Chapter Two Hundred and Twenty Four - 224Congratulations!
You Have Been Granted Territorial Authority!
Authority Accessed.
Welcome, Lady Eliza DuFont.
What Song Do You Wish To Sing?
Eliza had opened the notifications at least twenty times since it had appeared. She toyed with the translucent panel before her. Its meaning was relatively clear, but she did not understand the significance of the last line.
What Song?
List of Options:
Song of Peace
Song of Trade
Song of
Alright, I get it. She dismissed the interface entirely. She was intrigued, elated even, but would have plenty of time to plan after she received her aide's report.
DuFont strode among the halls of her appropriated mansion, flanked by a bare bones guard of Acolytes. They all snapped to stiff attention as she passed, which gratified her, though she did not miss the whispers the followed her passage. The journey up from the depths had been rough, bloody, and painfulbut they had not been without fruit.
A twinge of pain shot up her left shoulder, and a tingling iteration flowed down into what she knew was empty air, but which felt so very real. As if her arm were still there. DuFont suppressed a groan as the pain grew too heavy with each beat of her heart.
Pain Resistance is level 8!
Learned a new Skill, at least, she huffed, too angry to be pleased. If that bastard hadn't stopped her, she could have claimed the Nest and been out of there before...before the explosion. Her people, the few that survived, later told her it was a Guilder that set it off. And that only shortly after giant metal golems appeared to activate that yellow-red array they still hadn't identified. None of the survivors had their Analyze at high enough levels to even get their Type, and the crater had hidden the offending Guilder from view. Bah. And now I have Challengers to worry about. Not only Teine and his Guilders but Boscal and her pet.
The Fiend.
She spat onto the polished hardwood and ground her muddy boots into the carpet as she stomped past. She still wore her white enameled Inquisitor armor, its protection far superior to anything she'd owned before, even after being pummeled by half a mountain. Her left gauntlet was lost, and the precious set was useless unless paired. She'd cast it aside soon after arriving in camp.
"At least I still have you," she crooned, patting the crooked sword at her hip. Her cloak was ragged and her skin covered in scrapes and bruises despite her Adept Tier Endurance and Vitality. It had truly been a close thing, only the mysterious Crescian Bronze blade allowing her to survive the onslaught of magic. It had dulled the edge of the explosion, while she had hid behind the bulk of that blasted Scale. "You, my army, and unmatched Authority."
A door loomed ahead, and DuFont marched through it without pause. Inside, Klark was busy organizing his desk and a number of missives bound in colored ribbons. He came to a smart salute as Eliza passed him.
"Lady Inquisitor," Klark said by way of greeting. "Are you?"
"I'm fine, Klark," she said. The few healers remaining to her had bathed her wound in tinctures and covered it in unguents so sharp they could knock a man out. It ached terribly, but that only served to fuel her fury. "We've been back a few hours. What do we know?"
Klark reset his feet and folded his arms behind his back. "Much of the assembled Order was lost in the Nest, only two hundred remain from the operation."
"Successful operation, Klark," DuFont pointed out, and didn't miss the Initiate's quick glance at her lost arm. "Remember that. What of our troops here? How many remain and did they do as I ordered?"
"Yes, Lady Inquisitor. The Acolytes and Initiates you stationed here pulled all high value assets into our core camp and the external streets have been barricaded and trapped. A thousand remain, while the rest it, ah, it appears that the rest...fled."
Klark's flinched as DuFont whirled on him, and her Skills could read the fear on him. "What? What did Heuthorn do while we were away?!"
"What must be done!"
The double doors burst open, propelled by the kick of two Initiate boots. DuFont pivoted toward the noise, reaching down for the blade at herDamnit! She switched and moved her right arm, drawing the blade. Into the room marched a rank of Initiates, their swords drawn and packed with Mana, while behind them was the tall, grey form of the man himself.
"Clovis," DuFont hissed. "What is the meaning of this?"
Inquisitor Heuthorn sneered at her, while fifteen Initiates spread outward to cut off any hopes of egress for DuFont and her aide. "We are balancing the scales, Eliza. As the last ranking member of the Order in the city, I am declaring summary judgement upon you."
"Judgement?" DuFont's blood pounded in her ears, and her knuckles went white on her sword. She lifted it, leveling it at the old Inquisitor's face. "You dare?"
"I do more than that, child," Heuthorn snapped. "You led thousands of our Order to die, against my well documented wishes. You are no longer fit to be the leader of our mission."
"Fool! I am the only choice! I have claimed Territorial Authority! The first in this damn country's history!" The Initiates' swords were unwavering as they glowered at her through their helms. "We are victorious, because of my leadership!"
"You have returned with a prize you do not deserve, Guilder. I have dispatched word to the Inviolate Order by way of Setoria, so that the Grandmaster may come here herself and take up the mantle of Authority." Heuthorn flicked a speck of imaginary dust from his pauldron, and DuFont felt her stomach drop. "Until then, you shall relinquish control...to me."
The Grandmaster, she thought, panicking for the first time. If sheshe'll ruin everything!
Heuthorn smiled, his facade of kindly elder burnt away by the sheer hate in his gaze. "Do the right thing, Eliza. You cannot hope to win. Not anymore."
DuFont swallowed and glanced at Klark, who was standing at her side with his own sword held at the ready. "Whatever you choose to do, Lady Inquisitor. I'm at your side," he said.
Bloody Pathless and his burning, idiotic servants! DuFont flourished her Crescian blade and focused.
Authority Accessed.
Welcome, Lady Eliza DuFont.
What Song Do You Wish To Sing?
The Song of War.
"I choose victory," she snarled as her hand moved of its own accord. The sword stabbed the air and summoned a complex array from nothing.
"Attack! Do not spare her!" Heuthorn shouted. "Diurnal Barrage!"
A tight volley of light and fire Mana came at Eliza, but it was stopped wholesale by the glimmering array she had somehow summoned. With a flick of her sword, the array ignited into a blazing inferno, and an overpowering force crashed against her enemies. The Initiates were bowled over, swords torn from hands, while the Inquisitor barely kept his feet.
"What have you done!" Heuthorn howled. "Thisthis is Sorcery!"
"No," DuFont grinned, marveling at the power that thrummed through her channels. It spread into her core, as light and powerful as a springtime gale. "This is Authority, and you are no longer welcome in my Territory."
Select Targets For Expulsion From Territory?
"Yes." Eliza DuFont bared her teeth as the unrelenting forcethe Songdropped Heuthorn to his knees. His armor creaked as if a giant were slowly crushing him, and blood dribbled from the man's horrified eyes and ears. "And one more thing."
It was time to take her city back.