After stowing the Ruins Greatsword, Gawain nodded respectfully to the two warriors. Regardless of their nature, they were champions standing on the front lines against the corruption, and they earned his silent salute.
He looked up to see Castellan Jerren turning back toward the inner chambers, waving a hand for Gawain to follow.
Following the stairs to the edge of the battlements facing the dunes, Gawain paused. From here, he could see a titanic figure silhouetted against the heart of the desert. Every so often, bursts of violet light—the signature of gravity magic—erupted from the figure, causing the very air to warp and distort.
Is that the key to sealing the stars? Gawain etched the sight into his memory. If malevolent meteors like Astel could be summoned from the cosmos, then Radahn's ability to suppress them likely lay in this absurdly powerful gravity magic. By shattering the stars' cycle, he had effectively locked the fate of the Lands Between.
There was still time before the festival officially began, so dwelling on the stars was premature. He was here to discuss something more immediate: a joint effort between Stormveil and Redmane Castle to purge the Scarlet Rot.
He knew Jerren planned to "drop the bucket and run"—abandoning his post once the festival ended—but Gawain had no intention of letting him off that easily. He needed the old man right where he was.
Entering the Castellan's quarters, Gawain found Jerren sitting casually in a high-backed chair. Beneath the eccentric red hood was a weathered, bearded face.
For a moment, the sight gave Gawain a flare of PTSD. The resemblance was uncanny; he half-expected the man to leap across the room and demand his "Dark Soul" for his lady's painting.
"Welcome, new King of Stormveil," Jerren said, his voice gravelly but welcoming. "Your display today was impressive. I knew a man of your caliber would seek General Radahn's Great Rune, which is why I sent word for you."
He paused, glancing at the dilapidated furniture and the dust-filmed trophies of the room. "My apologies. You know the state of Redmane Castle. I have little to offer in the way of hospitality."
"Don't worry about it," Gawain replied, taking a seat. "I'm here to discuss a few proposals."
"If you're here to ask for early entry into the desert, save your breath," Jerren interjected. "I know the General is at his limit, but I intend to give him a dignified end. The festival begins only when the stars align. I may not be able to best you in combat, but if you try to force your way through now, I'll spend my last few bones trying to stop you."
Jerren let out a dry chuckle, but the steel in his voice made it clear he wasn't joking.
"Relax," Gawain said, leaning back. "I'm not in that much of a hurry. I can wait." He looked out the window at the oppressive figure in the distance. "Besides, I don't see anyone else at this festival capable of claiming that Rune but me."
"Hah! I like that spirit. I hope you remain that confident when you're actually facing him. Give the General the honorable death he deserves."
As the words left Jerren's mouth, somewhere in the desert, a mindless Radahn shivered as a sudden chill ran down his spine. He continued to gnaw on a charred corpse; whatever happened, he had to keep surviving.
The two men in the room ignored the premonition and moved on to the real topic.
"I'm here to talk about suppressing the Scarlet Rot," Gawain said, leaning forward. "Do you know what these can do?"
He handed over a Toximushroom he had gotten from Philia. Jerren inspected the moldy fungus, his brow furrowed.
"The Redmane Legion occasionally finds patches of land where the Rot hasn't taken hold as strongly," Jerren noted. "These moldy mushrooms usually grow there. Given our current state, I haven't had the luxury of researching them. You found this already?"
"A traveling perfumer who came with me discovered its properties," Gawain explained. "She found that this material acts as a potent neutralizing agent against the Scarlet Rot. If utilized correctly, we can do more than just slow the spread."
Jerren shook his head. "Slowing it isn't enough. We've tried everything—Preserving Boluses, fire, Incantations. We clear a patch, and the Rot just creeps back in from the edges like a living curse."
"But this is more efficient than the Smoldering Wall," Gawain countered. "It's easier to produce and transport. The extracted powder can neutralize a zone and keep it clean for an extended period."
Jerren went silent, contemplating. The Smoldering Wall was effective but labor-intensive to build and impossible to move. A portable neutralizing powder, used in tandem with fire, could theoretically allow them to reclaim Caelid acre by acre.
"I can feel the toxicity in this fungus," Jerren observed. "But the vapor it releases seems to aggressively react with the Rot in the air. You're saying we can use this to create 'clean zones'?"
"Exactly. Eliminating the Rot isn't the issue; the issue is its persistence. It's like a plague that re-infects as soon as you look away. These mushrooms thrive in the worst rot because they constantly release these spores. As long as you don't eat the mushroom itself, the powder is relatively harmless to humans—at most, you might see a few colorful 'little people' dancing if you inhale too much. My perfumer is already working on a refined version with minimal side effects."
This was Gawain's opening gambit: a war of attrition to compress the Scarlet Rot's domain.
"My plan is to start from Redmane Castle, Sellia, and the Smoldering Church," Gawain detailed. "We clear the Kindred of Rot, stabilize the zone with the powder, and follow up with Smoldering Walls to lock it down. We repeat this until the entirety of Caelid is reclaimed."
Jerren didn't object to the logic, but he looked at Gawain with a weary gaze. "The plan is sound. But Redmane Castle is a shell of its former self. After the war between the General and the Blade of Miquella, most of the rational survivors are huddled here or in Sellia. We don't have the manpower to cover the whole province. There are still remnants of Malenia's army wandering the swamps, and I can't stop them."
Gawain smiled. This was exactly what he wanted to hear. "That's why I'm here. Limgrave and the Weeping Peninsula are under my rule. While the rest of the Lands Between is struggling, my lands are thriving. I will provide the manpower and resources to aid the Redmanes. No one knows Caelid better than your men."
He added, "In fact, my scouts are already exploring the Siofra River. We're practically beneath your feet as we speak."
The weight seemed to lift from Jerren's shoulders. "To think I'd see the day someone willingly offers to help this wasteland. But what's in it for you? You could just take the Rune and leave. Redmane Castle has nothing left to give you."
"Does there have to be a reason?" Gawain asked. "If you want one: I don't want to wake up one day and find Limgrave covered in Pests. I've seen things more disgusting than the Rot, but the common folk haven't. I don't want the people I care about turning into those bloated husks."
His mind drifted to the source of it all—Malenia.
"The God of Rot was once sealed in the Lake of Rot by a blind swordsman. Now, Malenia has become the new vessel for that power. If she blooms again, it won't just be Caelid. I intend to solve this problem at its root."
Jerren smiled but didn't comment on the grandiosity of the statement. Purging Caelid would already be a miracle; the blind swordsman of legend had only managed a seal, not a cure. But he didn't hate the ambition.
"Then I wish you luck, Storm King. My thanks to you and your perfumer. If you need anything during your stay, the Redmanes will assist you."
"Prepare for the festival," Gawain said. "Support is already coming from Limgrave. My knights are at the border right now. Once we've mastered the mass production of the neutralizing agent, we start the counter-offensive."
Gawain left the room, leaving the Toximushroom as a gift. Jerren gripped the toxic fungus tightly, his eyes fixed on it as the air around him—previously heavy with the scent of corruption—slowly began to clear.
Gawain didn't plan on idling in the castle until the festival started. He had a specific person to find: Millicent.
The relationship between Millicent and Malenia was a mystery—was she a daughter, a clone, or a discarded fragment of the Goddess of Rot's personality? He didn't know what would happen if they met.
According to the lore, after Finlay carried Malenia back to the Haligtree, the Demigod had fallen into a deep slumber. Millicent, meanwhile, was suffering from "Rot-Sickness" in the Church of the Plague, representing the part of Malenia that resisted the corruption.
If Millicent could be brought to Malenia, perhaps the Goddess could regain her lost will. Gawain had no personal grudge against Malenia—he just wanted to prevent her from turning the world into a biohazard zone. Radahn's roar was proof that the "real" power of these beings was far beyond the boss arenas of the game. He had to be careful.
"Next stop: A visit to 'Old Man' O'Neil," Gawain muttered. "I need that Unalloyed Gold Needle."
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