The Awakening of Lothric
"Curses are the strangest things," Caricius muses, swirling toddy in his goblet. "From what my grandfather told me, Lothric stood the most vibrant kingdom on the trade route — known for its courts and jesters that enchanted the wayfares. It was a sight to behold, he often recounted." I remember his grandfather, the old chap. He was a priest as well, quite polished in his skill. If it weren't for his untimely death, I would have bid my son seek his counsel in this matter. Perchance, things might have taken a different turn. But alas. Alas, indeed. Leaning against the bar counter, Caricius' words draw in his young apprentice, Leon. It's rare for the priest to speak so openly, the toddy lowering his usual defenses. Leon seems to sense something amiss—Caricius' discomfort is palpable, a dark secret pressing at the edges of his consciousness. In his haze, Caricius laughs dryly, “‘Twas the curse of the king, it was!” he yells, “The undead, mighty vici...