As a person of inquisitor Vindict’s profession, he’s had the profound pleasure of observing many kinds of corpses in his lifetime. Seen them chopped up, gutted through, burnt to sweating and smoldering crispy chunks of unrecognizable flesh.

Watched them dangle and sway in the streets as the breeze set the hung into motion for a last time before some unlucky bastard was sent to cut them down. Stabbed bloody, ran-down, crushed into pasty pink and red mush.

Ripped apart by strays or torn by man. Even seen the half-eaten carcass that one time when a particularly voracious and exotic animal escaped its enclose and happened upon its caretaker during the stroll. Never in his time had Vindict witnessed a human as shredded and mangled and mauled as then. Little left of the poor bugger, really.

Seen so many of them, you wouldn’t be mistaken in calling him an authority on the cold and unmoving. Could almost assume he’d be immune to lifeless hunks of flesh and hair. Almost, but not quite. As before him laid a subject that made even him tingle with virgin revulsion.

On a glance, little seemed off about the body, really. Squint your eyes, dim the lights, perhaps even crane your head sideways and nothing would appear out of the ordinary. Just your regular cold, blueish and stiff corpse.

But you needn’t open your eyes to feel that slow creeping up your spine, like a spider’s legs palpating. Dim the lights, hell, just snuff them completely! But that churning of your guts as if you’d eaten the single most diseased rat in the city gutters won’t leave you be. And flop your head about all you want, shake it and turn it round. But nonetheless there will be a numbing fear sparking through your aching skull.

Vindict has seen many corpses in his life, more than he was due, yet none felt as wrong as this one. He could understand the paleness of it. As the heart stops, blood flows no more and the body will lose its pinkish tint. But this one looked as if it never had any blood in it. Bloodlessly pale, Vindict thought in the hopes of settling his nerves with some grim humor.

But where the white horror ended, the terror of blackness crawled across the skin both alive and unceasing. Veins, both thick and slim, snaked through flesh and left ink roots to frighten those who witness its vulgarity.

But its eyes were what truly had him riled. More so than wading waist-deep through rotten mire for the study of a bloated corpse, tripping, and heaving a good lungful of the scum-water down his throat. More so than slipping in brothel gore left after the fetishized killings of the more gruesome sort. More so than the stench come wafting after the bodice’s been dug up after a week of festering beneath the earth.

The eyes were told by the scripts of Solis to mirror the soul. As you stare within one’s gaze, they will gaze back and a connection between two is forged into one. Then, what does it mean if one’s eyes are black as the hollow depths of hell?

They lacked the glazed or dewy gleam the dead usually have, and missed the pitted, dried husks the unusual presented at times. No, the anomaly before him had two pits of captivating, repulsive, fascinating - empty as empty could be – bottomless abys. Two wells of shadow to greedily devoured the very light. Even straining his eyes wouldn’t reveal where the darkness ended, and the flesh began.

“Inquisitor!” He felt a hand grasp his shoulder firmly and almost jumped at the touch. He turned to see it was the guard captain, standing perfectly erect in his pristine garb. The very cost of his clothing could probably feed the common rabble for months. His silver gilded blade had been shaped to unusable heights of fashion. He looked down on Vindict with eyes that said ‘I despise your profession, your person and your people, yet I will tolerate your presence for the sake of reaching my own shallow goals. “Why aren’t you answering? Have you even heard what I said?” No. He had not, for that matter.

Vindict glanced back at the hollow pits and felt himself drawn in once again. Stare into one’s eyes, and they will gaze back. Stare into the abys and…

“Inquisitor?” There was more than a little impatience intoned there, and, perhaps, some contempt? “As I said, what can you tell us about the body?”

Vindict opened his mouth to speak but was cut short by the raising of a very rumpled, very aged, very crooked hand belonging to this district’s Superior. In every way that Captain Gethod radiated strength, vigor and pride, Superior Misgard oozed lethargy, apathy and indifference.

“We still require the presence of a representative of the church, need I remind you. I very well recall sending that messenger to fetch one for this very reason, you see.” With every word he uttered the Superior appeared to crumble a little more. The skin of his face seemed to be simply draped over his skull, rather than be attached. The man looked around at everyone with a stare that implied ‘I have seen more years than you can count, I have witnessed much and have grown bored of it all. Though your petty issues don’t interest me, my time is of no value anywhere else.’

As Vindict looked at the man’s bald, dusty pate, he found himself wondering the strangeness in admiring the elderly for their knowledge while at the same time celebrating death and the loving embrace of Solis which is told to come after.

Religion, he found, was very much a paradox of the most extreme kind. Yet, he didn’t judge himself to be in a position for scrutiny on the subject as it would be most hypocritical. Although he made his livelihood through the study of corpses, he hasn’t ever felt enjoyment in finding a one.

“Bah!” The Captain spat, “No more than a petty tradition. A play, some foolish habit written down for no more than to stroke the church’s feeling of importance. Their presence is of no use, no need. One of the buggers will just stand here, nod thoughtfully, and then leave to do… Whatever it is they do these days.”

The Captain’s thoughts on political matters were most clear on the subject of the church. Quite a rarity to voice them when the general public was so fond of the ancient religion. Quite to the dismay of the crown, the nobles, the mercers and the military. Even if the years had divided the church’s grasp on political power, their grip remained ever so firm on the hearts and minds of the little man. Their aid in the war against Brethon certainly didn’t dwindle that flame.

“And still I must insist, Captain. It is writ in law, black on white. Very much like this corpse, here.” He nodded at the horror laying on the slab and his neck gave a loud click. “Ah! Finally… My spine’s been killing me all day. I could almost sympathize with anyone to receive a dagger in the neck. Say, Vindict, wasn’t there a fellow like that found not so long ago?”

“That would be him, your imminence.”

“ah, of course.” The Superior mumbled while staring thoughtfully at the corpse. “Isn’t something like that usually fatal, though?” Its pale arm jerked the chains with a metallic rattling.

“Yes, usually. But I must imagine this one to be far from usual, your imminence.” Vindict replied, forcing himself to remain still as the undead writhed on the stone slab.

“I suppose you are right at that,” he narrowed his eyes, “they say you are never too old for the learning of something new, but I had though myself way past that point. Always be prepared for life to take you for a run, huh?” Three knocks resounded on the sturdy wooden door, clear as thunder. “Arrived at last, has he? Wonder who showed up this time… Perhaps Father Marth again? Oh, get that would you? I fear my bones won’t allow me the prying of heavy doors anymore.”

The uneasy guard posted next to the cobble frame nodded stiffly and opened it wide, immediately shocking the room’s gathering with who it was standing before them. Even the Superior bothered raising what was left of his eyebrows.

“My, imagine that. I’ve sent for the church and they lend me their very Hero.” A hand rubbed over his bald head with a hissing, joints creaking with every move. “Welcome to our little gathering, Lord Radiance.”

Vindict didn’t reckon the Cain needed more describing him. The word ‘Hero’ was perfectly fit for that. Everything about the prodigy roared power. From the pristine armor in which he was clad, shining with a mirror polish. The helmet which dangled by his waist, crafted by the finest smith, the visored barbuta which was told to be an improvement over the other, classic head armor. And lastly, the item to which everyone’s eyes were pulled, was his sword, always held in his hand by the base of the blade, clutching the beautifully ornamented sheath.

“My thanks, your imminence.” Radiance spoke with unrivaled confidence exuding from his every word. His heavy blue eyes moved over every person while lingering briefly on each of them as if saying ‘I am mighty beyond your reasoning, yet your presence is not unimportant to me.’ A rather cocky attitude, Vindict found, though you could hardly find fault as it were more than likely true.

As Radiance’s gaze finally set on the squirming vulgarity he fought down a scowl while quickly turning his head away, lips curling only briefly. Vindict posed that even the man to fight these monstrosities would find it hard to look upon them. He turned to the Superior, white tabard swaying with the motion.

“Whoever found this… thing must be quarantined at once.” That brought a ripple through the room. A dangerous one.

“Hold on here!” Gethod’s eyebrows were most severely knit together and Vindict wondered if the man could become any angrier if he were told his daughter had become a whore.

“MY men found it, fought it, defeated it, I will not have these brave men locked up under the presumptuous mumblings of a self-glorifying brat!” He took a hard step forward, holding his pointing finger mere inches from the Cain’s armored chest. “these men fought evil while you were playing with swords in that fancy castle of yours or uttering prayers to that God –”

“Captain!” Vindict sputtered, most confused he had.

“What!?” The man now turned to him as if he was no better in his eyes than the Cain.

Vindict glanced sideways at Radiance, saw the Cain straining himself as if he were holding back a coiling ocean, boiling with the very fury of the Gods, and Vindict felt he was the only dam that could prevent dear Captain Gethod from sundering to less than ash.

“I believe we are most pressed into unraveling what has happened. Perhaps Lord Radiance could propose a suitable explanation as to why he desires the men who had contact with the undead to be held… separate?” Vindict winced.

The Captain worked his square jaw, clenching and unclenching his fists, debating within himself whether to listen to the Cain’s opinion. But a voice behind Vindict made the decision for him.

“Why not just listen? Frankly, I would very much enjoy hearing whatever opinion the Hero holds.” Vindict didn’t miss the mocking tone of the speaker, idly leaning back against the cobble wall. Her face was hidden behind an iron mast, two holes to allow for vision and numerous square openings along the mouth for ample air-flow, though it was all rather hard to see under the hood she had covering her.

The Captain peered at Misgard for support, but the old man only shrugged tiredly.

“Why not?” He breathed like the sighing of the wind through an old cottage. “Lord Radiance is partaking for a reason. Might as well allow him to shine some light upon the matters at hand.”

Everyone turned to Radiance expectantly, and the Cain held himself as if nothing was wrong. As if no insults had befallen him. As if he hadn’t been one breath away from decimating the young officer.

“Of course.” He said and set down the tip of his sheathed blade on the stone, resting his hands the lavish crosspiece. “The great writings of Mother Leviath spoke of those things her brother Klustroll brought from hell, and of those who prayed to the things made from lies, and of the things which they created in return. Defiled by a hex, the body of man sees God’s light no more and warps into something most fiendish and unholy.” He spoke the words as if they held poison while staring down on the undead.

“Any of those who come into contact will be defiled in return, unless their bond with God is strong and pure. So, it is written in the Third of the Seven books of Gospel. So let it be writ, so let it be done.” The Captain looked properly incredulous at the Cain, then at Vindict, at the Superior and then finally back at Lord Radiance.

“Are you mad!?” He roared, face reddening as hot metal. “You expect me to not only lock my men away, but to execute them as well? To kill? Based on what? Some aged books locked from anyone but you to see? To act punishment upon my men for no more than the blabbering of some ignorant youth!?” And Vindict had thought the man was angry before. But the Cain didn’t as much as flinch at the man’s insults. He simply stood there with his chin held high, slightly leaning on his legendary weapon.

“A defiled, is it?” Vindict heard Ferila muse behind him, breaking through Gethod’s ranting. And Vindict was glad she had. Though he disliked most properties of corpses, you could never condemn them as deafening, bolstering buffoons. The very qualities which Gethod took pride in presenting.

“You know of this creature?” Misgard asked with a smidge of curiously. The cloaked woman pushed herself off the wall and walked forward with movement akin to skilled fighters. Two blades dangled by her hips. One long steel. One short steel. Neither flashing with more beauty then needed, just two lengths of practical metal. They belonged to Felina The Peace-Keeper, Fourth of The Ten.

“Do I know of it? No. Have I heard of it?” She tapped a gloved finger against the chin of her mask with a metallic ringing. “Zaphiros spoke of it once. Creatures who broke one of the laws. Which one, he did not know for certain. He was speculating them to be involved with hexes, though. Just as our young Cain just said.”

“Hmmm.” The Superior hummed thoughtfully. “Seems like our Hero’s claims aren’t completely unfound, huh? Or will you defy the knowledge of Zaphiros The Knowing, Sixth of The Ten?” He craned his head at the captain, had it click again.

Vindict waited with teetering tension for the situation to deescalate. He didn’t like being in a room with some of the most dangerous fighters in the empire. Would rather be anywhere else, really. Well, perhaps not anywhere else. The All-King’s dungeons didn’t quite suit his fancy.

Much to Vindict’s pleasure, the guard captain abided with a great, frustrated sigh.

“I suppose denying the Sixth’s knowledge would be unwise.” He muttered reluctantly, and Wisgard nodded with content.

“Then it’s decided. The guards must be placed under house arrest, somewhere away from the rabble and other. They are to be put under strict surveillance by doctor Willic – day and night. I would also argue it to be most wise as to keep this knowledge separate from the general public. I will conduct a ledger with this case’s information where all those who partake will seclude their findings to. That goes for the everyone, you too, Felina. I will not have you pass this to any higher-ups before leaks will no longer interfere with this case. Am I clear?”

“Clear as day.” She piped, feet dragging along the dust as she pivoted around with a playful twirl.

“Then, Vindict, can you inform everyone of what you have found yet?” The Superior turned his droopy eyes to him.

“Yes, Superior.” Vindict tore at the hem with his finger, seemed so awfully tight now with everyone looking at him. “The victim’s name is Damien Kolf, a civilian living in the Lower City, the Old Sage district. Though there are no actual accusations on his person, he has been rumored to be involved with the Roots, more particularly, the Root of remedies.” The guard Captain gave a distasteful snort.

“Damn filthy dealers.” He grumbled. Vindict cleared his throat, wishing he had brought something to drink. The room felt suddenly so very warm.

“His living quarters have been searched but nothing of value to us has been discovered.” Vindict had been there himself. The house had been like the others of those parts. A proper rotting hovel, though with even less then the rest inside. He doubted Damien to actually be living there.

“He himself has been found in the group of alleys dubbed by the people: ‘Gutter’s Grime’, as the water seems to flood there whenever there is heavy rainfall” Radiance’s eyes kept narrowing. Eyebrows knitting together. Hands trembling. Pupils flitting from Vindict to the corpse in a feverish spasm. Seemed to find it harder then Vindict to be near it. Hard to believe, though.

“Can you get on with it?” Gethod barked, crossing his arms. Golden cords swaying across red fabric. Vindict rasped his throat again. His lips felt dry like leather, his tongue a piece of wood, badly carved. The room was shimmering with suffocating heat. Was it just him? A trail of sweat tickled Gethod’s eyebrow. The Superior waved at his face, hand dangling limply. The guards posted shuffled uncomfortably in their heavy suits of armor. Even Felina pulled at her dark-green garb, working some wind underneath the cloth. And Radiance seemed worse of them all. Only he wasn’t sweating, or reddening. Just stood there twitching and cringing, trying to hide it but failing. The air around him distorting as if ablaze.

“There was also a sighting by a passing woman in another alley further away. Though she was somewhat…” Every word grating along his sore mouth took effort. “Somewhat intoxicated. She claimed, quite frantically to have seen another ‘defiled’ being killed by, well, she called it The Great Leveler.”

The heat dimmed somewhat as Radiance’s eyes widened.

“The Great Leveler? What’s that?” Gethod breathed, trying to mask his misery. Misgard was waving his hand faster, creaking and groaning. Vindict feared it would snap off.

“A word the people of Hofrith give the Reaper, the Undertaker, the Grave tender. You know – death.”

“A Heinous word used by barbaric people of the North.” Radiance growled. The cindering room became a bit more manageable. Vindict could almost breathe comfortably. “Why did she use that to describe what she saw?” Vindict didn’t really want to say it. Hell, he didn’t want to be in this room any longer. He felt his age peeling off with every second’s passing.

“she told it to be a thing made of the emptiest of shadows with a white skull for a head. Said it killed the ‘defiled’ by calling fire and lightning on it using a short staff”

The guard captain’s face darkened. “A lich? In this day and age, in the great city of Alverion?” He glanced venomously at Radiance. “What are you Cain even doing?”

There were no words of power. No incantation. No grand speech. Radiance simply snapped his fingers and white flames roared to life. Not even dust remained of the writhing corpse. Gethod was pale now. Waxy pale. Pale as the vanished corpse and cold sweat trickled off his chin in thick, steady drops.

And the room was quiet now. Dust twirled through the flickering torchlight, weaving towards the smooth stone to join the rest. Vindict eyes shot left and saw Felina gripping her sheathed blade, hunched and staring hard at the Cain.

“May you find peace in Solis’s embrace, for she will cleanse any evil and accept all suffering.” He spoke to the slab of rock, now bare except for the rusted manacles holding no longer. He angled his head to the captain, voice calm yet carrying a dangerously clear tone. Like a man who had prepared himself for an unpleasant task.

“Be careful of what you say, Captain. The flame is equal to all. Smaller evil, greater evil, meddling – it makes no difference. Not to God’s clearing light.” He spoke the words one by one, like to a slow-witted child. “This is my duty, Captain. I will not allow you to tarnish it. Am I clear?” He stood before him, now. And the proud Captain seemed so small in front that mirror bright armor, the towering sword, the Cain’s heavy gaze.

“Yes, Lord Radiance” He croaked, edging away.

“It is Lord Cain, for you, Captain. Only those guided by God’s light may call me by my Earned Name.” But the tyran didn’t wait for an answer. “Whether it be a lich or a figment of the woman’s delirious state, I hope you will yet look into the matter, Inquisitor. As for the area around where both defiled have been found, I wish for them to be under surveillance as well. Just to be sure.” Vindict could only nod under the pressure.

“I will look into it, Lord Cain.” Radiance waved him off, seeming all too eager to leave, and did just that.

“If my presence is required again, do not hesitate to call upon me, Superior. Until then, farewell.” He turned sharply on his heels and left through the door, not bothering to wait for the petrified guard to open it. He flung it shut behind him and the sound of his steps hammering up the stairs was cut off with that.

Misgard stared hazily at the stone slab. “Doctor Willic will be disappointed being unable to study the undead.” He mumbled. Vindict saw the guard captain wave his men over and make for the exit.

“I will bring you the documents when they are finished, Superior.” He said over his shoulder. Forgetting to salute but the Superior was way past caring.

“Sure, till then.” And the man was gone.

That just left the three of them. Pondering about what had happened. What will happen.

“Keep an eye on Lord Radiance, Ferina.” Misgard frowned. “He seems most… unstable. I don’t know what it is, but he didn’t like looking at the body. He attempted to hide it by acting on what the fool Gethod said, but there was something about the corpse he found most disturbing. Just… keep this under covers. You hear?”

“I do, Your imminence.” She said grimly. “He’ll just have an extra shadow following him, keeping the peace.” And she walked away with strides that said ‘I have an Earned Name. Winner of the contest and one of The Ten Hands of the emperor. I am fearless even under the wrath of God’s only child.’ But she couldn’t hide the doubt in her feet from Vindict. They treaded light as if walking on brittle glass.

“And inquisitor.” Misgard smiled tiredly.

“Yes?”

“Find out what you can about these walking corpses, will you? The balance is swaying, wars are brewing, costly reasons are being sought like cheap excuses. I don’t need unrest in the Great Capital of Ansein right now. I am old and drained, but do not yet wish the –” and he glanced at where the corpse had been ravaged by searing clouds of fire. “warm embrace of our beloved Goddess. Do you have me covered, inquisitor?”

“Oh, don’t worry, your eminence.” He worked his cracked lips into a forced smile. “I’ve had the profound pleasure of observing many kinds of corpses in my lifetime. You wouldn’t be mistaken in calling me an authority on the cold and unmoving.” Misgard showed his leering, toothless grin.

“But these move about, though. Do they not?” He cracked and Vindict swallowed painfully.

“Yes,” he wheezed. “Yes, they do.”