Blaidd was certain of one thing. Nolan had never forgotten the oath he had sworn to Her Highness.
That alone was enough for him.
As long as they fought for Ranni, they were still brothers.
The bonfire burned steadily, giving off a warm glow.
Its light not only drove away the chill of the night, but also illuminated the outline of the towering walls in the distance.
The full moon hanging high above looked like a silent witness, quietly watching the two of them, who had suddenly become familiar with each other again.
They sat by the Bonfire, gripping strong wine in their hands, drinking freely and talking with great enthusiasm until dawn broke in the east and the first light gradually stained the horizon gold.
The next morning, not long after the Erdtree began to shine, Nolan gathered everyone together and told them about his plans.
At first, everyone was surprised to see Blaidd. No one had expected him to have ties to Caria.
Only Vyke remained perfectly calm. He clearly remembered that when he first met Nolan, Nolan had been wearing a full set of Carian Knight armor.
Lord Nolan truly was a man who upheld righteousness, open and honorable, to the point that he had trusted him that much from their very first meeting.
Vyke was deeply moved for a moment.
Nolan had no idea that his image had grown even taller in the young man's eyes. He simply warned everyone to keep a close watch on Lansseax and not let her run wild in the city.
In the end, he left behind a soul avatar and rode Torrent out through Stormveil's north gate, heading off beneath the radiance of the Erdtree.
…
In the Roundtable Hold at the heart of Leyndell, the innermost chamber was surrounded by layer upon layer of guards.
Church Confessors hidden beneath robes and Leyndell knights clad in golden armor sealed off the magnificent structure like an impenetrable wall.
Even a hero trying to force his way inside would come out as nothing more than a heap of mangled flesh.
At this moment, no matter how exalted their status, the nobles could only stand helplessly below the steps.
Some looked up at the solemn building with reverence, some with deep worry, and others with complicated expressions that were hard to read.
Because not long ago, shocking news had swept through the entire city.
Godrick, scion of gold, was dead.
That once arrogant Demigod had now been slain by a Tarnished.
When they first heard the news, the nobles were all stunned.
On the surface, they acted overjoyed and offered their congratulations to the lords who held the power to decide such matters.
But in truth, every one of them felt as if a heavy stone were pressing on their chest, unable to settle their hearts.
After all, a true Demigod had fallen without warning. That was beyond anything they had imagined.
Until now, as subjects of the Golden Dynasty, none of them had ever truly considered that an immortal Demigod might one day perish.
Now even a supremely exalted Demigod had met a violent end.
So for those bold and lawless Tarnished, would the lives of nobles like them not be even more insignificant?
Would the Tarnished who defeated Godrick choose to join the Roundtable Hold?
And if he did, would the other Tarnished become even more unrestrained because of it?
The more they thought about it, the more uneasy the nobles became.
What they had no shortage of was runes. That undoubtedly made them tempting targets in the eyes of powerful Tarnished.
To such greedy people, they were nothing more than plump lambs waiting for slaughter.
Everyone eagerly hoped that the Lord they had chosen would bring back reassuring news after meeting the Two Fingers.
The turmoil outside could not affect the center of this building in the slightest.
In that spacious, brightly lit room, the lowly Lord sat facing the messenger of the supreme god.
Morgott wore a broad brown cloak, his whole body shrouded in a dim golden shadow.
From the vague outline alone, one could only barely tell that he was tall. Beyond that, no other features could be made out.
This Lord seemed to possess nothing but mystery, yet that towering figure still radiated incomparable kingly authority.
The Two Fingers twitched slightly, as if quietly telling the one before them something.
Standing at the side, the Finger Reader Enia raised the strangely shaped staff in her hand with a focused expression.
In an utterly calm tone, she repeated the mysterious message word for word in human speech.
"Your Highness, the Tarnished has completed his mission and obtained the Great Rune."
"But one is not enough, is it? At least two Great Runes are needed to repair the Elden Ring." Morgott frowned.
He held a Great Rune himself. If that Tarnished rashly came to the Royal Capital to challenge him...
If he truly proved exceptional, sparing his life was not impossible, but Morgott had no intention of going easy on him.
The weak had no right to become Lord.
Even if he were willing to acknowledge a weak Lord, no one else would submit to the rule of a weakling.
If a useless fool really took the throne, it would only mark the beginning of another war.
After thinking for a moment, Morgott continued,
"And I have heard that he still hasn't gone to the Divine Tower, nor is he willing to join the Roundtable Hold."
"He still needs time," Enia said.
"The descendant of sinners has never come into contact with such sacred grace before. The Fingers find that understandable."
"And Lords are proud. Before the Roundtable Hold proves itself, it has no standing to ask for more."
Morgott frowned the moment he heard that, finding it rather strange.
If a Tarnished longed for power, he should have gone to the Divine Tower at once to reclaim the blessing and restore the Great Rune's radiance.
If the power of a Great Rune could be obtained without going to the Divine Tower, then other possibilities had to be considered.
And yet, although Nolan Bethel had not gone to the Divine Tower, judging from everything he had done, it was difficult to say that he harbored any intention of rebelling against the Golden Dynasty.
After all, that man was so high-profile, completely different from the sinister wraiths lurking in darkness and plotting to overturn the dynasty.
Morgott offered no further comment on the matter. Even if he wished to ease the burden on the Two Fingers now, there was nothing he could do.
That Tarnished had already spread his wings and built up his power, while Margit, his avatar, was leading the golden host straight toward Mt. Gelmir.
Morgott had very few troops left in hand. How could he possibly spare the strength to cross Liurnia and march on Limgrave?
"As long as the Tarnished does not go to the Divine Tower, the power of the Great Rune cannot be used. We may as well wait patiently. The answer will reveal itself sooner or later."
That was what Enia said, yet deep down she had the faint sense that the Fingers had not finished speaking, as if they too were quietly worried about something.
Morgott was not a Finger Reader, so he could not see anything unusual in the Two Fingers.
But as the protector of the Golden Dynasty chosen by the people, Morgott had never forgotten his duty. He knew exactly what he was supposed to do.