After taking the Fire Monks under his wing, Gawain led the massive group back toward his territory. With this, the conditions he had planned for managing the Scarlet Rot in Caelid were finally coming together.
Once Iji arrived, he could essentially begin the next phase of his operations. The only thing that made him a bit uneasy was the mental state of these Fire Monks; they all seemed to harbor a touch of fanaticism. It was likely that guarding the flame for so long had caused some psychological instability.
A prime example was Gerry, the Fire Prelate. The fire-basket on his head spewed flames the entire way. If Gawain remembered correctly, this was a phenomenon that only occurred when one's "pious heart" reached its zenith. Under normal circumstances, it should have been nearly impossible to replicate.
Still, it wasn't a bad thing. It seemed the power of the First Flame had truly overwhelmed the Prelate. At the very least, Gawain didn't have to worry about them being seduced by some other power any time soon.
Gerry walked along, touching the crown of his head with a prayerful expression, trying to comprehend this magnificent power through the same methods he had once used to understand the Fell God. He knew that what he possessed now was but a fraction of the First Flame's true potential; he had a long road of exploration ahead of him before he could truly touch that ultimate power.
The monks surrounding him followed his orders as usual—even going so far as to discard their armor engraved with the image of the Fell God—but since they hadn't experienced the power personally, they still harbored some private doubts about their leader's decision.
The monks who had left the mountaintops were currently split into three groups. One group had followed Rykard to Volcano Manor and fought in the war against Leyndell. Another small group had gone to Caelid, where it was said they encountered some other fiery power and changed their faith.
The last group consisted of those scattered around Liurnia under the pretense of hunting the thief, Adan. Now, their own Prelate had inexplicably been "swayed" by an outsider into changing his faith. While the fire the stranger used was undeniably potent, could it truly compare to the power capable of burning the Erdtree?
"Prelate Gerry, have you truly chosen to accept his flame?"
"Naturally. You haven't experienced it for yourselves, so you cannot comprehend the majesty of the First Flame."
Gerry removed his scorched helmet, revealing the rounded face of a middle-aged man. Like the other monks, he had decided to adopt a new image to welcome his new life; he needed to make a clean break from the past.
The blessing of the Golden Order's grace had long since faded from his pupils during his time as a Watcher, and he had now discarded the hue representing the Fell God. All that remained were black pupils—a return to his original state. He believed that only by starting from scratch could he truly begin to understand the First Flame.
As Gawain had told him, the fire within his body currently could only be called an "Ember." There was still a long way to go before the true First Flame could be rekindled in the Lands Between. Perhaps it would require a staggering amount of souls, or maybe an alternative solution found among the stars. Regardless, he was more than willing to contribute his strength to this grand endeavor.
"But if the other Prelates find out, how do we explain this? There are other camps in Liurnia besides ours. Or rather..."
"Hmph. I will give them a chance to embrace the great First Flame," Gerry grunted. "If they refuse, then they are nothing but heretics who deserve execution. Compared to the First Flame, all other fires are minuscule. There can only be one sun in the Lands Between, and it will not be a Miquella's Sun, the Fell God, or the Frenzied Flame. Do you understand?"
The surrounding monks found his words a bit extreme, but they ultimately decided to stick with their leader. As for their former comrades? Only those who worshipped the same thing could be called "comrades." Anyone who dared to contest the definition of Fire was a heretic in a life-or-death struggle.
While Gawain was contemplating future arrangements, he heard a call from behind. Turning around, he saw Latenna. She had caught up, bringing the Albinaurics—young and old—from the village with her.
He looked up at the sky. He had spent less than half a day with the Fire Monks before leaving, yet this group of Albinaurics had managed to pack up and move out in that short time? Their initiative was almost absurd.
Latenna was riding the old white wolf that Elder Albus usually used. Though the beast looked aged, its speed was still impressive.
"I finally caught up to you," Latenna panted. "The Elder and the others are just behind. We've evacuated the entire village."
"That's much faster than I expected. How did you find me so quickly?"
Latenna pointed toward a spot in the distance where thick smoke was still rising—the ruins of the Evergaol that had held Adan.
"We saw the obvious signs of battle right after leaving the village. We knew it had to be you, so we decided to try our luck. As it turned out, we caught up. We also ran into Master Iji; he seemed to be heading toward the Stormveil defensive line as well, which slowed us down a bit, otherwise we would have found you sooner."
"Iji?! You know him?"
Latenna blinked, surprised that Gawain also knew Iji. Then she noticed the weapon strapped to his back, which bore the emblem of the Carian Royal Family. It made sense now.
"Of course. Master Iji is a blacksmith of the Carian Royals. He met our Elder several times long ago. The Carian family is one of the few factions that has ever been friendly to us Albinaurics. When our kin encountered Master Iji, he would sometimes fix our weapons for us. However, once the war grew too fierce, we rarely saw him. I didn't expect to meet him again now. By the way... who are these people following you?"
"Uh, that's a long story. Take me to see Iji first. Why is he pulling a carriage?"
Gawain saw a tall figure in the distance. Iji was slowly pulling a carriage laden with supplies, performing a task usually reserved for his "troll kin" who roamed Stormhill. The only difference was that Iji probably hadn't suffered the indignity of having his chest pierced like his brethren.
After telling the Fire Monks to wait, Gawain rode Torrent over to Iji. The giant was in the lead, followed by the Albinaurics riding their wolves. The carriage was packed with the same equipment Gawain had seen at the roadside forge. Albus was sitting comfortably atop the cart; no wonder he had been able to lend his wolf to Latenna.
"Iji, you got here fast! You didn't really need to bring all this. If you need anything, I can have it made for you in the city."
"Haha, I appreciate the offer," Iji chuckled. "But I've grown accustomed to these tools. Having them with me allows me to get straight to work. Who are the people ahead?"
"Those are Fire Monks. They're working for me now. Their skills are perfect for dealing with the Scarlet Rot in Caelid."
"I see. If it is your choice, then I have no objections."
Iji looked at the monks thoughtfully. What on earth happened to make a bunch of religious zealots discard their 'Fell God' armor? The only possibility was that they had found something even more worthy of their fanatical devotion. He glanced at Gawain but said nothing, simply continuing to pull his carriage forward.
He expected to reach Stormveil before nightfall. He wanted to start his work as soon as possible; being able to assist Jerren in some capacity was enough for him.
And so, a motley crew consisting of Master Iji of Caria, the first-generation Albinaurics, and the Fire Monks from the mountaintops converged into a grand procession numbering several hundred.
The sentries at Stormveil spotted the crowd from a distance. Thinking a reckless force from Liurnia was launching an invasion, they were prepared to launch a preemptive strike. Fortunately, someone had the presence of mind to notice their King was leading the group. Otherwise, the "five-pronged attack on the Aeonia Swamp" might have turned into a friendly-fire disaster.
"Father, are the sentries sure? He said he was going to meet an ally of the Carians. Where did several hundred people come from?"
Irina was stunned when she heard the news.
"Who knows? The sentries say most of them are Albinaurics, plus another group of strangers. Do you want to go see for yourself?"
"Very well. I'll leave the matters here to you, Father. I'll be back shortly."
Irina dropped what she was doing and hurried out of the room toward the Lake-Facing Cliffs. Edgar was left behind, sighing at the mountain of paperwork on his desk. He actually missed the days at Castle Morne; back then, he didn't have nearly this much work to do.
Standing at the edge of the cliff, Irina used a telescope to spot the dark mass of people in the distance. While she couldn't fathom how it had come to this, seeing her beloved return was enough to make her happy.
Gawain passed the church where Thops had once stayed and saw Irina waiting for him. A smile spread across his face; to him, there was no greater happiness than having someone waiting to welcome him home.
The only thing he found slightly "meta" was that the spot Irina was standing was exactly where one would normally first encounter Hyetta, the Frenzied Flame Maiden. However, since the Frenzied Flame cultists and their influence had been purged from Limgrave, that future would never come to pass. He had even destroyed the parasite within her body that would have become Hyetta. He just didn't know where Shabriri was hiding; he'd have to deal with that guy sooner or later.
He waved to Irina, and she ran over to take his hand, gripping it tightly.
Irina first noticed the exquisite greatsword on Gawain's back. During his absence, she had been studying magic under the sorcerers in the city, so she had gained some discernment. This greatsword looked as though it could rival the Grafted Blade Greatsword her family had once treasured. It was clearly a Carian artifact. If the sword was here, it meant the trip had been incredibly fruitful.
"Let me introduce you. This troll is Master Iji. He is a blacksmith of the Carian Royal Family and a friend of Castellan Jerren. He's here to help forge weapons to combat the Scarlet Rot."
"It is an honor, Master Iji," Irina said politely. "Master Sellen has spoken of you. A space in the city's forge has already been prepared for you. We appreciate your hard work."
After greeting Iji, her gaze shifted to Latenna. Her hand tightened slightly on Gawain's. A woman's intuition told her that the way the archer looked at Gawain wasn't entirely professional. It reminded her of how she had looked at him after he saved her in the wilderness.
"Uh, this is Latenna. As you can see, she's an Albinauric. The people behind her are her kin. I won't go into the details, but their home was no longer safe, so I told them to move to Stormveil. They need a safe place to take refuge."
Latenna looked at Irina. She had observed how Irina spoke with Iji and reached her own conclusion: this was likely the "ruler" Gawain had mentioned earlier. For some reason, the woman's gaze felt a bit... pointed, which made Latenna nervous. Her entire village's safety was on the line here. But then, Irina stepped forward and patted Latenna on the shoulder, seemingly to reassure her.
"Do not worry. Stormveil is a city protected by the storm. You will be very safe here. Settle in and do not be afraid."
"Thank you... for taking us in."
Irina didn't dwell on the matter; she had absolute confidence that no Albinauric newcomer was going to replace her.
The villagers were pitiable for having been driven from their homes. For tonight, they would be housed in an open area within the castle; tomorrow, she would need to plan a new settlement on the outskirts. After all, Albinaurics were somewhat unique, and housing them directly with ordinary citizens might lead to friction.
Finally, she turned her focus to the Fire Monks. She couldn't place their origin, but their leader had a distinct aura—he reminded her of the Golden Missionaries she had seen visiting Castle Morne when she was a child.
Gawain didn't announce their true identity out loud, given their sensitive nature. Instead, he whispered the day's events into Irina's ear.
Irina's expression turned odd for a moment, but she eventually accepted the explanation. Regardless of their past, as long as they could be sent to the border to help push back the Scarlet Rot, it was fine.
"It's getting late. Let's head into the city first. I'll need to discuss with my father how to settle so many people."
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Elden Ring: In the Name of Ash (189 chapter - Ongoing)
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