Unbound

Felix returned to his rooms with mixed feelings. The training session had gone well—he'd earned a number of Skill levels and had even successfully utilized his Intent and Affinity to activate a Skill without the System. But the destruction at the end had put a damper on things. Plus, he'd ruined his clothes again.

He stripped his sliced tunic off and discarded his pants and boots. All had been broken in some way, though his boots had taken the worst of it—the soles had burst entirely, presumably from his kicks at the Golems. He hadn't anticipated ruining his outfit so quickly, but he was still prepared for it. Life on the Continent was not clothes-friendly, he'd found. His Health was at full, but still Felix checked himself over for cuts or bruises. Getting tougher skin and a more powerful constitution was great until you realized it meant that minor things went unnoticed for longer. Last thing he wanted was to change his shirt and stain it with a bunch of blood.

Felix gazed into a full-length mirror he'd had installed in his bed chamber. It was one of the few things in it, aside from a very big bed he rarely used and a six foot long steamer trunk. He looked at himself, inspecting his unblemished skin and lithe figure. Less lithe than previously perhaps, since he'd gained a fair bit of bulky muscle with his advancements, but far different than what he'd entered the Continent with—the changes wrought by skyrocketing stats were a magic all their own. Add in the effects of Tempering his Body and he barely recognized himself. His hair was black and shaggy, his eyes were blue, and his face was still his own but that was all that was the same. He'd been de-aged as his Vitality increased, and Tempering into Apprentice and Journeyman Tiers had suffused him with vigor. Felix hadn't been ancient—not even thirty—but he looked barely past twenty now. From what he'd gathered, it was likely he'd look the same for decades if not more. Zara, for instance, was Master Tier and she looked positively ageless.

What will I look like in fifty years? A hundred? Vess told him her father, only Adept Tier, was nearing his three hundredth birthday. At Journeyman he was looking at over a hundred, easily. Yet the question loomed. Will I even survive that long?

The Archon awaited, and the threat of the Inquisition was not to be ignored either. Brooding, Felix quickly got dressed.

He had gone training to clear his mind and test himself—to see if his Skills were improving at all. Felix was certain they had, but was it enough? Zara had begun teaching him how to use his Harmonic Stats—Intent and Affinity specifically—to activate his Skills, claiming it was stronger than relying on the System's shortcuts. It was hard, however, and he'd had a small handful of successes over the course of a month. It wasn't a tool he could lean on yet, not reliably at least. Many of his Skills lagged behind in Apprentice Tier, and he needed to work on those more, and that meant the quick activation through the System's process. The gains to his stats and overall strength was another step toward evening the playing field with his enemies. He checked his Status.

Name: Felix Nevarre

Level: 49

Race: Primordial of the Unseen Tide (Lesser)*

Born Trait: Keen Mind

Health: 3833/3833

Stamina: 5300/5303

Mana: 4005/4005

STR: 1460 PER: 740

VIT: 786 END: 946

INT: 1123 WIL: 1530

AGL: 640 DEX: 760

Skills:

BODY

Resistances: The Song of Absolution (L), Level 67

Combat Skills: Dodge (C), Level 53; Heavy Armor Mastery (C), Level 1; Blind Fighting (R), Level 44; Corrosive Strike (R), Level 51; Wild Threnody (E), Level 51

Physical Enhancements: Armored Skin (R), Level 61; Unfettered Volition (E), Level 55; Sovereign of Flesh (T), Level 55

MIND

Mental Enhancements: Negotiation (C), Level 15; Deception (U), Level 18; Meditation (U), Level 54; Bastion of Will (E), Level 68; Deep Mind (E), Level 56; Manifestation of the Coronach (E), Level 46; Ravenous Tithe (E), Level 70

Information Skills: Alchemy (C), Level 27; Tracking (C), Level 19; Exploration (U), Level 44; Herbalism (U), Level 29; Voracious Eye (E), Level 51

SPIRIT

Spiritual Enhancements: Dual Casting (U), Level 50; Mana Manipulation (U), Level 50; Manasight (U), Level 50; Manaship Pilot (R), Level 1; Oathbinding (R), Level 34; Etheric Concordance (L), Level 64; Unite the Lost (T), Level 8

Spells: Abyssal Skein (R), Level 36; Cloudstep (R), Level 33; Fire Within (R) Level 65; Influence of the Wisp (R), Level 47; Invocation (R), Level 42; Mantle of the Long Night (R), Level 47; Shadow Whip (R), Level 43; Stone Shaping (R), Level 55; Wrack And Ruin (E), Level 45; Arrow of Perdition (L), Level 34; Theurgist of the Rise (L), Level 65; Adamant Discord (T), Level 56

Unused Stat Points: 27

Harmonic Stats

RES: 282 EVA: 110

INE: 628 MIG: 132

AFI: 328 ALA: 475

REI: 224 FEL: 181

Felix's stats, as usual, were off the charts compared to his level and Tier. According to Zara, Cal, and Harn on Strength and Endurance alone he could go toe-to-toe with many Adept Tier warriors...while also slinging spells against Adept Tier mages. Unlike either group, he was well-rounded and had more options in a fight. Each of his Primary Stats—meaning everything but his Harmonic Stats—had risen above 100 and then 500, pushing him beyond the First and Second Thresholds. Each Threshold was a sort of convergence of power, where his Primary Stats reinforced one another to a greater degree than before. For example, it meant his 1460 in Strength was effectively higher than the number indicated, but the System didn't tell him how much.

Ultimately, it meant he was powerful. None of his friends doubted that, and Felix had come to recognize it himself. Still, his power was a candle flame against the bonfire of a Master Tier existence, let alone a Grandmaster.

Felix chewed his lip, flicking through his Skills. He had twenty-one Skills below Journeyman Tier, and while some of them might not be particularly useful in a fight—Negotiation and Manaship Pilot for instance—he didn't like to see any of his Skills lag behind. Not only because of the skill-grinding gamer he had once been, but because each Tier offered boosts to his stats that pushed him farther along his path. The Third Threshold, which he assumed was at the one thousand marker, loomed close.

That said...Felix concentrated, mentally allocating his twenty seven unused stat points. There.

STR: 1460 PER: 740

VIT: 786 END: 946

INT: 1123 WIL: 1530

AGL: 700 DEX: 760

All twenty seven into Agility to help even things out. Thankfully, he had a number of modifying Titles that made each point count for more than normal, so twenty seven had stretched to sixty points. Felix leaned back against the footboard of his king-sized bed. The wood creaked ominously, and he had to ease off the majority of his bulk. Being faster will help with some of my dumber battle decisions.

Felix knew he wasn't a genius at fighting; at best he was approaching competent. His stats and increasing Skill levels carried him, often ending fights before tactics and form were an issue. It was something he was working on: it had been proven to him several times now that proper training almost always beat out stats, unless those stats were monstrously higher.

More than that, he thought with a glance at his Skills list again. Having the proper Skill to respond to a threat was key.

Felix had a lot of Skills, enough that he sometimes forgot to use them all. He needed to rectify that, instead of simply leaning on his stronger Skills for everything. Sovereign of Flesh and Unfettered Volition were powerful, but he had to incorporate it all into his fighting style. Down below, he'd used Shadow Whip and Corrosive Strike to devastating effect. Combining Adamant Discord with Wild Threnody was a new, on the fly decision, and it had cause a surprising amount of destruction. It was definitely a Skill combination he would try again.

The damage to the training area, however, was regrettable and a little embarrassing. It had been excavated and restored to working condition only days ago, and now they'd have to close a portion of it. He had offered to fix what he could, and even said he'd help fix the Golems—as best he could—but the attendant had all but shoved him out the door. Her Spirit had vacillated between alarm and awe, as had the other Haarguards that had lingered to watch him. That, more than anything else, had made Felix uncomfortable and he left quickly.

Felix shook his head. He was running in circles again. There were preparations to be done and—

Someone knocked on the door. Felix extended his Perception and Affinity, feeling for details. What he sensed made him raise his eyebrows before he paced for the entrance. He threw open the doors and peered at Elders Regis and Holt, the latter having just lifted his hand to knock again.

"Good," Felix said. "I was gonna come look for you later. Come in." He gestured into his chambers and the two mages shared a look. "I have some questions that need answers."

Vess hadn't been able to sleep after she and Felix had spoken. She was left feeling restless and energized by her own outlandish behavior.

Smiling at him like that? What was I thinking? She alternated between pacing atop her fine, plush rug and sitting uneasily on her four poster bed. Something about the man always put her off balance, and the heiress still didn't know how to feel about it all. So, she had spent the majority of the morning planning.

Such a task was not something nobles of her rank would stoop to, but Vess had been without servants or aides for the better part of a year. Ever since she joined the Protector's Guild she had striven to prove to everyone—herself included—that she could manage without the trappings of her upbringing. Arranging supplies for their entire crew as well as simple transport for the forests and ravines that dotted the Foglands was an act of rebellious autonomy that she relished.

Vess poured herself into the details. She didn't expect they would be on foot the entire time, though she tried to account for that as well. There were an uncounted number of unknown dangers in the unveiled Foglands, and it was best to attempt to cover all of the possibilities one could prepare against.

However, as the morning wore on and the sun rose higher in the cornflower blue sky, Vess realized she was also putting something off with her marathon of laborious organization. Namely, a conversation with the only man capable of knocking all her carefully laid plans awry.

As Vess stepped into the cool granite expanse of the third floor, she frowned for several reasons. The Healer's Ward always smelled of astringent solutions and a fetid undertone she refused to contemplate, but now there was something else among the scents. It was flowery and too sweet, like fruit on the edge of rot. She kept her distaste from her features, however.

Diplomacy is level 63!

There were a number of robed apprentices in the reception hall of the Ward, all of them busy pushing medical carts and taking rapid notes on reams of parchment. Vess passed them by without a word, and though she sensed confusion and even a few motes of anger in their Spirits, no one stopped her. She didn't wear her rank on his person like most nobles, but the weathered armor of a former Guilder spoke volumes.

The Ward was far larger than the ramshackle hut they'd operated out of in camp, though Portia still ran the place. She had more help now, clearly; Vess spotted at least ten other apprentice healers as she traversed the hallways. That extra help and the medical supplies they had requisitioned from the Sunrise merchants had been an almighty boon for so very many people in Haarwatch. Enough that it made Vess feel good about teaching Cal how to leverage her Authority while still keeping good relations with the greedy traders.

Vess had spent some time helping Cal settle into her new role, as her lifelong position as Duchess-in-waiting gave her a certain insight to the management of a large Territory. She had years of lectures from her father and his aides to pass on, countless hours that had been drilled into her head until she could recite them all from memory. There was much to convey, though not everything was applicable to how Cal would run her new Territory, or feasible with their current lack of...pretty much everything.

Yet Vess had chafed at the hours wasted on conversation. Every moment she wasn't helping clear the rubble and search for survivors was one that weighed upon her conscience. She had not spoken idly to Felix on the burden of power; it was a yoke she had labored under for many years. Only recently had she grown strong enough to bear it in new, different ways. Now that she could enact change with her own two hands, Vess felt it a waste to sit in throne rooms and leave the the dirty work to other people.

This visit felt much the same. She would rather be finalizing her packing or hunting down the last of the monsters in the sewers, but instead she was forced here. To see him.

Except he wasn't in his bed. The sheets were mussed and the series of tonics on his bedside table were half-drank.

The healers did not come for him, else he would have been forced to finish his tonics. No signs of a struggle, though the sheets were tossed back rather thoroughly. Vess narrowed her eyes and they filled with a tingling warmth.

Gaze of the Unseen Hunter is level 58!

She spotted a lingering smudge on the ground, where unshod feet had pressed against the cool stone. The faint heat haze strengthened as it progressed, turning to true footprints once outside the room. They were simple to follow, and even simpler to guess why he had left his bed. He was headed toward the inner courtyard.

The inner courtyard was a very small garden—a mere hundred strides across and twice that in length—and one populated more by dirt than greenery. The area had only been sparsely planted, it's priority lagging behind the care of the city's citizenry. When Vess arrived, she could spot the lingering heat traces of her quarry, though his Spirit was a careful blank to her Affinity. She clucked her tongue and pushed forward over the shrubbery covered hills.

In the center of the garden, in an area had been tamped flat, a large man practiced his sword Forms beneath the morning sun. Vess frowned as she saw him, covered in bandages that were stained with a mixture of sweat, dirt, and some sort of oily solution. Darius Reed, Chosen Hand of the Duke of Pax'Vrell and her anointed protector moved well for a man so recently on the verge of death. His breathing seemed easy and his eyes clear, if distracted by the whirling dance of his wide, double-edged blade.

"You are supposed to be resting," Vess said suddenly. The Hand halted mid-swing and smoothly pivoted to sheath the blade at his back. Vess frowned, annoyed that he didn't even look guilty.

"Lady Dayne," he said, his baritone voice smooth despite the flash of...was that anger in his eyes? "I am merely reacquainting myself with my capabilities. I shall need my fortitude replenished if we are to make good time."

"Make good time? Where, perchance, do you think we are going?" Vess asked. If he heard about Felix's Quest, I will strangle those chatty lieutenants.

The Hand, however, tilted his head as if the answer were clear as day. "We are returning home. Your Lord Father has demanded your presence."

That stopped her cold. "What do you mean, he demanded—? Are you in contact with my father?"

"No, but it was a contingency within his original orders," Darius explained. "I was to protect and aid you while you recovered from your time in the Foglands, and once you Tiered up into Journeyman you were to be brought home to rejoin his court." He said it all with a stoic, expressionless face. "Since you hit Journeyman during the...recent troubles, we only had to wait upon my convalescence.

Vess shook her head, her mouth suddenly dry. "That is impossible. There is so much work to be done here. My father—"

"—Does not care about this Territory. His only concern, and thus, my only concern is your well-being." The Hand shook his head and took a single step closer. "This city has proven itself more trouble than it is worth. After their defeat, the Inquisition will undoubtedly dispatch it's forces to purge the Territory. I cannot withstand what the Inviolate Order will send." He put his large, calloused hand out, palm up. "We must leave. Today."

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