Chapter One Hundred and Seventy Six – 176
Within the sitting room of a four story manse near the Sunrise Gate, Eliza DuFont pondered the vicissitudes of life. A wine glass balanced on her fingers, half full of her second favorite vintage, the best she could find in the manse's stores. She sighed deeply.
Only a few short weeks ago, the Elder of Acquisitions had ruled much atop the Spire, the highest portion of the Eyrie where the Elders parceled out their power. When the Master Inquisitor had turned the city upside down with his damned Order, she'd seen the way things were moving. Dark and dangerous days were coming for the Guild, and her time there had expired. She jumped ship.
Then a gods damned dragon had burst from the Eyrie, and laid waste not only to the Order's Manaship, the Stalwart, but also apparently killed the Master Inquisitor as well. Much of his leadership had been aboard as well, nearly all the Inquisitors. Now, reeling, she'd gathered what she could and had laid claim to a series of manors in the Sunrises Quarter.
"Ma'am?"
DuFont frowned. She'd never liked that appellation. The armored youth beside her put a hand to his waist and snarled. "You will address the Inquisitor by title, or you shall be removed, good sir."
"Ve-very well, Lady Inquisitor. I apologize for my uncouth address," the merchant bowed and scraped so low his shoulder length hair brushed the ground.
DuFont kept her smile to herself, but she was quite pleased with the young Initiate beside her. He'd cleaned up nicely since she'd found him bloody and raving in a ditch. He made a good guard dog, all things considered. Heel, boy.
"Your apology is noted, Mister--?" DuFont feigned ignorance of his name, a tool she'd used in many a negotiation. It bred a certain expectation in her listener; if she couldn't be bothered to Analyze him, how in the world will she care about what they say?
"Wezzle, Lady Inquisitor." The Human was short, only slightly taller than the average Dwarf, but he had a beard that could compete with the best of them. He wore a fine jacket threaded with gold and silver, and the Merchant's Guild emblem hung prominently below his cravat. His voice was deep, but it trembled at the edges and his eyes were red-rimmed.
"Mister Wezzle. Now, explain why exactly you need to broach the safety of the barricades?" DuFont raised a manicured eyebrow at him, a daily labor that she'd hoped would disappear with her advancement to Adept. No such luck. "You and yours are safe here while my people fight back the monsters roaming our city's streets."
"Lady Inquisitor, I beg your pardon, but we have seen no such monsters. We hear the stories and they sound terrible, but guards we have aplenty. As a representative of the Merchant's Guild, I am requesting that we be allowed to travel deeper into the city. Both for trade and for my people to check on their families, many of whom we have not seen in months despite being camped just outside the Sunrise Gate. Your predecessor kept us locked in the Verdant Pass for nearly a month, and now, when you finally let us in, we find much of the city has fallen. We must tend to our business, Lady Inquisitor. We must."
Eliza couldn't claim she was unmoved by the merchant's plea, not only because he had the backing of the Merchant's Guild behind him. They were not a force she could easily face, not even had she the Inviolate Order of the Inquisition fully behind her, which was not the case. Despite that, the former Elder did not want to encourage any of the merchants to move further into the city. With them in control, she commanded access to their resources, and as the city deteriorated those resources would mean the reins of the city would be in her hands.
The right hands.
That said, the threat of the Revenants was not a lie; the creatures were slaughtering citizens by the hundreds. Her patrols could fight them off, but only if the beasts were outnumbered, and they seemed to be getting stronger as the hours ticked on.
"Mister Wezzle, you do not see the monsters because my men are fighting them back. The rumors you have heard are both accurate and woefully incomplete. Death resides in the city of Haarwatch, Mister Wezzle. Until we can secure more of the Quarter, I must insist you stay within the barricades. My people will gladly buy your merchandise at a negotiated rate, so you need not fear a loss of profit."
Wezzle's face moved through several emotions so fast it was hard to track, but DuFont spotted worry, anger, and loathing before a mask of acceptance slid over it all. He bowed low once more. "I understand. I thank you, Lady Inquisitor, for receiving us. Who might we speak to regarding our wares?"
DuFont smiled kindly and a bit sadly, an expression she'd practiced countless times. It was designed to convey quiet, calming dismay that she could do nothing more, but greatly wished to do so. Backed by her Acting Skill, the effect it had on the merchant's entourage was visible. Each of them softened their stance, just slightly. It did not escape her notice that Wezzle, however, was unaffected.
"I wish I could do more, Mister Wezzle, and be assured that my men are hunting the streets and expanding our influence as we speak. Your wares will go a long way to ensuring they are fed and armed for those efforts." She nodded at Klark, who began ushering the assemblage out of the sitting room. "My man will see you to our officer. Until we meet again."
"Until then, Lady Inquisitor."
The door closed with a soft boom, Klark and the merchant gone. Blissful silence reigned.
"Getting rowdy again? Didn't you just tell them to stay put?"
Eliza jumped slightly, but schooled her face to impassivity as she turned to see Ilia manifest out of the darkness behind her chair. The Sworn grinned at her.
"Yet another merchant family. There were too many that the Order had been blockading at the Sunrise Gate." DuFont ran a hand through her silky hair and sighed through her perfect, Tempered teeth. Having advanced to Adept meant her physical form was nearly perfect. "These will prove troublesome, however."
"You want me to make an example?"
DuFont looked askance at the Sworn. "Are you up for that?"
Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, as Ilia bristled like a cat. "I could kill this entire damn camp if I wanted, Lady Inquisitor."
Eliza held her hands up in mock surrender. "I am only concerned for your well-being, Ilia. You suffered grievously at that Sorcerer's hands. I merely am worried that you are still feeling the ill-effects of her power."
The Sworn clucked her tongue and looked away, but she didn't reply. She was wearing the same dark leather armor and mask she always wore, but her hair was stringy and her hands twitched slightly. The signs of her assault were still there, clear to Eliza's eyes at least.
"I'll have that witch's head on a pike," Ilia snarled. "One way or another."
"A worthy goal, indeed. But before the witch hunt, I'll need you to give the merchants a scare. Let them see what we're truly up against."
"Lead a group of the beasties in?" Ilia asked, and Eliza nodded. "How large?"
"Eight or nine, but make sure their levels aren't too high. I'd like our Acolytes to take the credit for their defeat."
"Sounds fun. I'll see it done." Ilia grinned, her own teeth almost perfect as well. She turned back toward the darkness in the rear of the room, hidden from the nearby windows. "Ah, before I forget. The Inquisitors are coming to speak with you, and they're spittin' mad."
"Hmm I'm sure they are," DuFont sighed. She felt like she'd been doing that more and more. "Send them in."
The Sworn gave her a look, a cat asked to play fetch. "You know I'm not your maid, right?"
She vanished into the shadows.
Grumbling to herself, DuFont had little choice but to go and open the chamber door herself.
Just outside were the last remaining Inquisitors in Haarwatch. The rest had all died or gone missing, which was just another way to say dead. These three remained, the highest ranked of their order, along with DuFont. A fourth had lived as well, but he'd died in the fighting the day prior.
"Inquisitors. How may I be of assistance?" she asked with a neutral face.
"We must speak, Inquisitor DuFont," said Clovis Heuthorn, an exceedingly tall man with greying temples and a drooping face. He made his way into the room without another word. The others followed him in a swirl of white-enameled armor and brilliantly red cloaks.
As the only thing she could have done was stomp her feet and demand they stop, she let them pass. The title change was still a bit jarring to Eliza, for all that she'd demanded its use from Wezzle. When she had joined forces with Katan he'd given her the honorary title of Inquisitor, due to her previous status as an Elder at the Guild. The others used it and, because the Acolytes and Initiates listened to her, they gave her the bare minimum of respect.
Over the course of the last day, however, that had changed.
"It has come to our attention that you have stopped our people from seeking out and executing further heretics," Inquisitor Heuthorn started. "I would ask that you reverse your order. This city has been declared a hotbed of heresy by the late Master Inquisitor himself. It is of paramount importance that we continue our work as ordained."
Ah, straight to the point. A refreshing change. "Circumstances change, Inquisitor Heuthorn. We must adapt."
"You step upon our god-granted right to end the threat of heresy, Inquisitor," Inquisitor Rutger was stocky, blond, and square jawed. He put so much venom into her honorary title as if that alone could kill her. "What right do you claim to do this?"
"I claim no right, just the loyalty of these fine people. I served the citizens of Haarwatch well before joining the Order, and they come first." Eliza rubbed the bridge of her nose. "What's more, if we hold our position and encourage others to flock to us, then we will control this entire city before long. The Guild had Provisional Authority over this city, and it allowed us to do so much. Were we to attain such control, imagine how easy it would be to track down dissidents. Once we have steadied the foundations, your pogroms can continue apace."
"You speak of safety? Of serving the citizens of this city?" Initiate Heuthorn's glare was an impressive thing, amplified by the wrinkles on his face. "Heretics running free is how such abominations came to overwhelm Haarwatch. If we stand idly by while more still gather beneath us, then we've already lost."
"We cannot wait for System Authority to deem us worthy," Rutger snarled. "We have been blessed by the Pathless Himself, and the One Who Remains guides us. We need nothing from the System we have not already taken in our own hands."
"Foolish," DuFont said, a hint of a growl in her voice. Her hand dropped to her waist and the hilt that resided there. "This city is on edge. We need them to gather together. With us, not against us. If you keep on your path, then we won't have to worry about monsters at the barricades, we'll be overwhelmed by the people themselves."
"The wolf need not fear the rabbit," Heuthorn sneered.
"You've no Master Inquisitor, not anymore. No one to hide behind. There is at least one Master Tier in this city, and she is against us. Do you want to call her attention to us before, or after we have established ourselves and can fight back?" Eliza shook her hand and pulled a few inches of her sword from its sheath. "Do you still have objections?"
Heuthorn, Rutger, and Daur all eyed her sword with no little bit of trepidation. The hooked blade was a powerful antique, sharp as a razor and covered in an arcane script. The sigils, strange as they were, were definitely enchanted. The only ability she'd discovered, however, was a disruption type effect. For a brief two second interval, the powered sword would disrupt Mana Skills. The Inquisitors knew its power.
There used to be four of them, after all.
"Very well, Inquisitor DuFont," Heuthorn nodded curtly. "We shall follow your lead...for now."
The man left without another word, and the other two followed so close they almost trampled his cloak.
"Gods damned zealots," she muttered and resheathed her blade. Klark returned just moments later. "Send in the next ones, Initiate."
"As you wish, Lady Inqusitor."
"GRAAAAH!"
Mervin Cors flinched at the sound, but Piotr's callused hand gripped his shoulder. "Steady, lad. It's locked up."
Mervin nodded, but it was hard to turn off his ears.
Sentinel's Regard is level 24!
Ugh, I'd rather you didn't level at this particular moment. Mervin shuddered as he tried to block out the sounds coming out of the room they guarded. He was only partially successful, so he focused on his friends.
Piotr was still leading their Wall crew, all of them Tin Ranks, despite the fact that he was pretty old. Nearly thirty, if Mervin had to guess. Lars slumped against the far wall, his bow loose in his hand. The man was drunk, but then Mervin had never seen him without something in his system, so he'd be more surprised to find him sober. On the other side of the door they guarded, Garin completed their group, and he was half asleep despite the shouting.
They'd all been up too long, having only caught a cat nap in the hours before dawn. The Wall was abuzz with activity, Guilders practically flooding the chambers and battlements. Eyrie fallen, they'd been left with no where else to go; the Wall became a sort of rallying point for what was left of the Guild.
And the help was none too late in coming. More and more waves of beasts had emerged from the Foglands. And now the city--
More screams came from behind the door they'd posted up against. Mervin saw Lars flinch and take another swig from his flask. Where the man had found booze was a mystery, the Guilders were rationing it out, after all. Despite it all, he wouldn't have said no to a sip. His damn nerves were shot.
The screams quietened again, and Mervin let out a pent up breath.
Monsters had emerged from the Eyrie. From below it. People were saying the Domain, but though Mervin hadn't had a chance to enter Haarwatch's Domain, he hadn't even been told it had...things like that.
They'd been chosen to guard the--what was it?--operation room, Teine had called it. "Why" was beyond him, but they'd been set up for hours at this point.
But the longer it went on, the less Mervin was terrified of it all. The operation room wasn't warded against sound; Teine had not cared, apparently. And with his Perception and Uncommon ranked Sentinel's Regard Skill, he was able to bridge the distance.
He could hear Elder Teine speaking, his Skill even gathered enough sound and sensation that he could almost see it all. Like seeing with his ears.
Something big and heavy twitched and jerked atop a table of some sort. Claws rapped against its surface, and a few creaking screeches cut through the general malaise of sound. He guessed sigils were in play somewhere in there, as he could hear the low hum of the magic, flaring with every twitchy movement.
Others were in there, but he had seen most of them enter originally. Bronze Guilders for the most part. They were arrayed around the table, watching. Learning.
The Elder was teaching.
"You see their enhanced musculature, how it twists?" Mervin could hear a clacking of shoes and something metallic and sharper. A cane, he realized.
"Ah," said a chorus of voices.
"It is likely how they are so strong, despite their levels. Easily Tier I creatures," Teine said, his can clacking again. He was walking in circles?
"What of the reports of their growing strength?" Someone asked.
"Yes, that's part of it. Their Bodies feed on the strength of their conquests." Cloth rustled. "Look at its face. It's all mouth, meant to devour. The Mana channels in its flesh are thorned and twisted in a way that is almost...anathema to us. Were a Human or Elf designed as such, they would not live long before dying a gruesome death."
"Why?"
"The channels feed into itself. There is no outlet. Just a constant feeding back into itself," Teine let out a huff of breath. He sounded...admiring? "Efficient, but impossible for adaption within non-monsters."
"So they grow stronger with each kill. Recirculating the Mana they eat?" A new voice said, high and sharp. Mervin thought she sounded familiar.
"Indeed. Much the same as we do, but more...holistically, it seems," Teine agreed.
"Then...will they will continue to grow? Will they ever stop?" A new voice, this one thicker and deeper. He sounds afraid.
"Mmm, yes they will grow. And no, I don't believe they will stop." The Elder did not seem terribly concerned by that fact. "They are imbued with...a terrible hunger. You can feel it emanating from their aura."
Clack. Clack. Clack.
"I feel...rage," the sharp voiced woman said.
"...And hate," said the thick male voice.
"Yes, yes. Intertwined with the hunger. Why do they feel such fury? The loss of their master?" Teine mused. His cane tapped the ground, insistently.
"The dragon?"
"Mmm. Perhaps. Or perhaps the creature that destroyed the dragon," Teine said. "Do they seek vengeance?"
"The Fiend..."
"Mmm."
There was the weak sound of thrashing and further screaming. "Sir it is dying. Slowly, but it's Health is declining."
"We've found its limits. Very well. We're done here, but not with the study. I need more. Find another, preferably one of a higher level."
"Yes sir, Elder Teine."
The screams cut off.
Steps within the room grew louder for a moment before Mervin realized they were leaving. He straightened to attention as the Bronze Ranks filed out, followed at last by Teine himself, holding a set of bloody vials. His friends followed suit, with varying degrees of ease.
Mervin tried not to stare at the Elder. He'd been hobbled, his once preternaturally handsome face now marred by a tight web of scars along his left side. Something else twisted his right leg, and despite healing Skills, the Master Tier mage still needed that cane to walk.
Teine tapped a finger to his lips, thoughtfully as he gazed at the lot of them. Without saying a word, he walked by and started up the stairs, perhaps headed to the top of the Wall. Mervin let out a soft breath of relief.
"You."
Mervin froze, like a rabbit before a fox's hungry gaze. The Elder pinned him with his pale eyes and smiled. With the scarring it was a lopsided thing that tugged the left side of his face unpleasantly.
"Ye-yes, sir?"
"The beast within will stir in minutes. Kill it for me. I have no further use of it at this time."
"Ah, yes, sir."
Teine nodded and left, even his hobbling walk more graceful and quick than Mervin could manage.
"Lucky you," Garin grumped, not unkindly.
"Ah, anyone want to help?" Mervin asked nervously. He'd certainly would rather share the experience, and the danger, with his friends.
"What, and steal from you?" Lars snorted. "Have fun~"
Piotr shook his head. "The Elder gave this to you alone. We'll follow, in case of any problems. We'll be ready to help." The other two groaned, but that made Mervin feel better.
He entered the room.
It matched his envisioned specifics very well. Sentinel's Regard was a strong Skill, it seemed. Inside the monster was strapped down to a metal table covered in sigils, though it was barely moving. Lethargic twitches and a twitching jaw was all the action it displayed. They must have knocked it out, somehow. Even were it awake, the metallic bands across its limbs and chest held it firmly in place. It wasn't going anywhere.
If it could have, Mervin was sure it would have fled long since.
The others gasped at it, though Mervin wasn't sure if that was because of surprise or disgust. It was nearly flayed. It's scales and skin opened up along its chest, it's ribs and bones cracked and exposed. Mervin could see it's lumpy, misshapen core pulsing weakly in its chest.
Swallowing and forcing himself to draw his blade, Mervin lined up his sword and struck.
The weapon glanced off the beast's internals, doing almost no damage. But weakened as it was, exposed as it was, he was able to do more than none. That was all that mattered.
What followed was an embarrassingly long time swinging at it. Eventually, however, enough damage accrued, and a triumphant notification filled his sight.
You Have Killed A Manawarped Revenant!
XP Earned!
Mervin gasped as he gained five levels in quick succession.
Congratulations!
You Have Leveled Up!
You Are Now Level 16!
You Have 15 Unused Stat Points!
Congratulations! You Have Earned A Title!
Giantslayer I (Uncommon)! Defeat an enemy at least 10 levels higher than yourself! +1 STR +1 AGL
Congratulations! You Have Earned A Title!
Giantslayer II (Uncommon) Defeat an enemy at least 10 levels higher and at least one-half stage higher than you. +2 STR, +2 AGL
The energy of the true god poured through him, a blinding light that raised him up on its majesty. Mervin came down, shaking and buzzing with power.
"Darkest Night, Elder Teine did you a favor," Piotr said with an unbelieving expression on his face. Mervin knew Piotr was only level twenty.
"I didn't know it was gonna be trussed up like a pig!" Lars complained. He was only level fifteen. "I coulda done that!"
Mervin couldn't help but nod, feeling his power swell within him. He felt...incredible.
The creature burst into dark smoke that flickered with...was that blood Mana? Something ruby red glinted in the usual smoke rot, and all of it whisked away through a high vent in the room. Back toward the city.
What could that mean?
"Alright! Time to celebrate! Drinks on Piotr!" Garin said. Lars came around rapidly at that and cheered, and when Piotr nodded and grabbed Mervin's shoulders, the boy couldn't stop his smile.
This 𝓬ontent is taken from f(r)eeweb(n)ovel.𝒄𝒐𝙢