Knight Owen glanced over, startled. He hadn't expected someone as reserved as you to wield flattery so deftly, let alone with such precision. It was artful, almost surgical in its execution. And just like that, Godrick erupted into laughter, his booming voice filling the room. "Do you truly believe that?"
"Yes. And it's not just about strength."
"Then what?" Godrick's eyes gleamed, hungry for more.
"You're the direct descendant of King Godfrey. The purest bloodline of the Golden Order. By right, the title of Elden Lord should have been yours. The Shattering never should have happened." Throne stood tall, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his voice sharp and deliberate.
It didn't sound like sycophancy. It sounded like truth. Coming from a man who carried himself like an executioner, it was devastatingly persuasive.
"Hahahaha! Good. Very good! You're a fascinating Tarnished. This insight alone puts you leagues above the fools in Leyndell!" Godrick rose to his feet, laughing heartily.
He wasn't a fool. He craved respect, recognition, validation. Throne's words had struck a chord deep within him.
"Speak, Tarnished. What do you want?"
Throne placed one hand on his chest, the other gripping his sword. He bowed slightly. "A chance to survive."
"I grant you that chance."
"None of your kind will live. But you—" Godrick paused, considering. "Stay in my army. I grant you freedom of movement, and the privilege to see me whenever you wish." "As you command, Your Highness. My loyalty is yours." Throne nodded, his hand clenched into a fist behind his back.
"Your loyalty will be rewarded. Withdraw. Claim your prize." "Yes, Your Highness." Throne took three deliberate steps back before turning to leave.
As the sunlight of The Lands Between spilled over his mask, a faint smile curved his lips. It was done. He knew Godrick too well. The most critical step of his plan had been the simplest.
Patience, now. Loyalty was just the beginning.
He had more truths to share with Godrick.
When the door closed, Godrick's satisfied smile lingered. This Tarnished—his words were too smooth, too perfect. He deserved a proper reward.
Knight Owen felt a headache brewing at the sight of that smile. He steeled himself and spoke with firm resolve.
"Your Highness, please don't indulge such flattery." "Owen, do you take me for a fool?" "I wouldn't dare." The knight bowed deeply.
Godrick stood, leaning heavily on the table, his gaunt face twisting into a sinister grin. "His words were pleasing, but they won't cloud my judgment. Why do you think I gave him full freedom?"
The knight hesitated. "To test him? No, that can't be it. His background was verified by Count Haight's letter. There's no issue there."
"Exactly. Spread the word, and he'll become an enemy to all Tarnished. More loyal than any soldier." Godrick began pacing, his gaze cold. "Tarnished are endless. Openly opposing the Two Fingers is reckless. I want the glory, but I won't take the risk."
I do not want to become a thorn in the side of all Tarnished.
The knight wanted to argue—there was no gain without risk, no turning back now. But as he thought it through, he realized Godrick had laid the groundwork for his escape. From beginning to end, Godrick had never admitted to capturing Tarnished for Grafting.
Even in the declaration of war, it only stated that he intended to wash away his shame with the blood of the Tarnished in Limgrave and seek justice. "You mean to use him as an example? To narrow the scope of the enemy from all Tarnished to only the disobedient ones?" "It seems you are not stupid after all. This is a gesture of goodwill.
As long as they submit to me, I will guarantee their safety and freedom, rather than exterminating the 'Tarnished' race." Godrick spread his hands, his voice high and spirited. "Those who follow me shall prosper; those who oppose me shall perish. If they can hand over that Vyke's head, I can let bygones be bygones!
Hmph, I will not let those bastards who only want to take advantage and push me to the front get their way." The knight naturally knew exactly who those bastards were. Despite the various nobles in The Lands Between shouting for war, if His Highness were to win, they would force Godrick to continue expanding the conflict, eventually angering the Greater Will.
If His Highness were to lose, these people would simply claim it had nothing to do with them and then tuck their tails between their legs. "You are truly wise." The knight was sincerely convinced. If Godrick didn't have some merits, why would a Banished Knight place his bets on him? "But that person's existence remains a hidden danger." He reminded him subtly.
Count Haight's letter was a double-edged sword; it confirmed Isshin Ashina's reliability, but it would also make people think this was all a long-planned conspiracy. "Are you afraid I won't be able to bear losing him?" Godrick suddenly sneered, his expression vicious. "After everything is over, I will graft his head onto my body, so I can hear interesting words every day."
If it were an ordinary Tarnished, they might be complacent about joining a reliable lord, but Throne clearly knew how trashy this guy Godrick was, and he had never intended to slowly stall with him from the very beginning. This demigod was the weakest, but his intelligence was not low, his methods were vicious, and he was good at biding his time.
He could even cast aside the dignity of being a king; what kind of integrity could one expect from him? 'The third step of the plan is complete. I have successfully approached Godrick. Now, I just wait for the Roundtable Hold to make their move.'
Throne paced back and forth inside a large covered wagon. All around were piles of chaotic armor and clothing.
The Stormveil army had brought out a great deal, and they had been looting along the way, yet no one had the heart to tidy things up. The knight who brought him was chatting outside, not caring how much Throne chose to take. After all, one person couldn't carry many sets of armor.
However, he didn't know that Throne was currently dirt-poor, and his spirit-calling ring had plenty of space to store things. Banished Knight armor? How nostalgic. Take it, take it. Cross-naginata? A weapon Godrick had scavenged from some Tarnished. Take it. Priest's robes? Might be useful later. Just as Godrick was displaying his 'wisdom,' Throne was carpet-searching his armory.
The vast majority of items here were mass-produced, and they were a significant distance away from the quality of 'Moonveil.'
"Why are you picking up this junk?" Melina, who was observing from the shadows, couldn't help but ask. "For the next step of the plan: hunting the heroes under Godrick's command." What? Melina thought her ears were playing tricks on her.
She couldn't imagine how this could be implemented. Even if the Stormveil army was a mixed bag, surely they wouldn't be completely unaware if a general in the camp was attacked? She wanted to ask how, but anticipating a round of sarcastic mockery, she closed her mouth again and just said sullenly:
"Are you sure Godrick already trusts you completely?" "Yes, I am certain."
Throne answered while collecting props for future 'Cosplay.'
"Why?" Throne shrugged, vaulting off the wagon to greet the knight. "Compared to the people I've dealt with, Godrick's child's play." He adjusted the ring on his finger, his tone casual. "The people I've encountered? They're all lunatics."
"Some are high-ranking, but they're tsunderes. I humiliate them daily. Others are beauties with no common sense—I've had to counsel them through meltdowns. And some—"
Throne paused, a sly grin spreading. "Some are literal blocks of wood, and I've turned them into little girls who won't stop asking 'why?'"
He leaned back, arms crossed. "So tell me, what's Godrick to me? A vain, scheming fool with an overinflated ego. He's nothing." Melina stared at him, stunned. No Tarnished spoke of a demigod with such disdain. And those people he mentioned—who were they? Borderlanders?
The more she learned about Throne, the more enigmatic he became. "Wait," she said slowly. "That last one… was that me?" Throne burst out laughing. Not malicious, just a way to lighten the mood while surrounded by enemies. The girl inside him retreated into silence, leaving Throne to survey the bustling town.
Troops streamed down the road, swelling the encampment. Militiamen hacked at trees, fashioning siege engines. Throne scanned the scene, unimpressed. Knights from various factions chatted in small groups, their surcoats displaying six or seven different emblems. None seemed to take the Tarnished seriously.
Only the Godrick Knights and Banished Knights showed any semblance of discipline. Among them, Throne spotted a few 'old acquaintances' wearing glintstone crowns. Stormhawks preened in the trees, Trolls dragged supply wagons, and priests argued with guards.
"Academy mages," Throne muttered. "Nobles' private soldiers, Misbegotten, and a hero sent by Morgott to investigate. Godrick's got some pull, gathering this motley crew." He wished he had an elite force—two hundred Redmane Guards could've crushed this army in a single night raid.
But this chaos worked in his favor. A little disguise, and he'd vanish into the crowd. Throne's gaze sharpened, locking onto Oleg, the Battlemages of Haima, and the Grafted Scions. If Godrick wanted to give him freedom, he'd make the most of it.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Heavy footsteps shook the ground. Two Golems rose, lumbering past Throne. Shouts erupted. "Vanguard, move out! Target: Fort Haight!" "Prepare the siege equipment!" The camp, once a disorganized mess, sprang to life. Soldiers scrambled, helmets in hand, forming ranks.
Warhorses neighed, Trolls jostled wagons, and soldiers dodged the towering Golems. Chaos reigned. Throne watched, unimpressed. Compared to the discipline of the Haligtree Army and the iron will of the Redmane Army, this rabble was pathetic.
They gathered haphazardly, barely forming ranks before heading southeast. Intimidating to some, perhaps—enough to scare off any Tarnished troublemakers. But not him.
Having seen the discipline of the Haligtree Army and the iron-blooded nature of the Redmane Army, Throne would never be impressed by these noobs. He watched them stumble into formation, heading southeast. It might look intimidating, but it was no match for true warriors.
Throne had no interest in the clash of amateurs. His focus remained fixed on the towering Banished Knight as it rose, donned its helmet with deliberate slowness, and strode away. Oleg was on the move. Word from the small golden figure must have reached him, spurring him to investigate. With his strength and standing, traveling alone was more than enough.
Throne's fingers traced the hilt of his sword, lingering there for a long moment before he reached a decision. It had to be him. This was tied to his teacher, after all. He turned abruptly to the knight who had been shadowing him. "Inform His Highness that I wish to guard Summonwater Village."
The knight's gaze was thick with contempt. Running off just as war loomed—how pitiful. It was a shame Godrick had granted this man the freedom to come and go, so long as he remained summonable. "Take this to the garrison commander in Summonwater Village. He'll assign your duties."
The knight handed over a badge, unconcerned with the possibility of Throne fleeing. If he ran, they'd expose his identity to the Tarnished. Plenty would be eager to execute a traitor. Throne accepted it with both hands, tucking it into his belt before joining a northbound supply convoy.
Melina, fresh from her self-imposed isolation, couldn't hold back. "Wait. Why leave so soon?" "I've seen Godrick. Must I stay to watch him besiege the castle? What if he sends me to fill the trenches?" Throne countered, seated on the swaying supply wagon as it rolled north.
"Godrick is strong. I need to act quickly. That hero is my first target." "Oleg? He's not one of Godrick's men. You can't possibly defeat him." Melina caught on fast this time, immediately understanding who he meant. "But he serves Morgott. I can't wait for Godrick's army to slowly take the castle. I'll push from behind—eliminate their experts in the chaos." Melina missed the shift from "him" to "them."
She frowned, overwhelmed. "Push? With what?"
"You're not just dense. You're a little stupid too."
Throne smirked, ignoring her pout as he pulled an emblem from his chest. Sunlight caught it, revealing a blood-red hue. A crown topped the shield crest, a trident at its center—noble, mysterious. He clenched it in his fist. This was his leverage.
Northern Limgrave, outskirts of Summonwater Village. Twilight deepened as a figure emerged from the forest. Light bent unnaturally around him before settling. Gold-threaded robes adorned with the Erdtree's emblem marked him as a priest of the faith. He smoothed his waxed black hair and adjusted a pair of gold-rimmed glasses.
Throne stepped into Summonwater Village without resistance. Once guarded by the Haight family, the place now lay in disarray after their base was stolen. The knights, distracted and demoralized, paid little heed to a Tarnished traitor. After a cursory badge check, they let him pass.
Time had not been kind to Summonwater Village. The place where he and Sellen had once shared memories now lay in ruin—crumbling houses, desolate streets. Throne didn't linger. He cast Unseen Form and slipped past the army's defenses, tight on the perimeter but lax within. No one noticed the man who vanished into the night.
He stripped off the soaked black garments and shrugged into crisp priestly robes. The Erdtree Seal clicked into place. In one fluid motion, the cold executioner vanished, replaced by a gentle, refined clergyman. "Perfect disguise." Throne snapped his fingers, pleased with the transformation. Azure particles flickered in the air as Melina materialized beside him.
She frowned, her brow furrowed in confusion. Her eyes narrowed, searching his face. The unspoken question hung between them: What are you scheming now? He chuckled inwardly. Good thing Melina doesn't hold grudges. Even after I called her stupid.
Throne pushed his glasses up with his middle finger, a sly smirk playing on his lips. "Still haven't figured it out?"
"Are you calling me stupid again?" Her voice was sharp, wary. He laughed, low and deliberate. "Not at all. Limgrave's situation is... complicated. Even if that Highness were to arrive, untangling it would take time."
Melina's tension eased for a moment, but her eyes narrowed again. "Which Highness?"
"My demigod teacher."
"I'll introduce you when there's a chance..." Throne trailed off, his words catching in his throat. A realization struck him, cold and unavoidable.