Intelligence from the front lines was quickly relayed to Stormveil.
An urgent cry interrupted Godrick's thoughts.
A stormhawk landed on one of the small hands grafted onto Godrick's body.
Several hands worked together, taking only a few seconds to remove the letter tied to the stormhawk's leg.
After reading the message on the letter, Godrick stroked his chin.
"To barge straight through the gatehouse and break the first line of defense... this Tarnished has some skill."
"But I imagine it won't be long before the Trolls bring back that Tarnished's corpse."
"A tall, slender figure with white hair? Doesn't that description sound like someone from Zamor?"
Godrick didn't believe a mere Tarnished could break through the gatehouse.
It wasn't that it hadn't happened before, but they were always taken down before they could even get past the first line of defense.
Quite a few bodies had been incinerated by the flamethrowers, but Godrick felt no remorse.
The strength of those Tarnished was mediocre at best; they hardly qualified as prime specimens for grafting.
After all, any Tarnished who tried to force their way through weren't very bright.
And those who weren't very bright usually weren't very strong either.
Normal Tarnished would usually sneak to the gates of Stormveil, only to be killed by Morgott's projection there.
Godrick had sent men to collect the corpses there on more than one occasion.
Godrick was still pondering which of his hands he would graft this Tarnished onto.
He didn't give Bai Shi a second thought.
After all, Stormveil's defenses had never been breached.
Another cry rang out, and a second stormhawk landed on one of Godrick's hands.
Godrick was taken aback. Only two or three minutes had passed.
"It's over so quickly?"
"I suppose I shouldn't have expected anything from a Tarnished."
"To think they were once the warriors who followed my forefather Godfrey, and their descendants... what a disgraceful state."
Godrick felt a strange sense of superiority. There were indeed differences among descendants; these Tarnished were far less accomplished than he was.
Opening the letter, Godrick gave it a cursory glance.
"Why doesn't it say they've recovered the body? Was it chopped to pieces?"
Godrick scanned the page but didn't find the result he was looking for. He blinked.
He suddenly realized the contents of the letter weren't quite right. His eyes widened as he reread it carefully.
"What... in such a short time, the Trolls have been routed!?"
"No, it's nothing. Those Trolls were never reliable to begin with."
"The moment one of them fled, the rest must have scattered immediately."
Godrick reassured himself.
"The latter half of the gatehouse is garrisoned by a troop of my men. That is where my true strength lies."
"Especially my noble knights. They will soon present me with that Tarnished's limbs as offerings for grafting."
Despite his words, the various large and small fingers on Godrick's body began to tap against the throne, and his legs started to shake.
For the Tarnished to break through the Troll's line of defense so quickly, Godrick had to admit he had underestimated him.
But suppose—just suppose—I were to dispatch my elite troops. How would you handle that, Tarnished?
This time, there were two cries. Two stormhawks arrived one after the other, both landing on Godrick's hands.
Godrick immediately untied the letter from the first stormhawk's leg.
Instead of the good news he was hoping for, Godrick found another piece of bad news in the letter.
"W-what? The very knights I personally knighted... how could they all be dead!"
Godrick was heartbroken. The Trolls and common soldiers were one thing; if they died, they could be replaced.
But knights were a finite resource. Each loss was significant, and they took a very long time to train.
Moreover, these knights were Godrick's confidants, his truly loyal subordinates.
Godrick then tore open the last letter. This one was written on golden-yellow paper with an Erdtree watermark.
This was the stationery used exclusively for victory reports. The letter declared:
"Victory report! The Golem went berserk and engaged our soldiers. It was heroically brought down by our men."
Godrick crumpled the letter in his hand, grinding his teeth.
"Victory report, my arse! I'm not an idiot! That Golem was one of ours to begin with!"
"A bunch of incompetent, bungling fools! Why wasn't it you lot who died instead of my knights!"
"Bring on whatever other bad news you have!"
As if in response to Godrick's demand, another cry was heard.
By now, almost all the hands on Godrick's body were occupied by perching stormhawks.
Godrick opened this letter.
This letter was also on special paper, this time decorated with a pattern of a great red serpent coiled around the Erdtree.
This stationery signified dire news.
Godrick took a deep breath and began to read the contents of the letter.
"The Tarnished has entered the sealed gaol and freed the Crucible Knight, Red. They are now moving together."
Godrick closed his eyes, trying his best to calm himself.
The Crucible Knights, once the mighty warriors who stood beside his forefather Godfrey. Many had remained with the family as guardians of the Golden Lineage.
After the Shattering, the Crucible Knights who had seen the 'Grace-Given King' alongside Godrick had all chosen to follow Morgott, remaining in the Royal Capital.
Only Red and one other Crucible Knight had accompanied him to Stormveil.
However, once Godrick began the practice of grafting, Red started to defy his orders, even publicly denouncing Godrick's actions.
Godrick was, of course, displeased. Even if Red was a guard who had watched him grow up, to publicly rebuke his lord was an act of utter rebellion.
Besides, he, Godrick, only wanted to gain strength so he could lead everyone back to their home at the foot of the Erdtree. What was so wrong with that?
Did he not wish for the same great power as his forefather Godfrey? If he had such power, who would want to resort to grafting?
In the end, Godrick gathered his forces and had Red imprisoned.
And now he had been freed. Godrick knew that Red must hate him to the core. This time, he would truly rebel.
Every Crucible Knight was a hero-class warrior, already posing a certain threat to Godrick.
Furthermore, 'Fire and Steel' Red was considered a pillar of strength even among the Crucible Knights. Thıs text ıs hosted at 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵•𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮•𝓷𝓮𝓽
Adding the Tarnished and the Zamor warrior to the mix, Godrick felt he needed to prepare himself.
Godrick suddenly felt a sticky liquid on the back of the letter.
He turned it over and saw a smear of blood.
On the back of the letter, a single sentence was scrawled in an arrogant hand:
"Today, I come for your head."
Godrick fell silent and crushed the letter in his hand.
They had even killed the messenger, yet they deliberately sent the message just to provoke him.
Those people truly held him, Godrick, in utter contempt.
Godrick slammed his hand on the armrest of his throne. Shards flew, and cracks spread across the seat.
The stormhawks were all startled and flew away.
"How dare they look down on me! On me, Godrick the Golden!"
Among the demigods who possessed a Great Rune, Godrick was the weakest. He was self-aware enough to know this.
But no matter how weak, he was still a demigod!
To be provoked by a Tarnished as weak as an ant was something Godrick could not tolerate.
Godrick rose to his feet and headed for the armory.
He would show those bastards the fury of Godrick.