“The truest test of a man’s principles is when it would be in his best interest to go without them.”

Attikus Finchi, of Nok

Antonius Andrium spat on the floor, his spit freezing in place. “Yes, yes,” he nodded, seeming annoyed, listening to some voice Bim couldn’t hear. With a massive sigh, he glowered at Bim. “It seems some kind of troll out of myth and a bunch of rioting peasant fools have broken through the main gates. Dozens of hours of enchantments, and they buckle like tin to a horde of uneducated prats. What a waste. I’ll squish them all, as my lord commands, and then I’ll clean this mess up.” Without further ado, he swept off his feet and shot up the stairs, the power of making stairs unnecessary. He blew past two Bound fighting against some kind of and a , he assumed, and hastily threw a bolt of ice at the back of the last one as he passed. He traveled through the corridors at breakneck speed, scuffing lines in the walls from smacking into them on occasion, though his layered and spells cushioned him from any pain or injury.

He burst out into the midday and stared down at the crowd of rioters, pitchforks, stones, trowels, pickaxes, and other improvised weapons held high, rage at injustice on their faces.

“Fair wages for all! Fair wages for all!”

The crowd chanted in unison.

Andrium’s veins glowed electric blue, electricity seeming to flicker just under his skin, miniscule bolts of blue lightning flying from his eyes.

“ENOUGH.”

Silence, for a moment. “Enough. I am done with your impudence, your foolish rebellion. .”

With three consecutive Talents, some of his most powerful, clouds of rolling ice, hail, lightning, and cutting wind exploded out from around him, bringing destruction on everyone within hundreds of feet. Everyone under level 10 within the range of the spell was slain instantly by the wave of destruction; half of the crowd was dead in an instant.

“What’s wrong with you, Wizard of Storms?” Zara asked, voice booming. She hefted a mace in one hand, glowering up at him from his place high in the air, in the eye of the storm. The hail and snow slid off of her, seeming to not effect her one bit. She stood her ground, like a mountain come to life.

“What’s wrong with me? Nothing at all. I merely understand that my place is above all of you.” The sneered. “Now cease your fool’s questioning.” He pointed a finger at her, and said plainly: “.” A storm cloud overhead darkened, and a bolt of violet lightning shot down and slammed into the . She took one lumbering step back. The ground, turning to mud below her from the torrential rain, seemed to shift, sucking up around her boots and steadying her.

“My judgement,” she said, voice carrying through the noise of rain and thunder, “will not be stymied, little .” The power of the earth beneath flowed into her, and a pair of notifications burned in her mind. And as her Talent was granted, she roared its name.

Level 28 earned!

“!” granted!

She swung her mace, and her reach seemed to extend beyond logic, slamming into Andrium where he was, dozens of feet off the ground. He was knocked from the sky by the force of the blow, his ward spells cushioning his fall as he plummeted to the ground.

🟌

Greg howled with pain as the casual from a passing Andrium hit him in the back, sending frost into his back and causing his entire body to spasm. Helena put an arrow through the second to last Bound, and drew another arrow, archer versus archer, not allowing herself to look towards Greg, for it could mean death.

The arrow from her foe went flying, and she dove aside, got on a knee, and let her shot fly. It hit the Bound, and slew them precisely. Panting, she went over to Greg, who was on the floor, arms spasming. “B-B-Bim. G-get Bim.”

“You’re right.” Helena said, after deliberating, torn, glancing toward the stairs and back at Greg. “Look, please don’t die while I’m gone. I’m just starting to like you.”

“I-I’ll be ok-kay.” Greg said, shivering intensely.

As Helena turned to head down the stairs, Bim strode up, dragging the sword along the ground with his left hand, his right hand frostbitten and covered in flecks of ice. He winked. “ is the greatest Talent ever conceived of. Now, let’s--” He stared at Greg, horrified, and rushed forward. “Alright, man, alright, just breathe. . I’d need a warm bath to steadily reheat him, but I don’t know-- damn, damn, damn.”

Cobson, the from the Coalition, who Bim had arrived with, stepped out from behind a statue in the hallway. “Hello, sirs and madam. I didn’t want to intervene, as brute force combat is not my speciality, but I do know how to procure a bath. There is an unoccupied chamber of that sort nearby. I shall attend to your frost-struck friend, if I might.”

Helena looked at him, then looked to Bim. “Do we trust him.”

Bim nodded. “We can, if only so much, but I’ll go with them. I’m a , he needs that. And my hand is frostbitten too, it hurts like a Demon’s hunger.”

Helena stared at him. “But… You retrieved the sword. This is your victory too.”

Bim shook his head. “Some things are more important than being there at the last step. I’ve done all I can when it comes to the sword; you need to get it to the courtyard and slay that foul .”

Nodding seriously and clapping him on the shoulder, she slung her bow around her back, grabbed the icy cold Fool’s Bane, and sprinted off in the direction of the courtyard.

“Wise words, young man.” The said, with an air of a old-fashioned gentleman’s approval, grabbing Greg by the shoulders and dragging him along toward the bath rooms.

Level 7 earned!

Level 14!