Unbound

Felix soared through the air, clinging tightly to a tether of lightning as the horizon rose to meet him.

After the army had surrendered, Felix had spent some time talking with the Deepking and the newly crowned Princess Lavin. Trixie had been delighted to see Felix, though he was less enthused that the other two Princes were still alive—not that he’d say anything. The Abyssal Serpent still considered himself in the doghouse for getting mentally manipulated by the Fathom, no matter how many times Felix told him he was forgiven. In the end, Felix had given the Princes over to Lavin to put into custody. When they woke up, their world would be very different, and they'd be given a choice. It was all Felix could offer them.

"I need to find the seat and Seal of this Territory, the real one," he'd told them. Trixie didn't have a clue, but Lavin had spread out maps of the Provinces and broke down the Territory. The Ghreldan Hills turned out to be not terribly large, and the area was sparsely populated when compared to other Territories.

"There are three more Princes remaining, but the leader is Prince Garon. His Territory is here." She tapped the map near the border with the Amaranth. "But his palace is on the inner edge, bordering with Kael and Jaren. If the original Seal is anywhere, it would be there.

“Redcloaks?" Felix asked.

"They've all disappeared or died outright. You'll likely not encounter any problems with them.” She’d leaned back from the map. “You’ll have more issues with his forces. Unlike these prideful idiots, Garon and the rest haven’t moved from their main cities. You'll have to contest Prince Garon and potentially his cousins directly for control of the Seat and Seal."

"No, I won’t. I just need to find the ancient Seal and get close enough to restore it. That'll strip him and everyone else of their Authority." Felix had paused. "That includes you. Sorry."

Lavin had only smiled. "I don't mind. I'm a warrior, not a Princess."

Felix had tilted his head. "How do you feel about Chancellor?"

The memory tugged a smile from him as he passed over miles of forested hills, interrupted only by the occasional lake that gleamed with the morning sunlight. He had liked Lavin when they'd first met in Bogfeld, and Alistair's accounting of his time in the Territory had only increased Felix's appreciation for the woman. He could easily imagine working with her as his representative. She had shut him down, though.

"I couldn't take the position over Kar'casitrix," she had said. That had surprised Felix almost as much as when the Deepking said the same.

He shook his head, letting the hot wind fling his hair back from his forehead. I'll deal with that later.

Rising out of the hills, a palatial estate dominated an entire valley and encircled one of the larger lakes. It was a bustling metropolis when compared to every other settlement he'd seen in the Ghrelden Hills, though it resembled nothing so much as an expansive, manicured country club. The estate was segmented into many outbuildings, each one larger and more ornate than the last, until things reached the center.

There, what Felix assumed was Prince Garon's personal home rose higher than all the rest. It was built out with soaring balconies and gleaming statues and elaborate fountains. Water flowed up from the lake and around the central structure, swirling in elevated rivers that fed into decorated cisterns. It was beautiful.

Hopefully, Felix wouldn't have to break too much of it.

Hovering across the lake from the estate, Felix reached up and placed a hand onto his temple. His crown manifested just as he flared Adamant Discord. Pale blue lines sprang into view, each of differing thickness and intensity, all leading from him to the world around. His crown gave him an advantage, however, attuned as it was to the ancient Seals. One of the lines pulsed insistently, as if urging him to fly closer. Felix reached out and grasped it, and the ephemeral line turned to steel, and lightning played across his hands.

"Got you."

Felix blurred across the lake on a bolt of lightning, arriving in a literal flash upon the highest balcony of the highest spire. It was a wide balcony, easily a hundred feet across and fronted by gilded statues of athletic warriors dominating twisted serpents. He frowned at those briefly.

Those are Naga.

He shifted his attention beyond the heavy doors. Glass panels filled their front, but the interior was unnaturally dark. Suspiciously so. His Perception twinged, and he engaged his Manasight. There, layered just beneath a veneer of wood and stone, sigils were inscribed into the threshold of the door.

Well made, but flawed. He punched a single talon down into the stone, severing a glyph on the outer edge of the array. It was the primary join, which was normally never exposed like that, but the inscriptionist must have been in a hurry. With a small zap of discharged Mana, the array broke, its protection voided entirely.

Pretty basic wards for a place like this, anyway. He eased open the door. Then again, we're very high up. What are the odds someone ever comes in through this balcony?

Inside was as fancy as its exterior suggested, featuring lots of gilding on the pillars that supported a vaulted ceiling and no fewer than three chandeliers. It gave a sense of…mundane splendor, flush with style and void of personality. It felt soulless, assembled by a person whose entire aesthetic was “expensive tastes, version 2.”

It was a big room, which Felix could always appreciate, taking up the entire floor of the spire and measuring at least five hundred feet across at the widest point. The floor was mostly empty of furnishings and was made of a painstakingly layered wood, polished and stained to describe a familiar pattern. That, at least, stuck out compared to the rest of the decor.

More concerning, though, were the burgundy curtains draped across every single wall. Curtains that shifted, as if in a breeze that wasn’t there.

Adamant Discord!

Lightning flashed all around him as Felix grasped each of the curtains and pulled. Every single one ripped free, rocketing toward him before he let them fall harmlessly to the floor.

What the hell is going on here?

Hierocratic soldiers, dozens of them, were chained and bolted to the walls. Many were bleeding from obvious wounds that had only been partially bandaged, while others bore heinous bruising across their faces and chests where their armor had been removed.

"Paladins and Inquisitors," he muttered. "Who did this?"

"Lost," one said. His eyes were glazed over, but they moved rapidly, as if he were looking at things no one else could see. "We are all Lost."

Felix clenched his jaw. The man continued to mutter, though his words swiftly became unintelligible. The others in the chamber, nearly a hundred of them, were all unconscious. The bandages across the worst of the wounds, as well as the fact that they’d been covered up when he arrived, suggested someone was being sneaky.

Why? What’s the point?

Felix summoned the connection to the Seal once more, and it ended right in the center of the spire chamber, where the wood-stained pattern formed the Subordinate Seal.

Emperor’s Vigilance!

Manasight!

The wood was an enchanted Tier V material called shalebark and was quite pretty, alternating with light and dark grain to create a sort of naturalistic mosaic. That more than anything made the Subordinate Seal stand out—it was clearly built by a different hand than the spire itself. Underneath it, through the fog of compressed Mana, Felix identified striations made of a familiar metal. Mithril and orichalcum wires were laid out in layers beneath the shalebark planks, woven with each other and into the Tier V stone at the very base, as if to anchor the construction.

Felix scratched his jaw. Ripping up the planks, wires, and stone would be an ordeal. It was good that he had an easier way of doing things.

Adamant Discord!

The floor buckled. Wood, metal, and stone splintered with a sound like cannons firing at close range, filling the air with debris as it was hurled into the ceiling on flashing lines of lightning. Around the edges, where scraps of the flooring remained, the Subordinate Seal suddenly charred, its surface burnt the moment the materials failed. An aborted song, twisted and out of tune, dwindled through the air…until it faded entirely.

Adamant Discord!

Felix hauled on the rest, ripping apart everything that wasn’t people. The bland architecture crumpled away as the walls and floors were stripped clean by his power, revealing a distinctly Nymean stone subfloor, one that was etched over with arcane sigils.

Ah. That’s much better.

"Do not move!"

Rank upon rank of Knights Ghreldin and armored Gallants filled the room from hidden doorways Felix hadn't bothered to check. At their back, surrounded by tall men in black and gold surcoats, were three well-dressed men, each wearing a subdued circlet of silver set with sapphires. Flaring Emperor’s Vigilance, Felix knew the man leading them was strong. He was easily a high Adept Tier, and the armor he was wearing was most likely a powerful Master Tier set. The others were in similar getups, but felt a shade weaker.

Felix considered them as they stopped thirty feet shy of his position. The black and gold guards held large spears that they leveled at him, and the tips looked very sharp. "Princes Garon, Kyvan, and Tyvan, I assume?"

"Felix Nevarre, the Blue-Eyed Fiend himself, come all this way to terrorize my House. I am almost honored." Prince Garon was a big man, thick across the chest and with a brush-like mustache. He raised his hand, and the warriors around the room unsheathed their weapons. "What is to stop me from ordering your death here and now?"

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"I don't want to kill any of you. So, I'm going to give you a choice,” Felix said, and several of the Knights and Gallants exchanged nervous glances. Maybe it was the surety in his voice. He pointed down at the inlaid stone flooring he'd revealed. "This is the ancient Seat and Seal that once governed the Ghrelden Hills when it was whole. I know that the Hills were shattered a long time ago, a shattering that has turned neighbors and family against one another.”

“Don’t lecture us on our history, boy!” Kyvan snapped.

Felix resisted the urge to rub at the bridge of his nose. “Look. I just stopped a battle between Knights and Gallants, and I plan to stop all future ones as well. But in order for that to be a reality, I need to fix this." He tapped his foot against the darkened array. "I need to get rid of the Hierophant's influence once and for all, and I'd really like to keep everyone alive."

"Liar," Garon said. "I've received messenger Ffen from the battles to the south. Kael, Aric, and Jaren are all dead at your hands!"

"Only Kael is dead, and only because he refused to stop and listen.” Felix calmed himself. He had to give them all a chance. “I'm ending your servitude to the Hierophant, but none of you can do anything except squabble over who has the biggest slice of swampland.”

“That Seal is gone. The Hierophant destroyed it centuries ago. We cannot escape the truth that we only remain sovereign by her Will.”

“Gimme a few seconds, and I can change that.”

Garon stomped his foot, and a wave of concussive force rippled outward. “We cannot condone this, Nevarre. If you try, I’ll cut your head off myself."

"If you take that swing, Prince, you'd better be sure.”

“I am filled with the conviction to lead my people, Nevarre. If your death would serve them, then there is no question in my heart as to whether it is right!" Between instants, the air rippled, and Garon charged, helmet snapping down over his bulbous nose and impressive mustache, as his cousins followed suit.

"God," Felix said, "you're all exhausting.”

Sonata of Dominance!

Felix seized the Mana around him, shaping it into grasping hands that drove into the legs of all of his opponents. Armor buckled, and men floundered, but with another ripple of force, Garon leapt straight over it. A spiked war club was already in motion as he descended, its length glittering with numerous enchantments as it moved fast enough to trail thunder in its wake.

The club dropped, and it sheared through the air like an avalanche—before a black-clawed grip silenced its fury. With a flex of his talons, Felix shattered the war club before the Prince could register the move…and punched him, hard.

Garon blasted backward, through the shaped stone and bowling into his guards and the wall beyond. Flaring his Agility, Felix followed after, too fast for the man to do more than spit out blood as his back cratered the facade.

“Yield,” he demanded.

“To damnation with you–AGH!”

With two deft strokes, Felix peeled the suit of armor off the man, shredding his breastplate with sheer Strength and voiding the set’s enchantments. Garon twisted his hips, attempting to dislodge Felix while he also thrust his palm at elbow and shoulder. Felix swatted away the man’s flailing limbs as easily as if he were a toddler throwing a tantrum.

The Knights and Gallants stood aside, watching in horror from either side, but the two other Princes weren’t daunted. They rushed Felix with battlecries and a strident fervor in their Spirits. Swords swung high and low at Felix's back in an expertly timed attack, and he didn't bother to dodge. The swords cut into him, slicing his Garment-made coat badly—before shattering against his midnight scales. Shrapnel burst in all directions, and the Princes cursed in savage pain as the fragments found new homes in tender places.

Felix reached down, grabbing Garon by his unprotected neck. The man was woozy, but he clutched at Felix's elbow and wrist as the man lifted him up into the air. The Prince grimaced. "You cannot kill me. I'm the only line of defense for my people."

"Not anymore," Felix growled. "Surrender to me and my nation, and I will let you live."

Garon spat a wad of blood at Felix, splashing it against his neck. "Never!"

"Fine.”

Empyrean Embrace!

Will met Will…and was overcome. Garon's look of defiance morphed into one of fear, then it was gone, transmuted into dark smoke that raced down his open maw.

Felix turned, wisps of smoke trailing from his lips, and met both the horrified gazes of the remaining Princes and the flummoxed eyes of soldiers unsure what to do next.

"I'm going to reunite this Territory now," Felix said. "Don't bother me."

He walked through the Knights, Gallants, Princes, and guardsmen, back to the center of the room. No one stopped him. In fact, they melted away before his approach, none eager to stand close to the man who had killed their leader. At the empty center, where the Ages-worn sigaldry was thickest, Felix let his attention fall entirely on his task.

Unite the Lost.

Essence and Mana burst from his feet in a wave. The remnants of wood and newer architecture crumbled before it, pulverized by the wash of near-solid power. That same power left the captive redcloaks, local warriors, and remaining Princes unharmed. Yet, even as the spire fell apart, and the ceiling dissolved, pillars of green-veined stone rose up alongside archways and elaborate latticed walls of exquisite craftsmanship. The shape of stars cut themselves out of the walls and ceiling, flooding the chamber with natural light as the glass doorway shattered into dust and was reclaimed.

The ancient Seat of a long-lost place reassembled before their very eyes, until it was a far cry from the milquetoast, rich-guy aesthetic of the former Prince Garon. Last of all, the ancient Seal lit up, soaking up the final flow of his power as it hummed into undeniable life.

"Stop him," Prince Kyvan demanded shrilly. “Do something!”

A handful of Knights charged. Felix didn’t move, but his crown and sword rang like twin bells, and the Knights were thrown back into their own ranks with a deafening crash.

They did not get up again.

Authority Recognized, Inheritor!

For Conquering Or Allying With All Sources Of Territorial Authority

For Bringing Peace Between Nagafolk And Mortals

For Destroying The Threat In The Breach

For Restoring The Abundance Anima

You May Lay Claim To The Lost Territory Of Gharion!

Do You Wish To Establish Your Authority?

Y/N

Much like Khalheim, Felix could feel the soft rumbles of the Territory awakening.

“Gharion. An old name, I assume. Does that include all of the Ghrelden Hills? United?"

Just as before in the Hoarfrost, a vision unfurled in his Mind: a series of vistas viewed from above as if he were riding lightning across the length and breadth of the Territory. Lakes and forests and ancient mountains ground into tumultuous hills and swamps, where dwelled creatures that glanced at him with a dark intelligence before vanishing. His crown hummed pleasantly.

"Fantastic," he said.

Do You Wish To Establish Your Authority?

Y/N

"Yes."

Symphonic glory rattled through the chamber, blowing everyone back as if subsumed in a heated wind. Gold and silver scrolled from the Seal below him, sparking into sharp waves as that sonic breeze struck it like iron on the anvil. The harmonies sank deep into the Seal, vanishing almost entirely.

They rose up, and the song ignited into curtains of silvered gold.

Authority Recognized!

Unbound Detected!

Greater Primordial Detected!

WARNING!

Authority Cannot—

Inheritor Status Recognized!

Inheritor Status Supersedes All Bloodlines!

Authority Granted, Champion!

There was no pain, but a bubbling pleasure as things beyond his awareness knit back together. He pulled in a breath, and his Hunger rumbled in curiosity.

This Territory Has Been Lost!

What Is Your Choice?

Forsake Or Unite?

"Unite!"

Power fled him, pouring down into the Seal before it fed back, those silver and gold energies rebounding into a gleaming shape above the very center of its fractal array. A throne manifested, congealing from primal forces as it hovered in the air above. A Seat for the Seal. The light flashed once more, and it was done.

The System rang out, a chorus as jubilant as the unfiltered light of dawn.

Gharion!

Jewel Of The Depths!

Lost No More!

All Hail The Inheritor, Primarch of Gharion, Felix Nevarre!

Beside him, as the world recovered from those ringing bells, a Gold Chest manifested, weaving itself into being before slamming to the ground next to him. “Another one of these, huh?”

Felix leaned over, lifting its lid, and Mana rushed inward. It gathered in a storm around the opening like an aurora borealis, forcing him to peer closely to make out the chest’s contents.

The first was a hexagonal crystal, two feet long and colored the exact shade of a summer’s sky. He turned it over in his hand, noting the fluted carvings and tiny stars etched along the sides. He squinted. They progressed from a two-pointed star all the way to a fifty pointed one.

Next to it was an orb, also made of crystal, though this was of a pinkish-purple hue. It was also familiar. “Another Dwelling Stone?”

Emperor’s Vigilance!

Name: Primarch's Scepter

Type: Key (Enchanted)

Lore: Belonging to the rightful ruler of Gharion, the Primarch's Scepter allows them access to the secrets of the Depths.

Name: Dwelling Stone

Type: Upgrade (Tier IV)

Lore: A piece of Belais Crystal imbued with the ancient magic of the System's Residential sequence. Place within your Home for further details.

Dwelling Stones are always useful, and the Scepter is a badge of office. He ran his fingers along the star etchings. Access to secrets could be promising.

He had an idea what that might mean, and he tucked the scepter into his belt and the orb into a pouch he fashioned quickly from his Garment.

New Title!

The Sword Is Mightier (Rare)

When Diplomacy fails, there's always violence.

+5 Skill Levels To A Single Weapon Skill Of Your Choice

Felix snorted. The System had a sense of humor sometimes.

"We do not recognize your Authority, usurper," Kyvan swore, red-faced as he found his feet once more. "I will take my cousin's men away from this place immediately. Good luck ruling an empty Province."

"Where will you go? Amaranth? Because I control the Ghreldan Hills," Felix said. "All of it."

Tyvan paled. "Cousin, I feel my Authority has vanished."

Kyvan's fury broke, revealing a terrified confusion. "How? How have you done this?"

"By healing what was Lost," Felix said. He flared Skein of Fate in the same breath and seized the Oaths that held the Knights to these men. Everyone in the room gasped, clutching at their chests as if Felix had a knife against their hearts. “And by eliminating what does not need to be. Were your Oaths to these Princes forced?”

It took a moment, but one of the Knights gathered himself enough to answer. "N–no, my Lord. All of us took our Oaths by choice."

Frantic nods and grunts of agreement spread through the crowd, and Felix eased his grip on the silver strings. "All right, I can respect that."

He sat down upon the throne that had manifested behind him. "Kyvan, Tyvan. Former Princes. This war against Tevin is over. We are a united front now." Felix smiled. "Let's chat."

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