Chapter Text
Golan had ended up traveling a bit more around the areas he had mapped out, filling in a few extra details he had missed before and even stumbled on a weeping lady wearing a blindfold who had screamed in fright when he had hesitantly touched her shoulder. He had somehow managed to calm her down by holding her hands in the same manner as he did with Melina, the action seemingly convincing the woman that he meant no harm to her which had led to her begging him to deliver a letter to her father.
He had agreed, then proceeded to tug her away to a more secure location, much to her confusion when he settled her beside a shaded tree, near where a Site of Grace used to be. The wolf had noticed how many of those not ‘blessed by grace’ instinctively avoided the sites and had even tested the theory by forcing himself to be chased only for his pursuers to seemingly lose sight of him the instant he reached a spot where the light had once occupied.
It seemed as though some of its presence still remained, acting as a useful deterrent.
He hoped that by placing her far enough behind it that it would keep her from walking away out of unease while still managing to keep those who would harm her away. He gave her hands an encouraging squeeze, which she returned with a shaky smile.
“Ah, alright. I will stay here then, my silent friend. Please bring back my father as soon as you can!”
And so now the small wolf found himself silently making his way through a ruined castle, looking upon roaring misbegotten atop their blazing pyre of human remains. Irina had called them ‘servants.’
He wondered if she had never realized that they had been slaves all along.
It took a while, a number of close calls, and a few incidents with poorly placed ladders, but he eventually stumbled upon Irina’s father, taking care to tug his hat a bit lower on his face. He was not sure how the man would react to someone who was very clearly not human.
The man was startled to see him and had stated as much when Golan presented him with his daughter’s letter. His response had his hackles raising and a barely audible growl rumbling in his chest.
“From Irina?... Thank you. I'm in your debt. But I can't leave yet. Even if the castle should fall, as commander, I must remain. To ensure the treasured sword of Morne does not fall into the wrong hands. If you see Irina, do tell her that her father will come for her, once he's fulfilled his duty.”
Golan shook his head and pointed in the direction he had come from, before reaching down for his journal. He needed the man to see sense. Quickly.
Go to her now. She is undefended and there are many patrols of misbegotten who hunger for your blood, hers too since she is your daughter
“I-I am sorry, but this is a sacred duty, given unto me by Godrick himself!”
And where is he?
“Pardon?”
Where is the coward who leaves his people to fight alone and to die without aid?
“I… he is a great man! He…” He falls silent, fists clenching in his lap.
Would it be worth it? To protect a sword gifted by a coward, or to protect your daughter who loves you so dearly that she was willing to wait beneath a bridge that was crawling with misbegotten for your safe return?
“What? No, no. You are right. Gods, and to think I— I must go. I will find Irina and we will leave this accursed place behind. Thank you, stranger.”
Golan watched him leave before turning his attention to the hoard of misbegotten who would more than likely bar the man’s path. He closed his eyes and sighed.
Irina did not deserve to be alone in such a cruel world.
And with a burning resolve, he pulled out a number of smoldering jars from his pack.
For the next several hours the courtyard was filled with the sounds of screeching and screaming as many explosions went off, one after another. The scent of burning flesh would linger in Golan’s nose for many days afterwards.
And once the last foe had fallen, did the leader come crawling out, massive blade in hand and howling in rage at the sight of its fallen kin. Golan chucked a jar towards a pile of red-stained barrels to the creature’s right that had not been set off yet, and watched as the explosion sent it flying into a wall with a horrific crunching sound. It was not enough to kill it, but it did render it incapable of movement. It would only be able to cause serious harm if Golan were to run up to it.
A good thing, then, that he was versed in magic.
After the entire ordeal, the wolf made the journey back to where he had left Irina and found that neither she nor her father were there. He did spot a letter, however, and upon unfolding and reading it he felt… relieved.
‘Thank you from the both of us, my silent friend! May your travels bring you fortune wherever you go!’
Same to you Irina , Golan thought quietly, folding the letter and slipping it into a pocket that had been sewn into his robes by yet another interesting individual he had run into not very long ago. He then turned his gaze to the north, recalling Blaidd’s invitation. Hm, I suppose one more detour wouldn’t be so bad.
Summoning Torrent, the wolf charted a path towards the area he believed Raya Lucaria to be, which spanned an entire lake. It would not have been so bad had he not attempted to traverse the waters before, only to end up getting chased by massive crustaceans with terrifyingly precise aim. He shuddered and placed the map back into his pack.
Hopefully there aren’t any dragons in this one, Golan thought, recalling the massive, winged beast that had descending upon him and Torrent during their exploration in a different lake further to the west. The encounter had put him off experimenting with anything involving fire for a good while. Burning to death was a very unpleasant experience.
... Perhaps he should try and see if he could create something he could apply to his fur that could prevent it catching on fire, just in case. He nodded to himself and pulled out his journal to write down a number of potential ingredient combinations that looked promising. In this manner did he pass the time as Torrent trotted along.
And then Torrent suddenly froze, bringing Golan out of his musings. He glanced down at him and frowned, then he looked around, trying to spot whatever had made Torrent behave in such a way. He yelped when the spectral steed suddenly vanished from beneath him, sending him crashing into the ground below.
He sat up with a huff of breath. Just what on earth---
"This way, Tarnished. May I have a word?"