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.

***