Chapter 1 - Artorias, Knight of Gwyn

My name is Artorias. I am one of the knights of Lord Gwyn.
But unlike my comrades, I still don't have a title.
“How are you doing this morning, Artorias?” The deep voice of Hawkeye Gough echoed in the hallway to Lord Gwyn's halls.
“I'm doing fine, my brother. I didn't have a good sleep, though.”
Talking to the Giant was never an easy thing to do, for I had to scream most of the time, to reach him.
“You have no need to scream, brother!” His laughter resonated throughout the palace. “You always forget that my hearing is still good.”
I always felt like an ant by his side. The thirty-two feet tall giant was a sight in itself, but with his armor on, he seemed even bigger.
His armor was composed by a mix of dragon bones and metal. His helm was made of iron, bright as pure silver, with eye holes covered in tree resin.
I always wanted to ask about that, but I never wanted to risk offending him.
His breast piece was made of a mix of iron and bronze, but the best part of it was his right shoulder pad: a large, flat dragon bone covered the shoulder and part of his back. His gauntlets and armored leggings were made of the same materials of the helm. On his back rested the Gough's Greatbow, his personal masterpiece, created from the bones and tendons of the dragons he killed.
Hawkeye Gough, leader of the Greatarchers, and Master Dragon Slayer.
I have a lot of respect for him.
“You have to forgive me, brother, I'm still not used to it.” I said in a softer voice. “The fact that you are able to hit a dragon in flight, even when blinded by your helm, still puts me off guard.”
A voice came from the end of the stairway.
“Hard to see a Master Greatswordsman drop his guard.”
footsteps boomed right after.
Two figures formed at the end of the hallway: Dragon Slayer Ornstein and Smough the Executioner.
Ornstein the Dragon Slayer: his opaque golden armor reflected the sunlight coming from the lightly painted windows; his helm, shaped as a lion's head, gazed threateningly; and every step was followed by a heavy thud, caused by his Dragon Slayer Spear.
Smough the Executioner: he was as tall as Gough, and wore a full set of gold-like plate armor. Though the size of his body seemed strange to me, I couldn't tell if he was fat or if it just was his armor, shaped like an obese man, that gave that impression to me. After all, it was rumored that he used to eat his victims; in his right hand he held his mighty hammer, the large side of which was twice my size.
“You must be the new knight: Artorias, Master of the Greatsword. I see you have no armor, dear brother” he spoke in a calm and friendly way, like a real brother would to his younger sibling.
I immediately stood at attention.

“Sir, yes Sir, I didn't mean to give a bad impression on my Knighthood Day, but I could not have one made in time, Sir!”
Smough burst into laughter. “I see you still hold your manners in front of a superior, but you do not need to worry: I may be your captain, but we are all Brothers and Sisters, under Lord Gwyn.”
“Wise words, Brother.”
The soft voice came from the right side of Gough. A slim figure walked out from the shadow of the giant.
“Nice to meet you, Brother.”
“The honor is mine, Brother.” I replied.
“Sister.” Gough's deep voice echoed in the hallway.
“...Sister?”
“Yes, Brother Artorias,” said Ornstein, “this is our Sister: Lord's Blade Ciaran.”
“It appears that you don't pay much attention, Brother. Ornstein just said we are all Brothers and Sisters.”
Ciaran's blue leather helm lightly muffled her voice, and gave her an odd look with what seemed a vertical eye on the forehead and a featureless porcelain mask. Her shoulders, arms and knees were covered in deep blue silk, her breast piece had what seemed a spider web, of a gold tinge on a black background, with similar features and colors also for her leather gloves and boots.
“So sorry, Sister Ciaran,” I quickly apologized, “I meant no disrespect.”
“No need, Brother. You could not have known.”
“Now that we are all here, we can walk you to our Lord's halls.” spoke the proud voice of Ornstein.

The forty foot tall door was slowly opened by Gough and Smough. I was enchanted by the enormous room covered in white stone, At which end Lord Gwyn sat on the throne.
“Welcome, my knights. And welcome to you, Artorias.” Lord Gwyn's voice was deep and wise like an old father talking to his young son. “You showed promise, in the last tournament, and after a year in my army, Ornstein here has seen something in you. And it's rare for a one-year novice to impress my First Knight. So now you're here in front of me, for your knighthood.”
wile Lord Gwyn talked we all walked forward, every three steps Lord Gwyn's Silver Knights closed in forming a corridor that led to the throne.
“Kneel, Artorias,” commanded Lord Gwyn, unsheathing his sword.
I then knelt, and soon felt the weight of the sword on my shoulder.
“May the light be in your heart!” said Lord Gwyn.
“And with it, I shall dispel darkness!” I chanted.
“May darkness fear your strength!”
“And with it, your name, my Lord!”
“May the world follow in your footsteps!”
“As I follow in yours!”
“With this sword I declare you a Knight of Lord Gwyn! Stand tall, Sir Artorias, Master Greatswordsman! Stand, and face your Brothers and Sisters. For your new family is here for you, now and forever!”
An overwhelming feeling of power followed his words. I felt my blood burst in flames, as well as all of my muscles; my mind connected thoughts faster then it should, and I noticed all my senses improve tenfold.
“You have now received a fragment of my soul,” said Lord Gwyn. “Use this power as you see fit. But remember your oath: You are a Knight of Lord Gwyn.” His stare was piercing. “You may go now. Ornstein and Ciaran, you two stay.”

Out of Lord Gwyn's hall, I turned to Hawkeye Gough.
“That was short,” I said. “I was expecting something much bigger. Dragon Slayer Ornstein had a bigger ceremony, all Anor Londo and New Londo were there.”
“You must understand, Brother, that time is a factor.”
“What do you mean?”
“Lord Gwyn needed the fourth knight as soon as possible: for Lord Gwyn believes that the first flame is fading, and fear of the age of ancients is still strong in him, as well as in us; even if we may not see it, we can still feel it. If the first flame dies, darkness will fall, and the age of fire will vanish in that darkness. Lord Gwyn fears for his people, and does not wish for them to witness the fear and anguish he beheld in the age of ancients. If Lord Gwyn thinks that the flame is at risk, then there is no time for long ceremonies, and joyful festivities.”
“I see. Thank you, Brother. I'll now have to test this new power I feel.”
“That is a fragment of Lord Gwyn's soul, dear Brother. You will become stronger and more powerful by the day. But remember what you are. and for what you need to use it.”
I smiled at him, enjoying his wisdom.
I turned my back to him and walked to the staircase.

I walked out of the palace into the gardens of Anor Londo. The power that my body wielded was immense: I had to learn how to use it, before doing something wrong.
So my new training began.
First I had to control my speed, so I started running in a large circle, then in a straight line avoiding the trees in the way, then I proceeded to run up the oldest and biggest tree of the royal garden: I ran in a spiral, avoiding every branch, and once I reached the top, I hurled myself in the sky with all my strength. I could see all of Anor Londo from up there. The power that I now possessed was nothing a normal human could imagine.
I began falling to the ground. I closed my eyes and allowed my skin to feel the air rushing, the change of the wind caused by one of the smaller branches, while still far from hitting me. My body fluidly followed the movement my mind created for every branch that would have broken my back, head, arms, legs or chest. Eventually, I landed with such force that my bones should have crushed. I felt the ground shift under my feet, leaves flying in the air and being blown away by the burst of vacuum.
I slowly got up, opened my eyes to look at my body.
My new body. I was happy like a child, arms in the air, and screaming with such joy that the wind itself reveled along with me.
Then I heard someone clapping behind me.
I turned around in shock: how could anyone approach me that silently? But even before looking, I knew the answer.
And there stood Ciaran, still clapping.
“Nice display of skills!” She said with sarcasm.
“Thank you, fair lady.” I replied with her same tone.
“You shouldn't act like a child, though.” Her sarcasm was now gone. “You still have a lot to learn.”
“Would you like to teach me, then? I could use a new sparring partner. Only, I don't have a sword that could fit my newfound power.”
“Well, you can still use yours, for now.”
Two weapons appeared in her hands.
In her left, she held a strangely shaped blade: black and silver in color, both sides of the blade seemingly filled with thorns the points of which facing the wielder.
In her right hand, a short sword: the blade reflected a greenish-gold light.
I unsheathed my blade, and as soon as the tip of it was visible to her, she rushed me with a series of attacks. My vision started to slow down, while my body jumped backwards, as her right hand slashed right were I was just a moment before. I had no time to rejoice, for her left hand thrusted forward. With a quick motion of my right hand, I blocked the tip of the black blade with the flat of my sword, and a strange black liquid dripped from her blade. I finally landed on moist earth, under the great tree, with my right foot facing outward. I shifted my weight on my left foot, as I pushed the blade with my free hand. The force I had used was enough to push her back a few feet. She adjusted her pose: her legs followed mine, right foot outwards, left foot pointing forward, her torso  in the direction of her right foot, making it a smaller target. Her left arm was extended, pointing at my chest, while her right elbow pointed backwards, her arm bent over her head, the blade pointed in my direction. I had a similar pose, but my right leg was extended backwards allowing my weight to rest on my left one, I held my sword with both hands, pointing backward and low.
For a long moment we studied each other.
A single leaf fell from master tree, and the moment it touched the ground I leaped in the air, lifting the blade over my head. My attack connected with the ground, my eye captured a movement on my left side: her dark blade darted through the air, aiming for my face. I followed her blade's motion and rolled on the ground; as a series of attacks from the golden blade tried to get me, I dodged the first three and blocked the fourth. The black sword moved rapidly, aimed at my gut. I twisted my body and dodged, rushed my right leg upwards, let go of my sword and dropped my elbow down like a hammer; the knee and the elbow connected, causing Ciaran to drop the black blade. At that point I felt the cold golden blade on my left hand, and a twist of pain on my wrist as the hilt of my greatsword pushed on my thumb and flew away from me, piercing a distant tree.
“Nice demonstration.”
From a closer distance, Ciaran was recognizable as womanly.
“But I blame your blade. Too heavy for a real battle.”
“You think so?” I asked. “Then I just have to get a new one.” I gently smiled at her. “Thank you for the practice, i needed the sweat.” It was hard to tell if my flirting had worked or not, given I couldn't see her face.

The next day I headed to the forest sanctuary to visit the Giant Blacksmith, a friend of Hawkeye Gough, the same one who taught him how to create wondrous objects like his armor, or his greatbow.
For a long period of time, I walked in the forest. It was peaceful in the woods. This forest looked a bit man made: some of the branches were bent, for the visitors and travelers to pass through. In the middle of it was the Giant Blacksmith's house, a huge furnace made of stone and wood, with smoke rising from the black metal chimney.
A strange sound came from a dark part of the woods, like a cat choking and screaming at the same time.
“Where are you going so fast, my dear boy?”
“Who is there?” I reached for my sword.
My eyes scanned the woods nearby. Something started to form in the darkness: it seemed like a huge cat, sitting on one of the higher branches.
“I asked you: where are you going, boy?”
“Why do you ask, cat? And how can you talk?”
“That is right. You humans think I'm a cat. That is what you call the creatures that look like me. My name is Alvina, my dear boy, and I come from a far, dark place.” That strange sound allowed that cat to talk like us.
I never imagined to meet a cat that could talk.
“You seem joyful, boy. Going to the Blacksmith? Or just walking around the forest?”
I didn't know how to act in front of a talking cat, so I spoke with pride.
“Why do you ask so many questions, Alvina?”
“I see greatness in you, boy. I wish to give you something.”
“I will have to refuse.”
“Why this, so suddenly? Why so rude? Didn't you know that the Blacksmith needs souls, to create his masterpiece? One's blade is weak, if not forged with a nice, strong soul.”
“Then I will use mine, to forge the greatest weapon in all Anor Londo.”
“Don't be a fool, boy! What will you do without yours? You will wither and die! There is no way you could live without your own soul! Stupid boy! And you humans should be smarter than that.” Her paw burst in a soft yellow light. “I will give you this one.”
“You hold it, boy. And take it to the Giant Blacksmith. Then, when you're satisfied, come seek me in the forests near Oolacile.” Alvina handed me the glowing flame, and in the moment it came in contact with me I could feel its power, weaker than what I felt with Lord Gwyn. From whatever this soul came, I could feel a connection with it.
“How can I thank-” but nothing was there, in the dark of the forest.
Alvina. I will always remember her name. I will thank her, one day, for the gift she gave me.
I walked toward the furnace. Two huge, black wood doors stood in front of me, and at my height a smaller door was visible. I slowly pushed it.
Loud hammer noise exploded in the huge house in the woods, along with bellows, sounding like a hurricane.
“CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?” I shouted, with all my lungs.
The hammer and bellows stopped. Now there only was the deep sound of steps on the floor.
“I'm coming, I'm coming. Who is it?” A loud, deep voice overwhelmed the roaring flames.
“I'M ARTORIAS THE MASTER GREATSWORDSMAN!”
A giant figure came out of the back of the house, followed by an incredible heat.
“Why are you here, Knight of Gwyn?”
“I'M HERE TO ASK YOU TO BUILD MY ARMOR.”
“Do you have a soul you wish to use, Knight of Gwyn?”
“YES.” I lifted my arm. The Giant Blacksmith crouched and reached my arm.
“This is a powerful soul, but it's not from this world. Where did you get this?” his voice was louder than a thunder striking in front of you.
“IT WAS GIVEN TO ME! AS A GIFT!”
“I see. I will forge your armor, Knight of Gwyn. It won't take long. You can wait outside, if the noise is not of your liking.”
Six hours  passed, and the giant called me from inside.
“Here is your armor, I hope you enjoy it.”
The giant gave me a silver, shiny armor: the helm had the shape of a hawk head, without the lower beak, with a long blue horsetail on the back, and a dark-blue hood under the half beak ending with a long scarf of the same color. Black chainmail covered most of the body; on top of that, a silver-like breastplate. The silver gauntlets looked like they were made of bands of leather, but it still was the same material used  for the whole armor. The armored leggings also were like that, only with the thighs clad by a bit of plating. The armor was entirely decorated with thin gold lines in every inner and outer edge of the platings.
“I... I love it.”
“You truly are the best blacksmith in all of Anor Londo!”
“It's not all my doing, Knight of Gwyn. The soul you brought me was one of the best I could work with. Whoever gave you that soul... must really like you.”
I laughed.
“Thank you again, my friend!”
I could not wait, I had to put it on.
I stripped out of most of my clothes and wore the armor. I soon noticed that only my eyes were visible from the helm, for the scarf was covering the rest of my face.
A new power streamed in me, adding to the one Lord Gwyn gave me.
“I will treasure your masterpiece, Giant.”
“Rough,” said the blacksmith. “My name is Rough.”
“My name is Artorias. It's an honor, to have you as a friend”.
I stepped out in the evening sun.
I walked back to my quarters with a new sense of righteousness, and the responsibility of this new found greatness on my shoulders.
I would do my best, and I would never back down.