The knight who had nodded in greeting to Lucian was named Leda.
She was Miquella's knight—the only one. Freya's companion on the path of following the Empyrean, perhaps even her friend.
Freya had returned to Redmane Castle upon hearing of the coming Festival of Combat, determined to see her general off one last time. When Leda learned this, she had brought Dahn with her, and together they traveled here.
But Leda's purpose went far beyond the festival.
As Miquella's most faithful attendant, she knew many of his plans. She knew what he desired of her. She had come not only to honor the pact between General Radahn and Miquella, but also to bring the promised champion before her lord.
And if possible, she would seek out other warriors as well—those strong enough, and willing enough, to follow Miquella. Their strength would be needed soon.
For there were greater trials ahead, and Miquella's designs in the Realm of Shadow would demand many such hands.
Lucian, seeing her nod, returned the gesture. Then the noise made by Freya and Jerren drew everyone's attention.
The old war counselor rapped his knuckles against Freya's helm, making it ring. "You little wretch! You vanish for so long, only to turn up now? I thought you'd perished in Aeonia!"
His words were harsh, but the concern in his tone was plain.
Freya laughed awkwardly, a little abashed at her sudden disappearance back then.
"Haha… sorry, sorry. There were reasons. I was badly wounded at the time, nearly dead."
She sighed, recalling the scene of her brush with death.
Jerren studied her carefully, seeing her hale and whole.
"What happened? Tell me."
Freya scratched at her helmet.
"That's… a long story."
She had been about to speak plainly, but Leda's earlier warning came to mind. So instead she tugged Jerren aside, pressing close to murmur in his ear, low enough that no one else could hear.
Leda exhaled quietly, a hint of resignation in her eyes.
She had hoped Freya would serve as her guide into the castle, mingling a little with the Redmanes. But now she was chatting privately with the lord himself, leaving their guests standing awkwardly at the side.
It was understandable in Freya's case—she was guileless, straightforward, almost childlike. But for Jerren to be equally blunt, forgetting all decorum and leaving them waiting? Well, perhaps it ran in the family.
Still, it mattered little. What Freya whispered was no great secret. If there had truly been something to conceal, they would never have come here so openly.
At most, Jerren might learn that Miquella had once moved through Aeonia. Beyond that, nothing of importance would be revealed.
Leda was supremely confident in her lord's designs. Only those directly entangled could ever trace the true threads. That was why she could stand here at Redmane Castle with such ease.
Unable to engage Jerren, she turned her gaze toward Lucian and Iji.
She had not expected such a discovery when she let Freya lead them here.
Iji she recognized at once, once a vassal of Caria. But the other man…
She could not place him, yet even a glance told her: he was terrifyingly strong.
She had already marked several warriors in the castle as potential recruits—men of rare strength whom she might test, to see if they would follow Miquella. Yet compared to Lucian, they paled to nothing.
Such a man could aid her lord in bringing his vision to life.
Lucian, unable to hear what Jerren and Freya whispered, let his eyes drift back to Freya's companions. His gaze met that of the ornate knight. She, too, seemed to be studying him.
From the look of them, these newcomers were no ordinary fighters. Their equipment was unique, distinctive—and their strength palpable.
Most striking of all was the knight in the white cloak and golden armor. 'His' armor gleamed with elegance, like a work of art for admiration rather than battle. Yet the aura 'he' carried was steady and resolute, 'his' presence steeped in the scent of bloodshed.
This was no mere ornament. This was a veteran who had slain countless foes.
Lucian's instincts as a player told him at once: if this were a game, these were story characters.
The knight bowed slightly toward Iji. "Lord Iji. It has been some time. I am Leda, once honored to stand at Miquella's side. We met, briefly, long ago."
Lucian blinked. A woman's voice. So this was a female knight. Judging by her tone, she was earnest and steadfast. Yet clad as she was, with heavy armor and a surcoat masking her frame, he would never have guessed her sex.
Recognition lit Iji's eyes. "So it is you—the Needle Knight, Leda. A rare guest indeed."
He remembered her. In all his brief encounters with Miquella, she had always been there at his side. He had not recalled her name until now, but her presence had left an impression.
Age, however, dulled memory.
"Needle Knight…?" Lucian's thoughts stirred.
In his recollection, there were only two things bound to needles: the Unalloyed Gold Needle, and Miquella's Needle.
A knight of Miquella's Needle? No such figure had appeared in the game.
He studied her closely. The white cloak embroidered with leaf and branch, the golden tracery etched across her armor, the luster of her gear—different in hue from Freya's, more refined, more pure.
Unalloyed gold.
Even the interwoven golden lattice at her sword's hilt echoed the shape of the Unalloyed Gold Needle.
As for her strength… that remained to be seen.
Iji spoke again, recalling old days. "It has been long indeed. And Lord Miquella—how fares he now? Since the Shattering, I have heard no word."
Leda gave a small, knowing smile. "My lord still pursues his ideal. But with the state of the Lands Between as it is, he has no need to wander. That is why so little is heard of him."
Lucian's eyes narrowed. A lie.
He knew well enough: Miquella was trapped, cocooned within Mohg's dynasty, with no messages reaching the world. Of course no news would spread.
Yet he understood her words. To admit the truth, that Miquella had been stolen from the Haligtree—was unthinkable. That secret had been buried even from Malenia's war in Caelid.
Still, he wondered: why was this "Needle Knight" not striving to recover her lord? Why was she here, at a festival, of all things?
But the conversation gave no further clues.
Soon Jerren and Freya finished speaking. Leda excused herself from Lucian and Iji and joined the old general. Their voices could not be heard.
Lucian and Iji were left alone.
The blacksmith glanced at him. "Lord Lucian. The Needle Knights are indeed Lord Miquella's sworn guard. Their strength rivals that of Caria's knights, though their number is few. The one you just met—Leda, is the foremost among them. She never left his side."
Lucian nodded. The chief of the Needle Knights—Miquella's foremost attendant, then.
Iji hesitated, then continued. "Forgive an old man's frankness. Lord Miquella is gentle, full of love… yet such love, untempered and absolute, is dangerous. I fear his nature may hold peril."
"If you ever meet him, take heed."
Lucian nodded slowly. The warning struck him as worth remembering.
Love without restraint. A devotion that knew no bounds. That was the most dangerous kind of all—because such a person would never believe their love to be wrong. To others, it might be suffocating.
He remembered Ranni's words when she spoke of Miquella, and now Iji's echoed the same.
He would heed them both.
After all, he had witnessed the power of the Bewitching Branch firsthand. And Malenia's own description of him was telling: a god's wisdom, a god's power of enchantment.
Miquella was the most frightening of the Empyreans.
Lucian raised his estimation of Miquella's threat several notches higher.
Soon after, Leda and Freya took their leave. Before departing, Leda cast Lucian a long, intent look.
The man in the wide-brimmed hat with them said nothing at all. Lucian was left wondering why he had even come.
Once they were gone, Lucian turned to Jerren to ask about Freya—who she was, what she had told him, and why she had come here so suddenly.
In truth, Leda's words to Jerren had been little more than courtesies: sorrow for Radahn's fate, a pledge to aid in the festival. Jerren had brushed it off quickly, more concerned with honoring his general than picking quarrels with the Haligtree. There would be time to trace the truth later.
But seeing Lucian's curiosity, Jerren spoke of Freya.
"Freya was once a gladiator. General Radahn took note of her courage and brought her into his guard. She was young then, we all looked after her."
"Later, in the Battle of Aeonia, she vanished. I thought she had perished, as Ogha did. Yet she lived."
He paused, recalling her words. "She told me… after Aeonia, she was stricken by scarlet rot. Alone, her wounds festering, she awaited death. Then Lord Miquella appeared. He… drew the poison from her with his lips."
"To repay that salvation, she swore to follow him."
Lucian nodded. Alone, dying of rot, then saved by a godling himself. The story was trite, yet moving.
And yet—something gnawed at him.
Aeonia. After the war. Saved by Miquella?
But Miquella had already been stolen away by Mohg! Was that not why Malenia had marched into Caelid in the first place?
How could he have appeared on the battlefield?
Lucian frowned. Was it not Miquella at all, but his half-form, St. Trina? Could Trina wield such healing power?
No… only Miquella, with his unalloyed gold, could draw out the rot.
Then could it be that the cocoon in Mohgwyn's Palace held Trina, while Miquella still moved freely? But no—Mohg could not have mistaken even so basic a truth as sex.
Or was it some kind of projection, an avatar? Yet how could even that deceive the Lord of Blood?
The more he thought, the less sense it made.
For the first time, Lucian felt the story of this world veer violently away from the game he knew.
The great events had unfolded as before—every major battle, every upheaval the same. Yet Miquella's movements did not fit.
The unknowns deepened, and with them, the path ahead grew murky.
—
[T/N: Needle Knight Leda ]
The last member of the Needle Knights, an order devoted to Miquella of the Haligtree. Leda was guided by Miquella to the Realm of Shadow alongside her compatriots, all of whom were under the influence of a powerful charm which compelled them to follow the Empyrean. While in the Realm of Shadow, Leda followed the trail of crosses left by Miquella, discovering in the process that he sought the Gate of Divinity, which was sealed away by a tree.
The Tarnished encounters Leda in Mohgwyn Palace, where she urges them to touch the withered arm in Miquella's cocoon to enter the Realm of Shadow. Within the Land of Shadow, the Tarnished meets Leda and her various compatriots on their search for Miquella, seeking out the crosses to ascertain his route. However, the charm inflicted upon the compatriots is broken when Miquella's Great Rune is shattered. Leda's devotion to Miquella is unshaken, but she begins to suspect her compatriots of disloyalty. Leda sets about ferreting out those she believes undeserving of a place at Miquella's side, with her potential targets being the Hornsent and Sir Ansbach. The Tarnished may assist her in her hunt, or side with her opponents.
After gaining access to Enir-Ilim, the Tarnished encounters Leda for a final time on the way to the Gate of Divinity. Leda deduces that the Tarnished was never guided by Miquella, and concludes that they were instead following the guidance of the Erdtree. Viewing the Tarnished as a threat to Miquella's ascension, she challenges them. At this point, the player can summon allies such as Thiollier, Dryleaf Dane, Redmane Freyja, and potentially Pureblood Knight Ansbach or Sanguine Noble Nataan, depending on prior choices. Defeating Leda yields her sword and armor, which can be looted from her body. Her devotion to Miquella is so strong that she remains loyal even after his charm is broken, making her a fanatical zealot who views betrayal as a direct threat to Miquella's cause.