Chapter Text
“So, you claim to have lost command of your magical abilities? Fascinating.”
Hubert nodded, wiping blood off his face with a cloth Sellen handed him. He watched as the sorceress tapped her finger against the chin of her large, stone mask, humming in thought, “What capabilities did you possess before this loss?”
“Before, I was capable of destroying entire battalions,” Hubert kept his response simple. He did not know the magic this world possessed. “Now, I can only cast a spell the size of a pebble.”
“Demonstrate.”
Sheepishly, Hubert lifted the staff, waved it, and let the small glintstone pebble fly into the cellar wall. It dented a brick and scared a spider.
“A downgrade, certainly. And you beat the beast outside the door with just that and a dulled blade?”
Hubert nodded. It had been a miserable encounter. After paying a hefty sum of runes for information on this sorceress, Hubert traveled to the Waypoint Ruins, shocked to discover a large, maddened beast before the door. Said beast gave Hubert a quick lesson in what having every bone in your body smashed felt like.
Waking the next day, nary a bruise or ache, Hubert returned, stood his ground and studied the beast’s movements. Unsurprisingly, there was no pattern. That trip, Hubert leaned what having his skull smashed felt like. He also realized the pumpkin shaped helm it wore blinded it, so it must be reacting to sound.
His third encounter was a success. It took an hour, but by tricking its hearing, Hubert was able to use his paltry pebbles and blunted blade to slay it.
The sorceress pondered Hubert’s story, “You do not lack for patience or drive. If you wish to be my apprentice, so be it. But one must choose their masters wisely. I was expelled from the academy as a reviled apostate. Do you still wish to work with me?”
“I would choose no other.” Apostate or no, he’d have to work with her. Sellen was the only sorceress he’d met and he doubted he’d met another soon.
“Well, you are a piece of work. Very well, you are now my protégé in glintstone sorcery. But I refuse to coddle.”
“Likewise, I refuse to be coddled.”
“Excellent. Based on my observations of your spell, I have an idea of where to begin.”
Sellen’s lessons were slow and methodical. Normally, Hubert had patience in abundance, but he kept resisting the urge to beg her to speed ahead. His magic was not the only thing he lost.
Hubert had hoped this apprenticeship would give him shelter. When he asked Sellen, she gave him her inscrutable stone masked stare, then gestured to the room, “My apprentice, there is barely room for I or my scrolls, let alone you.”
He resigned himself to continue staying in the ruined church of Elleh and make the obnoxious trek to the Waypoint Ruins from there. The first few days, it was fine. The problem was on the fifth day, when he had the unending joy of having his head cleaved off by a horse mounted warrior.
At this rate, Hubert was considering making a list of all the ways he died. For educational purposes.
The next day, Sellen greeted him with crossed arms, head cocked to the side, “My apprentice. Were I a more foolish woman, I’d have wasted yesterday waiting for you.”
“Apologies, as I was making the journey from-“
“Journey? Are you not a tarnished and is there not a site of grace outside my door?”
“A site of grace?”
He wondered if she rolled her eyes under her mask. Sellen ushered him out of the room into the larger basement, “I do not know the intricacies of the Golden Order as I do the art of Glintstone. This I’ve heard from the few tarnished I’ve met. You see that sliver of golden light?”
Hubert nodded. It was dangling in the air like a rip in a tapestry, golden rays of light arcing out of it like a comforting embrace. During his brief time here he’d seen several of these. Despite knowing he would wake up the next day if he died, he hadn’t been too keen to see if these rays of light were going to kill him in some new, painful way.
“Reach out to it.”
Hubert did as instructed. The golden rays retracted and the sliver of gold filled the room with a soft glow. As he pulled his hand away, he felt a warm sensation, like a hug that made him feel at peace.
“Incredible,” he murmured.
“Allegedly, you can warp from site to site. From now on, I expect you to use these sites to come here and avoid missing further lessons. Now, back inside. Today, we learn of the amber of the cosmos.”
The lesson was fascinating. Hubert took meticulous notes. After Sellen dismissed him for the day Hubert thought back to the various sites of grace he’d seen around Limgrave. He could make a network of them, gather information on who he needed to find. It even meant that eventually, he may not have to sacrifice his lessons to uphold his duty. Afterall, he needed to become strong again to survive.
He spent the rest of his day poking at the sites of grace he remembered seeing. Each time he touched one, he felt that warm glow of safety again.
One site of grace particularly fascinated him. By the camp outside the first gate to Stormvale, the grace had a ray of light protruding from it, pointing to the castle. Positioning himself so Godrick’s soldiers wouldn’t see him, Hubert watched the golden ray of light dance. He was so entranced, he didn’t notice the woman who appeared before him.
“Greetings, traveler from beyond the fog.”
Hubert practically leapt. He subtly pulled his knife from its sheath, cautiously watching the hooded woman. She removed her hood, revealing one eye, the other strangely tattooed over and knelt before him, “I am Melina. I am here to offer you an accord.”
“What kind of accord?”
She tilted her head curiously. Hubert followed her gaze. She was watching the hand he was hiding his knife in, “I mean you no harm traveler. Simply an offer of aid for I see you are maidenless.”
Hubert wanted to correct her. He wasn’t maidenless. He was just temporarily separated from her, as were most his allies. Of course, no stranger needed that information and how could she possibly know his situation? “Heh, it is that obvious?”
“Any maidened tarnished is oft accompanied by their Finger Maiden, unless some foul fate has befallen her. You clearly, are alone. I offer to play the role of maiden, to aid you in your search for the Elden Ring.”
“You misunderstand, I am not here for the Elden Ring.”
“To cross the fog is a harrowing journey. Something important must have brought you here.”
“Something important did, yes.”
Melina gazed at him. It felt like she was trying to read him the same way he was trying to read her. Both were failing at it. Miserably.
“Perhaps traveler, our paths may yet align.”
“I doubt it.”
“You do not know my path.”
“It is clear to me you are seeking some Elden Lord. That is not my part to play.”
“That is not what I seek.”
“Evidently, this is not out of the kindness of your heart, though I do not doubt you are a kind soul. You want something.”
“Indeed. I need only be taken to the foot of the Erdtree.”
Hubert looked at the glowing tree in the distance. It radiated the same glow as the site of grace. He had so many questions about it, but he had a duty that outweighed his curiosity.
“I could consider this, as you call it, accord. But why me, out of all the Tarnished who came here with me?”
Melina looked away a moment, “Torrent, the spectral steed, has chosen you. He was… insistent. It seemed only right, to honor his wishes. He had no interest in another.”
Why a horse had chosen him, he couldn’t say. Most horses hated him. But he could do much with that information. “I fail to see what this does for me, but I can consider it, if this Torrent seems so insistent. May we meet again Lady Melina?”
She nodded, “When you need me next, I shall be at any site of grace. I beg you reconsider, even if your journey is not that of Elden Lord.”
“Master Sellen, a word?”
“Yes my apprentice?” Sellen looked up from her note taking, as always, utterly inscrutable under that mask.
“I worry about my progress.”
She clicked her tongue, “As I have said, I will not coddle, yet… it is clear to me you were once a talented magic user. Your current level is, passable.”
“I agree it is passable and I could be much improved. I have a proposal to aid my studies.”
Sellen set her writing aside and motioned for him to speak. Hubert cleared his throat, “When I was young, my initial apprenticeship contained independent and guided studies.”
“You have been provided with both.”
“You have, Master Sellen, but my concern lies with the materials here. They are limited, and at a level meant for a master, not a pupil. As part of my independent study, with my access to sites of grace, I propose I visit locations in the Lands Between that would contain scrolls and literature to expand my knowledge.”
Sellen hummed in response, resting her hand on her mask’s chin. Normally, Hubert hated when he could not read people; his position in Adrestia depended on reading intentions. But in Sellen, it was a quality he admired, even if it annoyed him at times. “I do not disagree.”
“But you don’t agree.”
She sighed, “The Lands Between are dangerous. Powerful entities protect even the most basic of knowledge. I heard you causing a racket and getting clobbered to death outside my door for three days. The things out there would kill you far more brutally.”
Despite having sworn to lay down his life for a cause, the thought of dying didn’t thrill Hubert. But it was a necessary part of his duty, even if it was painful. Or annoying. “But I am back. And returned again and again. The battlefield has much to teach.” Hubert bowed, with a hand resting on his chest, “I humbly request your approval.”
Sellen stood up, shaking her head, “Tch, you are overly formal. Should this apprenticeship continue Jon, you will need some level of casualness.”
“Jon?”
“Didn’t you say that was your name?”
“You never asked my name. It is Hubert.”
“Hubert? Gods that is a horrible name.”
Hubert sucked in a sharp breath, failing to mask the sting of the remark. It was a family name.
Sellen crossed her arms and sighed, “I approve, Hubert. But come to me every third day, so I know you are not dead in some sorcerer’s basement.”
“Melina, I have a thought, regarding your accord.”
Hubert stood in the Church of Elleh, watching over the site of grace. Like Sellen, he didn’t waste a moment as Melina began to appear. She was already kneeling, ready to hear Hubert’s thoughts. He didn’t join her on the ground.
“I fear I do not benefit from the arrangement the way you do,” he said, placing his hands behind his back.
“What I offer is exchange runes for strength traveler. An opportunity many maidenless year for.”
“Many maidenless seeking the Elden Ring. Which I do not. I would like to propose something. I will detour from my journey to take you to the Erdtree, if you help with mine.”
Melina stood up, lifting her head upward to make eye contact with Hubert. “If you do not seek the Elden Ring, what do you seek?”
“I am searching for someone in the Lands Between. Her name is Edelgard von Hresvelg. I am her retainer. We and our allies were all separated upon arrival. I know nothing about what lies beyond Limgrave, but I sense you know much.”
“I do. But not of the kind of knowledge you seek. To find someone in this place is… difficult.”
“You did not strike me as someone not up to the challenge. Clearly, you can easily move between sites of grace. But if you are unwilling to make this deal beneficial to both parties, I suppose it isn’t worth my going out of my way. Torrent will just have to be less insistent.”
Hubert stepped closer to her, inclining his head as if commanding her to speak. She held her gaze not blinking as she replied, “Torrent told me your measure. Rarely do I doubt him.”
“Do you doubt him now?” He smiled, playing with her. She did not take his bait.
“I know of a place where Tarnished gather. If she is not found there, another tarnished may know of her. The Roundtable Hold, clandestine headquarters of the two fingers. Gathering place of those who seek the Elden Ring.”
“Excellent, how does one get there?”
“It is no physical place. You need guidance to get there.”
“Melina,” Hubert gave his formal bow, “I accept your accord. After I find Lady Edelgard, I shall take you, to the foot of the Erdtree.”
Melina bowed in return and handed him a delicate golden ring, carved to be a whistle. “This will summon the spectral steed Torrent. Tend him well.”
Hubert took the ring and slipped in on his pointer finger, over his glove. “Very well, to work.”