Lucian gave Torrent a light pat, a sudden thought flashing through his mind.
Which faction in the Lands Between could possibly field so many strong Tarnished?
Of course, it could only be Godfrey's army.
After all, the Tarnished first came into being when Godfrey's warriors were stripped of Grace. These men had once followed him through countless campaigns, carving their way to victory across bloody battlefields. Godfrey's host had fought nearly every corner of the Lands Between—
From the War against the Giants, to the struggle with the Storm King. From the snowbound peaks to the plains of Limgrave.
Their endless battles had forged the foundation of the Golden Lineage itself. It was only natural that they were both powerful and disciplined.
And when Grace was stripped away, the vast majority of them had been banished from the Lands Between alongside Godfrey.
Lucian turned over the thought of that group's origins.
That they were Godfrey's men was beyond question. But there was a difference between former soldiers of Godfrey, and his present followers.
He recalled a certain line from the description of the Rusted Anchor:
While the Tarnished left the Lands Between with their Lord, one boat alone was said to have been left behind. The Tarnished aboard it never left.
Could those men have been from that ship?
Lucian quickly dismissed the idea. The timeline didn't match.
The closest contemporaries would have been the Old Roundtable's generation. If those Tarnished had truly lingered since then, they would not have waited until now to reveal themselves.
That meant only one thing—They had recently returned from beyond the Lands Between.
When Godfrey was cast out, he had not forbidden the Tarnished from choosing their own path. And so, outside the Lands Between, the Tarnished had scattered far and wide.
Some had built vast lineages, like the House of Hoslow. Some had even ascended to royalty, as with the family of Roderika. Even the Two Fingers' Conspectus had formed their own power abroad.
Some struck out alone. Others had never abandoned Godfrey, fighting at his side even in exile.
This group, it seemed, were among the latter.
In the game's opening cinematic, Godfrey is shown slain beyond the Lands Between. If Grace had now restored him to life, what would he do?
Lucian doubted Godfrey would forgive and forget, simply strolling back into the Lands Between with a smile.
Godfrey was the First Elden Lord—the Warrior King whose lust for battle knew no end. Even burdened by Serosh, the Beast Regent who tempered his fury, Godfrey would surely throw himself into ceaseless wars across the wilds.
Even if not for revenge, he would seek battle for its own sake. And he would no doubt challenge those who had once slain him.
No matter how they had killed him before—whether by numbers, ambush, or trickery, this time Godfrey would force them to try again, and with his reborn might, crush them head-on.
That was Godfrey's path to kingship: Strength is the right to rule.
To carve a new dominion in the Badlands, and then march back to the Lands Between with his Tarnished and the tribes he had conquered at his side, surely that was the best strategy.
Lucian himself would have chosen no differently. Gather one's former Tarnished followers. Conquer the barbarian tribes.
Even if some Tarnished were lost in the wars, the strength of those tribes would more than make up for it. None knew better than Godfrey how fierce those people could be—he had fallen there once himself.
And the greater the realm he claimed, the greater his renown. The more Tarnished would hear of his return and rally to his banner.
With that, Godfrey could swiftly raise a mighty army. By the time he re-entered the Lands Between, he would need only to march forward in triumph, manpower ready to seize every hold.
Yes. Godfrey must already have secured the Badlands, if he could send a vanguard into the Lands Between. He was preparing his return.
That group of Tarnished moving north could only be headed for the Altus Plateau, and from there, to Leyndell.
With Godfrey's prestige, all they needed to do was declare their identity upon the Plateau, and they would be welcomed into the capital.
No doubt their task was to deliver word of Godfrey's return.
Whichever way Lucian looked at it, the situation did not favor him.
If Morgott learned that his father had returned, he would surely yield power to him.
And then—of all who could still contest the title of Elden Lord, only Lucian would remain.
Lucian frowned, eyes narrowing toward the Erdtree.
Should he move to eliminate that vanguard?
He considered it, then shook his head.
They were already too far ahead. Even sending men in force across Caria's vast lands would accomplish nothing.
More importantly, it wasn't necessary.
Even if the vanguard was wiped out, it would not halt Godfrey's return. Their message would only affect how Leyndell dealt with Lucian.
The true question was when Godfrey and his army would reappear.
But one way or another, if Lucian wished to be Elden Lord, his path would inevitably cross Godfrey's.
At the thought, clarity struck him.
Yes. What of it, if Godfrey returns?
Lucian was fated to defeat them all, and claim the title of Elden Lord.
The only question was in what order.
With that, he set aside thoughts of Godfrey and his Tarnished.
No matter, he would face them when the time came.
What mattered more was the difference between victory and pyrrhic victory. He could not allow Stormveil to be ruined again.
And so, standing at the gates of Stormveil, Lucian resolved to inspect its defenses.
…
But before long, he abandoned the task.
He was no tactician, no master of fortifications. After staring for some time and finding nothing to improve, he decided he had better not play the outsider telling soldiers their craft.
Better that, than making a fool of himself with suggestions like "move the ballista five centimeters to the left."
Lucian returned into Stormveil, bringing Selyra with him to meet his trusted lieutenants.
He intended, in time, to recover the Black Knife Assassins still in hiding. Selyra would manage them. Any future assassins trained would also fall under her care, to handle the shadowed work.
Seated upon his throne, Lucian summoned stormhawks, bidding them fetch his chosen men.
One by one they came.
The first were Redd and Andre, newly freed from patrol duty now that the Night's Cavalry no longer prowled Limgrave. Lucian couldn't help but sigh, having wings was truly convenient. Perhaps one day he would study the power of the Crucible, and learn the Aspects of the Crucible incantations with his Great Rune.
At the sight of the Crucible Knights, Selyra grew uneasy. Once, they had been the Golden Lineage's fiercest champions. And it was at her Black Knives' hands that the Golden Lineage's prince had fallen.
Next came Elyssa.
Selyra blinked in surprise—she had not expected a Zamorian among Lucian's followers. Elyssa, too, seemed caught off guard. The two merely exchanged a nod. Bloodlines of the Nox, Nightrider, and Zamorians shared distant kinship; they found each other familiar.
The Academy had ceased harassing Stormveil after Lucian's warning, so Elyssa had returned as well, leaving only stormhawks to patrol the border.
Originally, Elyssa, Redd, and Andre had served as Lucian's guards. But with no enemies at Stormveil, and Lucian so often away, they had little to do. They spent their time as instructors on the training grounds, while Lancelot, buried under paperwork, carried the burden of governance.
Indeed, Lancelot was the last to arrive, late because of his duties.
When he saw Selyra at Lucian's side, he glanced between them with a knowing smile.
Lucian swallowed the words he had meant to offer about Lancelot's hard work. Explaining would only make it worse, and there was nothing to explain anyway.
Aside from Hakkan, who was leading the Drakeblood Knights against the dragonkin below, and Edgar, stationed at Castle Morne to watch over Irina, nearly all of Lucian's trusted lieutenants were present.
Nepheli, while not yet a confidante, was someone Lucian also wished to summon. Yet the stormhawks had not found her, likely she had been called away by Gideon.
Clearing his throat, Lucian addressed the room:
"This is Selyra. She has joined Stormveil as one of us. In time, she will bear important duties."
The others gave a nod of acknowledgment, committing her face to memory.
Lucian introduced each of them in turn, then left it at that. Attempting conversation between them would only make things awkward—Lancelot alone was talkative enough, and it would surely fall flat. Better to let Elyssa guide Selyra around Stormveil later.
But first, Lucian had another matter to attend to.
With so many gathered, it was time to bestow Grace.
Though his runes were not enough to bless every soldier, they were enough for his closest lieutenants. He still carried well over a hundred thousand runes—hardly enough for more than a level or two, but plenty to test the effect of Grace.
"Now, I shall grant you my blessing."
At this, the room stirred.
Grace—once only Queen Marika herself had the power to bestow it. When the Elden Ring shattered and the Queen vanished, even the Grace she had given faded away.
Redd and Andre, who had lived through that loss, knew the truth well. Even the capital's Leyndell Knights had lost Grace, unable to enter its space. Only a faint glow lingered in their eyes.
Now, only a few among the exiled Tarnished could still glimpse Grace.
Yet Lucian, a Tarnished himself, was restoring that power to the Lands Between.
The five watched in awe as golden runes bloomed from Lucian's hand, drifting into their eyes.
Light flared, gold burning in their gaze. In this age when Grace was all but gone, they now carried more of it than any.
Each received more than thirty thousand runes. More than the sight of Grace, they gained strength of body as well. Their power advanced, without question.
Their reactions varied.
Selyra's face was calm, accepting the blessing without a word.
Elyssa, Redd, and Andre were surprised—but not at the Grace itself. They had once been heroes blessed by it. No, what startled them was that Lucian truly could grant it.
As for Lancelot, descended from the Storm King, he had never once received the Erdtree's Grace. He now marveled at the sensation, testing its power.
"So this is Grace…"
"My body feels stronger. And not only that…"
"…Wait. Hasn't there always been a Site of Grace right here?"
Understanding dawned on him. No wonder his ancestor had lost. Against an army where every soldier shone with Grace, defeat was inevitable.
Not only they, but Lucian too was testing the power.
By his reckoning, it was simple enough. Grace sites were like base stations. Those blessed were like people with working phones. The Tarnished without Grace were like those holding dead bricks, useless. And those he blessed anew were like ones handed high-end, top-tier devices.
Staring into those newly golden eyes, Lucian realized something else.
He could not bless Nepheli. Not when Gideon would see her eyes and learn the truth.
This was no ordinary secret, it concerned the power of his Great Rune.
Luckily, Nepheli was absent.