The Tree Sentinels—heavy cavalry hand-picked from the Golden Lineage to serve the Erdtree. They are the elite of the elite, their identity marked by suits of solid gold armor and the iconic tree-shaped crests atop their helms.
Man and horse move as a single engine of war, a force that has repelled countless invaders seeking to desecrate the Erdtree. Their charge carries the weight of a mountain.
"Strange. This is a fair distance from the Capital. Why is a Tree Sentinel here?" The man watched the knight's rhythmic patrol from a distance, his mind racing. In the old days, these warriors were the primary guardians of Leyndell. To find one here, near Stormveil, was unheard of. Is this another symptom of the Shattering?
Moreover, this Sentinel appeared hollow. He didn't move like a living man, but rather like a puppet bound by a clockwork directive—touring the same path with a mechanical rigidity that lacked any spark of life.
Even so, a Tree Sentinel was a formidable obstacle. Though the man now possessed weapons, carving through that thick auric plate and heavy shield would be a grueling task. A direct confrontation was best avoided for now.
The man lowered his center of gravity, sticking to the tall grass and creeping through the Sentinel's blind spots. Upon spotting a ruined church in the distance, he burst into a sprint, vaulted over a crumbling stone wall, and ducked into the shadows of the sanctuary.
"Something is definitely wrong... that Sentinel is far too sluggish." His hunch was correct; the knight stayed glued to a pre-programmed route. That was the only reason the man had slipped past so easily.
"Heh... that's because they've all gone mad."
A raspy voice drifted from the shadows. The speaker was a man wrapped tightly in nomadic furs, a red woolen hat obscuring most of his face save for a pair of sharp, wary eyes. Beside him stood a donkey laden with packs.
"A Nomadic Merchant?"
"Oh... so you know of us. What then? Do you intend to kill me too... just like the rest of those lunatics out there?" The merchant spoke with a dry indifference, the voice of a man who had made peace with his own mortality.
"I know your reputation well enough. I won't waste words." The man glanced at the wares spread across the ground. "As you can see, I am a Tarnished recently returned to the Lands Between. Give me the current state of affairs, and you'll be compensated. I believe we can find an arrangement."
The man turned his palm upward, and a cluster of Runes coalesced into a glowing orb of light—the spoils taken from the Grafted Scion and Varré. In this fractured world, such currency was the only universal language.
"Haha... you seem a different sort than the usual madmen. This sounds like a pleasant transaction." A flicker of life returned to the merchant's clouded eyes. Indeed... we who are spurned by the Grace of Gold must use whatever means we can to survive.
"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Kalé. And who might you be, Tarnished traveler?"
"A name? It isn't important. Just call me 'Tarnished.'" The man didn't mind the title. His original name had perished the moment he fell in battle long ago.
"Very well. Then, Tarnished... what information do you seek?" Kalé didn't push; the introduction was a mere formality.
"What has happened to the Lands Between? The Graces have lost their connection, and the guidance is sporadic at best. Has the Elden Ring truly been shattered?"
"Ah... can you still see the guidance of Gold? How rare."
"What do you mean?" Do the other Tarnished not see the golden trails?
"You truly are out of touch. Since you pay well, I'll give it to you straight."
Kalé leaned forward. "As you can see, the Golden Grace is collapsing. Those who once basked in its light have fallen into madness as the Ring shattered. They are neither man nor ghost now. All of this... because of Queen Marika the Eternal's betrayal. She broke the Elden Ring with her own hands, triggering the Shattering war."
Kalé's gaze turned distant and cynical. "Life is a fickle thing. To think that we, the Great Caravan, must now be 'grateful' that the Grace never protected us. If it had, we'd be as mad as the rest of them."
Deep down, Kalé harbored a bitter resentment. The Erdtree and the Order had dealt his people a heavy hand of cruelty. He wouldn't mind seeing the Tree burn to cinders. But Runes were Runes; in a chaotic world, they were the only shield.
"I see..." The Tarnished nodded slowly. So Marika finally did it. "And what of her? What of the Queen?"
"The Queen was imprisoned for her sacrilege. You'll likely see statues of her throughout your journey—marred, hung up as a warning to the world."
"..." The Tarnished looked away, lost in thought.
"Oh, a little bonus for your generosity," Kalé added with a touch of schadenfreude. "After Marika was locked away, her progeny—the Demigods—fell upon each other like starving dogs. That was the Shattering. The world is a ruin now; the glorious Golden Age is a bedtime story."
"It appears so. But you said my seeing the guidance was rare. Why?"
"The specifics are beyond me. After the war ended in a stalemate, you Tarnished were beckoned back. Many returned... but those who can actually see the light are one in ten thousand. Most of your kind just die in the dirt, nameless and blind."
"How long has it been since the first wave of Tarnished returned?" The man's brow furrowed.
"Hard to say. Time is a messy concept these days. When the world is this broken, the calendar doesn't matter much."
"I see." The Tarnished knelt to inspect Kalé's wares. He pointed out a few items: a telescope, a torch, a set of chainmail, and a crafting kit. "Are my Runes enough to cover the information and these?"
"Heh, I'll give you a discount. It's been a while since I had a conversation that didn't involve someone trying to eat my liver. Take them." Kalé waved a hand dismissively.
"You're a decent fellow, Kalé," the Tarnished remarked.
"Just make sure you come back and buy more. Try not to die on the road."
"Die? No, I don't think I'll die. I might lose an arm or a leg, but I'm staying upright." As they spoke, the Tarnished donned the chainmail. It fit with surprising precision. "Fits like a glove."
"Of course it does. You Tarnished are all built the same, aren't you? Save for the difference in sex."
"Not all of us. There were some real giants among the first lot. The First Elden Lord, for one." What in the world did that old barbarian eat to get that big?
"Hahaha! A King has to be a cut above the rest!" Kalé laughed.
After a few more exchanges, the Tarnished lit the Site of Grace within the church. He turned back toward the plaza, eyes locking onto the Tree Sentinel still performing its mechanical patrol. He drew his twin golden swords and stepped out.
"You are a proper opponent. I hope you aren't as boring as that spider or Varré."
A cold light flared in his eyes. His body felt responsive again, the blood flowing with purpose. Even with his strength diminished from his prime, even in simple chainmail, he felt the familiar confidence of a wolf on the hunt.
The Tree Sentinel completed its circuit and came face-to-face with the Tarnished. Instantly, the knight spurred his massive golden steed into a thundering charge, swinging his great halberd. "Invader! Die!" a hollow, repetitive rasp escaped his helm.
"Dedicated to the end, I see."
The Tarnished dropped low, sliding beneath the arc of the halberd's swing. He found an opening in the horse's barding and drove a sword home. The golden steed didn't even flinch; instead, it reared up on its hind legs for an impossible, tight-pivot turn, while the Sentinel slammed his massive Golden Beast Crest Shield toward the man's head.
The Tarnished crossed his blades, catching the impact. The force was tremendous, burying his feet inches into the soil.
His battle-lust surged. With a roar, he pushed back, his twin swords clashing against the shield in a rhythmic storm of metal. He delivered a sudden, powerful front kick—a move of pure raw strength that actually staggered the heavy shield back.
In that split second of instability, the Tarnished unleashed a flurry of strikes—a "rain of swords" that left deep scores across the Sentinel's supposedly impenetrable armor.
"!!"
Relying on pure combat instinct, the Sentinel commanded his horse to stomp the ground. A violent shockwave blasted outward, sending the Tarnished flying. But even as he sailed through the air, the man threw one of his swords with practiced lethality.
The blade whistled through the air, wedging itself deep into the visor of the Sentinel's helm. It didn't kill him—the armor was too thick—但是 (but) it served its purpose. It blinded him.
"You're good... but you're too heavy."
The Tarnished landed and crouched low, holding his remaining sword in a reverse grip like a white wolf ready to pounce. In a heartbeat, he blurred across the distance, sliding beneath the Sentinel and severing the warhorse's front leg. The balance was broken; the massive knight tilted precariously.
The Tarnished leaped onto the horse's back. With one hand, he gripped the sword already stuck in the helm, wrenching it to pin the Sentinel's head in place. With the other, he swept his blade across the knight's throat.
"Game over."
The Sentinel couldn't react. Just as the man had noted, a heavy cavalryman with a polearm is helpless against a foe who gets inside his guard.
With a dual thrust, one blade pierced the skull and the other slit the throat. The Tree Sentinel collapsed. A flood of Runes erupted from the body, spiraling into the Tarnished.
The knight and his steed began to crumble, their forms dissolving into golden ash, leaving behind only the heavy plate armor, the halberd, and the colossal shield.
"The Grace on these is so faint... truly the end of an era." The Tarnished ran a hand over the cold, solid gold of the armor. Once, this gear would have radiated a blinding light. Now, the blessing was nearly extinct. If he were at full strength, this would have been a much longer fight.
"Well, Marika... since this was your choice, I'll play along." He looked toward the horizon, a plan forming in his mind.
"I wonder where that big barbarian went... shouldn't this be his job?"
Carrying the golden halberd and shield, the Tarnished walked back toward the Church of Elleh. He would store these for now; they were too good to throw away. As for the armor... it was far too large for his frame. He'd have to sell it.