The panels on this page are disconnected in time. The Tarnished, from the last chapter, after fighting Albinaurics over the lakes of Liurnia.
A giant lobster has grabbed onto Meilyr. Patches runs. Rya and Hyetta, predictably, are astounded, mostly because they are useless. Boggart cracks the lobster on its head.
The Tarnished enter the Ravine.
They see the Giant Land Squirts looming in the distance. Patches: Holy... Boggart: Don't touch the things, and they won't bother you. Boggart: Unless you want to smell for a week, or a month.
They approach the Ravine-Veiled Village, which has been reduced to a shack after centuries of decline. Giant cliffs tower over the village; these same cliffs have to be overcome before they can reach Leyndell. Many Tarnished have gathered here.
A particularly large Tarnished, seated at an official position in the village. Tarnished: Hail and well-met, fellow Tarnished -
A view of the Tarnished. I'm not going to be coy: it's Godfrey. It's just Godfrey. He looks exactly like Godfrey without, obviously, his iconic armor or axe; he is therefore stripped bare to the waist, as he looks in his "Hoarah Loux" form in the game, and anyone who has played the darn game knows only Godfrey is taller than the Tarnished by many heads. He is wearing a mask, of course, maybe the Greathelm. He uses the Duelist Greataxe, which resembles his legendary axe enough. Godfrey: Though we're not near our destined place, I congratulate you for coming thus far.
Patches, thinking: By Marika, they make humans as big as this man? Corhyn: Hail. How long have you been here?
Godfrey, pointing to various Tarnished: Well, they came a day before you, Godfrey: them, some days before, Godfrey: and them, a week ago, departing right after Stormveil changed hands, I believe.
Godfrey: Me, I've been here for months.
Corhyn: M-months? Godfrey: Aye. Godfrey: Saving strength.
Patches: What strength dost thou have to save?
Godfrey: I'm glad you ask.
A view of the mines within the ruins. The Vulgar Militia patrol them, guarding the eternally-laboring Miners. Godfrey, in card: I'm not sure why, but mercenaries are keeping watch over the ancient miners of this place. Godfrey: They're a wily people.
Godfrey: Even higher, bats and harpies have made their nest at the top of the ruins.
Patches: So that's it? Measly men and animals? Godfrey: Hahahahaha!
Godfrey: I'm an old soul. Godfrey: I underestimate nothing.
Godfrey: And, this life, I'd like to be as long as the last one.
Godfrey: So, I've stopped the Tarnished from progressing.
Godfrey: When we've gathered everyone, we'll march forward. Godfrey: It'll be fun, fellow.
Patches: Sure. Patches: You in front, chief. Godfrey: Naturally.
Corhyn, speaking to other Tarnished: You got here a different way? Corhyn: Let's compare routes.
Godfrey: Friend, you want to try some of my special meat? Godfrey holds out Exalted Flesh. Meilyr: Please. Meilyr: Please sir. Meilyr: I can beg.
Patches sits next to Boggart. Patches: ...Well, I'm not a sociable fellow. Boggart: Man, get the hell away from me.
The Tarnished speaking to Corhyn has a map open, with routes marked. Tarnished: We went a different route, hugging the Academy and then winding through the Sorceror's Isle.
The Tarnished marks a route to the west. Tarnished: We had heard other Tarnished hardly escaped with their lives moving westward, past the Temple Quarter...
A different view in Liurnia. Travelers are making their way through the western route as we speak.
This group consists of Reane, Morrowe, Latenna and Nepheli. Reane rides with Morrowe on Swift, and Latenna rides on Nepheli's horse, Champion. Latenna is the rider, as Nepheli has not recovered.
Second Generation Albinaurics, in the close distance.
They fly past them.
The Albinaurics wave their weapons at them. Reane: It's nice to know they can't load a crossbow.
Morrowe: Do you have anything to say for your cousins, Latenna? Latenna: No. Latenna: And I'm offended you would even suggest so.
Morrowe blushes. Reane: If stupid sayings were things, you could open a shop.
Reane: Nepheli, what's left? Nepheli: Past here, we hug the coast until the lake narrows into the ravine...
Nepheli: ...but, I've never been to Leyndell. Nepheli: This is what I've heard.
Reane: That's okay - Reane: ...who else hears that?
A shadow covers the group. Reane: Oh.
Glinstone Dragon Smarag, a dragon whose back is dusted in glinstone, soars through the air. Reane: You have to be kidding me...
The dragon flies by. Nepheli: ...It doesn't seem to pick fights with just anyone. Nepheli: Let's slow down.
They are almost at a standstill. Reane: I wish we took that telescope, over Meilyr...
Latenna: I can see, somewhat.
Latenna: It's swooping down, and landing in an isle north.
Reane: ...And then? Latenna: It's just trampling around, getting comfortable in its roost.
Reane: So what do we do? We wait around?
Nepheli: It seems? Nepheli: Dragons do things on their own terms.
Reane: ... Reane: Can they talk?
Morrowe: What? Latenna: No.
Latenna: Personally I haven't tried, but my forefathers would have. Reane: Hmm.
Reane: Are they even territorial?
Morrowe: What is this line of questioning... Latenna: I think the general answer is, yes.
Nepheli: I mean, in my prior world, they were known for their greed. Nepheli: Not that any exist, outside of the land of the gods.
Reane: I'm just thinking... Reane: They're intelligent creatures, no?
Reane: What if we waved the white flag, so to speak?
Latenna: It would eat the flag, I surmise. Reane: Yes, but why expend all that energy? Reane: For but a few Tarnished?
Reane: I'm just inquiring. Nepheli: Well...their forebears were known to be intelligent.
Reane: These have ancestors? Nepheli: Yes, Marika fended them and put them to the halter ages ago.
Reane: See, that's my point: Reane: Aren't we, purportedly, descended from giants? Nepheli: Mm-hmm.
Nepheli: I suppose, if they're territorial, they may have principles. Morrowe: Nepheli.
Latenna: It may not speak our language, but we can see if it understands gestures. Morrowe: Latenna.
Reane: I wonder, too, how far it can see into the distance. Morrowe: You're all crazy.
Morrowe: Where I came from, dragons were monsters. Morrowe: No more need for questions.
Morrowe: There's a reason why dragonslayers are heroic. Reane: But none of us wants to slay a dragon.
Reane: I'd rather take the laziest route. Morrowe: Then we wait. Reane: Also the quickest.
Reane: Who wants to participate in this scientific experiment? Latenna and Nepheli raise their hands.
Morrowe: You ladies are daft... Reane: Outdone by women? Pitiful. Morrowe: ...
Morrow facepalms and raises his hand up. Reane smiles.
Morrowe and Reane from a distance - such that they are hugging the cliffs of Raya Lucaria - walk around Smarag, who is now resting.
Smarag's eye begins mostly closed, a slit where his pupil peers out.
Smarag's eye opens up, as Morrowe and Reane pass by.
Morrowe and Reane stare back, hesitant and fearful.
Smarag's eye closes to a slit again.
Nepheli and Latenna move forward, a distance away from Morrowe and Reane, so as not to imply a conspiracy between the Tarnished.
Smarag opens his eye again.
Smarag raises his bulk up.
The dragon flaps its wings, bringing a large volume of wind under its wings. It raises into the air.
Nepheli and Latenna flee, Champion running swiftly. Morrowe and Reane are also fleeing.
Smarag lands before Nepheli and Latenna, cutting off their exit.
Smarag lowers his nostrils before Nepheli and Latenna.
Nepheli and Latenna look to him fearfully.
Reane, in the background, wave her hands up and down, signifying, "Don't provoke it!"
Smarag draws nearer.
Smarag smells them.
Holding still, Nepheli and Latenna can only watch as their hair move back and forth from the dragon's powerful lungs.
The dragon lifts his head up, almost as if to pour down his mighty breath upon them.
Smarag, instead, looks away into the distance.
Nepheli and Latenna follow his gaze. Reane and Morrowe, drawing closer to them, do too.
Rhys is drawing closer on his own horse, Splendor.
Reane: Oh, shit...
Smarag leaps towards Rhys, initiating the same process as he did for Nepheli and Latenna.
Rhys, caught off-guard, makes to defend himself.
Reane: Rhys! Reane: Don't provoke it!
Rhys: What?... Rhys: What an idea...
Rhys examines the immense dragon, against whom he has no hope of fending. Rhys: ...
Rhys keeps still.
The dragon smells him.
The dragon has a revelation: Rhys smells like glintstone.
Salivating, the dragon lunges forward to eat Rhys.
Morrowe lunges forward, pushing Rhys away. Splendor is eaten.
Latenna fires three arrows.
They pierce Smarag in the eye. The dragon roars.
Smarag leaps into the air, soaring.
He opens his jaws, ready to spray fire.
Morrowe: Some fucking experiment... Morrowe, to Rhys: Run, damn fool!
The scene is a panic. Latenna maneuvers Champion; Reane maneuvers Swift. Reane and Morrowe run like him.
Smarag lights the lake aflame, bathing it in a bright blue glow. The lake boils, and dragonflies and crabs perish.
The dragon paints the lake in a circle of fire, trying to entrap the Tarnished.
Where the circle is not completed, Smarag lands, cutting off the Tarnished's exit.
Rhys: Blue flames... Rhys: He has a craving for glintstone.
Morrowe: What daft fool wants to play with rocks?...
Latenna, maneuvering Champion, fires three arrows again.
Smarag lifts a wing, blocking the arrows from his good eye.
He breathes fire upon Latenna and Nepheli, who evade via Champion.
Reane, on Swift, dives towards Smarag.
The dragon bites; Reane nimbly evades and ducks under the dragon.
Reane pokes one of the dragon's scales with her foil; they're hard.
As Reane passes the dragon's rear, Smarag intends to smash her with his tail.
Morrowe is on Smarag's head. Morrowe, thinking of Meilyr: Now, I'm not comparable to a certain naked ape, but...
He plunges his scimitars into Smarag's remaining good eye.
Blood sputters out of the eye. The dragon shakes his head rapidly back and forth, roaring; Morrowe, ever the excellent warrior, remains steady on Smarag's head.
Morrowe plunges the scimitar even further in, until the hilt is buried into the eye. The blade is probably somewhere in the dragon's brain, but not deep enough.
Smarag opens his mouth, wanting to breathe fire indiscriminately in hopes of warding off his prey and giving himself space.
Rhys and Nepheli are under Smarag's head. Rhys: What will you do? Nepheli: With these arms? Not much, I'm afraid. Rhys: Then, help me.
Rhys raises his staff; a giant dark-blue sword is emitted.
He and Nepheli raise the sword upward, closing Smarag's mouth.
The glintstone fire tries to urge out of Smarag's mouth, but it can't; only embers plume out of the teeth. Morrowe jumps off.
Rhys and Nepheli push as hard as they can (honestly, Nepheli is doing most of the work).
Smarag gives up; smoke emits out of his mouth, singeing his bleeding eyes.
Knowing vaguely where Rhys and Nepheli are, he raises a leg, wanting to crush them.
The two flee backwards, as the leg comes crashing down, shaking the earth.
The dragon, hearing the movement of water, tries to bite onto Rhys again.
With Nepheli's help once more, he aims the staff towards Smarag.
A long lance enters Smarag's mouth. The dragon is in a state of suspended animation.
A small trickle of blood leaks out of the dragon's mouth.
Then, the dragon vomits the contents of its stomach.
Rhys and Nepheli are covered in sorceror's robes, bones, decaying matter, and the like. They did not expect this reaction.
Smarag steps backwards, giving up. His physical superiority ensures his chances of surviving, but his infirmities will not help him in accomplishing anything.
Bringing wind under his wings, he flies away. The Tarnished cover their eyes, from the winds and waters kicked up.
The dragon soars into the sky, searching for a distant and safe place to heal from his wounds.
Rhys, to Reane: ...
Rhys: I'm sorry. I didn't know dragons were tempted by me. Reane: I feel more sorry for you.
Nepheli: I'm not one to dislike the hygiene of battle and travel but... Nepheli: I would like a good bath.
Rhys sees something on the ground. Rhys: Hmm?
He sifts through the dragon's vomit. Rhys: Oh!
He picks up an Academy Glintstone Key. Rhys: Well, that confirms it: he feasted heartily on Academy sorcerors.
Reane: What is that? Rhys: A key, to bypass the gates around the Academy.
Reane: So...that means we can use it to enter the Bellum Highway?
Morrowe: Wait, what? Reane: If we can pass through the Academy, we can get to the Bellum Highway, which leads directly to the Grand Lift of Dectus.
Morrowe: Really?! Rhys: Well...no.
Rhys: Rather, yes and no. Rhys: Yes, the key is a means to do so; Rhys: but only for one of you.
Rhys: The seals around the Academy are a distortion of fate; Rhys: therefore, the keys must be an attunement to one's specific fate.
Reane: How do you know - Reane: Oh. Rhys: Even I forget how important I am.
Rhys: Honestly, though, I only learned the precise mechanism a few days ago. Rhys: But when I found my own key, I discovered this out through sources.
Morrowe: Can't we get a bunch of keys? Rhys: Keys are attuned to one life. Rhys: Only when that life perishes, can they be re-attuned.
Morrowe: Rhys, Morrowe: how in the world did you get through that cloister without becoming their boss man?
Rhys: You mean...? Morrowe: Why don't you tell them what to do?
Rhys: Um... Rhys: The scholars were quite pleased I was disposing of the queen.
Rhys: They just wanted to study.
Morrowe: So those eggheads think they can wait out the end of days unto...the end of days? Rhys: Essentially, yes.
Morrowe: More people without any common sense... Reane: Rhys, I don't intend to pressure you, but...
Reane: You know Stormveil, under Gareth, will try to arrive into Leyndell. Rhys: Are you suggesting I put Gareth under a debt?
Rhys: He has nothing I want. Reane: Think wider. Reane: I assume you are heading to Leyndell?
Rhys: Aye. Reane: Why so? Rhys: To get to the foot of Mt. Gelmir.
Reane: Did you think you could walk around the Altus Plateau without being harassed? Rhys: ...
Reane: You see my meaning? Reane: If the warriors try to force a way through the Liurnian Highway, they will be weaker.
Reane: But you want them strong. Reane: So they can give you cover on the Altus Plateau.
Reane: I'm not sure what they will do... Reane: They may try to repair the bridges, thus delaying their march...
Reane: But if they're able to take their horses with them, that will help immensely.
Reane: And to maneuver their horse, they need to use the lift. Reane: It cannot go any other way.
Reane: Now, I'm privy to human stupidity. Reane: Do the scholars think some equation will end the war?
Rhys: Not exactly this, but approximately this sentiment. Reane: Who currently defends them?
Rhys: The Knights of the Cuckoo. Reane: And who are they sworn to?
Rhys: Rennala.
Reane: ...How does that make any sense? Rhys: Rennala is a little mad.
Reane: They must count someone else as their lord. Rhys: ...Mayhaps.
Reane: Presuming it is Rennala, and she, indeed, has lost her wits, Reane: then the Cuckoo more-or-less do what they will.
Rhys: So long as they defend the Academy, yes. Reane: Then the task is two-fold:
Reane: Convince both the scholars and the Cuckoo to start an alliance with Stormveil, Reane: then, bring the seals down.
Rhys: I don't know if they can - Reane: They can. It's a matter of will. Reane: It's only ever a matter of will.
Rhys: ...I'm, frankly, not the sociable type. Reane: One, if you want to induce in men action, you only need to keep their self-interests in mind,
Reane: Two, I'll go with you.
Reane: I'm confident in this. Reane: No matter how far precedent goes, you are their champion.
Rhys: Champion?... Hmm. Reane: It does not matter whether you think so, it's a matter if they think so.
Rhys: ...Alright. Let's go. Reane: Let's give it our best, man. Reane reaches out to pat Rhys's shoulder.
She then remembers Rhys is covered in vomit, and so stops herself. Reane: ...Oh. Rhys: Yes. Rhys: I'd like to wash, before I negotiate.
The Tarnished travel southeast, winding back their route and toward Raya Lucaria Academy. The Academy looms large in the background, surrounded by its ruins, still majestic after all of these eons. Nepheli, ever a gracious soul, has allowed Rhys to ride her horse as she walks aside.
The Tarnished round toward the sole staircase leading to the Academy; it is defended by impromptu palisades and a scattering of Cuckoo Soldiers. Morrowe and Reane arrive first. Cuckoo Soldier: Halt! Cuckoo: Tarnished, if ye know your benefit, step off or have a sword in your gut.
Rhys enters into view. Cuckoo: The shardbearer! Cuckoo: Do you know these?
Rhys: Yes, they're my friends. Cuckoo: What business do you have with the Academy?
Reane: In responding to you, may I ask a question? Cuckoo: Sure. Cuckoo: All the time in the world.
Reane: What do you think of the Academy? Cuckoo: ...
Cuckoo: I was Tarnished, like ye. Cuckoo: I entered the Academy's services, in hopes to study in it someday.
Reane: Do you believe the Academy will forever stand?
Cuckoo: Yes. Reane: Should it?
Reane: Frankly, the Academy is under constant siege. Reane: It doesn't help admission.
Reane: This doesn't help the transmission of knowledge, either.
Cuckoo: ... Reane: I'm not pressing on you an opinion, but I have many questions.
Cuckoo: I think you speak true. Reane: Then, that is our business.
Reane: As you know now, Stormveil is occupied by Tarnished. Reane: Let us unite, and open a passage to Leyndell.
Cuckoo: You know, many of the Academy are not Tarnished. Reane: We're not asking for them to leave. Reane: We're asking for the road.
Cuckoo: ...Let's ascend. They move up the staircase.
Reane, to Rhys: Practicing my arguments a bit.
The gate to the Academy. A translucent blue seal covers it, with the sigil of the Academy. Cuckoo: You both have keys, I presume?
Reane, to the other Tarnished: I'll see you. Morrowe: Don't have too much fun.
Reane and Rhys bring up their keys. They touch the seal.
They are dissolved in the seal.
They are briefly transformed into starlight, passing through the wind.
They are before the immense and intimidating entrance of the Academy.
Cuckoo: I'll fetch the masters of the academy. You two stay here.
The sun is high in the sky.
The sun is a little lower in the sky.
The rustling of Academy robes, finally. Cuckoo: Sir and madam, the maesters of the Academy.
The venerable heads of the Academy. They wear humble robes of dark blue, faded and dusty from centuries of wear and tear. Of particular note are their masks: they wear stone masks, depicting revered scholars of the past who have discovered a completely novel discipline or viewpoint in terms of the study of glintstone. These masks have glintstone protruding from the top of their heads; the scholar argue that this allows them to be closer to glintstone, to think precisely in glintstone thus allowing them to peer deeper into the mysteries of the universe. As these masks are rare, they are only given to honored members of the academy, who have made major contributions to the Academy's texts. Therefore, these are called "glintstone crowns".
I imagine the Academy has a hierarchy on "merit". It doesn't seem like a school that is concerned all too much with financial gain, though it does keep a hired guard. Let us assume the following Maester is the formal representative of the Academy through 1. long-living, 2. academic rigor, and 3. practical concerns; maybe he has an in with the Carians. I dunno. I doubt these details will enter the narrative again. In any case, the background of this "maester" is such and the following members descend from him as far as these three factors go. Maester: Rhys. Maester: Did you find Sellen?
Rhys: Yes. Rhys: In some sense. Maester: Hmm.
Scholar: Maester, you know where Sellen is? Scholar: The heretic?! Maester: I can pinpoint Sellen on a map as much as I can touch the Frozen Star.
Maester: I didn't commend her means but... Maester: Only glintstone is interesting. Maester: This mortal fabric is tiring.
Rhys: ... Maester: You're trying to reach Leyndell?
Rhys: No, Mt. Gelmir. Maester: Ah, Lord Rykard's domain.
Maester: Why go to that forsaken place? Maester: That certainly indicates to me, you've abandoned the study of glintstone.
Rhys, catching the hint: I'm setting it aside for now. Maester: Wise.
Reane: That's the topic we want to discuss: access to the Grand Lift of Dectus. Maester: Before we engage in this...who is he?
Reane and Rhys turn around, seeing Yura. Reane: Yura? Yura: Hello.
Yura: I have different business with the Academy. Yura: I'll wait.
Yura: I don't intend to do anything against the Academy's wishes. Maester: Mmm.
Scholar: The shardbearer is good enough company... Scholar: But why must we truck with these Tarnished?
Scholar, to Reane: You, are a villain, as your mask shows, Scholar, to Yura: And you are covered in rags.
Rhys: I count both of these as my companions. Rhys: We survived the march to Stormveil together.
Scholar: What business does the Academy have with warriors - Maester: Stop. Maester: I've lived milennia, I have time to suffer.
Maester: But, I do hate prattling fools. Maester: Miss, you can go to the Grand Lift now. You can leave through the other seal.
Maester: I see your argument as I can perceive the stars at night: Maester: You want the Academy to join with Stormveil. Maester: We don't truck with knights.
Maester: The Academy does not deal in politics.
Maester: In spite of Leyndell's defenses, and Volcano Manor's blasphemies... Maester: Raya Lucaria remains the same.
Maester: That is why we engage in glintstone: Maester: To find solutions eternal, not temporal.
Maester: The Cuckoo is nothing more than a formality. Maester: They are merely the Academy's hands, whereas we are the mind.
Reane: Rennala, I suppose, is your outward face. Maester: Shut your mouth.
Maester: Rhys, I trust you to hold the shard - Maester: but I am losing trust in whom you call friends.
Maester, to Reane: You're not worth a lectern in our debate hall, miss. The scholars make to leave.
Rhys: Hold on now - Scholar, bowing before Rhys: The maester has anticipated your remarks, and refuted them completely. Good day.
Yura: But you haven't heard mine. Yura: In fact, your arguments have enhanced my misgivings, concerning your security.
Scholar: Then speak, vagrant, and be quick about it. Yura: You put all your trust in your sorcery, I presume?
Scholar: Yes. Yura: Now - I am a vagrant, it is true, and I make the rain and the wind my home.
Yura: But - Yura: I am here.
Scholar: So? Yura: Clearly, your gates do not work.
Yura: I'm only a student of the sword - Yura: I vaguely understand the Order and the stars and whatnot, but I know the reality: Yura: these things can be manipulated.
Yura: I'm certain your cloisters have been breached.
Scholar: ! Maester: Yes...I've considered the possibility.
Maester: But, I assure you, we have measures beyond our gates. Yura: Then let's put that principle to the test:
Yura points to a random scholar, completely out of view the entire time. Yura: Who is he? Maester: Him? He's -
Yura: Furthermore, demonstrate that you know it's him. Maester: What a boor!
Maester: I know his birth, I know his quarters, I know his thesis - Yura: Enough. You have shown me everything.
Yura: Birth, home, area of study - Yura: All of these can be falsified.
Yura: Let me make four points: Yura: You wear stone masks all day. Maester: ...
Yura: I assume you are too busy to check these things. Yura: I assume you are reticent by nature.
Yura: Finally, I assume you generally think, that there's nothing an invader would even want.
Yura: You do understand there are Tarnished wearing the Academy's colors that blast everything in sight with glintstone?
Maester: We claim no ownership - Yura: That's not the point. Yura: Your knowledge is good for war.
Yura: There is every reason to invade. Yura: How do you know who is actually your friend?
Yura: That being said, this is an exercise of thought. Yura: I'm certain everyone here is authentic.
Yura and everyone walk hesitantly toward the Academy. Yura: I will show you how to verify those among you.
Yura walks by a scholar.
Yura, with lightning speed, brings his katana from overhead and cuts the scholar in half. The stone crown is cut in half.
Scholar: Mad man! Scholar 2: Murderer! They raise their staves and take a defensive stance. The stone crown falls apart.
Yura: Wait. He grabs the corpse by the shoulder.
Yura: Look at his pupils. Yura presents the cleaved head to the scholars.
The man's pupils are blood-red.
Scholar: What a deep hue of red... Scholar 2: Blood-like...
Maester: What do you mean by this? Yura: Are you fellows really so separated from reality? Yura: Who has red eyes?
Yura: These are knights of Mohgwyn.
The scholars are taken aback. Scholars: M-Mohgwyn!
Maester: A knight anointed by that mad man!
Yura: I surmise none of you know when the switch happened?
Scholars: ... Yura: Figures.
Yura: Your pride is a lie. Yura: Now you have disease.
Yura: I neglected to say a final point too, so as not to alarm our friend:
Yura: Those whom the Erdtree has graced longest, are wanted by Mohgwyn. Yura: That, is the longest lived among you.
A chill runs through the scholars, particularly the maester.
Yura removes one of his gauntlets. Yura: Now, to make this all explicable...
On his finger are inscribed runes, shining in dark blue light. Yura: I have had runes written on my finger, by a Finger Reader. Yura: Swearing to hunt these severers of fate.
Yura: And so, they swear to hunt me. Yura: I do nothing for free. My prize, is to live another day.
Yura: I will find these Bloody Fingers and slay them all.
Yura: But I myself cannot address them. Yura: I will identify them, and someone will gather them.
Reane: We will help. Yura: I expected you would.
Reane, fingering the Festering Bloody Finger in her pocket: How does the ring know, though?
Yura: The Bloody Fingers sever fate through cursed blood.
Yura: But the Erdtree knows. It calls upon warriors to rectify fate.
Yura: Those who have hunted their fellow Tarnished in such a way, are marked. Reane, relieved: I see.
Yura, to the maester: But, you see? Yura: You cannot rely on your knowledge to protect you. Yura: Because you do not know the unknown.
Yura: You must open the Academy, and have regular discourse with men, who know more than Orders and stones and whatnot.
Maester: ...I need to think on it. Yura: Wise man.
Yura: Reane. Yura: Rhys, guide me through the academy, and help me be discreet.
Reane is addressing a scholar in the academy, conveying that there is a matter they urgently need to attend to.
Rhys guides the scholar to the Debate Hall.
The gathered scholars, actually Bloody Fingers, are bound and sitting on their knees in a row in the Debate Halls, their heads bowed down. Yura has his katana menacingly waved over their heads. Behind them is the corpse of the Red Wolf of Radagon, who has not been removed from the room after Rhys slayed it (it's too big to leave the room comfortably).
Rhys has pointed his staff at the scholar, a dark-blue blade emitting from it. The scholar is frightened. Yura: You. You are a special hostage, indeed.
Yura: Return to your fellow compatriots, Yura: so we may barter over the lives of these fellows.
Yura: And, you are replaceable. Yura: Should you refuse, I'm sure any of these will happily take your place.
Scholar, head bowed down: ...I accept these terms.
The scholar, with a trembling arm, holds a knife. The knife's edge is under their fingernail.
By flipping the knife up, he breaks the fingernail off. Scholar: Ah!
With the bleeding, trembling finger, the scholar paints a circle beneath their feet.
The Blood Star successfully takes the scholar to Mohgwyn.
Yura, to Reane and Rhys: Now we wait.
Some time later. The Blood Star opens a bleeding portal, with Varre stepping out.
Yura: Ah, the villain from the march. Yura: Welcome.
Varre bows. Varre: So to you.
Yura: The matter at hand: Yura: Have you come to abandon these fellows?
Varre: My my my... Varre: Do us Pureblood Knights have such a bad reputation?
Yura: Yes. Varre: I didn't think you'd answer so impertinently...
Varre: No, I have come to negotiate. Varre: State your price.
Yura: Where is Eleonora?
Reane and Rhys: ? Varre: Who?
Yura: Hunter of dragons. Yura: Partakes in communion. Yura: Red twinblade.
Varre: Ohhh...one of our more esteemed knights. Varre: Sadly for you, I don't know everyone's every doing.
Varre: However, I believe she is in Altus. Varre: She loves to bathe in cessblood, and the Plateau promises to be a bloodbath.
Yura: Then, that is where I'm going. Yura cuts the binds of a scholar. Yura: You, go.
Yura: But the rest, I kill. Yura: It's your fault, for not setting the price.
Varre: Ohhh! You rogue! Varre: I thought there was fair dealing!
Yura: Why does Mohgwyn deserve fair dealing?
Yura: Did the blood corrupt thy mind? Yura: These serve me better dead than alive.
Yura raises his katana over a scholar.
Varre: Hold on, hold on, hasty man! Varre: If you have no price, then let me find one for you.
Yura: Unfortunately, you'll find me pure. Yura: I only have one purpose.
Varre: What if there was a way to remove the noble blood, from a knight?
Yura: ... Yura: Oh come on. No such method exists.
Varre: Anything can be reversed. Varre: What, do you think we keep around bloodthirsty fiends, without a backup plan?
Yura: Why would you share this with me?
Varre: Because it's a tedious procedure. Varre: And the life of one is lesser to the lives of many.
Yura: ...Deal. Varre: Excellent.
Varre: I need time. Varre: I will return to Mohgwyn, and gather the materials for my explanation.
Yura: Don't take too long. Varre: Mmm. Varre takes off a glove.
He snaps his nail back, as the other Bloody Finger had. Notably, he does not show any pain.
He paints himself a circle, and leaves.
A scholar walks in. Scholar: ...Rhys? Are you done with your business?
Rhys: No... but, what is it? Scholar: The maester wants to discuss Sellen with you.
Rhys: I suppose I'm not busy at this moment... Rhys follows the scholar.
Yura, to Reane: You can go too, if you want a break.
Reane: I'm fine. Reane: ...You know I owe you a debt.
Reane: Which I try to pay, little by little.
Yura: The coincidences are no surprise... Yura: When you came to the Lands Between, the Bloody Fingers tried to kill you.
Yura: We reunite, I am trying to kill them.
Reane: I assume you hunt them, for this Eleonora's sake?
Yura: Yes. Yura: I've been tracking Eleonora for quite some time.
Yura: She is a proud knight. Yura: I don't want to see her drink in the cessblood any longer.
Reane: What does all that...mean?
Yura: Honestly, I may be the one in the Lands Between who know the most about the Bloody Fingers. Yura: They leave few survivors.
Yura: And, only this one thing is certain: no one knows for sure who they are.
Yura: Their leader is a mystery. Yura: Their ranks are a mystery. Yura: And how they manipulate fate, outside of the Erdtree's purview, is a mystery.
Yura: Their warriors, the Pureblood Knights, are anointed by their leader in a ceremony, magical or symbolic only.
Yura: One common theme emerges among them: they love to kill.
Yura: But that's fine. I love to kill too.
Yura: In my past life, in the Land of Reeds, I was an executioner for samurai who betrayed their lords. Yura: My life isn't worth anything.
Yura: But others should lead better lives... Yura: Oh.
A red glow hovers in the world. Yura: Someone is trying to sever my fate.
The Blood Star shines in the room, signifying the path toward a bloody future. Bloody Finger Nerijus and a Ravenmount Assassin appear.