High Inquisitor Primus sat before an old stone table. Those before him had commissioned a dwarven artist to create it. It was rumoured that the table was made from the remains of a stone that had been the result of the first hero's elemental magic. He did not believe such unfounded rumour.

It was much more likely that those before him simply wanted to burn money. And why was that a curious person may ask? Because burning money, or more correctly, "increasing the budget through appropriate purchases", was just that, increasing the budget. It was, as far as he was concerned, one of the most moral things an organisation could do to increase the budget.

Sadly, all his predecessors had not put the budget to good use. No, they had turned the headquarters of the Inquisition into the second most luxurious place in the Holy State. What they now had in luxury, they lacked in manpower and equipment.

The most luxurious place was obviously the residence of the old fart with the title of Pope and all the noisy flies surrounding him. One such fly was standing right in front of him, screaming at the top of his lungs. But Primus ignored the fool and merely waited for the bastard to calm down. But... he glanced at the golden clock hanging on the wall, more than ten minutes had passed and the messenger was still screaming. Fortunately, he did so a little more quietly than before. Primus frowned and used a healing spell on his eardrums. The messenger's voice immediately became louder again.

The High Inquisitor sighed loudly and stood up. The messenger looked up to the towering giant and immediately turned silent.

"I assume that you are in urgent need of proper education," Primus said simply, staring into the man's eyes, "But... this is not the right address. I advise you to seek guidance. It would be a waste of anyone's time, but maybe someone will take pity on you."

The man whimpered, “I am here on behalf of his Holiness.”

"Probably not on his orders. So who sent you? Bishop Theodore? Is he still a well-built round mass of nothing but pure muscle?" he asked, sarcasm dripping from his every word.

The messenger shook his head, “No... your excellency, I am here on behalf of Cardinal Anacletus.”

"Mhmm, the mighty mighty toothpick on legs?" High Inquisitor Primus murmured, "Continue, but please speak like any normal human being. Your screams are something I am not well versed in. I am tempted to say that even the infernal tongue of a demon is easier to understand."

"This is heresy" the messenger loudly exclaimed but quickly decided to change his opinion. Perhaps the wall adorned with all the demon heads or the wall with the weapons was to blame? Primus did not know.

“I was told to inform you that your action in Baelgia will have consequences!” the man loudly said before quickly rushing to the door. Yet it did not bulge a single millimetre.

"That is a worrying accusation," Primus whispered with a smile, "My men were only there because an old friend of mine told me that he had received a report that a powerful demon was there. Please be so kind as to tell the Cardinal that the Inquisition is terribly sorry for not getting there in time. My men tried everything to bring the poor merchant back to life. Unfortunately, the demon had already cut the poor man and his wife into several pieces. This might not have happened if we had more people working for us. But alas, all the paladins, templars and inquisitors are in the process of cleansing the land of demonic influence and invading the nests to protect all those who are under the divine protection of the Celestials."

He paused before lifting the spell he had cast on the door. It was a simple spell he called "Bulwark", a slightly more advanced version of the common spell "Sanctuary".

With a smile, he nodded slowly and said, "I don't think the Pope will be interested in hearing about the Cardinal's unfounded worries. The man is too old for such a waste of his remaining time here on earth."

The messenger did not dare to answer. He quickly left the room, leaving behind a deeply annoyed High Inquisitor. Primus sank back into the seat made of the leather of a slain wyvern. It had been a forest wyvern, if he remembered correctly, his first real kill. His eyes dug into the holy book bound in old leather on the table. Maybe... just maybe... the Inquisition needed some make-up to get more able men. As it was, the Inquisition was not a place where people wanted to work. People were more interested in having their own adventures and making a name for themselves.

He massaged his forehead and stared at the other documents on his cold and uncomfortable stone table. His hands twitched, but he cast no holy spell to wipe the table from the face of Earth.

High Inquisitor Primus grabbed the report he had been reading before the pesky critter had entered the room. Primus read it through and decided that he had really chosen the wrong path. Another group of demonic beings had been sighted in the Oipn mountain range. They were led by a ... he stared at the words ... old undead, a lich who had proclaimed himself "King of Death". Primus put the report aside. It was better to just ignore the lich and let the necromancers deal with this pile of bones. One of them probably needed a new pet. Besides, he really didn't have the nerve to deal with the demonic creatures, the nests and a godforsaken lost soul.

Someone knocked on the wooden door before entering his office. His eyes darted towards the person who had dared to come at such an inconvenient time. He quickly swallowed his anger. There stood a Herald, no, the Herald was no longer there. The young man with the golden eyes stared at the walls before looking into Primus' eyes. It felt akin to looking at a true predator, not a mere wyvern but something more. Primus couldn't help but feel fear.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure of speaking with you? We helped your kind only a few weeks ago and I'm afraid we can't help you at the moment," Primus said after gathering all his courage.

The celestial servant in front of him nodded before saying, "I fear that your foolish attempts at invading the nests without destroying the cores will lead to the Infernals gaining even more strength."

"Excuse me ... But I don't follow?" asked Primus.

"You have already lost a continent to their mortal servants..." said the herald, "The elves were all nearly killed because of their own pride. The same will happen to you if you continue with your folly."

The golden glow in the man's eyes faded and the man blinked a few times. He realised he was standing before the one and only High Inquisitor Primus. His cheeks reddened with embarrassment and he said, "High Inquisitor Primus, a pleasure to see you. I hope Ithuriel has not threatened you. He's been a bit moody for about two hundred years."

Primus' left eye twitched, but he nodded slowly before saying, "Nothing of the sort happened. He was just informing me of something very important."

"Very well, then, may you follow your path," the herald simply stated before leaving.

Primus took a deep breath. He wondered how many times those before him had spoken to the same angel in the body of another herald, or how many angels there were. There were many Celestials and as such, surely many more Angels. But that was something that did not matter. What mattered was to inform all who fought under the banner of the Church that the Celestials had sent him a vision, a vision to destroy the cores. Primus prayed fervently that the Celestials would then tell him how one could accomplish such an impossible task.