At level fifty I was considered elite. For some reason, very few people reached this high, most tend to stagnate in the lower thirties. But here I was, my little party, Mariah, Connor and I. We had reached the elite ranks and can now take on some of the hardest bosses in this world.

I spend a lot of down time talking to Qun. His hatred of the new gods is apparent. The Blessed system, it seems, is made of the same basic substance as the World Forger flames, but with a little more order added to it. Qun would tell me no more, but he considers the Blessed system an insult to the primordial gods. The ones that dwelt before the multiverse began.

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Merrill huffed as she stumbled down the streets, pushing her way past Common snow shovelers, who ignored her. It seems they were used to seeing blood.

Fear over took the woman. That thing she just faced was much too powerful. It was a devasting creature that she didn’t understand. A priest of the Supreme One. Merrill forced a smile, steeling her resolve and she rounded into an alleyway. The last time she had faced the Hands, it set her life up in flames, inspiring her down the path of rebellion she now walked. They took everything from her, her home, her family, and her lover. She remembered their cold smiles as she watched from her hiding place, as three of them chopped her mother and sister to pieces, flinging their limbs about, hacking into them with stone axes and hoisting the remnants of their bodies up above their heads.

And yet now she had survived a fight with one. It wasn’t pretty, but she had proven that facing one wasn’t certain death. And with Illyra, even they would become trivial. She began to laugh to herself. Hope burnt within her. They actually stood a chance. It wouldn’t be like that day. Never again.

Merrill ran through the city, pushing her way into the Noble districts. Now she was getting looks. A woman dripping blood, covered in glass was pushing her way through the nicely dressed crowds. A few snapped at her in anger but noticed her cloak. That of a Rogue. They turned a blind eye to her, grumbling to themselves.

She passed the Eastern gate of the Hearth, peeking from the corner of her eye the work of two nights ago. It seemed the gate was back in place, as if nothing had happened. Perhaps a Blacksmith had pushed it back into place. The guards were abouy triple in number now, with several squads standing in formation around the gates. No doubt the incident cost a few lives, so these men were especially vigilant. Merrill made sure to blend into a small crowd, pulling up her hood.

The Noble houses were several stories tall, with gates around them, resembling mini Hearths. They took up a tremendous amount of space, for the high Nobles here needed room for their ice gardens and such.

Merrill found what she was looking for. A mansion located at the center of Noble district. It was smaller than the others she had pasded, its yard exceedingly small, with only one ice crystal tree decorating it. A butler was standing outside the door and bowed as he noticed her. He gestured her inside. She entered, dripping blood all over the fine rugs, causing the butler to cringe.

“Master Farran is located in the common area.” He said, eying the small drips of blood dropping from her arm. “Perhaps I should fetch some dressing. And some iron threads.

“No need. Milli will fix me up.” She said.

“Yes, my lady.” He bowed.

“Please don’t bow like that.” Merrill said. “Not too long ago I was a house servant too. You don’t need to treat me as Noble.”

“But you are Master Farran’s guest, so I shall treat you as such. Please, at least take this to cover your wound.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small white handkerchief.

“Thank you.” She said, pressing it against her arm. It soaked red almost immediately.

“Merrill.” Harris sighed. He was seated in an armchair, and sipping on some wine, despite the fact it was still around noon.

“Merrill!” Milli screamed, wrapping her arms around her. [Healing] The wound closed as she squeezed.

“Glad you’re all right boss.” Thrace said, walking up to her and placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Is the goddess all right?’ Merrill asked.

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“I am.” Illyra said. She was seated on a couch at the other side of the room.

“Severus… filled me in.” Harris said, his brow furrowing. “A Hand…”

“We’ll get out of here within the hour. Just need to collect ourselves.” Merrill said.

“Yes. No need to worry about your precious little Nobility title being taken from you.” Thrace said.

“That’s not fair Thrace.” Harris said. “You know what I have to lose.”

“Father?” A little noble girl peeked from behind a wall. A maid walked up to her, pulling the girl away, but not without smiling at Harris. Not the smile of servant. But the smile of someone much more intimate.

Thrace’s eyes regarded the girl. She stared at him for a moment. He nodded before looking away.

“She’s grown.” He said.

“Yeah.” Harris nodded. “She’s a Ranger you know. Just awakened recently. A strong one too.”

“That girl…” Illyra said, watching as the maid pulled her away.

“My daughter.” Harris said, getting to his feet, placing the silver wine goblet on a small table next to him. “Half Noble, Half Common. The Hands would kill her, and then wipe my House from the face of the planet if they ever found her. Nobles and Commons should never mix.” He said, turning to look at Merrill. “Which why I need you all to leave, now.”

“Harris. I understand how you’re feeling, I’m a Noble too, but what we have here is the future.” Severus said, gesturing to Illyra. “This woman will help us end a two millennium long dictatorship.”

“I can’t lose her.” Harris shook his head, reaching for his wine glass again, taking a big sip. “I only joined with you all to make a better future for Elaine, a world where a half breed wouldn’t be killed. I refuse to sacrifice her for a world she won’t live in. It’s why I left the rebellion.”

“Harris…” Thrace said, only to stop himself. “I understand.” He sighed.

“What I did in the garrison. I did for my family.” Thrace continued. “I killed dozens of my fellow Commons, all in the name of making a better future for my wife and kids. In a different life, I would be quelling a rebellion, not joining one. But I…”

Harris was silent. He knew too well what had happened. A son dead by Thrace’s own axe. Home burnt down by the Fallen Hands.

“I have the carriage ready for you out back. It will have all the provisions you need to get to the Eastern Hearth. Morgan, my butler, is currently retrieving some coin. It’ll be enough to live fairly comfortably out east.” Harris said, swishing his glass. “I have contacts in the city loyal to me. Seek them out, and they’ll help you contact me if anything happens.”

“Harris, thank you. I know you’re risking a lot helping us but trust me. It’s all for a good cause.” Merrill said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s for Elaine. If that golden eyed woman truly is the way to win… then I’ll believe in you. Believe in the rebellion. For a better tomorrow, without the tyranny of the Supreme One.” He downed his drink. “Don’t make me regret it.”

“If I may interrupt…” Morgan said, entering the room. “Here is the aforementioned coin.” He held out a leather satchel to Merrill. “The carriage is ready to leave immediately. Master Farran has cleverly disguised it as a parcel carriage, so you should be able to leave the city without issue. But is suggest you do it quickly, before the Inquisition closes off the gates.”

Merill nodded to Harris one last time, before following Morgan out, the others behind her. Thrace lingered at the door way for a moment, as if wanting to say something, but he remained silent, following the group out.

“You too big guy. You too.” Harris said, sitting back down on his lounger.

“Daddy!” Elaine rushed into the room, hopping onto his lap.

“Hello princess!” he smiled, embracing the girl. She giggled as he held her.

“She’s been spying on the Dawson boy.” The maid, Micah, entered. “Tracking him and pelting him with snowballs from behind the wall.”

“Has she now?” Harris smiled. Elaine shook her head, but her smile said it all. “Come on. You too.” He gestured to Micah.

She laughed, and walked up to Harris, taking a seat on his lap too.

“My two favorite people.” He said, wrapping his arms around both. “Doesn’t get any better than this.”

“If only papa would stop day drinking.” Micah teased, playfully slapping his face.

“It’s for stress.” He smiled. “Now what’s this about pelting the Dawson boy?”

A loud knock came from the door. A few seconds later, several harder knocks echoed.

“I’ll get it.” Micah said, getting up from his lap, playfully blowing him a kiss. He just leaned back, stupid smile on his face.

This was what he was fighting for. A world where Micah and Elaine where safe. Where the rebellion was behind them, the Supreme One, an afterthought. Then, he frowned. Who was at the door? He had a little too much and wasn’t thinking straight. He should have been more careful. He should have informed Micah to be more careful.

“Lord Farran is in the common area.” Micah said as she opened the door, head deep in a bow.

“Thank you. It is urgent business you see.” The bald man said.

“Daddy?” Harris picked Elaine up, and placed her down, before getting to his feet, walking to see who it was.

The man entered. He was dressed in dark robes, similar to a Fallen One, but with elaborate silver spirals running its lengths. He bowed as Harris approached, looking up with a faint smile.

“May I help you?” He asked, letting his fingers graze against the small blade he had hidden on his belt.

“I am High Inquisitor Harlan. I come to you with some questions about a rebel spotted in these parts.”

Micah proceeded to close the door, but it stopped before closing, something caught in it. An arm. The Fallen Hand pushed its way in, its massive height ducking under the door frame as it stepped inside. Micah pressed against the wall, horrified as it strode past her, hands clasped together.

“Lord Farran.” It bellowed, its voice deep, guttural, and beast like. “A pleasure.” Steam fumed from its mouth as it smiled. Harris’s heart dropped.