Capítulo 1: Godrick The Golden
Taraghlan's footsteps echoed in the streets of Leyndell, the Royal Capital. The once bustling city was now populated with scared, weak and terrified citizens. He was no different. The shattering of the hallowed Elden Ring represented the shattering of the very logic of the world and he was just as terrified as anyone else. He just hid it better.
His gait, although rushed, was perfectly measured and his attire was embroidered yet practical. His lightly wrinkled face, callused hands and striking white brows made him recognisable as the steward of Godrick of the Golden Lineage, while the beautifully forged Estoc strapped to his back warned people of less than savoury intentions to stay away.
He saw no one of worth on his journey to the Young Lord, except perhaps the Golden Knights clad in gold and steel who gave him a wary glance as he walked by. After all, he was in the more 'noble' part of the golden city; the commoner filth and soldiers of ordinary stock littered the roads closer to the inner walls.
'O Marika, Prithee, bless thy descendant with fortune. Though he be distant, he remaineth of the Golden Lineage', he prayed to his missing god, caressing the withered finger worn around his neck, embraced by a golden ring. His Young Lord had been acting strange the past few days, which worried his ageing heart. The crafty light in his light had suddenly vanished before he shut himself in his quarters.
'This is my first summon in five days. I pray he's regained his bearings', he internally sighed before speeding up his pace.
Soon enough, he stood before his Lord's residence, walking past his liege's soldiers who gave him a small disgruntled grunt of acknowledgement. They were formerly under Godwyn the Golden, but after Demigod's shocking death, they were inherited by Godrick. Initially happy to serve another of the Golden Lineage, they swore allegiance but immediately regretted it after being told that they would have to eventually betray Leyndell, the Royal Capital.
'Ungrateful, talentless fools', Taraghlan muttered in his heart as he entered the halls of the mansion. 'How dare they feign to act so distant and aloof? Were they not so devoid of talent, they would never have been bestowed upon such a distant relation.'
"How is the Lord?", he quietly asked the head maid as he walked up the stairs to Godrick's study.
The diminutive woman gulped and curtsied before answering in a shaky voice, "The Lord has begun eating once more. He looks healthier and has been pouring over numerous manuscripts in his study...Apologies sir, that's all I know."
Taraghlan nodded before knocking on the door to the Lord's study, simultaneously activating the silencing talisman on his body with a stream of his focus.
"Enter", a firm voice sounded from across the door and he took a deep breath before pushing it open, revealing a frail man of medium stature staring out of a large window. Long golden hair cascaded down his shoulders, while his hands were clasped behind his back, lightly stained from the ink from the many manuscripts before him on the finely carved table.
Clad in a long flowing robe, Godrick seemed to have inherited the elegant looks of the Golden Lineage but none of the stature and strength. It was a great cause of concern and insecurity for him.
"I see you've regained your appetite, my lord", Taraghlan bowed, his eyes lingering on the large plate with breadcrumbs, sitting on the edge of the manuscript-laden table.
"I have indeed", Godrick replied softly, before turning to face him. "It's nice to see you, Taraghlan. It has been a while."
Taraghlan bowed once more, surprised at the minute changes in his liege. Not everybody would catch it, but he had watched over Godrick for over a decade now and his lord's eyes had always betrayed a crippling inferiority complex that he'd strived to hide as best as possible.
But now? Godricks eyes were unnaturally calm. Almost unfeeling, but a layer of excitement hid underneath his Grace-given irises.
"When you look out from here, what do you see?", Godrick pointed out the window, from which soothing golden light spilled into the room.
Taraghlan mentally dragged himself back to reality, walking closer and gazing out into the City of Gold, a small intake of breath betraying his true emotion of awe.
He'd looked at it hundreds of thousands of times, but he had never lost the feeling of sheer terror, awe and insignificance when he dragged his eyes over it. A gigantic being of proportions so massive that three of them could blanket Leyndell itself, a city housing millions.
A being carved from stone, with four limbs and four golden wings to match, smashed into the inner walls of the golden city. It was the corpse of the Ancient Dragon Gransax, a being that had conquered both Time and Lightning. If it were not for Godwyn the Golden and Godfrey, the First Elden Lord, Leyndell would have fallen. Its gigantic weapon, a twisted amalgamation of gold akin to a lightning bolt still lay skewered into a building.
"What I always see when I look to the sky, my Lord", Taraghlan honestly answered. "A reminder of the power of the Golden Order. The peak of its strength and an ideal to strive for."
"And what do we plan to do in one month?", Godrick immediately questioned with those piercing gold eyes.
Taraghlan's eyebrows twitched, "Invade the Capital with the aid of your cousin, Godefroy the Grafted."
"Tell me, is it not madness?"
"It is not. Neither Godwyn the Golden nor Godfrey is here. No champion nor Lord guard these walls. Moreover, with the Elden Ring shattered, the Golden Order is in shambles and at its weakest", Taraghlan's eyebrows rose in shock. Why was his Lord gaining doubts now? Had he not pushed for this and even dragged his soldiers into it? Had he not learned the art of grafting from Godefroy in return for his betrayal? "An internal and external attack would allow you to seize the capital, and in turn, the Erdtree. There is no time better than the present."
"Godwyn is no longer with us, but were the Draconic Tree Sentinels here when the Ancient Dragons attacked? Was the Draconic cult? The Order isn't as helpless as you may think", Godrick shot back. "No champion? No Lord? Have you forgotten of the Fell Omen? And of Morgott the Grace-Given?"
"No one has ever met Morgott, my Lord. His warrior prowess is in question", Taraghlan said weakly. "Margit, the Fell Omen, on the other hand...Godefroy would be able to take him. His grafting has made him formidable. Enough to rival even a Demigod."
"Unlikely. The Fell Omen was personally appointed by Marika herself. No mere mortal could ever attempt to vanquish him. Especially not one who gained power through grafting", Godrick shook his head.
Taraghlan went quiet, unable to process that his Lord was backpedalling on his one true shot to greatness.
"But then what must we do? Have you not given most of your forces to Godefroy? Your plans....former plans are already underway", he said, growing more confused by the second.
"My soldiers are displeased with my decisions. They were loyal to Godwyn and only joined my cause of his name. I knew of this long before I gave my orders," Godrick lightly shrugged, turning back to the window. "If I weave the tale of feigning betrayal to Leyndell to capture Godefroy, a traitor, they shall be more than happy to lap it up. Mind you, I am not relinquishing my chances to gain control of the Erdtree; it's just that it's impossible to achieve in my current state."
"But our forces are not strong enough to capture Godefroy, let alone kill", Taraghlan rebutted, his white brows nearly disappearing into his brown hair.
"And that is why I called you here", Godrick picked up a sealed letter from underneath the manuscripts, before handing it to his steward. "Give this to Dragon Knight Kristoff."
"Who?"
"Do you not know of him?", Godrick raised a golden brow.
"My apologies, my Lord. I do not", Taraghlan bowed once more.
"Just find him. If not, give it to the highest-ranking Dragon Knight", Godrick waved his hand. "I'm of the Golden Lineage. They're obligated to read the letter."
"May I know of its contents, my Lord?", Taraghlan asked tentatively.
"It explains my supposed plan of betraying Godefroy and the detailed location of that grafted abomination. I'll have to flee Leyndell thereafter. This place is more akin to a prison than anything else."
"But...why would they believe you, my Lord", Taraghlan hesitated. "They have no reason to. If anything they'll actively prevent you from leaving the Capital."
"Very astute, my dear steward. And it's for this reason I have offered collateral in the letter," Godrick walked over to a short, yet finely carved desk. "Myself. I shall offer to go with them as a 'hostage'. Such an arrangement would render my information all the more authentic."
"But you said you would flee the capital..."
"I would," he pulled open the drawer, revealing a golden veil of intricate design. "That is why you shall go with the Dragon Knights in my stead. You know my mannerisms better than anyone, while this trifle can enable you to perform quite the wondrous magic trick."
"Is that...", Taraghlan's breath caught in his throat.
"It is. Marika's Mischief", Godrick picked up the veil and tossed it to Taraghlan who held it as though it were the Elden Ring itself, before pulling out a grace mimic, a fetish indicating the guidance of grace - a long pale gold strip that hovered over his pale hand.
"My lord, I cannot. That is too valuable. It could save your life, which is far more precious than mine," Taraghlan took a step back, his eyes widening with surprise. A grace mimic was a highly sought-after item, for it allowed one to appear at a predetermined location by hitching a ride with Grace itself.
"I'd prefer it if I didn't send you on a suicide mission, Taraghlan", Godrick sighed before tossing it to his steward. "Take it and use it when threatened. It's an order."
Taraghlan clenched his jaw as he saw both the grace mimic and Marika's Mischief in his hand. He could not fail his Lord. Not after the gifts that he'd received. Not ever.
"Oh, and send over as many trina lilies, mushrooms and clay pots as you can fit in an average cart. I have use for them", Godrick added, looking back out the window.
"At once, my Lord"
"Send Knight Commander Earnan up here, and lastly, send eagles to all the Knight Commanders I sent to Godefroy notifying them of the order to attack at the dawn of the day exactly one month from now. That's the same day I mentioned in the letter to the Dragon Knights. Dismissed."
Taraghlan bowed so low that his brow almost scraped the ground before he tucked his gifts into his pouch and scurried out, his mind and emotions a mess, not knowing that the Lord that he once served and dedicated his life to was gone.
Instead, a new soul had taken up residence in the distant relation of the Golden Lineage that was Godrick.
A soul from another world, and one that would induce great change in what would've previously been a predetermined story.
The rise of an unexpected individual.
The rise of Godrick the Golden.
***
Capítulo 2: Flame of Ambition
Richard, now Godrick, let out a breath as he watched Taraghlan shut the door to his study.
'Well, that went splendidly', he thought to himself as he looked out the window at the imposing stone corpse of Gransax. He had a week to come to terms with his circumstances and the Ancient Dragon's corpse that loomed over his mansion had helped with that. The average person would've fallen into despair or depression if they found themselves transmigrated into a Fromsoft game, but he was as abnormal as it got.
While everyone else seemed to go through emotional highs and lows, experiencing joy and sorrow, he was stuck in a mildly infuriating grey blob of an emotional spectrum. If the average person had an emotional range of 1 to 10, he was stuck between 3 to 6, never high nor low, just enough to be in nearly perpetual boredom.
Seeing people jump for joy and wallow in misery seemed alien to him. The only way he seemed to be able to get his blood pumping was through extreme sports and fully armoured duels in HEMA. He'd even wanted to turn to drugs to feel something, but his doctor had warned him that he was highly susceptible to addiction. Instead, he'd settled for highly challenging videogames for his escapism, not knowing he'd end up in one himself.
'This isn't too bad, though', he brushed a strand of golden hair behind his ear. Godrick's memories were now his and the way the game translated to reality was fascinating. People like Taraghlan were never mentioned in the game and the sheer size of the Land's Between was grossly underrepresented. It was easily the size of a large continent on Earth.
He was now in a much younger Godrick before the two sieges of Leyndell, before his descent into madness and a few years after the Night of the Black Knives and the Shattering of the Elden Ring.
The aforementioned Elden Ring had split into Great Runes that seeked out Demigods and those who rivalled them - beings with unfathomable strength whose power only multiplied when they accepted the power, hoping that they would reunite them and become Elden Lord.
Starscourge Radhan, the Conqueror of the Stars.
Justiciar Rykard, Lord of Blasphemy.
Scalret Rotted Malenia, Blade of Miquella.
Miquella the Kind of the Haligtree.
Fell Omen Morgott, the Grace-given.
Mogh, the Lord of Blood.
Renalla, Queen of the Full Moon.
'And me, the runt of the litter. Someone of little renown', Godrick touched his chest, closing his eyes and looking within his soul.
Sure enough, within a space of endless grey mist, hovered a large golden emblem with intersecting circles within. Intricate patterns and runic inscriptions spiralled outward from the centre, its surface lightly shimmering.
Beholding the Great Rune, he could feel its weight, not its mass but its significance - a key to unlocking potential far beyond mortal ken.
Mind you, this was no ordinary Great Rune. It was the cornerstone of the Elden Ring, upon which all other Great Runes were fixed. But why did he, not even a Demigod, possess such a powerful item? Perhaps this specific Great Rune was that of Godwyn the Golden, the embodiment of the ideals of the Golden Order and the champion of the war against the Ancient Dragons.
But that Demigod was dead.
'Everything that I have of any worth was inherited from Godwyn. His troops, his Great Rune and even his title,' he thought.
It wasn't a bad thing, as no one suspected him of having a Great Rune. After all, why would a Great Rune ever go to a weak, pathetic runt? Golden Lineage or not?
'That isn't true. I do have something that Godwyn or anyone in the Land's Between knows nothing of', he thought, mentally bringing forth what seemed to have followed him into this world.
(Character Sheet :
Godrick the Golden ( Level 1 )
Age: Twenty-three and three months old
EXP: 1/100
HP: 40 { Healthy }
FP: 50
Strength: 4
Dexterity: 5
Endurance: 3
Vigor: 4
Mind: 5
Intelligence: 5
Faith: 14
Skills:
[Observe (Active): Level 1
When activated on a target, gain its basic information as well as its skills. The greater the level of the skill, the more precise and detailed the information.]
[Graft (Passive/Active): Level 1
You intrinsically understand the anatomy of creatures you butcher or kill. You can attach, or replace parts of your body with another, gaining their strength but also their resentment. Success rate is less than 5 per cent and will increase with higher levels. Excessive grafting leads to madness and failure to graft leads to a splintered mind.]
[Golden Lineage (Passive): Albeit sorely diluted, you possess Divine Blood. Faith +10.]
[Shaman Physiology (Passive): Ability to seamlessly meld with another being. Removes chance of failure during Grafting.]
Great Runes (1/8):
[Godwyn's Great Rune : (Inactive)])
The pale gold screen that hovered before his eyes didn't seem to be of this world, and was for only his eyes given that he'd not elicited a reaction when he brought it out before Taraghlan.
Assuming that 5 stat points were the average, other than his Faith stat, everything else looked quite pathetic given what monsters roamed the Lands Between. If 5 stats wasn't the average, and was instead 1, he sure wasn't feeling five times as strong as before.
This notion was further strengthened by the fact that Taraghlan had twice his stats in Strength, Dexterity, Endurance and Vigor but had 5 stats in Mind, Intelligence and Faith.
There were still a couple of unanswered questions such as his lack of the Arcane stat, and if the Faith stat represented his belief in an Outer God. If that were the case, shouldn't it be zero? And why would his bloodline increase it?
He assumed that if he levelled up, he'd be able to increase his stat points and that killing things would net him EXP. At least, that's how it was in the game, just that it was runes, not EXP.
Too many assumptions and too many variables.
He didn't like that.
'All in good time. Currently, my priorities are preventing the First Seige of Leyndell so I don't get implicated, getting out of Leyndell, activating my Great Rune, and gaining a foothold in Stormveil Castle', he breathed out, a hint of excitement bubbling inside him.
Sure, he could hand over his Great Rune to Morgott and hide away in the tall golden walls of Leyndell. That would be the safest option, given Leyndell never fell in the game.
'But that would be terribly boring', he grumbled. He'd tried to rid himself of his boredom his entire past life, and what could be more exciting than playing Elden Ring in real life? With the Character Sheet and Great Rune, he stood a realistic chance. He could not let go of this golden opportunity. He would not let go of the flame of ambition within him, Morgott be damned.
"Sire, you summoned me?", a muffled gruff voice sounded from outside his voice preceded by a firm knock.
"Come in, Earnan", Godrick answered.
The doors opened, revealing a six-foot-two wall of muscle and steel. He wore Godrick's knight armour, its left breast is emblazoned with a two-headed war axe, an emblem of the Golden lineage, while his helmet was held at his side; a longsword at his hip.
Curiosity leading him, Godrick cast [Observe].
(Character Sheet
Earnan
Age: Thirty-five and seven months
HP: 100 { Healthy }
FP: 50
Strength: 9
Dexterity: 10
Endurance: 10
Vigor: 10
Mind: 5
Intelligence: 5
Faith: 6
Skills:
[Sword Mastery (Passive): Level ?]
[Sheild Mastery (Passive): Level ?]
[Spear Mastery (Passive): Level ?]
[Greataxe Mastery (Passive): Level 3]
Incantations: ???)
Godrick raised an elegant brow. He was slightly taken off guard due to the question marks but mainly due to Taraghlan having similar stats to a Knight Commander. Was that because his steward was unusually trained or that Earnan was just a poor excuse for a Knight Commander?
"Knight Commander Earnan, Sire", the man before him boomed, bowing low, the white scar on his dark chin giving him the air of a veteran.
'Perhaps the former', Godrick mused as he noticed the change in how Earnan treated him compared to the Godrick of old. In his memories, Earnan held a barely contained sneer of disdain when addressing Godrick and showed him no respect.
But now? Earnan seemed to wish to bang his head on the ground and beg for mercy.
"I would like to apologise on behalf of me and my battalion. Our behaviour was inexcusable. We await punishment", he bowed his head, beads of sweat accumulating on his forehead. He was a Knight who'd sword the oath of fealty. Insulting his Lord was akin to insulting his integrity.
'It seems Taraghlan has taken great joy in breaking the news to the Knight Commanders', Godrick internally chuckled. He wished to see the reactions of the rest of the Knight Commanders when they got the news that he was merely faking betrayal to capture a traitor, but they were all with Godefroy or in Stormveil.
"I had expected it when I planned it out, Earnan. If my soldiers didn't look angered when asked to attack their home, Godefroy would've smelled something fishy", Godrick waved him off. "But I didn't bring you here to gloat. I require something of you."
"Anything, Sire", Earan gave him a heartfelt salute, the respect within his eyes magnifying.
"The weakness in my flesh is unbecoming of my status as a descendant of the Golden Lineage and I wish to rectify it", Godrick continued. "I wish to train under you in both blade and spellcraft."
"You...wish to train with us?", Earnan blinked, unable to believe his ears. The Godrick of old acted more like the aristocrats who disdained to ever seek discomfort. Even so, if they did train, it was with highly accomplished masters. Not commoners such as him.
"Would it be a problem?"
"Of course not Sire! It would be an honour to train you", Earnan bowed low once more.
Godrick nodded, "I'll see you tomorrow then. At the courtyard?"
"Yes, Sire. Would dawn be possible?"
"It will', Godrick waved his hand, dismissing the shaken Commander before turning back to his study.
'I need more than just sleep pots if I need to survive the journey to Stormveil', he sighed to himself as the door closed behind him.
The chair creaked as he dragged it over to the table before picking up a quill and writing another letter.
'No rest for the golden.'
***
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