As the Son walked on from there, He saw a man called the Witness sitting at the post of the Tithe-Gatherer. “Follow the Light,” He commanded him, and the Witness rose from his ledgers and followed.

  While the Son was at table in the house of the Witness, many other tithe-gatherers and outcasts came and sat with Him and His followers. When the Keepers of the Law saw this, they questioned His disciples, “Why does your Master feast with the treacherous and the fallen?”

  On hearing this, the Son replied, “It is not the whole who have need of a Physician, but the sick. But go and learn the weight of these words: ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have not come to summon the righteous, but the sinners to the Gaze.”

  The Book of The Witness 9:9-13 - The Words of The Son

  Spring 28, 1388

  A new day dawned, and the four of them assembled outside of the Inquisitional Hall in Flowers-By-The-River. Amaril’s Gaze barely found purchase above the horizon, but the city was awake and active. It smelled of baking bread and smoke bellowing into the skies, it sounded like villagers moving about and chatting, and felt so very much alive.

  The Inquisitional Hall was not that. The door-latch was broken, with splinters haphazardly left onto the ground. No lights, and no sound, came from within the offices. There were villagers walking about, observing the Inquisitional Party, but not one of them seemed concerned with how odd this all was..

  It was a job for someone else, after all, and Adrian was that someone. He raised his scarf, and pulled the door outwards. It creaked against the hinges, and the forgotten darkness seeped out to be overtaken by daylight. The stale air reeked of copper and death, and Adrian’s eyes furrowed. Noel wasn’t bothered, Bart tensed visibly, but Edda was more than amused.

  She pushed past Adrian and walked inside, her heeled boots clicking against the floorboards. Adrian again shook his head, and drew out the Eye of Amaril. His hands weaved over it, as the Symphony of the Sun and Summer poured against the Holy Silver.

  The glowing Eye radiated Holy Light into the station, revealing the disorder within. Desks overturned, and the Inquisitorial-Knights that should have manned it were missing. The floor was filled with debris - blood, dirt, and wood. Adrian’s arm rose up to stop Noel and Bart from stepping in, but it was too late for Edda.

  Yet her steps didn’t seem to disturb anything. She stepped atop the wood and dirt and blood all the same, and outside of the clicking of her heels, nothing shifted. Blood didn’t cling to her soles, the dirt didn’t move, and the wood didn’t trip her gait. The clacking seemed to be an obvious flaw, but it also was likely being done for the group's benefit.

  “You coming in?” Edda asked, looking into the main room. “You can’t begin an investigation if you’re just scared of some spooky old place, you know.”

  “I don’t think that’s the problem, Hound. This entire area needs an investigation,” Bart countered, looking downwards.

  Pools of blood rested beside the overturned tables, underneath the scattered debris. But there were no bodies around, and outside the signs of a struggle, there weren't any markings. No sword scratches, silvers of metal – just this mess.

  Edda tapped her nose, “Good thing you’ve a Hound then. Mind the mess, this place is a lot dirtier than when I came here before.”

  “...Didn’t you come in here to shoot the [Inquisitor], Edda?” Noel asked, carefully walking into the room. Bart and Adrian followed, standing on the very few spots that had nothing they could ruin.

  “Yes, I did. Place was still bustling with activity a few days ago,” she said. “I mean, this is odd.”

  Adrian looked about, and felt a painful tinge coming from his head – from his heart. It was vile and black, smelling of blood and feeling of domination. Chains wrapped against his wrist and tightening, changing into chicken wire made of steel to carve away at flesh.

  It was like being near a Fallen Penitent. Heresy mixed with Divine Law, but this was Heretical Divinity - the work of a different Deity; a Fallen One. His hand touched his vambrace, and began to glow in its divine light. He swallowed, and lifted the scarf atop of his face.

  There was work to be done.

  “Noel, Bart,” Lord Skye said. “Go to the basement and investigate the cells. If there’s any Penitent’s awaiting, release them and see to it that they’re fed and given something to drink. We can question them after. Edda, with me.”

  “Sir,” Bart responded, and Noel nodded. They slowly rotated to the right, and Bart pulled out a torch. Noel touched his shoulder and shook his head, grabbing a rock from the side, and illuminating it as well. He handed the rock to Bart, who held the divine lamp and moved forward.

  Edda glanced at Lord Skye and her playful smile disappeared into a stern appreciation. She stepped atop the debris again, coming to his side. She bowed her head in confirmation. “Inquisitor-Prefect.”

  “Where is the Inquisitor’s Office here, Hound?”

  Edda tilted her head to the side, exposing another door. The latch however wasn’t broken – it was simply gone. A charred, black spot where the locking mechanism lingered, a remarkable difference from the usual method of hammers or kicking it in.

  “A [Firebolt]?” Lord Skye asked, carefully trying to find a path over the mess. Edda simply walked over, and looked down at it.

  “You could say so,” she playfully remarked, and pushed the door inwards.

  Rot burst out, and the intense scent of death and decay. The buzzing of flies and the squirming of maggots assaulted Lord Skye’s senses, but he acknowledged, and forced them away.

  “Good Protector, that smells awful,” Edda said, raising her hand to her face and fanning herself. Lord Skye looked at her, and undid his scarf, handing it to her. “Appreciated.” Edda said, wrapping it around to cover her face.

  He stepped inside, and the Inquisitor’s Office was definitely bigger than his. HIs room was fairly ornate for a typical town in the middle of nowhere, but this was meant for a proper Prefect.

  A massive globe affixed to a wooden holder stood in the corner of the room, and the bookshelves were lined with books of laws. The secure cabinet was also untouched, and his desk was made of Mahogany. Exquisite seats, and even a carpet from the Rajastans! The carpet had a peculiar hole, curved in an angle. It seemed incredibly similar to the scorched hole on the door.

  Of course, that carpet wasn’t worth much anymore with the corpse slumped atop of it either, the body leaning against the desk that’d also have to be thrown out. The woman was wearing Inquisitorial Garb, and her silver longsword was still sheathed. Her forehead had a similar hole in it.

  “I thought you said you shot ‘him’?” Lord Skye asked.

  “Manner of speaking. I shot the Inquisitor. And I was trying to intimidate you,” Edda responded. “I’m surprised no one cleaned this up. “

  “When did you do it?” Lord Skye asked, leaning closer to the body.

  “A few days ago?” Edda responded.

  The body had corpseflies buzzing around her face. Her eyes were silver-like and her mouth hung open. She smelled of death, and her flesh squirmed with cadaver-eaters that had wormed their way within.

  Adrian stood up again. “No bodies outside, but a mess - but an executed [Inquisitor] thanks to a Hound that no one touched. You said she was corrupt? How did you find out?”

  “I was given a report of unfair practices being performed here. I had arrived and staked the area out. The [Inquisitor] was receiving payments in Dead Drops. I investigated that to find out it was from the Silent Path, the criminal underground here.”

  “How’d you find the Dead Drops?”

  “I’m very good at following someone unnoticed,” she teased again, but Lord Skye didn’t take the bait.

  “How far from here?”

  Edda closed her mouth, eyes scrunching in feigned annoyance. “It was wrapped in a flower bouquet in this place called Ms. Lycamora’s Herbs and Haberdashery. Odd place, doesn’t even sell Haberdashers.”

  Lord Skye turned around, and again looked at the room. His eyes scanned over the room, and finally came to rest on the globe. It wasn’t on the carpet, and it wasn’t positioned anywhere that made sense. Not near the table to be referenced, not to be shown off to guests.

  The continents were accurate, but at the very top, where the wooden arch was attached to the globe, there were four coins. The indent suggested a fifth one. Each of the coins were silver, and marked different periods of history; the first civilization, the old empire, the great kingdom, the Phoenix-Queen, and the fifth coin was missing. He fished out a silver coin and placed it into the slot, but nothing happened. He pulled off one of the other coins, and heard an odd click. No matter where placed it, or how he changed where they were, the coins only clicked in specific indents.

  “Edda, was there a fifth coin on this when you were here?”

  “I don’t know,” she immediately responded. “I wasn’t exactly looking at the luxury your position affords, [Inquisitor].”

  “Find it for me, Hound.”

  Edda smirked as she approached. “Woof.”

  Lord Skye elected to ignore her, as she peered at the handle. Her hands slid over the globe, before coming to the equator. “Yep. This thing opens up.”

  “I am aware. Are you able to open it?”

  She raised her hand to her hair and pulled out a thin metal pick, and a tension wrench as well. She crouched down to enter eyelevel, and pushed the tension wrench within the incline.

  The click from the globe was deafening in the silence of the room, overpowering the buzzing of the corpseflies. The smirk disappeared from her face, and she went back to investigating the handle. “Self-Destruct mechanism. If it’s tampered with, it’s going to destroy whatever is inside.”

  Lord Skye nodded, figuring the easy way out wasn’t ever an option. He approached the corpse again.

  The flies buzzed about, and their stench mixed with the smell of a body decomposing. The hole in her head writhed with insects, chewing into the meat and exposing the pale bone.

  Pity.

  That’s what surged through him. Sure, she was a criminal, but being executed and left in place? She should have been tried, and given a chance.

  To rot in jail, instead. A waste on the system, and a way to fulfil the letter of the law, but not the spirit.

  “You into dead bodies, boy?” Edda asked. He didn’t even hear the footsteps, but she was beside him now, staring at him, and not the corpse.

  “Hmm,” Lord Skye responded, and raised his hand up. His smooth, warm hand touched the body's pallid skin, as maggots and flies began to squirm.

  “You’re going to catch a disease if you do that. Those things are unclean,” Edda continued, but there was a ‘tinge’ in her voice. She wasn’t concerned about him getting sick, she was just stating the facts. She found the entire event amusing.

  Except that wasn’t the fact.

  Lord Skye – Adrian – Never got sick.

  “Why didn’t you charge her or report her to me or the [Justiciar]? Who… is the [Justiciar] of this town?”

  “I don’t know. To your second question. To your first… I didn’t know you till yesterday.”

  “So you took it in your own hands?”

  “Better to get rid of the criminal now than to delay the inevitable. Unless you want to pay taxes for her to be locked in Irongate.”

  Lord Skye continued to frown. “So, are you just concerned about me being sick?”

  “Nah. I was going to tell you that the corpse swallowed it, and it’s in her gut.”

  He nodded, but didn’t move out of the way. Edda squatted beside him, and gagged in the stench. “I know usually this is a Hound's job - the dirty and all - but I don’t want that filth on me. You want to cut into her stomach?” Edda held a sharp knife, offering the hilt to him.

  Holy Light poured out of Adrian’s body, hot and warm like the rays of Summer. Golden in tone, the corpse-flies burned into ashes, becoming white motes of mist in the air. The corpse's silvery eyes came to life, and for a moment, they were shining brown – just for a moment.

  An entire life, snuffed out in a second.

  The heat radiated through her body, and her skin and bone began to charr and smoke up as well. White heat radiated from the corpse, until the golden light overtook the flesh and bones, sending it off properly. Her soul was already judged, and now her mortal shell was safe.

  The inquisitorial robes, jewelry, and everything inorganic dropped to the ground in an instant. His hand reached forward, grabbing a small, blackened coin from the air before it too joined the pile. “Clean this up, Hound.”

  Edda pouted, but began to shift through the belongings for anything, as Lord Skye rose off his feet and returned to the globe.

  The fifth coin slotted in perfectly, and the locks disengaged. The globe hissed out, and then opened. Inside, an Ice Conduit kept a bottle of Phoenix-Queen Whiskey cold, a black book rested with red cord, and jewelry and coins were kept locked in place.

  Two people entered the room, while Lord Skye picked up the book.

  "No one downstairs, sir. But it’s a mess there too, and there is blood.” Bart said, Noel entering the room behind.

  Lord Skye nodded, and flipped through the book. There weren't many sentences, just ledgers. How much she was given, when, where. Nothing marked for the future, but the most recent exchange, the one that got her the payment, was ‘7 objects’ traded for 100 gold each.

  He had heard that number before. “Were there 7 cells downstairs?”

  “...Yes?” Bart responded.

  The exchange happened at the Botanical Gardens, but that felt too public.

  “Bart, take Lady Belten with you and return this [Inquisitor]’s effects to her family. You don’t need to explain how she died. Lady Belten?”

  “Yes, [Inquisitor]?”

  “For you.” Lord Skye tossed her the bottle of the Phoenix-Queen Whiskey, and she sniffed the label.

  “The real deal. You’re just giving it to me?” she prodded.

  “A Criminal’s effects are forfeit to the Queen and Church. By Law, it should be put into evidence somewhere. Make it disappear.”

  “Leave it to me,” Lady Belten stated, tucking it into her inventory.

  Bart looked at the items left behind and shrugged. “Better to the family than some bureaucrats' hands.”

  “After that’s done, can you and Lady Belten find out who the [Justiciar] is, and make contact?” Lord Skye asked, and Bart nodded.

  “And of me?” Noel asked.

  “Let’s go to the Gardens, Noel. I think I’ll need a druid's help.”

  The Botanical Garden, as expected, was filled with people. Exotic flowers grew in its humid environment; butterflies and other strange insects fluttered about. The air was too thick and heavy, and fairly fragrant with strange-smelling herbs and orchids.

  There were plenty of benches and places to rest alongside the self-guided tour, and young couples walked arm in arm, straightening up when they saw the Inquisitor-Prefect observing each of them.

  “This is where they exchanged prisoners, but this is far too open,” Adrian said.

  Noel swiveled his head around to examine the area; different flowerbeds, exotic trees, but everything was open. “Where do you think they service the plants from?”

  “Service the plants?” Adrian repeated, raising his head.

  “Weren’t you a [Farm Boy]?”

  “...Yes? I’d water things from a well or a sprinkler system.”

  “And… where do sprinkler systems get water from.”

  “...Underground,” Adrian flatly repeated, standing up. “I… should have thought of that.”

  Noel’s hands rubbed Adrian’s head. “Not to worry, kid. You’ve a lot on your mind. You and your girlfriend both.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend, I’m about to be married,” Adrian snapped back, pushing away from his hand and following Noel.

  Noel’s pace was slow. He kept looking at the plants, and sometimes whispering to them. Their petals bent in response, and Noel followed the angle.

  “You sure? You walked out from your wife to… go start a fight with Lady Hawthorne on behalf of Lady Hart. You might physically be sleeping with Lady Skye, but you’re emotionally cheating on her.”

  Adrian said nothing, but dejectedly grabbed his left arm with his right hand. “...I have, haven’t I?”

  “Just means you care about them both, but you can’t have that. Ashley made her choice, even if it’s a bad one. Dunno the first thing about Lady Hawthorne being a vampire – sounds like your kind of business,” Noel said, but there was an odd flutter to his voice. “But… even if she were, that’s not illegal. I mean, to the Queen.”

  “Neither is being a [Druid].” Adrian quickly retorted.

  “...Yes? That’s kind of my point there. You and her seem to just rapid-fire the first thing in your head without thinking it through. Not a crime to be a [Druid]. Queen’s Law is very much about what you do, not what you are, kid.”

  “Except the other part of who you are.”

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The two of them arrived at the service gate, with a simple sign that said Employee’s Only. Noel pushed the handle, and of course, it wasn’t locked.

  “...You've got a point there, but that’s still a ‘what you do’ law. It’s not being that which is illegal, it is the relationship itself. We’d be forced to give it up, before execution. Which is just going to get us executed.”

  The closet was cramped and heavy, with shelves of water and fertilizer shoved as far as the eye can see. That wasn’t that far, since the cubby was clearly made for utilitarian needs. Water dripped from the ceiling, and the pair of them looked around.

  The floor was covered in fertilizer and dirt as well, but the shelf to the left had drag marks through it. The stone was scratched in an angular motion, where the shelves legs were pushed aside. Noel grabbed the bar and attempted to move it, but with two drags, stayed in place.

  “Alright, help me move the stuff off the she–”

  Adrian grabbed the edge, and it felt no different than moving Hay Stacks or practicing with greatswords. The weight was expected, and his muscles tensed. He grunted, as the legs creaked against the floor, rotating to the side and exposing the wall.

  “Show off,” Noel remarked, and his hands touched the stone wall. No reason to aid him in that investigation.

  “And the New Covenant is a ‘who you are’ set of laws, isn’t it?” Adrian finished.

  “What? Oh, right. Yeah, it is,” Noel muttered, his fingers tracing every single brick. A rather loose one on the top right was promising, and he shoved it in. A mechanical clicking sound rang out from the room, and the utility closet’s door locked. The wall rumbled and began to shift, showing a passageway down.

  Adrian lifted his Holy Symbol, still radiating its divine light. He drew his Silver Longsword, and Noel followed behind.

  Neither of them said anything as they followed the curving passageway. Steps hit against the stone stairs, and damp, warm water dropped atop their heads. Moss grew on the sides, and the sconces that held torchlight were smartly emptied; it’d be a choking hazard with how much smoke that would have produced.

  “Why bring up the New Covenant, kid?” Noel broke the silence, one that Adrian was content in.

  “I thought I was following the Protector’s teaching, but Edda kind of proved it doesn’t exist. It’s still the same violence, but I don’t think it’s something I can follow.”

  “Mmm. So, I’ve had a lot of time to think. Do you want to hear my thoughts, [Inquisitor]?”

  “Is it going to be heretical?”

  “To the Church, but not the Protector.”

  Adrian said nothing, but continued to traverse down the stairs.

  “The Son basically acted in ways contrary to what the covenants said. It’s strange to me that the core of a message - ‘Love thy Neighbor as you would love thyself’ received so much appendices by saying that it doesn’t apply to these specific cases. The thing is, those appendices weren’t added by the Son. ”

  “No, they were added by the council after.”

  “Yes, to make laws out of a radical idea. But, I was under the impression your Amaril wanted Mercy, not sacrifice.”

  Adrian stepped onto the basement landing, and the silence was odd. Water dripped onto stone, and the scurrying of rats sounded.

  But there was also the sound of movement. It scurried against the ground and multiple legs – he hoped it was legs – slapped onto the stone. But so were the sounds of scratching and scraping.

  His head hurt. The burning feel of evil radiated in the gloom, beckoning him forward. His hand tightened on the hilt, and the narrow gulley of the silver blade began to ignite. Golden flames danced from the edge, and he instinctively reached for his scarf.

  Edda still had it.

  Adrian stepped forward, and Noel followed behind. He wanted to return to the conversation, to question that one sentence.

  Mercy, not Sacrifice.

  The antechamber opened into a yawning expanse where the sewer runoff vanished into the gullet of secondary tunnels. Lord Skye knew where he was, even as his polished boots stepped into dank and reeking black water. Noel nodded at him, summoning his Oak Staff to his hand.

  The Undercity was the den of criminals, beyond what Amaril’s Gaze would reach. This chamber was a localized rot, but the map of the wider Undercity was a labyrinth only a Hound could navigate. Adrian felt the absence of Edda like a missing limb.

  What was here was that scraping sound. Feet smacking against stone, and sharp claws scraping against the sides. The room reeked of piss and feces and rot. The air was a humid slurry of ammonia and rot. It felt heavy on the tongue, a physical intrusion that made every shallow breath feel like a violation of his lungs. Sure, he was immune to diseases, but it wasn’t an immunity to smell or the desire to retch.

  At the other end of the hall was an iron gate, locked and chained shut. Flames flickered beyond the grate, making shadows dance in the dim illumination.

  Water kept dripping.

  Adrian sighed, and turned to Noel. “It’s above us, isn’t it?”

  Noel took in a breath and his face soured. He leaned over and gagged, retching that foul taste out of his tongue and lungs. He raised himself back up slowly, and the two gently raised their heads upwards; prey spotting a predator.

  Four Heads screeched at them, the sonic waves disrupting the air. Noel immediately jerked backwards, covering his ears as red blood spilled out.

  Adrian’s fortitude was much, much higher, but it didn’t stop the burning pain in his head. Before, he felt chicken wire scratching and scraping against his flesh, but this was evil.

  His body burned from the sensation of a thousand-little pricks. His summer sun and warm winds were being disrupted by the staccato notes of winter, mixed with just the dirge of madness. It wasn’t radiating from the creature – it was the creature.

  An [Abomination].

  A massive, worm-like manifestation of joined together bodies assaulted Adrian’s eyes. The [Abomination] hung to the wall, and even from this distance, it easily ate up more than half of the antechamber's space.

  The pink flesh was sewn together with obvious staples and sewing marks. Skin stretched out like undersized cloth, where bone pushed against the muscle. Arms extended over its elongated spine, needlessly grabbing into anything. Hooks, butcher’s blades, knives, swords, bolts – all being held by its many, many arms.

  The thing released, falling down, and the bubbling flesh began to manifest and shift. Legs that were digging into the stone above disappeared, before extending from the gooping main body on the other end.

  Adrian knew he was short - at 18, he was 5’4, and Melissa joked that puberty would hit him when he was 21, and he’d become ripe 5’5.

  This thing’s head rested at 10 feet – and that was the ‘lowest’ of the four heads it bore. Faces appeared on its bubbling, shifting flesh in screams, and even that was above him. He was far closer to this things ankles, and… whatever the hell those arms were.

  Rather than actual hands or arms, the bones were jutted out into razor sharp scythes, almost like a pincer claw from a crab. The polished bone radiated unholy, sickly, green light, and the creature scuttered around.

  He forced himself not to hear the yelling, the gibbering, the maddening screeches. It sounded too much like Queen’s Common spoken out of the voice of many things.

  Adrian reached out to touch Noel. Ever since he had passed his Judgement, he rarely felt fear – especially in situations like this. He was already courageous, but his [Aura of Courage] was his divine will made manifest. Noel nodded, returning the embrace.

  Right, a [Druid] was a master of their emotions too. Noel didn’t need Adrian’s help to look at this [Abomination] and stand tall.

  Adrian’s silver longsword fully ignited, and the golden glow spread atop of his armor.

  His off-hand created a divine shield, and his uniform reinforced itself with Amaril’s Light. He raised his sword at the creature.

  Holy light blasted the creature, confirming the Mandate. Adrian’s face locked with one of the four, and the creature's eyes looked…

  Pained. Unwanting. Miserable.

  It wanted to die.

  He took another deep breath, and used [Inspect].

  A massive moon bear charged past him, the furry black legs taller than Adrian was. Black rocks jutted from its back, and it crackled with lightning and the storm’s fury. It growled and let out a ferocious roar, each step shaking the earth in its weight and fury.

  The Abomination responded with a quick slice of its pincer-like arm, crackling against the air. The Moon Bear’s left arm shifted, and the black fur became hard rock.

  The scythe ignored the rock, phasing through it with ease. The Moon Bear let out an agonized roar, which broke Adrian out of his investigation. Red blood poured on the floor, becoming green with infestation and poison.

  “Noel!” Adrian commanded, “I’ll take front, support me.”

  He charged straight, sliding underneath The Moon Bear’s massive legs as the sounds of bones cracking and person shifting came above. The pincer-claw launched out again, but Adrian’s Divine shield intercepted!

  His arm wavered and shook as the creature’s bone-claw forced more pressure into him. His breathing picked up, and he closed his eyes. “Back off!” he shouted, and forced the claw away.

  CLANG!

  His silver longsword intercepted the opposite claw, and the creature again yelled in annoyance. His head burned, his skin feeling like it was being flayed alive just from the noise.

  Wyld Lightning crackled from the ozone, being summoned and striking one of the creature’s four heads and bursting it into a shower of viscera and gore. The creature screamed, but that was lightning – not flames – and whatever unnatural vigor it had slowly reshaped the now exposed cavity.

  From behind Adrian, a frog-like creature with massive eyes and a tiny stature held onto a wooden staff. It’s four fingered hand weaved in the air, as it muttered words in Sylvan – but he wasn’t able to concentrate to decipher what it meant.

  A small bolt of fire came from Noel’s new form, and burned into the rotting head. The three heads howled again, but this time, the regrowing flesh stopped in earnest.

  The creature clambered over Adrian, it’s many legs moving past him to get at the frog-like thing behind. Adrian quickly shifted to the side, pulling back on his divine blade and approaching one of the many legs.

  He sliced, and the abomination's skin pushed back like hardened leather. It didn’t give way like he was expecting, but the golden light of the Divine Mandate eased the process. Even butter had a firmness to it when it met a heated knife, but that too would yield.

  The sword carved into the creation’s stump, into the necrotic flesh, and barely halting as it found the mixture of bone and heresy made manifest. Adrian grunted, his muscles tensing, breathing in that rank odor of death and sewer, and coming out the other side.

  The three-headed abomination yowled in fury, losing its grip and beginning to tumble over. Adrian stood up, looking for an opening.

  An opening that would never appear.

  As soon as it tilted, the legs that were being useless slid into the abominations body, and appeared on the other side. It slammed down, shaking the ceiling and loosening debris to fall around the antechamber. One of the three heads bubbled, disappearing into the mass. A moment later, it appeared in a pustule of fat, flanked by screaming, harsh faces.

  All staring at the [Paladin].

  The creature’s body coiled around Adrian like a snake made of human flesh, its multiple arms sprouting scythes and jagged bone weaponry. Adrian’s eyes locked with the creatures, and he suddenly felt pain in his back.

  A scythe from nowhere carved his exposed flank, and blood splattered to the ground.

  He ignored the pain, and jumped straight onto the wobbling, malformed skin.

  It wasn’t solid, and felt far more like slime. His boots were sinking in,and the two remaining heads appeared on either side of him. Their teeth were jagged and sharp, and Adrian responded in kind.

  The Silver Longsword stabbed straight into the open mouth, into its throat and carved downwards, incising an infected wound outwards. The bone cracked to the Divine Light, and Adrian leaned down to break it off and toss it to the side.

  Again, the abomination howled in fury, but this time, Adrian wasn’t able to evade the slices. He’d have to block an infinite amount of arms with an infinite amount of weapons.

  The creature screamed again, both it and Adrian’s attention turning to the back. The entire tail was on fire, as the frog-like being reached out with burning hands.

  That distraction was all Adrian needed, as his sword found the sewing lines and stapled shut flesh. His blade pushed in like his wife taught him, and began to undo the seam.

  Guts, flesh, organs, and improper meat began to pour out. The creature let out howling and guttural breathing as its profane existence came to an end.

  The body twitched lifelessly, cut apart in two.

  Adrian panted, the goopy mixture of its gelatinous skin thickening around his boots. He drew his sword downwards, cutting himself free as more foul smelling… innards poured out onto the floor.

  Noel shifted, appearing beside him. A wicked gash was against his chest, and Adrian nodded at it. Noel shook his head, and his hands weaved. The potent smell of flowers and the sounds of the Wyld Hunt burst out, and Danu’s blessing healed its cleric.

  Adrian however just let the warm light radiate over himself; the summer heat, and the warmth of Amaril burning out to fix the wounds he had. He’d need Melissa to repair his uniform.

  The two men stood up, and slowly approached the grate. The foul smell of decay was replaced by the sweetest smells of… flowers?

  Noel raised his eyebrow. “[Inquisitor], I think I know who’s beyond the door. But before we go in, there is something I should tell you..”

  Adrian said nothing, but didn’t step forward.

  “I believe that’s the [Witch], Marigold. Benzine, Marigold. I… cursed her sister.”

  “You can tell from the sweet scent?”

  “That’s Arsenic, Adrian.”

  Adrian nodded. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Execute her.”

  He didn’t like the response, but it was his duty. There was a cold hatred in what Noel had said, and he never really looked into the Darkmire Witches outside of what he had asked Annabelle to acquire for him.

  But maybe that was the problem?

  They were a coven of sisters. He didn’t know much about them.

  He didn’t know much about Ashley, but kept trying to enforce what he thought was right. But to be like the Protector, it meant to…

  Be radically good. A Hypocrite who doesn’t listen to the Church’s Law.

  To make a decision on a person in their best interest.

  Adrian inhaled. “I’d like to talk to her first.”

  Noel glanced at Adrian, but nodded. Adrian knelt down against the grate, and felt that it was locked. The chains were a dead giveaway. He pointed his sword at it, still glowing with divine fury.

  The steel broke away like thread, and the door opened inwards.

  “Please! It hasn’t been the day yet, I need more time…” A ragged, feminine voice came from inside.

  Noel growled, and Adrian stared him down. “I’m in charge, Noel,” the boy said to the man.

  They stepped into what was at best called a hovel, but realistically, a prison. A small bucket to the side for waste, a ragged pile of hay, and herbs and a cauldron. The woman seemed frail, her blonde hair mixed with feces and her neck with that disgusting collar.

  “Oh, Grand Mother Willow…” she began, pushing herself back against the wall, away from… Noel. Adrian looked at him, and Noel crossed his arms.

  Only then did Benzine look at Adrian, and her sparkling blue eyes were replaced by… fear.

  His stomach knotted. Was that how Ophelia would look at him if he kept it up? She was Ashley’s friend, should she be scared of…

  They weren’t friends. It was a truth he kept avoiding. It was just an obsession that he had over a girl that never existed, and had told him many times to leave. Whatever Ashley was doing, she made it clear he was to be no part of it.

  And Melissa wanted to be part of his life. To hear his secrets. He was cheating on her. He glanced down.

  “Please, [Inquisitor], I mean no–”

  Adrian stepped forward, and Benzine shrieked. His grip tightened on her collar, and a flow of divine magic burst out. He pulled it back, snapping the device and the green fragment of a soul escaping moved.

  “Have you eaten?” Adrian asked. “I have some rations here, but it would taste awful down here.”

  Benzine didn’t react, and Noel stepped forward. Adrian raised his hand, and shook his head. Noel looked at him, and his expression softened. “I see. She is right about you.”

  That almost felt like a compliment, but it wasn’t. Ashley wanted him to leave. He was having her surveilled because of his obsession, not because of love. Ophelia being a vampire was not a true crime - it was a state of being, not an action.

  Maybe Lady Hawthorne was more than the beast he saw her as. Saw her father to be.

  Benzine reached out, and Adrian softly held her wrist. “Let’s get you out of here. I have a good idea of what’s happening, but, you’re not in trouble. I’m going to fix this.”

  The [Witch] said nothing, her face blank and staring at the metal collar on the floor. She turned to Noel, “Is your curse spreading, bastard?”

  Noel chuckled, “Fortunately for you, no. You’ve just met an actual [Paladin], not an [Inquisitor].”

  Adrian ignored the conversation, but guided Benzine out of the sewers. He looked at the potions being made – illegal poisons, potions of youth, all of it.

  That was a crime for the Queen to care about.

  He wanted Mercy, not sacrifice.

  Bart and Edda were tasked to find new knights, scout the undercity, and clean up whatever the hell that abomination was.

  Adrian had taken over the Old Inquisitor’s office, and the area was cleaned – thanks to a certain expert [Maid] he fully believed. Benzine was allowed to leave, but, after Noel talked to her… she willingly stayed. From the desks in the bullpen, she glanced at Adrian, before returning back to her meal.

  Cleaned up, and not smelling of a sewer, she was fairly pretty.

  She was human. Not just a detested criminal.

  Noel entered his new office, and looked at the boy. “Interesting choice you made.”

  Adrian nodded. “I’m going to leave Ashley alone. Regardless of Ophelia being a vampire or not, it’s not my business. I… don’t want to enforce that law the church made. I want to see the Ophelia Ashley sees. I want to see the version of Ashley Ophelia sees.”

  Noel walked over to him, and his strong hand rested atop Adrian’s shoulder. “You probably never will.”

  “I know, but I think if I want to follow The Protector as he asked me too, I need to let go of what the Church is telling me is right, and just… follow something more.”

  Noel said nothing, and nodded. “I don’t know much about the inner workings of your world, boy. But I think you're doing the right thing.”

  “I… don’t know. I think I basically have to stop. Ashley has never really liked me, and I think I only liked a version of her that didn’t exist. I should let her go, and stop monitoring what she is, and focus on the relationships people want to have with me. Like… with my wife.”

  Noel rubbed Adrian's back. “You sound like someone who’s breaking up with his girlfriend, and realizing that the only way to move on is to leave her behind.”

  “I think I will, Noel. I know you’re friends with her, but I’d like to politely ask you not to tell me anything about her.”

  “No contact?”

  “If she wants to contact me and update me, she can. But… I think I should stop.”

  Noel patted Adrian's back and released him. “You’re making a smart choice. And, for what it’s worth, I am glad to see what a [Paladin] is like. This version of the church, I can support. As long as you need me, you’ll have me by your side.”

  “Even if I take Benzine with me?”

  “...I think you surprised her. I have never seen that Bit…[Witch], actually stay still. And she keeps glancing at you.”

  “She deserves mercy like you do.”

  Noel closed his mouth. “She does,” he muttered, and stroked his chin. “I have someone I want to talk too, if you’ll excuse me.”

  Noel left, and Adrian was left in the darkness of his room.

  He closed his eyes. The [Farm Boy] was gone; the past wasn’t something he needed to hold onto. He had his wife. He had Edda, Annabelle, Noel, Bart, his Knights, Benzine…

  He had new friends.

  If his past relationships wanted to remain in the past, and have nothing to do with him, it was the Protector’s Will.

  It was Ashley’s Will.

  He wanted Mercy, not Sacrifice.