Unbound

In the days that followed, Fortress Fenwald became a flurry of activity.

Felix directed Archie to work with the refugees, figuring out what they needed and how to provide it. He was to act as a liaison of sorts, all under the name of Vessilia Dayne. The reasons were twofold. The first was necessary outreach for the traumatized villagers, so that they were both provided for and listened to. The second reason was to provide a new sort of training for the thief. Deep down, Felix was sure that Archie was a good guy, but he certainly liked to hide it. Working as a public figure should, in theory, help that come to the surface.

Happily, his intuition was rewarded and the guy took to it with surprising gusto. Archie definitely seemed to like the villagers, and it was one of the few times Felix saw him genuinely smiling. No sarcasm, no smug, hidden insult. Just an honest outpouring of goodwill and care.

He was constantly followed by a gaggle of small children, all of them begging for more magic tricks. Archie always obliged.

Their relationship was further enhanced because Archie and Beef had brought them so much food, relieving their constant hunger. Much of that food was prepped and salted for long storage, and would act as a backbone to all of their meals for quite some time. Moreover, it turned out that a number of the refugees had been chronically ill due to eating bad plants they couldn't identify. They had been desperate for any nourishment, and the Daynes and Dragoons had routinely been terrible at providing enough food for everyone.

Ironically, it had been the Deathdrinker Mushrooms that had done the trick. After everyone ate them with their stew, the mushrooms had acted like sponges, soaking up the lingering poisons in their systems and expelling it. The villagers saw it as another incredible boon from Felix and his people, and lauded them loudly and often. This, in turn, led many of the conscripted soldiers—folks that were parents or adult children of the villagers—to view Felix and his people in a new light. Now he received happy nods and smiles from the guards as he traversed the halls of the fortress.

Beef did his part too. Several older women in the camp requested that he use his considerable Strength to move things for them, which soon led to him shifting the entire landscape. Using Entropic Paradigm, he helped build retaining walls and drainage ditches that pulled the stagnant water away from the area immediately around the inner bailey. This, in turn, led to the refugees being able to spread out more without taking over the training space. The kid even managed to push a generous portion of the swamp back away from the walls, and a number of thankful refugee stone masons got to work rebuilding parts of it.

As for the others, they too were busy. Pit and Hollow resumed their training, fighting again and again whenever they weren't hunting for new metals or stone for Hollow to ingest. Felix also had them keep an eye out for any ruins they might find in their travels. So far they had found nothing.

Vess and Yin meanwhile had disappeared to the lone turret and asked early on not to be disturbed. They were practicing something, day in and day out, but what Vess wouldn't say. It set more than a few tongues to wagging, but Felix wasn't really concerned. She'd tell him what she thought he should know. Until then, he was happy to let her have her space. He had plenty else to do.

The Chanters finished cataloging the treasure from the Vault of Nine Kings. They found nothing quite as exciting as the Second Fragment of the Crown of Elysium, but there were some good books on magical theory. There was also a Skill Book. Felix hadn't ever used one of those, so he was quite excited when Tzfell brought it to his attention. Apparently, someone could create a Skill Book, and it would just…teach someone a Skill if they met the prerequisites. You simply had to touch it and the book would show you the Skill, and then you had to decide whether or not to sort of download the Skill into your core space.

It was a weird concept to Felix, but he supposed it was less weird than taking Skills from the beings he ate.

Apparently, Skill Books were incredibly rare, not only because they were coveted, but because it required someone who had reached Grandmaster in that Skill to make them. Not only were there very few Grandmasters period, there were very few Grandmasters that would willingly share their secrets. All Skill Books were either kept locked away by their specific orders, guilds, or organizations, or they were otherwise very, very old.

This one was clearly of the very old variety, considering the worn cover and illegible markings. Even with Voracious Eye, Felix couldn’t tell what the Skill Book taught, but from the flavor of its magic Felix was certain it was a Spirit Skill. The book had almost leaped open when he touched it, but in the end, it rejected him.

Prerequisites Not Met.

That was a bummer. Felix was tempted to just eat it and see if he could learn it that way, but he was curious if someone could open the thing. He had Tzfell set it aside. They could test the others later.

Harn and Evie worked tirelessly at making weapons and armor to supplement the cash they found in the forge. The pair turned out spears, swords, pikes, daggers, and maces by the dozen, all of them forged from high steel or mithril. While Harn was impressive and only getting better, it was the Dragoons who really helped make all of that a reality. Those that had sworn Oaths to him became apprentices in truth as they helped refine the metal, carve wooden staves, and keep the machinery operating.

At a certain point, Felix was required. First just to lend some of his Mana to Harn’s forging after Evie got too exhausted, but then also enchant basic sigils into the army's equipment. Nothing too elaborate, just a burst of elemental flame or water or air, but even a slight inscription could mean the difference between life and death on the battlefield. The storage rooms had also had a cache of Tier II and III monster cores, more than enough to power such basic arrays, and he fixed them to pommel and hilt. It was easy enough with his stats and Skill levels, though he had to push himself to keep up with Harn’s own incredible output.

For a time that’s all he did. Sigils were complex things, but at their core were incredibly simple. Each marking was a representation of Mana itself, with the most common being direct translations of things like ‘water,’ ‘fire,’ ‘air’ and the like. They were broken down into small conceptual bits from there, pieces to a greater whole. Felix didn’t spend nearly enough time studying the sheer breadth of sigaldry, and though he had a firm grasp of the basics he could also appreciate that he didn’t know even ten percent of what could be done with it.

Invocation is level 79!

…

Invocation is level 82!

The shield in his hand swirled with water Mana, the array’s activation fueled by Felix’s own power to preserve the monster core attached to its interior. Water flexed and shoved to either side as the user Willed it, which would give a defender a significant boost to deflecting either ranged or melee attacks.

“That’s a good enchantment,” a Dragoon said from the side. He was a Half-Elf and an officer judging by the tassels on his open jacket. “You’re…reasonably capable with sigaldry.”

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“Get off your high Avum, Selin. Our own Glyphmaster couldn’t do half of what the Autarch’s done just today.” Another Dragoon with swarthy skin and a scar across his neck laughed and reached out his hand to shake. Felix clasped it. “Morag. Second Lieutenant of the Brass Battalion.”

“Felix. Nice to meet you.”

“Honor’s all mine, my Lord,” Morag continued, looking him up and down. “Though after hearing all the stories, I thought you’d be twice as tall and breathing fire.”

Felix raised an eyebrow. “Stories can be misleading.”

“I believe you, my Lord. From what I’ve heard, you are a thousand years old and a demon wearing the skin of a man. Or was it an evil elemental born to hound the mortals of the Continent?”

“I know someone that might take offense to that last one,” Felix said with a smile.

Morag gave him a nervous glance. “But you do not?”

Felix laughed, no more than a huff of breath. “Not with you, no.”

“Ah, good,” Morag said, and his Spirit sang with relief. “I feared I had overstepped myself.”

A sharp tone cut into their conversation as a gathering of white-green Mana formed a phantom spear inches from the tip of a high steel pike. Selin held up the weapon, clearly having just activated its enchantment, and awe danced in his eyes and Spirit. “It is…sufficient.”

Morag smirked at Selin, but Felix just nodded. “It’s a simple inscription and more illusion than real. I hope it will distract an opponent, at least.”

“It is like the Fifteenth Tribulation,” Selin said.

“The what now?”

Morag cleared his throat. “You’ve traveled with the Lady Dayne, so I assume you’re familiar with the Spear of Tribulation?”

“I am.”

“Well, our Skills grow and evolve according to our traditions. When our primary spear wielding Skill reaches the Fifteenth Tribulation, it creates a set of phantom spears to accompany every attack.” Selin thrust once with the pike, and instead of one thrust, fourteen appeared…each with an illusory echo from Felix’s enchantment. “The overwhelm from even this is…can you enchant more?”

Felix grinned. “As many as I can.”

The Half-Elf’s brows drew down, but he swallowed back whatever he was going to say. Instead, he carefully set the pike back onto the rack. “You are a man of many talents, my Lord. I’m eager to test out your work.” He bowed. “Thank you.”

Morag followed Selin back to the other Dragoons, repeating the same bow as he did so. Felix watched them go with a smile.

“Hard one to crack, that Selin,” Evie said. “Three times I’ve been tempted to wallop him with one of these maces, just to get him to quit starin’ daggers at our back. Just took you a few scratches on steel.”

“I’m just that good,” Felix said, looking back at her, satisfied only when she curled her lip in disgust. “So, where’s the rest? Or have I caught up?”

“You’ve done all the basic equipment we’ve produced,” Harn said, swinging smoothly atop his crutches to where a ratty cloth had been covering a workbench. Harn pulled the cloth free. Felix had thought it was just out of order, or had to be cleaned, but he was wrong.

“Hoo boy,” Felix said, whistling as he ran his hands across the weapons and armor arrayed on the table. He picked up a hand-sized throwing dagger from a pile of dozens. It was forged of a deep, crimson metal that shone silver where it caught the light. “I’ve never seen this metal before.”

Voracious Eye!

Name: Spikes of the Frost King

Type: Dagger (Throwing)

Lore: Made of arcanite, an alloy of mithril and orichalcum, these daggers are expertly crafted to maintain speed and trajectory when thrown.

Voracious Eye is level 97!

Felix raised an eyebrow at that. The material had provided a fair amount of resistance to being identified, but he hadn’t expected it to raise his Skill level. Maybe it was on the cusp.

“You like that?” Harn asked. “I’m sure your curious eyes made short work of it, but it’s an alloy I made myself.”

"Arcanite. I'm very impressed. You made this here, for the first time?"

"Aye, I did. Tough to figure out, but I didn’t have much choice. I can't quite work orichalcum yet. Not purely. Alloy was the only way. This equipment is old but solid. Helped me work out the impurities without losin’ too much of their strengths. It holds an edge better than mithril, but it has a good portion of the durability of orichalcum. Not quite the best of both worlds, but damn close."

“Spikes of the Frost King?” Felix asked. “Do you name these when you make them?”

“I do.” Harn grinned. “A gift for a friend.”

Evie grumbled something from across the bench, but her guarded Spirit was pleased.

Felix lifted a pair of twin axes. Knotwork designs had been worked into the bearded axe heads, giving them a Dwarven feel. “They're beautiful, Harn."

"Thanks, kid."

Felix went down the table. Apart from the axe and brace of knives he found a chain, a stave with a retractable blade, a rapier, even a new spear. The spear was different from the ones he saw the Dragoons wielding, different even than Vess’ partisan. This one was called a glaive, with a heavy blade at the top, designed so that it looked like the blade was emerging from the mouth of a bearded and antlered dragon that coiled along the length of the shaft until the very far end where there was a heavy counterweight. It looked powerful and brutal, designed for sweeping attacks and powerful thrusts. It would be perfect for Vess.

Armor was laid out as well, and Felix could tell at a glance that they were sets for his friends. Evie, Archie, and Vess all in the style of the Dragoons. There were even a pair of greaves, battle skirt, pauldrons, and vambraces for Beef. All of it, forged from the same alloy.

"This is amazing work. Leagues above the simple stuff you put out,” he said at last, putting down Beef’s greaves. What looked like armored beetles had been carved into every piece of his armor. “The detail work alone is…I didn’t know you could do this, Harn.”

The gruff man looked pleased. “Been practicin’ hard these last few months, kid. Some of the old knowledge I had from my uncle came back.”

"If you think those are good, wait till you check these out," Evie said before whipping away another ratty blanket from a secondary table tucked behind the first.

Felix blinked in surprise as another set of gleaming red-silver implements were revealed. It took him all of a second before he recognized them.

"New legs," he said, somewhat dumbly.

"Aye," Harn broke wide open with a grin. "New legs."

Felix inspected them, lifting them up and turning them this way and that. "They're incredible." They resembled human legs in all the important ways. Calves, shins, heel of the foot, even... even toes, and all of it articulated with joints. "How long did this take you?"

"A damn long time. Longer than it took me to figure out how to make arcanite.” Harn sat down onto his rough bench. “Those are the greatest items I've ever made. Which is good, as I don’t plan on makin’ new ones anytime soon."

A pang of guilt ran through Felix. Guilt that he hadn’t been able to heal Harn’s legs, and guilt that the man had been forced to fix the problem himself. "How are they going to attach?"

Harn scratched his head. "Well, that's where I'm thinking I need to ask you a favor."

Felix cut him off. "Favor granted. You need these enchanted to work with you? I can make that happen.”

“Ain’t so simple, kid. I’ll need them to respond to me like real legs, else they’re as useful as these crutches.”

Felix’s Mind raced, piecing together several potential arrays before discarding them. “No, I can do it. But—” He set the legs down. “I think I'm gonna have to evolve my Skill first."

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