Chapter Text
The road to the Cathedral of the Deep was long and treacherous. On his journey to the Way of the White’s corrupted temple Siegward had been hounded by undead dogs, clawed at by enormous crabs and petrified by a basilisk. Were he not a Champion of Ash the onion knight would have been permanently dead on seventeen occasions. It was only his resolute will and strong sword arm that ensured the monsters of Lothric were no match for Siegward of Catarina.
The sun hung still in the sky as always, a symptom of the fire’s fading. Every-so-often Siegward heard the mutterings and laments of the apostles of the Deep, reciting the dark miracles of self immolation. His armoured boots scraped on uneven brickwork as he trudged along, giving a wide berth to exploding apostles and their carnivorous canine companions. Eventually he reached a small chapel at a bend in the road. The perfect place for a quick respite. Opening the chapel's large wooden doors took some effort, the rusted hinges making a hideous groan. With his sword in hand Siegward stepped through the chapel’s narthex and into the main hall.
In its prime the chapel could have sat fifty or more. Siegward suspected that if anyone tried to sit in them now the pews would crumble immediately. At the back of the chapel, facing a hypothetical audience, was a strange relief depicting the foul ministers of the Deep. Something, perhaps a statue, lurked behind the altar. Where there should have been a lectern, a bonfire crackled. It was there that Siegward saw her for the first time: a fox with a magnificently bushy tail, examining the coiled sword at the centre of the bonfire with some curiosity. A large sack lay by the fox’s feet. Siegward cleared his throat and readied his shield. It turned to face him so quickly that he could almost hear the air snap. The fox flicked its eyes towards his helmet and blinked as if it were taken aback. Its tail split into two bushy tails, then two into four, four into eight. The ninth tail did not emerge from any other, and instead simply appeared without any ceremony at all. The next moment where there had been a fox instead sat a woman, kneeling by the bonfire.
Perhaps woman was an inaccurate descriptor for such a creature. Siegward had never seen anything like her in all of his life, or even unlife. The woman boasted nine bushy tails that fanned out behind her back like a peacock’s. She wore some kind of white cloth robe beneath what he could only call a beautiful blue apron covered in foreign script. Her hat resembled a white fool’s cap, though Siegward suspected that the similarities were a result of the cap’s horns being filled by real ears rather than stuffed fabric. If he were to brush aside the hair covering where a human’s ears would be, would he only find smooth skin? She was the most beautiful woman Siegward had ever met. He knew what to do.
“Greetings my dear lady,” Siegward said, “I am Siegward, of the knights of Catarina. May I sit by the fire? I have had the most dreadful journey.” Siegward chuckled as merrily as he dared. This stranger unnerved him. Her eyes held little in the way of human warmth.
The woman’s expression showed no deviation as she replied. “Hail fellow. Well met. I am Yakumo Ran, servant to a master in a land far from here. You may rest beside the bonfire if you wish.”
Despite his misgivings Siegward sat by the bonfire. His cross-legged posture seemed ungainly in comparison to the way that Ran held herself. She watched as he unclasped his estus flask and scooped liquid flame from the where the coiled sword pierced bones. Ran’s attention intensified slightly when he took out a second bottle - the blue ashen estus flask and scooped flame with it too.
“You are a champion of ash?”
Siegward nodded emphatically. “Yes, Lady Ran I am. I am on an important quest.”
“I see.”
The two of them sat in silence for a while, the only sound in the chapel that of the crackling flames and the distant echoes of hollowed acolytes’ prayers. Eventually the silence became too much for Siegward to bear.
“If I may be so bold, what of you Lady Ran? What brings you from your distant land to a decrepit kingdom like Lothric?” Siegward asked.
“Is the whole world not decrepit? Is that not why you are here, Champion of Ash? A symptom of a dying age?”
“Too true,” Siegward agreed. He chuckled to lighten the mood. The knight rummaged through his item box until he found a flagon of his own brew. “Would you care for a drink, Lady Ran? I must warn you that it is made with a recipe of my own genius, and very strong.” Yakumo Ran eyed the flagon carefully. Siegward took a sip to show the lack of poison before handing it to her. Too late he remembered its effect on the living. “Actuall-” His words were caught in his throat as Yakumo took an elegant yet hearty swig of the concoction.
The fox woman spluttered as the drink burned her throat, surprised for the first time. After a few coughs she wiped her mouth and took another, smaller sip. Yakumo Ran considered the palette and said, “this is your own creation? I did not expect hops to burn my throat so strongly. What did you add? Pine resin?”
Siegward was glad that his onion-shaped helmet hid the relief on his face. “A true brewer never reveals his secrets… though if you guess correctly, I will tell you. On my honour as a knight. Hahaha.”
“Mossfruit? When treated correctly the acidity can burn quite severely.”
Siegward denied the guess and took a large gulp from his flagon. The siegbrau burned its way down his throat, really the only thing an undead could taste, and he sighed as it flowed down his body and warmed his stomach. Ran narrowed her eyes at the firey vapours that spilled out of his mouth on the exhale.
“You imbued your hops with estus?”
The onion knight laughed in delight. “Very sharp of you, Lady Ran. During my time as an undead I found that food began to lack a certain… flavour, so I had to use my head to come up with a way to enjoy the simpler pleasures of life, as it were.” Siegward sipped his brau again before handing it to the fox woman who after smelling it to re-examine the scent of Flame took another sip. “Becoming a Champion of Ash has changed my palette very little. Also, drinking it reminds me of my dear home in Catarina.”
“It certainly produces a unique sensation.”
The fox’s tails waved, reminding Siegward once again of the woman’s inhumanity. “What do you know of the Cathedral of the Deep?” she asked.
“Hmm…” Siegward collected his thoughts. What a non-sequitur. “The cathedral of the deep was once a symbol of the Way of the White. They worshipped Lord Gwyn. Until Aldritch came along, anyway. I would be careful if I were you. Cannibals, the lot of them. They eat children you know.”
The thought of cannibalism didn’t seem to particularly phase the fox. The human parts of her - face, hands, eyes remained placid yet her tails had the tension of an animal about to pounce. Siegward’s hand drifted to the spiked shield on his belt. “And what of Rosaria? Her fingers are fond of this place, or so I hear.”
In that light the chapel seemed much more menacing. Siegward cast his eyes around the room suspiciously, half expecting Yellowfinger Heysel’s red phantom to walk out from behind a pillar to rip his tongue from his head. When nothing emerged Siegward let the tension drain away from his shoulders and shaking hands. “Rosaria’s fingers, here? I’d have expected some place more ominous than… oh of course.” Siegward rose to his feet and peered behind the altar. A statue of a hooded woman with her face cradled in her hand and sat on a plinth hid behind the altar. “Is this Lady Rosaria? Quite humble for a deity. Can’t even see her face.”
“Perhaps because her domain lies in changing faces, her own face must be unknown,” Ran suggested. It seemed to Siegward less of an assertion and more of a fact. The inhuman intelligence that lay behind the fox’s eyes had arrived at the conclusion long ago and Siegward was only beginning to catch up. “I suspect that her physical form rests somewhere in this cathedral. Would you have any idea where a minor goddess might hide in a cathedral this size?”
“In the rafters, or the sewers?” He suggested.
“Perhaps.”
The two, fox and knight, sat in the dilapidated chapel with its inexplicably lit candles and mural of an inhuman woman. Nothing changed. Lothric, its gathered locations and perhaps the entire world had slowed to a crawl as the flame faded. Yet another reason why Siegward should fulfill his promise.
“Perhaps we should play a game, to break up the monotony?” he suggested. He searched his item box for cards or dice and found none. “Blast. Perhaps word chain?”
“Word chain?”
“I start with a word, and then you pick a word that starts with the letter that mine ended. Then I do the same for your word.”
Ran nodded. “I know it as shiritori. Very well…” she eyed Siegward thoughtfully, glancing at the handle of the zweihander on his back. “Sword.”
“Duty.”
“Quite the model of a knight… Yeomen.” Ran’s tone was once again so even that Siegward could not tell whether he was being insulted or not.
“You flatter me, Lady Ran… Nougat.”
“Nougat? An unusual choice. Thrall.”
“Laugh.”
“Heartbreak.”
“That is an easy one! Knight.”
“Is that so? I was not aware that ‘word-chain was a competition. So be it. I was never one to turn away from a challenge. Kylix.”
Siegward raised an eyebrow before remembering that his helmet would hide such human expressions. “Kylix? I have never heard of such a thing.”
“A drinking cup with two handles.”
The onion knight nodded, letting the motion drive his gaze to the floor as he thought. “It’s all just a bit of fun… hmmm… xenial.”
The word chain continued for a while. While it wasn’t the most difficult game to play, Siegward began to feel a growing fondness for the mysterious fox woman. While she obviously wasn’t human she seemed the good sort. If he had not had his duties to attend to he would have liked to stay as long as he could, at this roadside chapel within spitting distance of the corrupted deacons.
“Giant.”
Siegward’s consciousness bolted into full alertness. “...ugh?”
“Giant.” Ran’s expression remained cold, the tails at her back swishing back and forth.
Siegward laughed hollowly. “I heard you the first time. The word has some… meaning for me.”
The fox looked completely unsurprised. Had that been her game all along? No, Siegward had chosen the game. “You seek the death of Yhorm the giant, the Lord of Cinder. Am I correct?”
Siegward spluttered. “His death? No! Yes.” Indignation fading, the onion knight took another sip of siegbrau. He let the estus burn his throat. “I am fulfilling a promise I made to that dear friend of mine. To fulfill his duty.”
“Honourable, Sir Knight.”
“Thank you.” Siegward stood up again. The rest by the bonfire had done little to refresh his spirits, but staying longer would no doubt add to the mix of nerves and grief that had hovered over the entire conversation. “I will be on my way now.” The onion knight made to leave and jumped in fright as his armoured boot hit something soft and squishy. A bag. Why hadn’t he seen it before? Body sized, perhaps breathing.
“May I make a request, first?” The fox’s voice was imbued with dark intent. Siegward’s blood roared in his ears. He slid his left hand into the grip of his spiked shield and gripped the handle of his zweihander in his right.
“Of course, Lady Ran.”
“Your tongue, if you please.”
Siegward woke up at the bonfire some time later, his healed mouth throbbing in pain from the memories of the inhumanly strong woman wrenching his helmet off and tearing out his tongue.
The Onion Knight scrambled to his feet and made to draw his sword, only he couldn’t. His zweihander that had been a reliable companion on this long journey was missing. Yakumo Ran had stolen it.