Unbound

A deep bell crashed across the world, invisible to the villagers but more than loud enough that Pit and Tzfell flinched away. A notification appeared before Felix that was edged in scrolling designs of silver, gold, and a gleaming verdant green.

Hidden Quest Updated!

Restore The Crown!

The Crown of Elysium has been lost since its bearers were faced with Ruin. Pieces of it have been scattered across the Continent, hidden away so that the forces arrayed against the Golden Empire could not destroy them, too. You have recovered the Second Fragment from the Vault of Nine Kings, stolen in Ages past by avaricious fools. In facing the Pathless and restoring a portion of your sister's Mind and Spirit, you have proven yourself worthy of its mantle. Unite them, Ascendant, and return that which was Lost.

Rewards:

+Authority

+Title

+Varies

“What was that?" Beef asked, stepping away from a disappointed group of villagers. “I heard it from all the way over there.”

Felix held up the fragment. “A Quest notification.”

He sent the notification to everyone present, giving them time to read it while he flared his Voracious Eye. The fragment gave him little, but so had the first one.

Name: Second Fragment (2 of 3)

Type: Artifact

Lore: A piece of the Crown of Elysium, made of Crescian Bronze, and last worn by She Who Was A Thousand, also known as the Herald of the Dawn and the final Empress of

the Nym.

Felix fished the First Fragment from a pouch at his waist. He kept it close, except when Harn wanted to study it. The warrior smith had found it unceasingly interesting, but hadn't really gleaned much from it yet. Felix held them up, First and Second Fragments and sent their item details to his friends as well. “These are the pieces of the crown.”

"Huh. Two out of three." Archie stared, smoothing his goatee as he thought. "What happens when you have all three?"

"He gets those rewards in the quest," Beef said. “Duh.”

Archie took a sharp breath and put his fingers to his temples. "Oh my god. Clearly. I mean, what does Authority do? What sort of Title? What does ‘varies’ mean?"

Tzfell cleared her throat. "Authority is power translated through the Territorial system that dominates this Continent. The more Authority you have, the greater your power over things subject to it. And the Title for this Quest is bound to be incredible. The Lost Crown of the Nymean Empire? How could it not be? As far as ‘varies’ goes, it could be anything. I once had a quest that granted me a Skill," she said. "But it could be anything from a boost to the existing benefits to earning a Chest."

Archie frowned. "This Authority is only good if they're subject to it, you said. So it's useless against these idiots we're about to face?"

Felix shook his head. "It wouldn't count for much in Pax’Vrell, no. If they attacked Nagast while I was there, however, I could lay a great deal of pain on them thanks to my Stronghold.”

“Oh, right, your city.”

“Plus, Nymean Authority would probably get you greater access to their ruins around the continent," Tzfell pointed out.

"I thought Nymean ruins were death traps," Archie said. "There's a small one outside Birchstone that I got warned off of a dozen times at least. Everyone kept saying there was treasure in there, but no one ever tried to take it."

"They are death traps, but only to people without Authority over them," Pit said, puffing out his chest with pride. "Felix is the Inheritor.”

Archie just looked to Felix, waiting for an explanation.

"Eh, it's complicated. My sword grants me a measure of Authority, but the crown would probably boost it even more." Felix drummed his fingers against the fragments as his Mind chased down several ideas at once. The ruins often had monsters stored within them. Monsters chock full of Essence and significance. His eyes widened as possibilities unfolded. My sword. If I can find a Nymean ruin nearby, there’s a solid chance it’ll allow me to access it. Then I can devour whatever is trapped inside and top off my Essence and increase my significance too.

He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of that. Forget hunting the forests for weak creatures, if he could find a ruin with a few trapped monstrosities like the Shambling Horror in Haestus combining his Skills would be that much easier. If he had the Crown of Elysium, he imagined that no Nymean ruin would be beyond him.

“Right. Tzfell, you and Laur keep an eye out for ways to find the last piece. This isn’t a Quest I want to lose track of.”

The Dwarven Chanter inclined her head. “I will do so. I have heard that Pax’Vrell has a sizable library. I’d like to peruse it if we’re able.”

“That entirely depends on how the assault goes,” Felix said, before waving his hands as if to dismiss the topic. “Nevermind that. Not tonight. Go back to the party. Enjoy the night. There's nothing we can do about this right now."

“Alright. I’m still starving,” Beef said, turning back to the cook fires and the happily chatting refugees.

Pit hopped up and followed him. “Me too. I can’t reach the shoulder of the Armadon. Can you cut it off for me?”

“The whole thing?”

“I thought I said I’m starving?”

Tzfell bowed and left, heading back toward the keep and likely Laur. Felix and Archie watched her go, until it was just them.

The thief stared off into the distance. “A crown belonging to an empress, huh? What’ll that make you then, if you get the last piece?”

“Not really sure.”

“I get why you don’t want to go back to Earth, if you’ve got all this power here. Doubt you were a king back home.”

Felix laughed. “Not quite. But…it’s not the power. It’s the people. It’s…everything that I found here.”

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

“What about what you left behind?” Archie asked.

Felix clenched his jaw. “That’s complicated. You?”

“Complicated is too light a word…but I still miss it. My old life.”

“Arch, when the time comes, I’ll be happy to send you back to Earth. For now, I need you. Beef too, and all the others.”

“Yeah, you said that.” Archie spat onto the grass. “Thing is, I’m believing it more and more. You actually care about us, huh? Strangers.”

A smile curled Felix’s lips. “I do, yeah.”

Archie chuckled. “Wild.”

Without another word, he strolled off into the revel.

Felix tucked the two fragments away in his pouch again, watching the man walk off and thinking about his sister and, more importantly, his mom. He hadn’t much thought of how lonely she might be, how devastated, when her kids vanished. When the time came, would he go back? Felix didn’t know.

Before I can even think about that, I have to rescue my sister. To do that, he needed to prepare. He followed Tzfell, skirting the feasting refugees, Intent on the keep.

There was much to do.

In the darkness beneath mountains, the purity of Light bloomed. The screams of the enemy were cut short as walls were ripped asunder by the violent touch of order and strength.

"Go! Leave no one alive!" Bellar shouted.

A tide of white armor and red cloaks flooded through the broken walls, immediately overwhelming the defenders of the Dwarven citadel. Ironclads fell beneath their blazing swords, while Forge Knights were decimated by his own elite. Bellar smiled. The battle was won, and it had cost him so very little.

The Chosen’s army had grown considerably once they had joined with their reinforcements in the west, and now nothing could stop them as they marched south through the Rimefangs. City after city fell to them, destroyed in their passing. Thousands faced them, but they were all crushed beneath the heel of the Pathless, and only minor losses among their men. More Dwarves would have perished, Bellar was certain, had the Chosen not diverted them into the Low Roads.

He had questioned that decision at first. They were making great progress against the supposed might of the Dwarven Hinterlords that Bellar wanted nothing more than to crush them one by one. However, he was rewarded when the Low Roads led them to the great citadels that dotted the Hinterlords’ hidden, underground empire.

Each citadel lost was a massive blow against the power of the Dwarves. Their loose coalition of Hinterlords was one of the few obstacles to the Hierophant's plan of a unified state. With the citadels slowly demolished beneath the marching boot of the Chosen's army, the Dwarves' Authority was weakened. By the time Bellar and his people reached the southern ends of the Rimefangs, he hoped to ruin it completely.

As his Inquisitors and Paladins flooded the citadel, putting to sword the now-cornered Dwarven warriors, Bellar contemplated his next steps. They needed to head south and reach the ends of the Rimefang Mountains, and all signs from the Pathless indicated that they must be quick about it. ‘Why’ was never explained, but Bellar did not expect answers from the Pathless. Their role was to obey.

South. Four more citadels lie between us and the next Clan Hold. We must find a way to move faster. The biggest problem for any large army was how slow it moved. Yet a smaller force would not have worked either. Multiple times the Dwarves had stymied the Chosen's army, both in the snowy lands above and here beneath the surface. It had not been for very long thanks to their sheer numbers, but it had still required considerable effort to overcome their dogged defenses.

If they had the constant aid of the Chosen, however, they might have been far further south already.

"My lord, the citadel is taken. The citadel is ours." An Inquisitor came up, flanked by another Inquisitor and a Paladin Captain. Leaders of the strike forces.

"Very good, Inquisitor Smythe. And what of the Nightsworn General?"

"He is bound in the Light, awaiting you in the upper levels."

Bellar smiled. "Very good. I'll see to that myself. Dismissed.”

"My lord."

The three leaders did not step away, which perturbed Bellar, but he contained his irritation. "Yes?"

The Inquisitor swallowed. "The Chosen. Where is she?"

Bellar firmed his jaw but maintained his smile. "The Chosen has already seen our success here and communes now with the Pathless. She is currently planning for taking of Ironjaw Hold."

All three young men shared wide-eyed glances. "Ironjaw Hold? We will not reach them for a week at the earliest."

Bellar tapped the side of his nose. "Perhaps not so long as that. The way ahead of us swells with shadow, but the Light shows all. The Chosen will know the way."

The Inquisitors and Paladin nodded eagerly with every word that left Bellar’s mouth. "Now go, finish off these Dwarves and claim what we can of their bounty. We will need their supplies for our journey further south."

"Aye, my lord."

The captains saluted and took off, gathering their men to do just as commanded. Bellar, however, found his attention drawn back to the heart of their forces, where the white command tent sat among cloth of gold banners.

Imara.

It was true that the Chosen communed with the Pathless. She did little else since they had fled the Undermount. Bellar no longer held the same certainty in her that he had previously. Over the course of their campaign, his confidence in the Chosen had been shaken. Yet his faith was not so easily lost.

The Pathless guides us to Order, Strength, and Purity. To follow those tenets was to seek the holy within us all. He had faith in the Pathless, and he had directed them to head south and seek the Dragon.

When the Chosen refused to elaborate on that directive, Bellar had been forced to puzzle it out. After much thought, ‘the Dragon’ could only mean Pax’Vrell. It was in the same direction they were heading, and while the Dragoons were traditionally opposed to draconics of all kinds, they did take a Dragon as their symbol. Bellar was positive that the army would have to deal with the Dragoons and their particular powers, and he had already started to make preparations.

I will find the Dragon, my lord. For you.

The Chosen may have been absent, but Bellar would see things through until the very end.

Within the command tent, Imara knelt upon a hand woven rug and prayed.

Braziers burned all around her, their coals topped with an oil that released a fragrant, holy smoke into the air. The smoke was meant to surround and infuse her senses, bringing clarity. It was a tool of the Inquisitors, used with their lowest Acolytes when first acclimating to the order.

She had never needed the incense before, for the Light within her had shown her the way with such purity that she had never once questioned her path. But now, a shadow had fallen over that light and with it came a buzzing in her ears. It was loud and near constant, distracting her more and more from the golden glow within, even interrupting the voice of the Pathless Himself.

Imara knew from the depths of her soul that the buzzing was evil, and that the accursed Unbound had placed it within her. She swallowed, and sweat dripped down her neck as her thoughts deviated. The droning was eating away at her Mind. It…showed her things, things that couldn't be real.

Imara shook as the shadows parted, revealing a strange stone patio, next to a small pond. People, Humans all, laughing. A kind woman holding her, but she was smaller. Too small. Familiar, ancient scents hit her like explosions of pleasure. A young boy ran by, black hair and blue eyes, chasing a small beast.

All at once, the shadows closed in, clouding her Light. The false images were gone…but not forgotten.

"O Pathless! Remnant King, is this true?” she asked, desperate.

Lies.

“But the things it shows me, they feel—”

It Is False, a voice within her boomed. The stentorian shout of it was a balm upon her strained Mind. Purity Has Been Perverted, Order Overturned. Chaos Reigns Within You, Chosen. You Must Purge It, Only Then Will The Light Take Hold Once More.

Imara's head snapped up, sweat dripping down her brow and the bridge of her nose, flinging off into the smoke-filled shadow of the room.

"What must I do?"

Seek The Dragon Within Siva’s Embrace. Find the Unbound.

“And then?”

Kill Felix Nevarre.

An image flashed in Imara's Mind. It was not borne by the terrible buzzing in her ears, but was a true memory. Of a man with burning blue eyes on the ground before her, savaged and bloody, but with such fierce determination that it had made her breath catch.

Tears had filled his eyes.

"I—Your Will is mine.”

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