Elden Ring : Godrick The Golden

"You're here...Sire", Earnan muttered as he saluted Godrick, his eyes betraying the shock of actually seeing his Lord at the courtyard for training common soldiers.

"I am", Godrick's mouth twitched, now dressed far more practically. Gone was the flowing white robe, replaced by a cotton tunic and pants. If it were not for the long, silky golden hair, brows and eyes one would mistake him for a commoner.

The courtyard was quite large, about the size of a football field, with a part sectioned off for the training of soldiers. One of the wings of Grandsax covered the sky directly above it, providing much-needed shade for tired and sweaty men.

Currently, other than Earnan and himself, five other soldiers were sparring with wooden weapons while the rest, about fifteen soldiers or so were doing exercise drills off to the side. He cast [Observe] on each one of them, noting that the average physical stats were around 7 to 8 while Mind, Intelligence and Faith were all at 5 except for a few who had it at 6 to 8.

All of them had [Sword Mastery] and [Sheild Mastery] while the ones with higher faith had the Incantations of [Heal] and [Golden Vow].

"Shall we begin, Sire?", Earnan said quietly, also dressed in loose training clothes.

Godrick nodded and followed the instructions that Earnan gave him. At first, his Knight Commander was hesitant to order him around, but after a stern talking to, he seemed to switch personalities to a drill instructor.

Godrick's stats were below average, and it showed. He could barely circle the courtyard once while his frail arms shook when he attempted to do a pushup. It was no small source of annoyance as he was used to having a far, far fitter body but he never once faltered. The pain in his muscles was something he cherished, a constant reminder of his current weakness.

How could he beat someone who held back celestial bodies and stars if he could barely do a burpee?

***

It seemed that his Lord wished to prove to him that he could not hold a poker face, for the surprise he felt could not be more evident.

He'd made his Lord go through regular warmups and drills of any other soldier. At first, he believed his Lord would give up, scream, or complain. Those frail limbs would give out soon enough. That soft skin that seemed to have never met resistance would blister soon enough. His Lord's will that had never known strain would succumb soon enough.

And blister it did. Give out it did. But succumb he did not. Godrick's golden locks lay plastered to his face while his hands were an angry red and purple from the abuse he put them through. Yet his eyes never showed signs of frustration. They were that very same unnatural calm that he had yesterday.

The mechanical way in which he broke down his body was shocking. Earnan even had one of his men on standby to cast [Heal] every time his Lord's limbs gave out, but Godrick did not stop until he went through all the drills.

He looked to his right to find his soldiers staring at Godrick as though he were Marika herself. Grudging respect had turned into admiration which eventually turned to disbelief.

"What are you men looking at?! Did I tell you to stop?", he yelled, scaring them back into training before looking back at his Lord who lay in a sweaty mess on the grass enveloped by the rising sun.

'He may not have inherited Lord Godwyn's strength, but an inheritor of his spirit he surely is.'

***

(Character Sheet :

 Godrick the Golden ( Level 1 )

 Age: Twenty-three and three months old

 EXP: 1/100

 HP: 41 { Healthy }

 FP: 50

 Strength: 4->4.1

 Dexterity: 5

 Endurance: 3->3.4

 Vigor: 4->4.1

 Mind: 5

 Intelligence: 5

 Faith: 14)

Godrick looked at the minute increases in his character sheet, gaining a slight dopamine rush. It was nice seeing his efforts materialise in concrete numbers but he doubted it was so easy to increase his stats naturally.

It was a gruelling one-and-a-half hour of exercises and stretches that ranged from endurance to bodyweight workouts. Given that his Endurance stat was only 3, he had injured himself numerous times when he pushed his body to continue through sheer will. Luckily, this world had people who could cast [Heal], and perhaps this tearing and healing of his body allowed such visible gains so soon.

"We can stop here, Sire", Earnan said from the side. "I would not recommend straining your body further. We can continue weapons training on the morrow. You can peruse our soldiers' basic spellbook should you wish to continue spellcraft training."

"No", Godrick shook his head, wiping off his sweat, much to the chagrin of Earnan. "I shall be done when I say I'm done."

"You have pushed yourself enough my lord", the Knight Commander insisted. [Heal] could do only so much. It could not help with broken bones or falling unconscious from exhaustion, but Godrick's firm gaze made him shut up.

"What weapons do you have mastery over, and which do you recommend", Godrick asked, getting to his feet and taking a swig from a flask that one of the soldiers had generously given him. It was a mixture of sour wine and water that reminded him of the 'posca' that the ancient Roman soldiers drank.

'This is unnaturally refreshing', he looked at the deerskin with mild surprise as the slightly acidic taste physically rejuvenated his stamina. 'Magic herbs perhaps?'

"I can wield the sword and shield with enough grace to fell anyone worthy of me. I would recommend the same for you, Sire. There is nothing more versatile."

"Hmmm", Godrick traced his pointed chin after returning the flask. "I understand. Although I respect your opinion, I'll choose the Greataxe. Wielding it should be in my blood."

He wasn't trying to be a prick. He had many reasons to choose the weapon. Firstly, it was one that he had experience with, as barring blunt weapons, Greataxes were one of the best against fully armoured opponents. Secondly, if he wished to win the war with the Demigods, he needed the people's approval and a loyal following.

The easiest way to do so was to embody the narrative that he was the successor of Godwyn the Golden and the descendant of the Golden Lineage. The double-bladed Greataxe being the chosen weapon for Godfrey the first Elden Lord, was a representation of strength and status.

"I...I have merely dabbled in the art of colossal weapons, Sire", Earnan replied, thrown off-guard. "And if I may dare, your frame is not ideal for wielding such a weapon."

Godrick gave him a slight smile. The commander was right. He was barely 5'7, and compared to the First Elden Lord's stature, he was an infant.

"Humor me. Consider it entertaining the whims of an aristocrat", he replied, enunciating the last word, making Earnan nod and give a bow of apology.

***

Muscle memory was hard to build back up. This was something Godrick realised when getting smacked by the flat of a wooden blade for the umpteenth time.

"Your mind seems to react faster than your body, Sire", Earnan said while casually parrying his blade.

'I noticed', he couldn't waste his breath on talking as he managed to use the momentum of his parried blade to cut down at the Knight Commander's leg but was thwarted by a sidestep and yet another thwack to his ribs with Earnan's wooden sword.

"Your grip is slipping and your strength lacking."

The difference in stats was staggering. Earnan's dark skin was devoid of sweat while he moved and swung with conviction and seemingly never-ending power. At the same time, Godrick, on the other hand, could barely keep up, the Dane axe in his hand feeling ten times heavier than it actually was and his muscles randomly refusing to listen to him.

Yet, it was not all bad. While his body was clumsy, frail and seemed to tire at the smallest of exertions, his footwork was perfect, his technique impeccable and his battle instincts honed.

He'd lost count of the number of times Earnan's brow twitched in surprise and shock when he'd displayed his prowess in battle before muttering something about the Golden Lineage under his breath.

Sure enough, with an hour of sparring and practice, a tiny ding went off in his brain.

[Gained Greataxe Mastery (Passive): Level 1

 Barely proficient with colossal axes. Assists with wielding it and provides 1 per cent extra damage when attacking with the aforementioned weapon.]

He felt the change almost instantly. It was not drastic - he expected nothing more from the skill at Level 1.

The way he held the grip, the way he tightened and relaxed his muscles, the angle of the placement of his feet, edge placement on his weapon. All of that was slightly different.

It was as though something had fundamentally upgraded his instincts when it came to fighting with the Greataxe. When he dodged, he dodged into a more optimal position than before, when he attacked, he slipped into another combo easier. When he parried, it broke the opponent's guard better.

His axe slammed into Earnan's blade with far more finesse and the commander could feel it. It was still child's play for him to deflect, but Earnan believed this was the very first time he'd picked up a weapon. It was completely unprecedented that anyone could improve at such blinding speed.

"I yield", Earnan declared the moment he flicked away Godrick's axe like it was made of cotton.

"What?!", Godrick spat in surprise, gasping and panting while sweat dripped down his pale skin. His hands were bruised and blistered owing to his pathetic Endurance and he felt lightheaded from exhaustion.

Anyone could see who was winning here. Earan's figure was ramrod straight while he was leaning on his Greataxe for support.

"I said I yield, my Lord", Earnan said and threw his wooden sword to Godrick's feet while the other soldiers captivated by the spar began to murmur in shock. None of them had managed to touch the Commander in a spar, let alone get him to surrender. Was it because he was going up against the Lord? It had to be. Godrick had never managed to get the commander to two-hand his weapon.

"I can see that you'd rather die than surrender and perhaps even your corpse would continue to swing given your tenacity. Your will has beaten mine, Sire, beaten it to the ground.", he continued with a tone of reverence. "I was a fool for ever doubting you."

"By the sacred Golden Lineage and the revered Golden Order, I vow to thee, Godrick the Golden, unwavering fealty and eternal valour, to shield thy dominion and vanquish all who dare defy thy sovereign might", he boomed, swearing the very same oath that he had to the Godrick of old.

He slammed his chest with the side of his fist, saluting him, and the rest of his soldiers followed his lead, swearing their oaths once more.

It was almost poetic. They did away with their previous oaths to the Godrick of old, reswearing to Godrick the Golden.

He smiled for the first time in days before returning their salute.

"To Glory and Eternal Dominion", he said, much to the wonder of his soldiers.

No Lord would salute their soldiers. But Godrick? Had he not trained with them? Drank from the same deerskin as them? Bled and sweat with them? This was a lord who saw his underlings not as objects, but as people.

At least, that's what Godrick wanted them to think, and evidently, it seemed to work.

"To Glory and Eternal Dominion!", his soldiers parroted, their blood boiling with anticipation while admiration turned to reverence in their eyes.

But just as he was enjoying the success of his plan, he was interrupted by a familiar voice.

"My Lord! I bring urgent news!", Taraghlan's voice drew neared as he rushed across the courtyard with his large strides, bewilderment and disbelief colouring his face when seeing Godrick training with the common soldiery.

"What is it?", Godrick frowned, snapping Taraghlan out of his daze.

"It's the Dragon Knights!"

"What of them?"

"Dragon Knight Kristoff and another demanded to see you after they read the letter. I tried to delay them but they were adamant, bringing up the safety of the city as a reason to pressure you into an audience", he spoke rapidly, bowing his head in shame. "I apologise my lord."

"No matter. Make them wait in the hall while I become presentable", Godrick said after a while. "If they come unannounced, they cannot complain even if I intentionally take my time. Give them some refreshments in the meantime."

'Sooner than I expected, but within my expectations', he thought, his Grace-given eyes glinting in anticipation. 'Now, Kristoff, how much can I squeeze out of you?'

***

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