Elden Ring: Putrefaction of Gold

The Promise of Life

Miquella's fame spread throughout the Lands-Between. So much so that great multitudes of people gathered everywhere he preached, impressed by his wisdom and vision. When he came to the merchant's caravan, he made no formal announcement, as Malenia did not want to draw attention to him. But once he spoke, the bustling space, full of noise as people attempted to wheel a bargain, grew silent the moment Miquella opened his mouth.

Every word Miquella spoke was like pure gold, captivating everyone's attention. It was like everyone, whose only fixation was on the accumulation of wealth, was now in a trance. Miquella's wisdom and vision were purer and more divine than the gold on which Marika built her entire kingdom.

He spoke of an age where there were the blessings of the Erdtree, but they were multiplied seventyfold. Miquella would not bring his age by the sword, as was done in ages past, but in compassion and love. Miquella would not ride at the head of armies, brandishing weapons, but the tranquility of a gentle sleeping flower. And these blessings would not come as drops of dew from the leaves of a great tree but as a flowing river.

"And it would be such that all creatures came and drank freely of this gentle stream. So shall we see the mighty Lion coming to sit near a gentle little lamb and partake of water's crisp purity. For there shall be none without in this great age of infinite abundance."

Malenia stood at a distance so as not to allow even a quick glance to draw attention away from her brother, who had promised a world where all that was cursed would find a place; thus, all things would flourish. Such a beautiful promise left Malenia concerned about its meaning.

As Miquella's words drifted back to her ears, she clutched the arm he built for her.

Her hand was a cold, dead thing with metal and bolts that made up the joints and structure. As a young child, Malenia was all too eager to participate in whatever experiment he wanted to try. Now, Malenia felt tired and worn. The arm often rubbed and pinched against her skin and usually felt heavy to where she wanted it removed whenever possible. And within a month or two, the rot wore it out, destroying the intricate gears and pullies that made it work. Miquella used this opportunity to improve the design, but then it meant Malenia had to wait, sometimes weeks, to have her life back as Miquella attempted, and again failed, to create something that appeased both form and function. It was hard to sort through these emotions. On the one hand, Malenia was full of gratitude. Despite its flaws, Miquella poured the entire measure of his wisdom and time into grafting every component. She couldn't enjoy her life without its burden. And while he designed it as nothing short of a work of art and a miracle of engineering, there was still one fundamental fact that Malenia could not deny: It was not her arm.

Miquella could recreate an arm in function but could do nothing to bring the feeling back. There was a comfort in subtle memories of walking through the garden, holding her twin brother's warm hand. Even as the nerves began to die, and all she could feel was pressure, at least it was something. At least, pain was something. To have her brother take on such a task, even to go beyond the ability of the Golden Order to give Malenia a second lease on life. But even with such generosity, was it wrong to mourn what was no more?

Malenia kept these thoughts private, disclosing them only to Medjai. For it would only upset Miquella if he knew that his efforts fell short because he could not understand the full grasp of her suffering. If her arm was missing, in Miquella's mind, she simply needed a new one. And while he always promised to make her life better, he could never promise to make her whole.

"I am one who was born of a single god," declared Miquella.

The statement was a heavy gravity that pulled Malenia away from her thoughts. Miquella shared this feeling before with his twin, and Malenia warned him not to grow too vocal about it. It was utterly against the teachings of the Golden Order, which insisted a goddess must, whereby, too, have a consort, and Miquella offered no other proof than his own feeling of the matter. He grew obsessed with the idea and the concept that he might neither be male nor female and went through varying evidence that could have been interpreted in other ways.