Raven furrowed his brow, searching for the source of the strange noise. He stole a glance at the soundly sleeping Lansang before stepping out of the room, gently clicking the door shut behind him.
At some unknown point, crimson torches had been lit along the walls, bathing the entire corridor in an unsettling palette of deep red and black. After a moment of thought, Raven began to stroll down the hall. The floor was covered in plush velvet rugs, swallowing the sound of his footsteps entirely.
Portraits lined the walls on either side, all seemingly painted by Rykard himself. There was Radagon, the Elden Lord; General Radahn, the Starscourge; Malenia, the Blade of Miquella... and, most numerous of all, self-portraits of Rykard.
Initially, the paintings appeared normal, the fine brushwork perfectly capturing the majestic bearing of the Golden Lineage. But as Raven ventured deeper into the corridor, the use of color became increasingly daring, and the lines grew frenetic and chaotic—as if hinting at the artist's unraveling mental state.
The gazes of the figures in the paintings gradually turned eerie, watching Raven as if they had come to life. Yet, whenever Raven stopped before a portrait to look closer, the eyes would snap back to a fixed forward stare.
Raven continued on, watching the portraits from the corner of his eye. Their faces slowly contorted into sinister grimaces, baring cold smiles with teeth that glinted under the lurid light of the torches. A rustling sound emanated from all directions, like the figures in the frames were whispering among themselves.
Interspersed between the portraits were other oil paintings depicting different scenes, each more macabre and bizarre than the last: blood-stained altars, chilling instruments of torture, and abyssal, pitch-black caverns.
Raven's frown deepened as he quickened his pace, his hand resting on the hilt of the Sword of Night and Flame. The doors on either side were tightly shut. He wasn't sure if the warriors from the banquet were staying behind them, but no sound of life emerged from any of the rooms.
Before he knew it, he had circled back to the banquet hall. Hesitating for a moment, he pushed open the main doors.
Everything remained exactly as he and Lansang had left it. Tables and chairs were overturned, and the mess of cups and plates remained uncleaned—it was as if the host hadn't even considered the possibility of holding another banquet. In the cavernous hall, Raven suddenly spotted a dark silhouette moving.
"Who's there?" Raven asked, the tip of his staff glowing with a Starlight spell.
"Ah, is there a hero who didn't eat his fill? There should be some leftovers. If the hero is unsatisfied, I can go to the kitchen and prepare something more..."
As Raven drew closer, he saw it was a trembling old man, struggling to gather the dishes and return the furniture to its proper place.
"I am a mere servant of Lord Rykard," the old man said, shielding his eyes. "The light of your magic is too bright. Oh! It's you! You sat at Lord Rykard's left hand during the feast. You are—"
"I am Raven of Caria, Rykard's brother," Raven said. Seeing the servant attempt a deep bow, he stopped him. "There's no need for such formality. Are you the only one cleaning? Wait, what happened to your right hand?"
"Ah, it's only two missing fingers. It doesn't hinder my work."
The old servant gave a raspy laugh, extending a right hand that lacked the pinky and ring fingers.
"I was an orphan. When I was a boy, I was so starved that I stole some food. The guards caught me and brought me before Lord Rykard. In accordance with the law, he sentenced me to have two fingers severed as punishment."
"I see." Raven nodded, then added, "To cut off the fingers of a child driven to theft by hunger... my brother is truly cold-hearted. I apologize on his behalf."
"No, no, no!" The old servant waved his hand frantically. "Lord Rykard was merely acting according to the law; he had to do it. He had a cleric stop my bleeding and then took me in as a helper in the Manor's kitchen. I haven't gone hungry a single day since."
Raven sat down on a chair, listening as the old servant continued.
"Lord Rykard never allows personal feelings to interfere with his judgment. He always does the right thing; he is practically the embodiment of the law. Even when the powerful and wealthy break the rules, he punishes them without mercy," the servant said. "You say he is cold-hearted, but that is a misunderstanding. To us, he is the most venerable and beloved man in the world."
Raven smiled. "I'll pass those words along to my brother. I'm sure he'll be very happy to hear them."
"There is no need for that! It would only trouble him. He prefers not to form close ties with people; otherwise, he would suffer greater mental distress when passing judgment if they ever made a mistake. For loyal followers like us, simply watching his back and knowing he walks the path of righteousness is enough."
The old servant hesitated for a moment before continuing.
"Prince Raven, you are his blood kin. If possible, please stay with him for a while longer," the old man requested, bowing his head. "I have followed him for nearly sixty years. In all those years, he hasn't laughed as much as he did tonight."
"Is that so?" Raven was taken aback.
"Yes. Lord Rykard won't say it, but in his heart, he must be overjoyed that you came. The pressure of his work as Praetor is immense, and he has no one to confide in. We worry that one day he won't be able to bear it. If he could have a blood relative by his side to support him, it would be wonderful."
"I see. I'll try to get along with him," Raven said, thinking for a moment before suddenly asking, "Given the current difficulties in traveling to Volcano Manor, I wonder if your food reserves are sufficient?"
"You need not worry, My Lord. Lord Rykard can use magma sorcery to temporarily open a path to the Bridge of Iniquity, allowing us to purchase food in bulk from the outside. Currently, Volcano Manor has a massive stockpile of non-perishable food—enough to feed tens of thousands for several years."
Raven nodded and stood up. "It's getting late. You should get some rest too. You can't clean this all by yourself."
"I'll do what I can." The old servant chuckled. "Your Highness is a kind soul, willing to listen to the rambling of a useless old servant for so long."
"Not at all. I was glad to learn more about my brother."
Leaving the banquet hall, Raven had no desire to continue wandering the Manor, so he retraced his steps. He cast his Starlight spell again, sending several bright, azure orbs of light floating above his head, overwhelming the crimson glow of the torches.
Under the blue light of the glintstone magic, the portraits along the corridor appeared perfectly normal. The art style did shift, but it was merely a transition from realism toward impressionism and abstraction. It was only natural for an artist to explore new techniques and styles.
Raven's gaze swept over the paintings, and he chuckled to himself, figuring his heightened perception combined with the alcohol must have caused the earlier hallucinations.
When he returned to the guest room, Lansang was still sleeping soundly, though she had managed to rotate nearly ninety degrees on the bed. She was lying diagonally, with one foot propped up on the pillow and her head pointing toward the foot of the bed, her limbs splayed out like the branches of a young poplar tree.
Raven sat down in the armchair by the head of the bed, finding a comfortable position in the soft cushions before entering his meditative state once more.
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Elden Ring: The Unborn One's Journey Through Elden Ring(114 Chapter - Ongoing)
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