned to leave.
As he was instructing the Godskin Noble on the next phase of their operations, a cry of pure agony erupted behind him, sounding like a wounded wolf.
"No!"
He spun around to see Hotspur's massive frame collapsed on his knees, weeping uncontrollably.
Tanith lay in the Crucible Knight's arms, her face as white as snow. Her right hand still gripped the hilt of the dagger buried in her heart.
"I'm sorry," her lips moved, showing a look of helplessness and perhaps a touch of sorrow. "Don't cry..."
In the next second, whatever light remained deep within those dark eyes vanished, her expression frozen in time. Her right hand lost its strength and slipped from the hilt, falling limply to her side.
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Elden Ring: The Unborn One's Journey Through Elden Ring(161 Chapter - Ongoing)
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