17 – Inquisition is required

Francis swept his gaze over the yellowed parchment on his desk, his eyes taking in the information and his mind processing it at lightning speed. He swiftly turned the page, and when he was done with it, he placed it on top of the small pile that had grown to his right.

He shifted in his seat. Something had come to trouble him, lately. It was some sort of uneasiness he was no longer used to; that somehow had managed to spill over from his work right into his private life. Not that the two were distinguishable any longer. There was a nagging sensation at the edge of his perception, an unseen force demanding his whole attention, pulling his mind to it whenever he tried to return back to his center. It was irritating, because he felt tainted and out of his mental order. Not only did this sensation break the symmetry and perfection of his thoughts, but it also crept inside, where it hid among the thoughts, posing as one of his own, until he could see that it was not. And, by the time he realized it, it was already too late. He had gotten distracted, he had done the evil deed that he swore to never commit again, back at the ascension ceremony.

And while most of his colleagues took that oath as nothing more than a pretty poem passed down the centuries, he knew that it was not. It was a set of rules, a revelation of sorts, one he took to his heart.

He felt a young and naïve teenager once again, whose unruly mind was so easily perturbed by stray thoughts and mundane tasks. Now, he was a changed man, a better man. If that was true, then he needed to get this issue sorted as soon as possible, so that he could return to his usual business.

He eyed the communication crystal. It was dead and silent, as it had been for days. He was still waiting for the wretched merchant to make contact with him like he was ordered to, but no messages came. Something was wrong, and this was a problem.

“You need to go there yourself.” Said a voice.

Out of the shadows, the figure of a person seemed to emerge and melt out of the dark. Its features were hidden and concealed, but his hood betrayed the sinister glint of his glassy eyes. The figure was motionless, not even moving to draw breath or to blink his eyes. He stared at Francis, and the cold gaze sent chills up his spine, that pierced his skin and bones, and made his teeth rattle.

“Where to?” He asked.

The figure advanced. Beneath the hood, there was a hat, like that of a wizard. It was dark and grey, but the light itself seemed to avoid the figure like it was scared of him. Wherever he was, only dark followed, the light receding away from the advancing hole of darkness. The tip of the hat was drawn back by the pressure of the hood, but it kept to the center, without leaning to either side.

“You know where to. But I’ll tell you, just to be sure there are no misunderstandings between us. Pyee is where you will find your abomination, and there you will have the chance to set things right and get rid of the discomfort that assails you.”

Francis sighed. He fiddled with his right sleeve, sorting out the little imperfections in the green fabric. His long white beard and mustache seemed to itch and grow uncomfortable under the gaze of the man shrouded in dark.

“So you know of it. And to get rid of it, I need to get rid of the abomination?” He asked.

The figure didn’t reply. Francis could hear the sound of a ragged breath from beneath the hood, yet the shadow was immobile like a statue, or a suit of empty armor. He appreciated the beauty in its stillness, despite the uncanny image it projected. It was as unsettling as it was beautiful, and this he could appreciate.

He shook his head. As he did so, his thoughts seemed to clear themselves, a few lonely clouds opening up to reveal once more the crystalline and pristine landscape of his mind space. He was treading dangerous waters, waters where he risked losing himself with but a little error or lapse in judgement. Already he had strayed twice from his path today, and he wasn’t sure how many more times he was going to waver before this whole thing was over.

“How long have you been watching me? You seem to know all of my weaknesses.” He said, fighting against the impulse to be upset about it.

The hooded sorcerer shook his head. The movement appeared mechanical and unnatural, with only his head moving of all his body. Everything else stood still, as always, and yet the figure seemed now closer, and meaner.

“It doesn’t matter how long. Not much, if that sooths your heart, although it might be well for you to know that my master has taken some interest in your doings. Prove your worth to him, and maybe you will see how it benefits your work and help you pursue your noble objectives of making the world a more ordered place.”

The words were cold, and no emotion could be gleamed from them. The sorcerer seemed to be perfectly aware of what to say, and how to say it in order to achieve the perfect result. A feat that Francis could appreciate, him being dedicated to a similar art himself. Order always allowed for prediction, because only an ordered system, devoid of chaos, could really be understood. This master, perhaps his gifts would be quite enticing, if even a servant could act like this.

He wanted to shake his head again, as if to shake off the spell that had taken a hold of his mind once more. But he knew that it was no spell.

“I will go.” He said, and left the room in a hurry.

The sorcerer, seeing the man leave for the journey like this, sighed. His whole body, previously cloaked in shadow and devoid of motion, returned to normal. He walked towards the wall, and smiled to himself.

“Only nineteen tries. Perfect.” He said happily.

He then closed his eyes, and called upon him the dark energy from the infinite lands among the many stars, like his master had taught him. It was cold, lifeless and utterly alien. He found that he could not do it, not yet, but he was close. And being close was good enough for now, he was satisfied with his results. He could now go and play with the others back at the tower, do his experiments with the leftover specimens he had left. He had some magic he wanted to try on an inquisitor, so that his next encounter with one of them would be even more in his favor. The less tries he had to do before going to meet the real person, after all, the more specimens he had for his little experiments. It was all for the best.

Dropping his futile attempts at using far off mana, or dark energy as his master called it, he drew in the mana from the surrounding world. As his perception grew nearer, he felt that the density of the energy lowered and lowered the more his sight focused on the space that was rich in stars and matter and planets. Then, it increased again when he focused on this planet, rich in life and magic itself. Finally, his mind’s eye saw what all mages always saw. It was a familiar thing, something even the weakest of mages knew how to do, and it was easy. He breathed the familiar mana in, and casted his magic.

He dissolved into the wall, and he was off.

***

Francis found his feet carrying him off towards the barracks, with a skip in his steps he knew he hadn’t experienced in a very long time. He knew that, by allowing his emotions to take the better of him, he was going in the wrong direction, possibly undoing years upon years of careful training. And yet, not only did he feel that he absolutely had to remove the nuisance that was apparently holed up in Pyee city, but he also felt like if he did a good enough job, then the master of that mysterious sorcerer would take an interest in him.

“Gather up. We’re going on a Purge.” He told the soldiers, making sure that the commanding officer heard him. “Doomsday preparations 48.”

After he said that, he went for his own room where all the high tier equipment was being stored. He noted, with great disappointment, that the asymmetrically walking ball of filth and human smells that was the commander was following him.

“Why the rush? Wasn’t the threat annihilated?” He asked.

Francis tried to calm himself. The man was trying his best, but he didn’t know any better than to speak with his chaotic and messy voice, and walk with his untrained gait. He was no inquisitor, and even among them, Francis was known for being among the strictest in their “manic” ways of control. Control that was needed and certainly would do a great deal of good it if was more widespread. This is why I don’t get out often.

He circulated some mana in his brain, shielding his more obsessive parts from the obscenity of the world. What he was seeing here would be nothing compared to what he was going to see out there.

“Sir?” The soldier asked.

He turned his gaze in annoyance, and saw the man shrink back. I need to treat them well if I want them at peak efficiency.

“Yes. We need to dispatch of a leftover threat from the fight at the mountain. It’s hiding in Pyee city, but I expect that we shall find it and get rid of it at once.”

“Yes sir!” The man saluted, and went back to barking orders at the other soldiers.

Pleased, Francis went to his room and started equipping all of his battle garments and items. His mind, no matter how much he tried to school it, always went back to the perfection of the image of the sorcerer. Not only in how he was a master of his own body, but also at how he managed to appear at will inside one of the most guarded rooms of the entire kingdom, without upsetting a mote of air.

He brought his mind back to center, back to the present. With the mental defenses from the horrors of the outside world in place, it was hard to maintain a perfect mental hygiene but at the same time it would serve as a perfect opportunity to train.

By the time he was ready, the soldiers were already waiting for him at the gate. The platoon was composed of an elite unit of eight, one being the commander, plus the inquisitor. Despite being labelled as “soldiers” in his mind, these men were among the best of the best that the kingdom’s military could afford to waste for clean-up procedures after the big fight. Standing proud on their horses, waiting for him in formation, they looked good enough that a smile crept on his face, however faint and fleeting.

At his order, they rode into the country, towards the mining city at the border. The Turtle mountain range was waiting for them at the pass, where he predicted the confrontation would happen, right outside the north-eastern gate of the city.

“Listen.” He said. The commander turned a keen ear towards him. “We will engage, with all probability, at the pass. There is a bridge that connects the two banks of the river there, with the gates of Pyee on one side, and a flattened area on the other. You will wait there, among the boulders, hidden from view while I lure out the threat alone, so that it will think of me as inconsequential. Instruct your men, and listen to the plan closely.” He said, and then proceeded to explain a few possible scenarios at great length, so that all possible plans of actions could be covered.

It would be a few days still before they arrived at the city, even riding their swift horses. During the whole journey, more than a hundred possible plans were discussed, and rehearsed, so that everything would go flawlessly. The soldiers, used to this kind of planning after many years of service under the inquisitor, offered their advice where it could be useful, and knew when to stay silent when their words were unneeded.

Eventually, they arrived. It was morning, and a storm was brewing among the mountaintops, ready to touch down at any moment. The tower stood proud upon one of the tops, glimmering half-hidden by the clouds. A tremor now and then shook the ground, and the air was ominous. All the soldiers looked at their commander and at the inquisitor, now grateful for all the plans they had been forced to go through.

Thunder, and a tremor, and the figure of a man could be seen through the heavy rain in the distance, at the other end of the bridge. Francis gracefully dismounted his horse, and walked calm and confident towards the humanoid form that the abomination had chosen to assume.