Elden Ring: Putrefaction of Gold

The Twin Prodigies

Miquella waited outside in the hallway with a beaming smile and a flower hidden behind his back. Earlier, he pushed the servants to hurry in braiding his long blond hair so that he might go out and check on his lillies. How delighted he was that they had grown so robust, but still not perfect. So, he waited for days. And days. And days. Every morning he checked against his mother's suggestion.

"Sometimes progress cannot be seen day to day," she said.

Eventually, Miquella's patience was exhausted and he plucked one. What did perfection matter if he had to wait so long to see it? It was beautiful all the same and he knew it would delight his little sister.

Miquella stood up on his toes as he always did when he felt anxious as he paced in front of the closed door. It had to be a good day today! It had to! They gave Malenia some different medicine.

Miquella's heart lept in joy when the door opened and two women dressed in white stepped out.

"Little sister!" he exclaimed, but the door was slammed shut as soon as it was open. Without saying a word, the women scurried off to fetch some supplies.

Miquella dropped the flower and covered his mouth. Even with the door closed, he still heard the terrible shrieks within. Tears welled up in Miquella's eyes as the door remained closed.

"I want my mommy! Please... stop... Please. I want my mommy. No! No! No! Stop it! Please stop it!" Malenia cried. The next was an ear-splitting scream.

"Miquella!"

In almost a trance, Miquella turned around to see his father staring down at him.

"Miquella, son. What are you doing here?"

"I-I..." He stuttered.

"I told you that if Malenia ever wants to play, someone will fetch you," said Radagon. "She doesn't want to play today. Come on. You're missing your morning prayers."

Radagon held out his hand which Miquella took.

It was always the unwritten, yet well-established rule that if Miquella didn't ask, then no one had to lie. And so anything "new" or otherwise out of the ordinary was never asked about or questioned. No matter what, Miquella was expected to conduct himself as though everything was normal, no matter how out of place it was. Whether it was the frequent pretty women who would enter Godwyn's chamber, to the giant hairy man they called Mr. Margit that Miquella saw wandering the grounds from time to time.

Normal.

Ranni's cries when she thought she was alone.

Normal.

The "tall women" who came and went without saying a word.

Normal.

They came to the church and Radagon led his son towards the altar and statue of Queen Marika. The city was still quiet as the curfew of quiet hours wasn't lifted.

"Let us pray," said Radagon as he knelt before the statue of Marika.

Miquella knelt beside him with his hands clasped together.

Miquella always thought it was strange that he would kneel before an alter of Marika when she was his mother he saw almost every day. In one rare moment where Radagon did explain, he told Miquella it was to "set an example" for others to follow.

If it was an example, then there was never anyone to see it. Miquella never recalled seeing any else come in while they were there.

Miquella was told there was singing when he was born and the boy could imagine it was beautiful. The walls were such that even the slightest whisper echoed an ethereal sound. It seemed the very walls itself had the power to turn any voice beautiful.