A room in an office building was in a state of standoff. One side: an [Elegant Tea Party] and four young women—three hunters and the [Lady] they were accompanying. The other side: Weapons and the men carrying them, like the sneering [Lord] Marcel, and the [Mages], and the [Knight] in shining blue armor, and the—

Well, maybe this standoff was a bit unbalanced. But that lay in the preparation.

It was common in stories, but in reality, standoffs didn’t just start out of nowhere. There were grudges, ambushes, and plots involved, and this one was no different. Many people had taken many routes to come to this standoff, and they all had different reasons to be there. But this was a fated meeting. Actions had consequences. Even ones put off and ran away from. Even those forgotten. Misunderstandings only went so far.

One man had not forgotten. He had stayed determined, as a matter of personal honor. Then he had gathered a second insulted party along, and the two had begun chasing fruitless leads for a while. Until a lucky break brought them to this mining town, searching for answers. Why had a factory been sabotaged? Why was a [Lord] dead? Who had done it? What was the plot?

They were traveling in a retinue, a [Lord of the Field] and a [Justice Knight]. The two had different motives, but the plots had intersected, and so they had set out together on this chase. They had ambushed a confused [Lord] Marcel, learned of the circumstances, then agreed to work together.

Then they had waited, watching a mine. Until the signals showed the thing being brought above ground, and then [Lord] Marcel had felt a [Guard’s] mind suddenly be overwhelmed with alcohol. They were done waiting.

Their long journey was at its end.

—

[Justice Knight] Guesclin was above all, a patient man. He knew when to wait—but he also knew when to move. And he always—always—made sure that justice was done.

Two [Lords] were dead, possibly by the same assailant. He would see justice done, and he was about to. It had been a long journey, but as he waited in [Lord] Marcel’s office building for the assailants to arrive, he was glad it was about to be over.

“No signal yet?” [Lord] Graimberg asked.

The other man had a military bearing and an anxious face. Though they were on the same mission, and his help had been invaluable, Guesclin still didn’t like the man. The [Lord] was a plotter and a schemer. But he had helped locate this place using a scrying ritual.

The [Justice Knight] sighed. “Be patient. You’ve been on this trail longer than I have, so I understand your haste. Still, this last bit is where a cool head is most important. You know that too.”

The [Lord] muttered something quiet, checked over his armor, then his sword, then began pacing again.

They had first suspected [Lord] Marcel of being the culprit, but the man had been very affable to their investigation, and so he had been exonerated. This lot though… They had the incriminating object. They knew it from the scrying—it had fallen underground, then risen back up.

That was how they had known to be prepared. And if the Du Noelles are involved with foreign saboteurs…

Guesclin shuddered at the thought. He would see justice done, for his [Lord's] sake. If enough evidence came forth, it could be escalated up to the country-level. But still, he felt like he was missing something. They had received a report on how matters stood here, and the [Lady] had no fighter classes in her retinue, that was certain. But how had she survived a cave-in at the mines for weeks? He had observed the women from outside, and they had not seemed any worse for wear.

It was the two strangers who really worried him. He had heard rumors of a [Judge] in robes, dispensing judgments as he saw fit. But those men had been seen leaving to the West, they were not here. Why? Had the real culprits gotten away already?

“Curse that damned fool of a [Lord], letting those two go,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Graimberg turned to him and shared the grimace. “You said it. I don’t know why we’re entertaining with this request of his—last-minute ironic monologues always end in disaster.”

Guesclin scoffed. “True enough, but there is value in it.” He looked at his blue shield, the scales of justice emblazoned on the front. “Presentation matters for skills. This is to be a surprise trial, not an ambush, and that matters. Their escape will be locked out.”

The [Lord’s] expression darkened. “Foolishness. We should’ve just incapacitated them from afar—there are methods.”

“No,” The [Knight] responded. He stared the [Lord] in the eyes, and his gaze did not waiver. “Today is a day of truth, and I will see that the full truth of things comes out. Don’t try any tricks here, I brought two [Mages] along.”

Graimberg held the gaze for a moment, then turned, shaking his head. “My one is higher level than two of yours, but I’ll humor you. Just—”

Then the signal came, and the [Knight] instantly turned, hand on his sword. The [Lord] perked up, and started pointing his own men forward too.

“Move out!” they both said at once, and doors were busted in, and their men fanned inside, all receiving the command through skills. Guesclin let the [Lord] go in first, then waited for every single one of their elites to enter. Justice did not hurry. Finally, satisfied with the timing, he himself entered the room last of all—drama was important. And he could instantly feel it—the scent of guilt was thick in the air. He could [Smell the Guilt].

He saw the four women, younger than he had expected, and knew he had his quarry here, in this room. Nobody ever expected to get caught, but justice came for all in time. He made sure of it—always.

The room was a mess—overturned tables, shattered windows, and scattered papers, but justice was always messy. He had his duty, and so he stepped inside, hand on his sword.

“Marie Adrienne Du Noelle, [You Are Under Arrest], on suspicion of conspiring to murder [Lords] Aumont younger and Castellani, as well as industrial sabotage, and conspiring with foreign countries.”

—

[Lord Marcel] laughed when he saw that despicable Marie’s face suddenly freeze in horror—the situation completely reversed from the one before. It had been a deliberate arrangement from him. Who didn’t love irony? How do you like it now?

He looked to the side and saw Isabella, controlled and ready as always. He motioned a hand. “Leave us, and close the door behind you.” He stared at Marie, licking his lips. “—This is a matter for nobility.”

Everything had its proper place. And though the [Secretary] was under his power—some things were only for proper ears. Especially if these four had acquired what he thought they had….

No, even she could not hear this. As to the rest—a [Justice Knight] was present. He would not be wronged. The right class in the right place—that was how one found success in life.

He stood up and looked over the four captives—the four girls, so young and arrogant. Prancing into his lands as if they had the right. Marie had activated an etiquette skill of sorts, so they were not in chains yet. Yet. It would not take long. And in this… etiquette was on his side.

The [Lady] was in a daze, blinking at the crossbows aimed at her, and the [Maid] next to her just stared, gripping the broom in her hand. Why was the [Maid] carrying a broom? Marcel frowned. She was holding the thing like a weapon, eyes darting around. There were broken shards of glass on the floor by her—shame about the windows but it was worth it—and the [Maid]…

Marcel blinked his eyes. Had something distracted him? The mess in the room was a bit irritating… The men had been hidden in the closets and side passages, but their boots were tracking some mud inside, and a few cabinets had opened, with stray papers fluttering into the air. A bit annoying. He shook his head. How did they manage to overturn a chair? Where was I? Right, the prisoners.

The three prisoners.

Marie, then the other two women… Who were they? Then he remembered. The ones who had made a mess of his cabinets! He glared at them as the [Justice Knight] slowly strolled into the room, taking his time. Now there’s a proper man, knows how to keep them shivering.

The [Justice Knight] rapped his knuckles onto the table twice, still just staring as if trying to pry open the three women’s secret with his very eyes. Marcel laughed, then stepped to the side, reaching for the stray papers on the floor—

Then he blinked. The papers… They were sorted, back inside the cabinet. He looked up, eyes wary. Did one of the [Knights] put them back in? He stood up, and peered around the room, eyes narrowed, then he glared at the three women.

He pointed, “Hey, as your host, I must note that using skills hidden would be very rude. You three, you do not have permission. Don’t do anything. Remember your place.”

That made him feel a bit better.

The woman with dark pouches under her eyes glared scalpels at him. “Hmph, you are mistaken. Us three, we are not trying anything.”

Marcel frowned. He felt like he was being tricked. He glanced at the [Justice Knight], but he shook his head. The truth?

Still, it nagged at him. He used [Detect Disorder] and peered around. He saw the points of flaw: the ways the three girls were offending him, and some missteps from the [Knights]. Nothing major. Everything else was in its proper place, doing what it was supposed to do. He breathed out and chuckled, leaning against the wall. Must be nerves.

“[Justice Knight] Guesclin, please. You have the floor.” He said, gesturing at the man who nodded back.

The [Knight’s] blue armor began to shine brighter, enhanced by some skill, and he finally spoke. “This is an interrogation. I will have my answers. Miss Du Noelle, [Let the Truth be known]. What is the aim of your plot?”

Marcel began to smile, looking at his terrified second cousin with glee—then paused. Marie did not look nearly nervous enough for this situation. In fact, the [Lady] was glaring back. And she—

Marcel blinked, distracted. He looked at the table he was leaning against.

Wasn’t that table overturned just now?

—

Fayette carefully stepped around the room, in front of pointed crossbows and swords, and tried to convince herself they were not there. Relax Fayette, this is normal. No reason to panic. You are just cleaning.

And she was. Her broom was sweeping back and forth at a relaxed pace, collecting the bits of shattered glass from around the room. These guys really made a mess, didn’t they?

[Unseen Attendant]—it really was saving her here. As soon as the [Secretary] had walked out of the room, Fayette had almost began to laugh hysterically, then instead dumped all her remaining skill points into the skill. As many as she could, and now it was maxed at rank five. Then she had begun sweeping the floor and calmly stepped aside from the crossbows.

Nobody had stopped her.

The thing was—they were all elites. [Knights], [Mages], and even a—Fayette frowned, looking at one of the men at the edge of the room—second [Lord]? Yes, the [Secretary] had been the only one of lower rank in the room, and she had been told to leave.

Now they were all looking past the servant. The [Unseen Attendant].

Fayette was roiling with emotion. Internally giggling from hysteria, a strange battle-calm, and then an icy cold panic, all mixed together… She began to lose her focus, slipped on the glass shards, and instantly felt eyes focusing on her.

She desperately focused back on the cleaning, ignoring everything but the mess around her, and the gazes fell back off. Oh no, look at all that mud! Tsk tsk.

She could clean—she was a [Maid]. Given the chance, she could get this whole room back into proper order, but how was she going to fix this? There were… options. She had to save Mireille, Olivia and maybe most of all… Marie.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Fayette stepped right behind the [Justice knight] and began polishing up the work desk. Marie was looking at the [Knight], but Fayette was just behind. It felt like a glare of silent accusation.

The [Maid] felt a pang of guilt. The [Lady] really was not guilty, but now she was implicated in all this, and the information would spread who knows where. I made a mistake. I really didn’t expect them to chase us like this… and how did they even find us?

Briefly, she locked eyes with Marie, and the [Lady] saw the guilt in the [Maid’s] eyes. And the [Lady] knew. Fayette could see it; Marie knew this was because of her.

But Fayette kept moving, focusing back on the cleaning. She took two steps right in front of two loaded crossbows, then started brushing off dust from the cupboards, not hurrying too much. She wanted to clean everything here as thoroughly as she possibly could.

Because her new capstone skill—it might be their chance to get out of this. Her broom was thrumming with power, growing with every sweep she made in the room. She was gaining influence over the room, [So Fresh, So Clean].

Then she felt another shift of power, and the [Justice Knight] demanded that Marie [Let the Truth be Known]. And the [Lady] answered.

—

“I am innocent. I do not know of the plot you speak of,” Marie said, and she was speaking the truth. But she now had a suspicion. She had seen the guilt on Fayette's face. She could see how Mireille and Olivia were looking at each other.

For just a moment, the [Lady] closed her eyes and cursed. I swear—hunters have a reputation for having trouble chasing them—but this… This must be a new record.

She took a deep breath, opened her eyes, and smiled. Fayette was still moving about the room, slowly sweeping dust and glass shards away, careful and deliberate. She was walking right under all those noses, and none of them saw her. The [Maid] had spoken to her of the differences between servants and masters, was this it?

I could try to save myself alone from this, but what would that serve? It would just be a failure, and I need a win. And these three…

The [Maid] was doing her best, maybe giving them a chance out of this situation. A [Maid] she felt rather strangely about. So, Marie would also do her best. She had thought that getting back to civilization would be back to safety, that she could retreat inside her [Hidden Cupboard] again, but no. Everyone was looking at her alone. She felt Marcel’s vile gaze on her and glared back. She would not let that man win.

She looked to the left, meeting the [Justice knight’s] cool blue eyes. His armor shone less bright than before, some skill damaged by the truth she had spoken. That was her weapon right now—the truth. She had been falsely accused, and that mattered for skills like these. A crack in the armor. “Sir [Knight], I am afraid you are accusing an innocent person.”

The man narrowed his eyes, and stepped closer, almost right to her face. But etiquette still counted for some, so he stopped just short. He loomed over her. “I know of the tricky wordings of nobles. The ways to lie with truth. I will have none of it here.”

Marie met his eyes steady, willing him to look away first. Neither did so. “I have never met either the younger [Lord] Aumont or [Lord] Castellani, though from what I have heard of the latter, he was a foul man”

Fayette twitched at that, looking her way. Marie frowned. Him? That man as a master… She sympathized. There was a reason the [Lord] had been unmarried at his age, and if Fayette had been his…

No, say it is not so. She would not think of it further, the man was dead.

She was sure Fayette had done justice there.

“I have not plotted against either of the men”, she continued, maintaining eye contact. “Nor have I knowingly participated in a conspiracy against them. My heart does not ache of guilt.”

The [Justice Knight’s] armor dimmed more, and he stepped back, looking confused for a second. Marcel was glaring daggers at them all, not pleased with how this was all going. That made Marie feel a lot better.

She took a step forward.

Instantly, all crossbows and swords shifted, none of them the slightest bit relaxed. All pointed at her. She did not flinch, and she took another step forward, approaching the [Knight].

“Would you harm an innocent woman?” she asked, voice clear. She didn’t feel nervous anymore. Fayette was somewhere behind her, using a feather duster to wipe off some shelves. A comforting presence. Not her [Maid], but a [Maid], and a friend. She had missed having those.

Her heart felt calmer. “Are you sure we can’t resolve this misunderstanding? By my best knowledge, it is my cousin who has committed ills here—and I merely came to correct them.”

At that, the [Justice Knight] frowned. “Do not presume friendship, you are running from justice all the same—marriage or this matter. And I know you are involved in this, even if not directly. And you are hiding something.”

Marie glared at him. How was a marriage she did not want justice? She backed up a step as the [Knight] advanced, voice bellowing. “For the second time, [Let the Truth be Known], and may no one attempt to hide it!”

This time the skill wasn’t targeting just her—it was the whole room. She saw Fayette freeze in place by the wall, struggling with something. She had stopped cleaning. The [Maid’s] face was red as if she was trying to hold her breath. Marie started to panic, but she did not know the truth, she could not say anything.

No, if Fayette is forced to—

A voice spoke. “Regarding [Lord] Castellani, it was justice done that day,” Mireille said, stepping forward.

—

She had seen Fayette freeze in place, and Mireille had known what she needed to do. First, she briefly met eyes with Marie, just a small bow to it. Sorry. Big mess we’ve brought.

Then she steeled her gaze and dared anyone to interrupt her. The crossbows were now pointed at her, and the [Mages] were eyeing her warily, arms glowing with patterns of light.

She raised her voice. “It was no plot to murder him, nor a crime of passion or drunken stupor!” She glared, meaning every word. She knew what had happened that day, and why Fayette had done it. Even if it had landed them in this situation.

Mireille pointed forward. “You claim to be a [Justice Knight], so I will tell you. He left his servants for dead, using skills to force them to fight impossible odds while he escaped like the craven waste he was. That man’s death was justice for the crimes he did!” She finished.

There was silence for a moment, then someone started laughing. Mireille flinched, and saw [Lord] Marcel, leaning against the wall, two [Mages] by his sides, chuckling. The man looked at her, open scorn on his face.

“Foolish brat, you do not know your place. It is the place of the master to command, to pave the way, and the place of the tools to follow, to do as they are told. You think you’ve done justice?” He sneered. “Can you even read? Have you read the law?”

He looked at the [Justice Knight] who was standing silent. “Sir [Knight], I find myself forgetful. What is the punishment for a servant raising arms against their master? I believe the law is quite clear.”

“Death,” the [Knight] answered, grim. He wasn’t smiling, but neither was he grimacing. He was just calm. So damned calm.

Mireille felt anger coursing through her veins. She clutched her hands. “I think the circumstances of the time were quite clear, that man had to go!”

The [Knight] took a step forward, hand on his sword. His face did not shift one bit. “There are no extenuating circumstances for such a crime. It cannot be done. A soldier who disobeys their commander will be executed. A servant who picks up a sword is a solider. Deserters die. The law is justice.”

“Then I do not recognize your justice,” Mireille said, taking a step back, next to Olivia. Fayette was back to cleaning, all the while glaring murderously at the [Knight] and [Lord]. She was sweeping the floor right next to them. Mireille smiled at the two. “I prefer the justice of my own. May it someday meet you with a swift end.”

The [Knight] glanced to the side, looking at a military-ish man who was holding a sword. “Well? Satisfied? Your culprit is found.”

He sighed, then returned his steady gaze to Mireille. “It is a pretty tale you weave, girl, but that is all it is. Now, to the actually important matters. What did you steal from the Aumont factory? Who did you sell the information to?” He glanced at Marie. “And how are the Du Noelles involved?”

A [Doctor] chuckled softly, but it echoed loud in the room. Olivia leisurely stretched out her hands and winked at Mireille, and at Fayette who was behind her, still sweeping. There was a tingling in the air. Growing power.

“I think I should say my piece. I am a [Doctor], don’t worry, I’m bound to the—” Then she paused and hesitated, grimacing. “—truth. Well, mostly.”

—

Olivia was not worried. She saw the fury in Fayette’s eyes, and she could relate. She too had crimes she was running from, but if anyone tried to call her to justice for them… No.

But she was not worried. The [Maid] had a plan, and the last one had been quite something. What was the worst that could happen? But she too had a role to play—distraction. Fayette seemed like she needed just a bit more time for whatever she was doing—and as much attention away from her as possible.

So the [Doctor] would provide a distraction. By being a [Doctor] and telling the truth.

First, Olivia looked pityingly at the [Knight], whose armor was very dim by now. Too many wrong assumptions. “We stole nothing and sold nothing. There, satisfied? We are not affiliated with any foreign powers, nor are we plotting anything.”

She cackled for a moment, then continued. “Aww, poor mister [Knight], knowing nothing of anything. Are your [Spies] and [Investiagors] really this pathetic?”

The [Knight’s] face colored, and he gripped his sword tighter. “Fooling around or playing for time does not matter. [You are Under Arrest], criminal. You cannot escape me. Now, speak.”

Olivia knew she couldn't escape, a skill was holding her in this room, but it didn't matter. She feigned confusion. “You ask a [Doctor] to speak? Are you sure?” She smiled. “Fine, I have [Comprehensive Diagnosis], and you good sir…” A look of exaggerated pity, eyes are drawn up in concern. “I’m afraid it won’t be getting any better. Ever. Don’t expect to ever get it up again.”

The [Knight] froze, and one of the crossbow-holders choked down a laugh.

Olivia turned to the side, looking at [Lord] Marcel’s skeletal face. “You too—about your future… I hope you don’t mind wheelchairs. In... 12 years maybe. Hey, [Knightman], you know I speak the truth, right?” She glanced to the side. “Tell him.”

The [Knight] just stared, silent for two seconds, so Olivia turned to the right, to her next target. She [Diagnosed] a [Mage], then flinched back for real. The [Doctor] stared at him in disgust. “You should take more care when you sleep around, what are you trying to cultivate down there? They won’t fight each other off you know.”

Marcel took a step away from the [Mage], looking disgusted. Then the angry shouting started, and Olivia knew she had them. She had been practicing theatrics and deception a lot recently, and this lot was a lot easier to fool than her team. Good luck Fay, this next ones for you.

She moved to the second [Lord], providing more free [Diagnosis].

—

Fayette was cleaning. Sweeping. Counting.

Counting all the enemies. She passed by the main door, then looked over the whole room one more time. The wall behind the writing desk had three [Knights], one with a sword, two with bows. To the right—a longer wall with windows. [Lord] Marcel and two [Mages]. One of the [Mages] had a band of gleaming gems by his hip. Nobody on the left, one [Knight of Justice] in the center, then the other men by the entrance, right by her. A [Mage], a [Lord], and several [Knights.]

So many enemies. So many potential targets. Fayette examined everyone briefly in the face as she passed, trying to divine out their abilities.

Marcel seems the plotting type, those are always dangerous in the stories. Best have a quick hit to take them out. The [Mages]… No idea. Maybe best take them out to be safe. But, on the other hand, they might be necessary…

She wasn’t sure. The [Maid] was trying to pick a target. The room was almost fully cleaned up—her skill had almost charged full.

[So Fresh, So Clean].

A capstone skill. You did not put skill points into them—and wouldn’t have needed to anyway. When one was used, a fight changed. And Fayette felt hers was very fitting.

[So Fresh, So Clean – Your enemies are always making a mess, so punish them accordingly! Clean up the battlefield around you, then strike them down, with damage proportional to how much cleaner you made things!]

Yes, she was being very thorough in how well she cleaned this room. Thank the [Saints] they made this mess with their dramatic entry.

She had already carted all the glass shards out of the door into a trash bin, along with most of the dust. She had organized the papers spilled onto the floor, and she had wiped down any smudges made by their coming in.

Sadly, there was no way the [Maid] would be able to clean the floor under their shoes, but she managed pretty much everything else. She even used her [Dustsense] to get every little hidden piece of dust. Her broom was throbbing with power.

Now, she just needed to choose a target for it.

The skill—she could use it on anyone in the room, but the effect might diminish. It was best against those who had made the mess. If she made a mess herself to clean, it wouldn’t really work. She felt… two worthy targets here. Two men who had really been the cause of this mess.

The [Justice Knight], and [Lord] Marcel. Conveniently, the two people she was mad at the most in this room. Their talk earlier… Her mind was no longer roiling, she felt only a single emotion. She was furious. Fayette polished a smudge from a glass with extreme vengeance. Maybe I should choose the one I am the most angry at?

That would be… The [Justice Knight]. Because, for a moment, she had hoped. Hoped that the man would respond to Mireille’s words differently. But she remembered the words from the book well. Words talking of people like this. Alright, he gets the broom.

But that did not mean the other would go free. The [Maid] remembered talk of stuffing a fire spider down a certain [Lord’s] breeches, and she had really wanted to do it. But she did not have a fire spider. She had something better.

Fayette took the Greater Fire Elemental out of her pocket.

Ok, she took the gem holding the bound Greater Fire Elemental, but she was sure she could figure it out. The gem was a prison of sorts, right? So, she just had to smash it open. That should work, right?

When in trouble, why not just light things on fire and make bigger trouble? She had once been offered the [Maid of Cleansing Flames] class. Fayette was oddly proud of that one—she had already burned one mansion. It’s just a Greater Flame Elemental. What’s the worst that could happen?

As she had found long ago, and again in the ruins deep below, it was the final ashes left by age that were the cleanest, that ultimately remained. Why not accelerate the natural process through some fire? It was a more permanent measure, no more messes after that.

The room was almost clean, and Olivia was still distracting them all—it was magnificent, really. The [Doctor] constantly hinted at finally getting to the actual point, then always turned it around into another humiliating reveal.

Fayette stepped towards the [Knight], nodding at Marie. It was time. She felt the rhythm of a subtle Waltz in her steps, and she walked it like a dream. A calm winter storm of razer-sharp ice.

She held the broom with two hands, gripping the bound monster gem within the right. Two thrums of power. The [Knight] was probably the most dangerous person in the room, so he was a good target. [Lord] Marce was standing next to two [Mages]. He was a good choice.

Fayette stepped next to the [Knight], cleaned the room’s last bit of dust from near his boots, then raised her broom up, behind her head. She aimed at his armored head.

Then the [Elegant Tea Party] ended. And Fayette swung. Her [Unseen Attendant] faded away.

“[So Fresh, So Clean]”

For an instant, the [Knight] sensed it. He twitched, eyes going round and legs moving, but he had no time. No time to activate capstone skills, artifacts, or other trump cards. He only had time to feel his [Dangersense] suddenly ring out, and feel a gaze as cold as frost pierce him.

And then the broom’s metal end hit his helmet. And a flash of blue energy erupted with it. The helmet crumpled down from every direction and cracks spread along the metal.

Splat.

Blood, bits of shattered skull, and shards of metal rained down, some getting on Fayette’s uniform.

Every single person in the room froze in horror, looking at the body that was still standing up, supported by the metal of the armor, like a twisted mannequin. Grisly remains sprayed in every direction. Fayette did not care about the mess, it would soon be clean.

Everyone was stunned for just half a second, processing, so she had time. Time to perform her second act.

She pitched the gleaming red gem forward in a lazy arc, stepping two steps to follow it, and brought her broom’s metal end at it in a firm blow. It was aimed at [Lord] Marcel and the [Mages] by him, three steps ahead of her.

The gem shattered, along with the broom’s end, and a great surge of magic began to roar out, pointed right at a wall and a [Lord]. The [Mages] flared out in bright glows of magic.

Marcel saw his dreamed treasure roaring at him. A power source long forgotten, from older times. The [Lord] felt more magic around him than ever before, a great heat spreading out, searing hot and white.

Screaming and firing crossbow bolts. Skills activating everywhere, and then—

There was fire.