Elden Ring: Putrefaction of Gold

When the Child Plays with the Asp

Rykard intended to keep his quick wait to Lyendell as low profile as possible. He couldn't say precisely why he came, whether to embrace Tanith's words or get away from her. Still, whether it was one way or another, Rykard couldn't get his mistress's words out of his mind and came to search the archives without so much thought at what he might find.

He half dozed, having spent all day there with scrolls and tombs all laid out before him.

With her rise in power, Queen Marika burned all records of the past and her own with it. And she was very thorough. Much of what Rykard found was a few ballads told by unreliable poets who liked to spin the truth in the name of a good story. And the less to be said about Marika's own accounts, the better. Sure, these fancy bard's tales might have contained kernels of truth, but Rykard hadn't the patience or the will to sift through it. And he wasn't too sure what to look for other than perhaps a dying ember or so of the past.

He was awakened when he heard the sniffles echoing in the empty hall. It initially confused him, and he spent a moment looking for the source.

Rykard found a small end table with two lit candles nearly burned to a stubble. He pulled one of the papers out from under the overflowing wax and brushed it off. It was a crude drawing of an arm with plans for connecting it to the shoulder.

He bent down and pulled back the white tablecloth.

"Miquella?" said Rykard. "What are you doing under there?"

Miquella wiped his tears, "Have you found Malenia?"

"I'm sorry, Little Brother, but your sister is still missing," said Rykard.

"I didn't mean what I said. I didn't mean it," sobbed Miquella.

"Come now. I can assure you what you said has nothing to do with this mess. Why don't you come out? It's not befitting of a Lord to be hiding under there," said Rykard.

"It's also not befitting for a Lord to cry. That's what father says," said Miquella.

"Well, Father says a lot of things. As far as I'm concerned, you can do whatever you want. And this is certainly something that warrants a few tears," said Rykard, sitting on the ground beside him.

"Did anyone ask Mr. Margit? She always goes to him," said Miquella.

Rykard raised an eyebrow, "Who?"

"He's Malenia's friend," said Miquella.

"Oh, her imaginary friend," said Rykard.

"He's not imaginary."

This place had many secrets, and it was easy to stumble upon them by accident. Sometimes, they were instantly recognized, and sometimes not.

Upon attempting to gain more information from young Miquella, it became clear that this "Mr. Margit" was the twin's little secret. Whether they stumbled upon it by accident or someone intentionally told them at some point, it was anyone's guess. Nonetheless, to any further questions, Miquella responded with only a shrug.

"You know, I have a lot of men who are very good at finding people," said Rykard.

"I know. They find heretics so they can murder them," said Miquella.

"Um...Yes," said Rykard. "But, they are good at finding other things too. And it's by their good authority that I happen to know your sister is perfectly safe."

The tricky part about the twins is how clever they are. Both of them, really. As children in a world of adults, it was impossible to know what they knew as everyone, including Rykard, was in the habit of underestimating them.

"Where is she?"

"Tell me a little about this Mr. Margit."

"Malenia made me promise not to," said Miquella.

"You can tell me. I'm your brother," said Rykard.

"No," said Miquella, crawling out from under the table. "I made a promise. I can't break a promise. You said she was safe, and that's good."

He was shaking. Rykard knew that if he could just push a little harder, Miquella would break, but it wasn't worth it. The little child was suffering without his twin by his side, and even Rykard felt the pain. Instead, he let little Miquella cry. It may not befit a lord to do so, but tears in such circumstances did befit a brother and a dear little child.

It wasn't necessary anyway. Everyone knew Malenia liked to go to the wild garden whenever she wasn't with Miquella.

It necessitated for Rykard to venture to the wild garden himself.

While it was always clear that this place contained some secrets of Marika, Rykard was never so compelled to go in there himself. The thing about uncovering conspiracies and living to see the next day was to only do so if it was absolutely necessary.

"I wouldn't go in there if you value your life, Rykard."

He hadn't noticed Marika out in the garden, but then again, she had a tendency to sneak up in places least expected. Demigods, like himself, were far more used to it than mere mortals, but it was what made searching too deep for anything dangerous.

"You know, it's such a beautiful garden," said Rykard. "A bit odd that you would have it in a place like this where everything else is so neatly kept."

Marika laughed, "You asked a goddess why she does what she does? Come, walk with me."

It had been a while since Rykard had any personal conversation with the queen. Not since he was a child and upset over his father leaving and having to leave the manor due to his mother's instability. Rykard thought his stepmother was kind and caring at the time, which was how her propaganda depicted her.

Later, he would find out that her methods were often manipulative, which he honestly came to respect. He wanted to learn everything about how to do so himself, and Marika, whether she realized it or not, was an excellent teacher.

"You've been looking to blackmail me," said Queen Marika.

Rykard chuckled, "You caught me."

"I've never been fond of you or your siblings' schemes, Rykard," said Marika.

"But we always have so much fun," said Rykard. He started to sweat and wasn't sure why.

Marika and Rykard's schemes with and sometimes even against each other had become so common that it was practically a game the two had bonded over. She uncovered his plot to steal one of the merchant wagons when he was a youth. He had everything planned to perfection, yet when he arrived where he wished to unload the goods, Marika already had her personal guard waiting to arrest him.

Later, the two would scheme to rid the Lands-Between of heretics and others who spoke openly against the Golden Order. Marika preferred they "disappeared" over outright killing.

Yet this time, Marika seemed impatient.

"I was merely looking for clues about your daughter's whereabouts," shrugged Rykard. "I was told she likes to play in there."

"Then that is something I need to talk to her about," said Marika. "As for her whereabouts, I am more than aware of where she is. And I suspect so are you."

"And why doesn't Miquella know where she is?"

"You ought to ask your father that," said Marika. She walked away and then paused to say one last thing, "And Rykard? Heed my words. If you ever dare attempt to manipulate any of my sons again, it will not end well for you."

The nursing child shall play by the cobra's hole, And the weaned child shall put his hand in the viper's den. -Isaiah 11:8