Granberia story

It was never thought that Granberia would someday meet a man capable of beating her. Besides Luka, with Angel Halo, her swordsmanship was the best in the world. Even then, without his conviction and drive backing his blows, Luka was no match after the defeat of Ilias.

The man who defeated her wore a ragged, charred cloak and wore a tarnished black helmet. His armor was light and weathered, as if he had seen countless battles in his age. He carried a massive greatsword partnered with a dagger, and fought with the ferocity of a wolf.

They first met at the coliseum. Alma Elma and Luka both persuaded her to test herself there, among other fighters. She defeated dozens with ease, and only the nameless, silent soldier stood between her and final victory.

He brought his blade forth, lifting the greatsword with surprising ease and dexterity with but one arm. Pointing it toward her, his other hand made a fist and crossed over his chest, resting in the crook of his elbow.

“Begin!” Shouted the announcer.

Granberia stood with her blade in the sheathe as the pair stared at one another. She had never met this man before, but something about how he carried the blade made her question just what he was. He lowered the blade and rested it against his shoulder, slowly approaching her.

The two squared off barely five feet from each other. Where he had reach, she would have to make up for in speed. Drawing the blade, she rushed forward. Granberia threw herself into a flurry of blows, but the man dipped and ducked with feral grace. His offhand dagger dug into the ground, giving him a pivot point to whip around. Granberia jumped over the sweeping blade, swinging overhead with her own blow crashing into his shoulder. His left arm sagged as the limb was dislocated, the shoulder slumped and strained with the limp arm hanging inert. He fell to one knee, giving a pained groan. Granberia stepped back, her blade at the ready.

“Yield. You can’t beat me with one-“

His feet dug into the ground, giving him plenty of purchase to launch himself forward. Even with his arm broken, he fought on, swinging the blade in a wide arc. Granberia was caught by surprise at his speed, but was able to deflect the blow. He followed the sweep with a spinning motion, rotating his body and carrying the momentum over a diagonal arc, smashing into Granberia’s guard and knocking her back.

“Guh! What the hell? A human has that kind of speed and power? ...Very well.”

Granberia summoned her flames, and stood poised to attack. The warrior before her swung the blade over his back, resting it across his shoulder to support it. He let it hook into a leather strap, holding it in place for him to grab hold of his dislocated arm. He shoved it back into place with a shout of pain, then quickly made ready his sword once again.

This time, Granberia did not restrain herself. Unleashing her special technique, flames raged around her as she struck him at all angles, slashing into his body before he could regain a full defensive posture. The warrior was beaten back, wounds searing from the heat of her blade. He staggered back and fell, clutching his blade. Granberia maintained a cautious stance, staring at the unmoving body.

“And it’s over! The mighty dragon knight Granberia, Heavenly Knight of Fire, is our victor!”

Loud cheers erupted from the crowd among the grumbles at a lack of sexual techniques. Granberia slowly approached the body laying on the ground. Something felt wrong to her. She smelled it. It wasn’t her fire. It was his.

His hand clenched the blade as flickering flames smoldered about his body. Slowly, he rose again.

“Eh-What? Is he still fighting? What determination! Maybe we will see those special techniques so famous for this coliseum!”

The warrior spirit. Granberia smiled.

“You don’t know when you’re defeated, do you.”

As he stood, his eyes burned with a telling gaze; a silent message between two warriors who knew not defeat. As his cloak was singed with his inner fire, so too did his body shimmer with cinders of ash.

The two squared off. Again, he raised his blade in a silent salute, crossing his chest and resting the dagger in the crook of his elbow.

“What is you name?” She asked him.

“...” He did not reply.

“I see. Then I, Granberia of the Four Heavenly Knights will beat it from you!”

He rolled backward as she launched into a string of blows. Again and again, the grace of a hunting wolf danced between her raging blows. As she swung from the side, he twisted his body with inhuman poise and began his counter attack. His blade ignited, carrying with it a scorching heat that left a trail of air sizzling as he struck. Granberia was on the defensive instantly, deflecting and dodging blows left and right. His blade swung in flaming arcs, trailing flames washing over her as he assaulted her with blow after blow. The spectators had long since fallen silent watching this display of martial prowess, the two swordsmen dancing across the arena with flames whipping along the edges of their blades.

Granberia backed away as he gave pause, seemingly exhausted from so many strikes and acrobatic maneuvers with the greatsword. She herself was somewhat winded thanks to having to dodge or deflect such a blade handled so expertly. She calmed her flames, trading the raging inferno for a serene state of mind instead. No anger. No rage. If she were to win, she would need to conserve her energy and defeat him with a decisive blow when he was vulnerable.

He blazed a trail of fire along the ground as he launched into another string of sweeps and flaming arcs. Granberia used minor movements to weave around the searing blade, her footwork carefully retreating and slowing him with a necessity to overreach with his swings to even make contact. She paid careful attention to how his stance changed when moving between the strikes. Always the right arm would swing and he would need to twist his body and follow through to keep his momentum.

She stood her ground as his blade swung in a horizontal slashing arc across her neckline. Ducking the blow, she swung into his left side with her blade.

*Clink*

It was his offhand dagger. The entire time he had not once used it to attack. She had failed to notice the weapon beyond it being in his hand. It had a crook to the blade, and deeply curved guards. It was never meant to strike with. His arm strained against the attack, but he had caught her blade with the parrying dagger. A twist of his wrist turned her weapon down and into the dirt.

He threw his shoulder forward into her chest, knocking her back from her weapon. His right hand flipped the grip of his blade, swinging forward with a punch to her abdomen, carrying the weight and momentum of the greatsword focused on the pommel in the hilt. Granberia coughed as she was struck and winded by the blow.

His body twisted as he dropped low and swept her legs with a kick. She went down on her back, and following the twist, his dagger hand vaulted from the ground. The greatsword loomed above her as the blade came down, the tip aimed squarely at her neck. In that instant she felt a mixture of fear and calm wash over her. She, who spent her life living by the sword, searching for other martial masters to test and defeat with her own strength, had met a match in honorable combat. She did not close her eyes.

*THUD*

The tip of the blade embedded into the ground a hair’s breadth from her throat. The dust settled, and the flames faded from the warrior of cinders. His hand kept hold on the blade, read to use the sword as a guillotine.

“...Yield.” Came a voice from within the helmet. It had a raspy sound, a tired tone of a soul lived in turmoil and war. Granberia stared into the helmet through the narrow eye slit, and met his gaze. She saw his bloodshot, emerald eyes sunken into deep sockets. She could hear his heaving chest, the shifting of armor as he remained ready to fight, but with heavy fatigue. She smelled the sweat and the brimstone coming off of his body, not unlike one whom called upon Salamander, but it was different.

She lifted a hand.

“I yield.”

The coliseum was slow to cheer. It was a very tempered applause, most of the spectators astounded by the battle’s ferocity, while others were disappointed that no one had been raped.

Satisfied in her surrender, he stood and sheathed his blades. He offered his hand to her. Granberia took it, and pulled herself up.

“I’ll ask again.  Who. Are. You?”

He said nothing as he turned to wave at the crowd, giving a bow. Granberia grumbled as she reclaimed her sword and returned it to his sheath. The two walked out of the arena together.

Alma Elma was waiting, a wide grin on her face. She taunted Granberia, who ignored her as she followed the swordsman who defeated her. He entered the locker room, but paused over the threshold.

“...”

“I demand to know your name, at the least.”

“I have long since forgotten my name.” He replied. She frowned. He moved to sit on the bench, removing his weapon harness and setting the blades down against the bench. Granberia turned to deal with the annoyance from Alma Elma, arguing with her for several minutes. By the time she had managed to send her off, the warrior had left.

She looked to where he had sat and changed, looking in his used locker for any kind of clue. Laying on the shelf in plain view, was a blade of grass.

“Swordgrass.” She mused. There was one place she knew of that had swordgrass as a curio for purchase, and left the locker room.

“Eh? This wasn’t something I sold.” Said the shop keeper. Grand Noah had a lot of souvenirs to speak of, but this shop was the biggest tourist trap of all of them. “Here, this is what I sell.” He moved to a box behind the counter and opened it. Inside was dried samples of herbs and small wares made from preserved flora. Even swordgrass. The blade Granberia held was not dried, however. It was as if it were freshly cut. “You would have to ask a scholar or find a botanist to get more information I’m afraid. I don’t know much about it, suffice it’s a rare item to find and people want it. I get mine through a grower in another town. You might know the plant girl who runs the floral shop.”

Granberia sighed as she left the shop. Knowing where he was getting it was less helpful than where it was coming from, itself. She traveled to San Ilias castle to consult the scholars there.

“Swordgrass. This is truly a rare thing to find on this continent. This is something cultivated in an ancient land far across the seas.” Granberia listened intently as the scholar poured over the books one of the library monsters had found for him. “Swordgrass is a mark of the legion of Farron’s Abyss Watchers. Hordes of warriors sworn to the blood of the old wolf and serve as eternal sentinels against the Abyss. It is said they will fight endlessly against the tides of darkness, ever vigilant and always rising to meet the threat of the Abyss should it rise again.”

Granberia was troubled by such a story, given that it was assumed she would have to journey  forgotten lands far from the Monster Lord’s castle should she wish to find her swordsman. She took her leave carrying some notes copied for her by one the scholars. Granberia thought of one other who might know more, and ventured to Yamatai Village with the notes and the Swordgrass in hand.

“Tamamo.”

“Oh? Granberia? Yes, what is it?” She was attending to things in the Kitsune Shrine, though it seemed she was trying to merely stop herself from being idle. Granberia offered the notes and Swordgrass to her.

“Alma Elma told me you were sloppy. She made a good point to laugh at how the human beat you.” Tamamo teased her with a cheerful chuckle. Granberia grumbled unamused, eliciting a muffled apology from the fox. “It’s fuzzy, but yes, I had heard of such tales and forgotten kingdoms. Though why one of their watchdogs would venture here, to our continent, is a mystery to be sure. Normally their territory is guarding an area that was swallowed by darkness and fighting creatures that try to crawl from it, or those that would venture into the Abyss for their own goals.”

Tamamo furrowed her brow in frustration. Granberia stood with her arms folded.

“They all have a tendency to guard something, somewhere. Besides defending that checkpoint at the Abyss, they will protect graveyards and battlefields where soldiers and warriors lay in rest. They hunt grave robbers and those that would desecrate a warrior’s rest with the same ferocity that they do the creatures of darkness.”

Granberia had a thought. There were countless battles fought in the Great Monster Wars, far before her time, but where one may serve to watch over the resting places, she could think only of the ruins in Remina. Such a loss was sure to resonate with someone such as him.

She was not wrong.

Where now were ruins covered by grass and reclaimed by nature, he crouched in prayer amid the center of them. She could hear faint words echo from his helmet. Something was in the air, that evening. Though the sun had set, the area had a faint, comforting glow. It was if spirits were walking the ruins around him, those innocent and lost to the wrath of Ilias centuries ago.

He stood as Granberia put her foot on the stone path.

“Have you come to disturb their troubled rest?” He asked with a heavy tone of accusation. His hands lifted his blades in salute, a warning posture.

“I would never do such a thing. I came to find you.” She retrieved the blade of Swordgrass, holding it out toward him. “Why did you come here? This told me everything about you, but not who YOU are, or why you would be called to our lands.”

“Truthfully, I know not myself. Where I was beckoned through the ancient forests, I found myself wandering here. On this continent. I sought the creatures of the Dark, but found only your monsters. Some were steeped in darkness and evil, others merely born from it and without cause to concern. I took refuge in my sworn duty, until the call beckons me elsewhere.”

Granberia approached him as he lowered his blades. He took from her the Swordgrass and felt along the razor edge.

“You said you forgot your name long ago, Watcher. How long have you tended the graves of the fallen?” Granberia asked, removing her blade and resting it on the ground as a sign of respect. In doing so, he too set down his greatsword.

“My memories have been lost. Through deaths and rebirths, wandering aeons between worlds, and ceaseless combat. I honestly would not be able to tell you of my age, or how long it has been since I took the oath of the wolf blood.”

Granberia gave a soft sigh.

“You are the only man to ever beat me in combat. Here, that would give you the right to take me as your wife.” She smirked. “But my instinct tells me you would not be interested in such a prize.”

His hands moved to his helmet, slowly pulling back his hood and removing the blackened metal covering.

As she had seen, his eyes were sunken, with the deep emerald irises shining from the pits of his sockets. Scars marred his face, with creeping, spidering lines of veins crawling up from his neck, some being of natural coloration while others were tainted by the Dark. His jaw had a youthfulness to its shape, though the years had given the flesh and muscle much to contend with, sagging somewhat and giving him a much more elderly look.

Granberia couldn’t hide her shock. He looked as though he had seen decades on the battlefield itself, not merely serving in combat, but literal years of fighting. She wasn’t sure herself of what to expect, but her surprise couldn’t compare the expectation to the result.

“A wife?” He asked with a faint, crooked smile. “Trading shackles of fate seems fickle, no?”

Granberia couldn’t help but smile.

“I can see it in your face. You truly are a remarkable warrior, Watcher. I lived my life by the sword, and in this age of peace I struggle to find my own. But...” Granberia reached to put a hand upon his shoulder. “We who fight to ensure peace for those with us, and those not, deserve peace of our own, do we not?”

The Watcher paused, as if deep in thought.

“Peace.” He repeated, suddenly collapsing to his knees. Granberia caught him, guiding him slowly down. “Oh how I have longed for such a dream.” Granberia could feel the overwhelming sense of yearning pouring from his soul. Where she found herself lost, she found him crawling from that pit he swore to defend against. “Did you seek me out to propose? I fear I am far too old to be of any enjoyment to one such as yourself. That is, if you are like the other monsters I’ve encountered.”

Granberia scoffed with feigned offense.

“While it’s true I enjoy a taste of men I am nothing like most monsters you’ve met. I am a warrior, one of the Four Heavenly Knights. Unlike the boy, who is barely fit to be a toy, I can tell such an attitude toward you would be both foolish and insulting.”

“I can hear the pride in your voice. And from our battle earlier it isn’t misplaced. You’re quite skilled. I was surprised that I caught your blade, truth be told. The parry was a desperate fluke.”

Granberia looked to the dagger at his hip. She should have recognized such a tool as meant for defending and parrying strikes. Fighting styles that used such a tool were often more based in finesse and lighter blades than the massive greatsword he carried. She felt a twinge if embarrassment for underestimating him using such a weapon. Most brutes carrying huge swords were simple and crude with their swordsmanship.

“If you deign to dismiss yourself a true victor, then allow me the privilege of a second bout. It would be a crime to leave both of us unsatisfied with the result of our last battle.”

He gave a soft smile and pushed his helmet back on. The two warriors took their respective weapons in hand, and moved out of the grounds of the ruined city to stand opposite each other in the open field under the pale glow of the moon. Again, he held his greatsword in the gesture.

“I wanted to ask you. What is that you do, Watcher?”

“The etiquette of the legion dictates that any who trespass or challenge are given a fair warning. Those that wander are not guilty of trespass on charge of ignorance.”

Granberia offered a nod and held herself in stance, ready to battle again.

Rushing forward, he threw his sword arm forth in a deft lunge, narrowly missing her as she stepped aside. Again he surprised her with how nimble he could wield the greatsword. His momentum carried him passed her guard, leaving an opening in his chest for her to strike. Her blade met his dagger, the clink of metal deflecting her force off of his side and forcing her to pivot and turn to face him once more. His lunging thrust turned into a dive, putting distance between them and spinning on the axis of his dagger catching the ground. He launched forward again in a slashing somersault, turning twice over before the tip of his blade slammed into the dirt.

Granberia had stepped back to avoid the blow, focusing on her own instinct to dodge and deflect through his onslaught. The serene mind did well to carry her between the heavy blows that struck. His ferocity amazed her, fighting her as if she were one of the monsters he swore to destroy. The passion of battle with someone who could truly fight with everything enthralled her.

His attacks slowed, his stamina exhausted as he jumped back and fell into a readied, defensive posture. Her blade ignited as she took initiative and charged. The Watcher rolled, swinging his sword up with the blade turned to serve as a shield, deflecting two strikes before a third caught him along the side. Blood sprayed as a fifth strike connected. His sword arm hung limp with a smoldering gash along the bicep, the tendons seared and severed. Granberia pushed him back with an elbow strike, knocking him away from the blade. His dagger arm lifted to deflect the slash, but she threw extra force into the sweep. His arm was forced aside from the force of her strike.

Granberia let out a roar as she thrust forward and drove her blade into his chest. She ran him clean through. His body staggered back, and blood dribbled from the slit in his helmet. A muffled cough sprayed a mist of crimson. He collapsed to his knees.

Granberia stared, shocked that he hadn’t been able to dodge the thrust after she overwhelmed his guard. She took a step forward, then froze as he grabbed her sword. With a grunt and a groan, soon growing into a feral howl, he pulled her blade from his chest in a shower of boiling blood. He threw her sword away as cinders erupted from his body into a great conflagration. The wound in his arm burned, flames licking from his flesh as he stood once more. His eyes were aglow within the helmet as they were at the coliseum before. He rushed toward her, causing her to bring her fists up to defend herself. He rolled out of his sprint and swung the dagger's curved edge up, catching the crook along her scaled forearm and pulling her forward. She let out a shout of surprise as his seething grip found her throat, carrying her upwards. His legs kicked up, and together they tumbled over one another in the air before he smashed her into the ground in a fiery explosion.

Luckily for her, fire was not as deadly, but the choked slam left her gasping for air. The Watcher rolled off of her and sprinted for his blade, grabbing it and turning his momentum around the hilt to race toward her, his momentum ripping it from the earth and skidding along the ground. Flames seared from the edge as he pounced and leapt toward her once again. Granberia kicked off and rolled aside from the smashing blow, the heat of the explosion washing over her as she covered her face from the shrapnel shower of earth. She pushed herself to her feet and raced for her sword. She grabbed it and fell into a ready stance as he circled her, his greatsword pointed toward her with the dagger turned backward in his offhand. The wolf warrior versus the dragon knight.

Instead of the sliding blaze, he dashed forward with a few steps. Granberia tensed herself, focused on his position, trying to see through his motions. Movements were more erratic, now. It was like she was fighting less of a disciplined soldier, and more of a cornered, wild beast. He thrust forward, and she deflected the blade, only to see the dagger swing down, catching her sword. She wrestled momentarily to retain her grip, narrowly avoiding the upward sweep of his blade. He pulled back on her sword, drawing her in closer before she was able to unhook her blade from the crooked guard. A whirling slash cut across her breastplate as he spun a full circle and swept in a cross cut, the dagger again coming in for a strike. Here, it found purchase against the strap of her armored plate, cutting it free. Her hand rose to support the portion of armor that was now hanging, careful to keep her blade at the ready.

She braced herself to deflect another blow, but the following strike was another somersault. His momentum shattered her guard and sent a cascade of flames across her body, with another strike from the dagger hooking and cutting away her armored plate entirely. She dropped her hand from her chest and focused only on gripping her blade. Her feet kicked back away from her clattering armor only barely enough to dodge the sweep that came from the swinging greatsword. He fell into a low, predatory stance as he faced her, the two fighters squared off once again.

A soft breeze blew and fanned the flames in the twilight of the moon as it approached its zenith. Granberia was exhausted. She could feel her own wounds and the heavy bruising she knew would come from so many blows to her armored form. Her ear fronds twitched while her eyes focused on him. She could hear his thundering heartbeat, his heavy, rapid breathing, she could smell his blood and she could taste the sweat on the air. They were both at their limits.

"Stop." She said, maintaining her stance. "That's enough."

He didn't move or drop his position. She waited for him to reply, but instead saw him collapse. She paused, expecting some ruse, but only saw the ashes of his cloak fade into the wind. The cinders dispersed from his body, causing her alarm. She rushed toward him, dropping her blade as she knelt down to turn him over onto his back.

"Watcher? WATCHER!" She shouted at the limp body in her hands. His dagger and sword clattered to the ground. Her claws hooked into the lip of his helmet and carefully pulled the black metal covering from his face. Granberia gasped as she saw his face. The fires had charred his body, and the creeping veins had grown darker, crawling across his eyes and through his scalp. Her claws dug into the straps of his shoulder plate, tearing it free and opening the leather armor beneath it. His body was withered and hollow, her impaling strike piercing through the very cursed sign that gave him his nascent immortality. She was at a loss for what to do. An emerald flask fell from his belt as she tried to shake him awake, the glowing contents spilling from the open mouth. She grabbed it, and without thinking put it to his lips. Why else would such a thing be on his belt, if not to drink?

His chest gasped a breath as the tincture revitalized him. His shot open and his hand grabbed at her shoulder. The Watcher's gaze darted back and forth through bulging eyes, holding her as if she were the only lifeline he had between this world and the Abyss itself.

"Watcher?"

"S-Stone."

"Stone?" She asked, looking at his body. Her hands moved along his belt, where he had kept the flask. A small square stone with a skull embossed onto the surface made her grimace just by holding it. He grabbed it from her hand and sharply crushed it into dust. He let the fragments sprinkle from between his fingers into the cursed mark on his chest. The stone slowly purged the curse from his body, restoring what human features he still had. As the stone took effect, he lost consciousness entirely, falling into darkness to the sound of Granberia's shouting voice.