After some time passed, and Lloyd briefly explained what had just happened, an uneasy silence filled the air.
The three brothers of the Ge family—including the one whose head rested inside the lantern—first glanced at Lloyd, then at Elizabeth. Their eyes then swept over the Mohgwyn Altar, which now looked as if it had been draped in a red carpet, before shifting toward the distant hollow of the Dynasty of Blood—now a lake of cursed blood. Finally, they turned their gaze back to the two standing before them.
Truth be told, battles of this scale weren't new to them. Especially for the head in the lantern—he had fought in the Ancient Dragon War, and the chaos of that conflict had been no less intense than this one. But still...
"Let's just pretend we didn't ask."
After setting the subject aside, the group began discussing plans for what to do next regarding the Dynasty of Blood.
"Disbanding it is out of the question. Even setting aside the fact that it's Mohg's dynasty, the Dynasty of Blood has long been providing covert support to the Golden Order. Both emotionally and politically, dissolving it—or turning hostile—is unthinkable."
"But…"
"No 'buts.' Even if Father himself came, he'd back me on this."
Hearing the head in the lantern firmly shut down his stubborn second brother, Mohg tried his best to keep a straight face, though the corners of his mouth couldn't help but twitch upward.
But before he could savor that satisfaction for more than a few seconds, the head in the lantern shot him a sidelong look and said irritably,
"Don't start smiling yet. I said I won't let you dissolve the Dynasty of Blood—but that doesn't mean what you're doing is fine. Look around. Aside from the White Masks, how many here even resemble people anymore?"
"And as for that... hobby of yours. I know it's part of your faith, but don't tell me no one's ever died because of it."
"You know perfectly well how disgraceful this all looks. If you don't make changes, how do you expect anyone else to accept it?"
Mohg wilted instantly.
But the question remained—how exactly was he supposed to fix it?
What, tell everyone to sit quietly and stop mutilating themselves? That would never work.
Even if Elizabeth agreed, the followers of the Formless Mother would never accept it. They'd see it as a sign that their "Mother" had abandoned them, spiraling into madness and despair—some might even kill themselves on the spot.
But leaving things as they were wasn't an option either. The state of the Dynasty of Blood was simply too grotesque. Even in the Lands Between—where all manner of strange life thrived—few would tolerate something so disturbing.
So... what could they do?
"You only care about 'wounds' and 'blood,' right?"
Lloyd turned directly toward the Formless Mother herself. She nodded.
"Of course. Didn't I tell you when we met? I only seek wounds and pain. I never wanted the dead. The dead don't bleed, nor do they suffer."
"Then I think I've got an idea."
Lloyd nodded, then turned to Mohg with a faint smile.
"Say, Mohg—how would you feel about starting something like a 'Blood Cross Society'?"
Mohg blinked, puzzled.
"What's a 'Blood Cross Society'?"
"A medical organization."
At first, the idea of turning the Dynasty of Blood—a cult-like empire obsessed with blood—into a medical group sounded absurd. But when you thought about it, it actually made perfect sense.
After all, the backbone of the Dynasty—the White Masks—were already battlefield medics by trade. Most of them possessed advanced medical knowledge and surgical skill, though they were more famously known for "granting release" rather than saving lives.
Moreover, since the Dynasty of Blood sought wounds and bleeding rather than death, they had long been studying wound treatment to avoid losing too many of their comrades during their "rituals." Their level of surgical expertise was already quite refined.
So, in truth, the Dynasty of Blood already had the foundation to become a medical order.
All it lacked was a little direction.
And now...
"Healing incantations are certainly convenient, but in truth, there are plenty of cases where they don't work all that well. And sometimes, healing too much can even cause tissue mutations—they're far from perfect.
"Worse yet, because healing incantations exist, you people here have almost no structured understanding of human anatomy. Whenever something goes wrong, your solution is always to slap a healing spell on it. Even when someone has a tumor, all you know is to flood them with healing energy until the poor soul mutates—and then you blame it on the Crucible's regression."
"So, if this idea works, it won't just change things for the Golden Order—it'll be a massive revolution for the entire Lands Between."
"As for how to go about it…"
"It's actually quite simple."
"You lot already enjoy stabbing each other for fun, right? So why not lie down on an operating table and let someone study the wounds while they do it?"
"It fits your faith, satisfies your… preferences, contributes to medicine, and if you can push medical knowledge this way, you'll be able to play with even deeper, more exquisite, more painful wounds. Isn't that what you all want?"
"Besides, this would also train a group of skilled surgeons. You could send them out across the Lands Between to practice medicine—boost your dynasty's reputation while spreading the word about your mother... I mean, the Formless Mother. Isn't that a win-win?"
"Of course, when treating others, remember to bring painkillers. Most people can't handle your methods."
At first, when Lloyd began explaining, Mohg was completely lost.
But since many of the White Masks were former battlefield medics—and because he cared deeply for his followers—he had studied such matters himself. It didn't take him long to piece together Lloyd's meaning and start inferring the logic behind those strange terms.
Then his expression began to shift—from confusion, to thoughtfulness, and finally to understanding.
In the middle of his contemplation, something clicked. His eyes lit up, and he clapped his hands together in realization.
"I see… I see! So that's the angle!"
He glanced first at Elizabeth, then back at Lloyd, genuine admiration in his voice.
"No wonder Mother is so fond of you. This idea is… truly brilliant."
Building on Lloyd's concept, Mohg quickly began considering ways to adapt it to his own circumstances.
For instance, the painkillers Lloyd mentioned weren't even necessary—after all, while Accursed Blood was addictive, small doses could numb pain, calm the mind, and further extend the Mother's influence.
And as for the White Masks, they already had a respectable reputation beyond the dynasty. With just a bit of careful management, achieving what Lloyd described could be far easier than he made it sound.
All in all, Mohg thought the plan had great potential—and he was genuinely intrigued.
His brothers, however, were another story. Even after Mohg's explanation, both the second brother and the head in the lantern still looked utterly bewildered.
Not because they lacked intelligence—but because, as beings raised beneath the Erdtree, they'd been conditioned from birth to rely on the Golden Incantations for everything.
After all, the Golden Order itself was founded upon the Erdtree's prayers. Those prayers might have had their limits, but they were overflowing with blessings and healing power. Combined with the miraculous existence of Sites of Grace, the entire Golden Order—from top to bottom—had no incentive to study medicine. Why bother, when you could simply pray... or just die and start over?
So while Mohg had managed to grasp Lloyd's idea through his own background, his brothers were completely lost. Even with Mohg trying to explain, they couldn't fully follow the discussion.
Still, even without understanding the details, Morgott caught the important part.
If this succeeded, it would dramatically expand the Formless Mother's influence—perhaps even shake the faith of the Golden Order itself.
And that… he couldn't allow.
"Hmm. Then let's do it," said the head in the lantern calmly.
Morgott froze and looked down at him, uncertain.
"Brother… did you understand any of that?"
"I caught a bit of it—not all," came the honest reply.
"Then why…"
"Because I trust Mohg. And I trust Lloyd."
As the eldest brother, Godwyn didn't even need to turn to see Morgott's expression. With a sigh, he continued,
"You're worried this could undermine faith in the Golden Order, aren't you?"
"...Yes."
Morgott nodded hesitantly.
"Then, Brother, you…"
"I don't have a solution," Godwyn admitted plainly.
"But I can tell you this: if something like this is enough to shake faith in the Golden Order, then that faith deserves to be shaken."
"And trust me—on this point, both Mother and Father would agree."
Godwyn slowly turned his head toward Morgott, his tone steady and sincere.
"I know how absurd that sounds to you. After all, Mother and Father founded the Golden Order, and I was meant to inherit it. By all logic, we should stand firmly on the side of the Erdtree."
"But have you ever stopped to think why Mother and Father created the Golden Order in the first place? What was the true foundation of its success?"
Silence fell.
Morgott stood there for a long while before finally speaking, hesitant and uncertain.
"It's because of the blessings of the Erdtree… and Father's power..."
"That's part of it, yes—but not the root of it."
Godwyn-in-the-Lamp shook his head.
"The real reason is much simpler: the Golden Order Dynasty was better than the others."
"Because we were better, it was easier for us to absorb other powers, to win more support, to receive greater blessings, and to amass stronger strength. That's why we won so many wars and ultimately achieved victory."
"But think about it—if one day the Golden Order declined, and another dynasty arose that was better than ours, then why shouldn't they do the same thing we once did?"
"Why is it fine for us to overthrow the civilization of the Giants because we found them inferior, yet if someone decides the Golden Order has fallen short, they're forbidden from acting?"
"What we could do, others can do too."
"Our goal should be to remain better—to surpass others—not to suppress anything greater that might arise."
"Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Silence followed.
Morgott understood perfectly well what his brother meant—he just couldn't bring himself to accept it so easily.
Seeing that expression, Godwyn sighed.
"Morgott, do you know why I've been supporting Mohg, but constantly opposing you?"
Morgott shook his head.
Godwyn took a deep breath, then suddenly exploded.
"Because I'm your damn older brother!"
"My priority is you—your well-being—before any so-called Golden Order! And that damned 'Golden' nonsense? I stopped wanting it ages ago!"
"If I can't even protect my own brother, what kind of 'perfect Golden' am I supposed to be? And don't even start about becoming king—what, I'd have to screw my own brother to do that?!"
"And now look—Mohg's been charmed, and he still had the sense to leave you a way out. But you?!"
"Have you even thought about it? You're an Omen! What good do you think will come from clinging to the Golden Order? Even if Father returns, what kind of treatment do you expect from him?"
"You never think of yourself. You just keep chasing that stupid Erdtree like it's your father! Can't you stop for once and think about yourself? Care about yourself? About how Mohg feels?"
"I swear, by Marika, you—!"
It was obvious that Godwyn had completely lost his patience.
Ever since regaining part of his memories, he had been hiding his true self, pretending to be nothing more than Godrick's head, just to keep his brother from worrying.
But that very act had made him painfully aware of how his brother was destroying himself.
From a purely "Golden" perspective, Morgott's devotion was absolute—a model of loyalty worthy of monuments and praise.
But if Godwyn were truly that perfect embodiment of the Golden ideal, he would never have risked defying the Golden Order's political norms back then just to visit them—to care for them, teach them, even attempt to rescue them more than once.
And now, even when all pretenses had fallen away, Morgott still went on about the Erdtree this and the Erdtree that...
How could he possibly stay calm?
After scolding his brother into silence, Godwyn finally exhaled and turned toward Lloyd, his tone apologetic.
"Forgive me for losing my composure."
"It's fine," Lloyd replied honestly. "I get it."
He really did. To an outsider, Morgott's behavior might seem noble—admirable even—but if it were your own family, just thinking about it would be enough to make your blood boil.
Lloyd had even tried, back before this, to figure out how to talk some sense into Morgott, but no amount of thought had helped. Now that Godwyn had done the job for him, that was one less problem to worry about.
After chatting a bit longer, something occurred to Lloyd.
"By the way—speaking of blood and wounds, wouldn't the arena work just as well?"
"Well..."
At the mention of the arena, Godwyn's expression shifted slightly, a hint of awkwardness flashing across his face before he sighed.
"The arena itself would be fine. But for certain reasons, my mother... isn't fond of anything involving 'sacrifice.'"
He paused, then added,
"Any kind of sacrifice."
Lloyd thought for a moment.
"Is this about... the horned Jar People?"
"Ah, so you've heard about that."
Godwyn nodded.
"To be honest, both Father and I rather liked the Colosseum. Father even used to fight there himself for fun. But after he was gone... that red-haired woman—never mind, let's just say once Mother took over, she shut it all down. She said it was a cruel kind of sacrifice—and in the process, left all the gladiators jobless..."
There was also the matter of the Serpent. Back then, the audience loved watching Serpents get beaten in the arena, so snake motifs were everywhere. Combine that with all the sacrificial imagery, and, well... let's just say some village girl couldn't even walk past without nearly fainting. In the end, Mother just closed the whole thing down.
Lloyd considered this.
"What if I managed to resolve the issue with the Jar People?"
"You can't."
Godwyn shook his head.
"I've been there myself. There's no solution. And considering how long it's been since my death—and how the Land of Shadow has been severed—it's simply impossible now."
"I've already heard from Morgott about Mother. If you really want to reopen an arena, just go ahead and do it. I'll try to talk to her afterward—she might come around..."
Godwyn's words trailed off mid-sentence.
Because right then, the Fire Knight's Medallion in Lloyd's inventory began to tremble. Without saying a word, Lloyd summoned both figures stored within.
As Godwyn froze in disbelief, Lloyd performed what could only be described as a live "magic show."
Cradling the sobbing blonde giantess in one arm, Lloyd turned to Godwyn, spread his free hand, and said casually,
"See? Problem solved."
"Resolved."