The temple was big.


    That was both expected—and an understatement. As the de facto central branch of the Church in the entire Western Frontier, it shared more similarities to the larger noble estates than to a typical temple—architecturally speaking. In terms of function and purpose, it was a unique chimera. Part place of worship, part fortress, part academy, and part a hub of logistics and command—and that was without mentioning the myriad other services and buildings.


    Well, maybe a comparison to a small city would be the most apt.


    As the morning sun solidified its position in the day’s sky, the activity within the great Hallowed walls reached the summit of its mounting crescendo. Templars trained, priests attended to all manner of rites, and all the other subdivisions of the Prelacy took to their innumerable tasks with dedication and efficiency. There were even those from the greater public who were not ordained in any of the three orders—the Order of the Templars, the Prelacy of the Hallows, and the Inquisition.


    The last group accounted for by far the fewest—even counting those of the general public. That we can see. Chances were that you didn’t identify an Inquisitor when you saw one. It wasn’t a secret that most Inquisitors held secondary positions within the other branches. Those that weren’t could readily be identified by their gold and black dress—and by their curious blindfolds.


    But even then, Templar Sean glimpsed more than one gold and black uniform as he cut through the sea of faces. In fact, there were far fewer than was normal—a symptom of the same circumstances on which Sean was to report. Could they have found her so soon?


    It seemed more likely than not. Sean had a healthy level of Faith in his brothers and sisters—and so it was tempting to remain silent. Surely the Inquisition was capable of locating a single Demon within the heart of Human territory. His fellows would prove their capability, and Sean could uphold his promise to his patron and mentor, Lord Loch. Surely too, the renowned war hero and alchemist had his reasons.


    Sean allowed those feelings. He allowed them to run through him, to flow from his mind until they pooled throughout his body and spirit. He allowed them, he accepted them, and he denied them of their power. He acknowledged these thoughts as he solidified his resolve to not act on them.


    It was a technique his instructor and commander with the Templars had been emphasizing to him of late. It was a notable departure from the usual methods Templar Captain Hardy employed. Sean had been skeptical of cultivating an acceptance of malformity. Skepticism turned to surprised appreciation as the Captain’s encouragement produced results.


    The training recently had been far more—peaceful than usual, but the understanding Sean gained in that time put his initial worries to rest. Now, his worry was what the Captain had in store now that he’d made sufficient headway with the method.


    It was Captain Hardy he sought out now.


    _____


    It was no surprise to find the Captain in the metalworks. If the grizzled old Exalt of Justice wasn’t needed elsewhere, that’s where he would be. This was the sole reason the smiths allowed Sean into their precious sanctum without prior notice. And without his relationship to the Captain, they’d no doubt make him fight to the tooth even if he was sent there by a Councilor themselves.


    Even then, they refused to let him so much as breathe on anything. Sean complied. He behaved himself so well in their eyes that they’d switched all the way to trusting him not to screw something too important up. Playing nice with the temple smiths had eventually gotten him his current armor—something that most of his fellows couldn’t expect before at least one promotion.


    To be blunt, full metal plate meant you were either rich or highly valued. Sean was neither. If any of the smiths ever worried he might have the audacity to steal—and granted, their crudest raw material alone was exceedingly valuable—they simply gave it away to him in the end. As the Captain always said… ‘It pays to be nice.’


    Said Captain looked up from the small wire-spool he was tinkering with as Sean approached. Copper, specifically—and enough that it was likely worth more than both of their monthly pay combined. Sean had no idea what the man was doing with it. So he decided to ask.


    “Replicating some experiments. We might be onto a whole new field of magic.”


    Sean hadn’t really come to talk about his commanding officer’s hobbies—but that raised his interest. It was enough for at least an eyebrow raise. “Really?”


    “Yes, really. Do you think I’d lie about that.”


    Sean shrugged as he moved closer. “No, not really. It just sounds a little… big.” He gestured at the wire-spool and the tube-like apparatus accompanying it. “And it looks a little…”


    “Junky.” The grizzled old metal-mage grinned. “I know what it looks like. And before you ask, what it’s supposed to do won’t look very impressive either.”


    Despite what the Captain just said, Sean watched on in interest as he put the whole thing together. While Captain Hardy was notable for achieving the evolution tier of Exalt with his Exalt of Justice class, his other class was perhaps equally notable—and it was the one the old warrior had swapped to his primary more often than not.


    Ironsoul Knight. A vanishingly rare, Rank B class that even Sean barely understood. The only reason he knew the specific name of it was that Captain Hardy had grown fond enough to tell him. Virtually any class oriented around metal was valued—which gave the Captain even more leverage to do what he wanted. Mostly, that was experimenting with metals.


    As Sean continued to watch, Captain Hardy retrieved a small elemental mana crystal. Sean would have guessed it was lightning if asked, and it didn’t look even half full. The affinity of lightning for metal was fairly well known—so what was the Captain trying to demonstrate here?


    Not much happened—until he waved some kind of glass bulb in the air near a section of the coil. As it passed, the bulb lit up with a faint glow. “A linked enchantment?”


    “No.” The Captain set down the bulb—and grinned. “There’s no enchantment at all. This bulb here? Just metal and glass.”


    Before, Sean had been curious. Now, the apparatus had his full attention. “Then how…”


    “Another time.” Winking, the Captain removed the mana crystal and scooted his chair back. “None of it is useful right now—the enchantments with traditional methods are simple enough—and do it better. This is just one experiment reported by some mages back on the old continent. It gets a whole lot more exciting when you start considering the implications of what might be an entire new branch of magic.”


    Yeah, Sean thought, I think I get what you meant now.


    “But you didn’t come just to check in on your poor old mentor, did you? You’re off official duty for the next two weeks.”


    Part of Sean wanted to deny the statement and join his mentor within the Templars in replicating these experiments. That same part whispered to just listen to his other mentor—Lord Loch—and to forget the whole thing about gaining an audience before the council. He allowed the feeling to pass. “You’re correct about that, Sir. I… I needed a way to speak before the Council.”


    It was a rare thing for Captain Hardy to show surprise. Even now, it took the form of a mere head tilt and grunt before he got right to the point. “Why?”


    Sean swallowed. “I…” The sweat between his hands and gauntlets was coming back now. “I just need to speak to someone on the Council, Sir.”


    For a dreadful moment, the young Templar expected the older officer to press him on it. The Captain’s eyes were serious—stern, perhaps, but also searching. Another grunt was his first response. “I will trust you have your reasons, then. I can’t promise you’ll get an audience, but I’ll see what I can do.” He paused. “What kind of deadline is there on this?”


    Once again, Sean swallowed. “I can’t say I know, Sir. But I think it would be best if I could see them now.”


    _____


    Sean didn’t ask how Captain Hardy got the two of them through to see the Council. What mattered was that he did. Granted, the attendants stationed between the public and private sectors of the Temple Courts emphasized that the council was not in session and none of the Councilors were guaranteed to be on court duty. And if they were, there was no guarantee anyone would see them.


    A quarter hour later, and it was looking like that was going to be the case. Most of the offices they’d been allowed near were empty, and those that weren’t had given them a form and a promise for an appointment at an indeterminate time later. At least they’re actually willing to see me. Sean had only met a Councilor personally once, and that was during his formal initiation. He found it empowering to see all of them making an effort to hear out the little guys, even if they were otherwise engaged at the moment.


    The downside was that it did little for his stress. And so a quarter of an hour after that, the young Templar and the grizzled old Captain Hardy found themselves on a simple bench after filling out each form. Not that the Captain was old. He was only fifty. Sean thought of him as old only because the man had a full gray beard—and had a penchant himself for playing it up.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    “Kid, you’re handling this well. I’m impressed. Though I’ve got to say, those forms weren’t nearly half as bad as I expected.”


    Sean laughed. A nervous laugh, though genuine. Captain Hardy was one of a few people from whom being addressed as ‘kid’ didn’t feel like an insult. From the Ironsoul Knight, it was encouraging and endearing, a far cry from the usual patronizing. “Well as you say, Sir, those forms weren’t all bad.”


    They were all close to identical. A single page—if that—asking his name, rank, affiliation, and purpose. The last could have presented a serious challenge, had the creators lacked the foresight to include a box for anything marked ‘sensitive.’


    A few others included an option for a superior, sponsor, or representative, or the like. Captain Hardy signed for all of those. While Sean was also tempted to put down Lord Loch, doing so didn’t feel quite right in this specific circumstance.


    The two Templars looked up as approaching footsteps echoed from around the corner. A pair of them, as it sounded like—and as it was confirmed, when two full-fledged Inquisitors walked into sight. Both sported the full dress and insignia befitting their branch and their ranks. They marched straight towards him and Captain Hardy—both of whom knew something was up even before the pair stopped.


    They both gave a quick gesture of acknowledgment to the Captain. A polite, upturned extension of the hand, as if this were an event and they were indicating his turn to speak. Sean recognized it as the Inquisitorial equivalent of the Templars’ fist-to-chest and the simple bow of the Prelacy. “Captain.”


    Captain Hardy acknowledged for them to continue without speaking himself. “Templar Sean?”


    The rightmost Inquisitor may have intoned it as a question of identity, but Sean knew they already knew who he was and were being polite. “At your service.”


    The two gold-and-black trimmed youths nodded in sync. And they were young—likely around the same age as him. Mercifully, neither of them had their eyes obscured by those curious blindfolds. “The High Inquisitor will speak with you now.”


    Sean blinked. What? He didn’t say anything, but he doubted he’d done a good job at concealing his immense surprise. Sharing a glance with his Captain, he realized he wasn’t alone. I don’t think the High Inquisitor was one of the Councilors we submitted a form to. In fact, Sean didn’t even know how to contact the High Inquisitor in the first place.


    No one knew the identity of the High Inquisitor—or if they did, they were very high up and wouldn’t tell you that they knew. All that most people knew about the High Inquisitor in Verdanport was that the city did have one. It was possible that there was more than one—but there was one at the very least. The only other real information was that the High Inquisitor was also privy to the Council—but that didn’t say much, because any High Inquisitor anywhere was privy to the region’s Councils, as a right of their position.


    Could one of the Council members in the Court right now be the High Inquisitor? Sean’s mind pondered this and other questions as he stood and followed the two Inquisitors. Captain Hardy stayed behind—they hadn’t called for him.


    The three of them stopped after turning a corner. One of the two—the woman—spoke. “Before we continue, you must allow us to use a skill on you. It is harmless and only intended to conceal the route we take and the location of our destination.”


    Huh. That—makes sense. It explained why there seemed to be so few facilities dedicated to the Inquisition within the Temple—they were simply kept secret. Compared to the summons itself, this was hardly a surprise. “Of course,” Sean said. “Go ahead.”


    The woman nodded, and her partner raised his hands. A quick gesture and a mere second later, the world twisted into a near featureless hallway that ran straight and without end in either direction. It was the same as the court passageway they were already in—only, if someone had stretched the most plain segment of it onward and onward until nothing else in the whole world remained. “Weird.”


    The male Inquisitor chuckled. “Yes, it’s a bit strange isn’t it. Come. The way isn’t far, but there’s no need to delay your meeting.”


    _____


    The man hadn’t lied. The way wasn’t long at all. It took less than two minutes for the interminable expanse to be interrupted by a lone door on the left side of the otherwise barren walls. After a brief knocking and a brief wait, the door opened. The two Inquisitors shuffled him inside.


    The room beyond was a small office. Sparse—but cozy—it was well-lit by beams of sunlight. This was curious, given that there were no windows. Sean was so absorbed by the strange, slanted holes through which the light of day entered that he failed to notice either the departure of the Inquisitors or the figure seated at the desk before him.


    “Clever, are they not?”


    Sean’s eyes snapped down to who could only be the High Inquisitor. Unlike the other Inquisitors with their crisp, buttoned uniforms, the person before him wore a gold-patterned, woven black shawl over what appeared to be simple wrappings of dark cloth. And also unlike the two preceding Inquisitors, a white and silken blindfold obscured any glimpse of their eyes.


    “The slits allow sunlight to pass as if through a window, without the usual transparency. Even if you were to look straight up through them, neither you nor anyone on the outside could see through. There is a bend, where the light strikes a deliberately clouded mirror.”


    Sean nodded as he digested the explanation. It was clever indeed.


    “Sit, Templar. I would like for us to have a discussion, not for you to make a report.”


    As he took his seat across the smooth but unfinished wooden desk, Sean had a moment of panic as he struggled to formulate an acceptable term of address. He hadn’t the slightest idea whether the figure before him was male or female. Their pale, unblemished skin and wild red hair conveyed a likely deceiving impression of great youth—but that was all. Their voice, figure, and partly-obscured face made them entirely indeterminate.


    “Thank you, High Inquisitor,” Sean managed at last. He hoped that he hadn’t already offended them. If he did, they didn’t show it.


    “You are nervous. Do not be. Nothing you can reveal to me today will endanger you.”


    Just having a discussion, yeah, sure. Sean wasn’t sure if the High Inquisitor already knew something about what he intended to report to the Council, or if he had only caught their attention due to all the inquiries he’d just made. Yet either way, any thoughts of concealing information vanished. Even if the High Inquisitor was not already in the Council, Sean wouldn’t dare hide anything before them. He took a quick breath.


    The High Inquisitor continued before he got a chance. “I have long known of you, Templar Sean. You have no need to worry. If you should flee from my office at this very moment, I would only thank you for your evidence.”


    The High Inquisitor’s words didn’t do much to assuage Sean’s anxious thoughts—until the end, which confused him. “Evidence, High Inquisitor?”


    “Yes, evidence.” The High Inquisitor leaned forward. “Let me paint you a picture. A High Priestess divines potent ripples of elder magic from the far north. Not soon after, a High Templar returns from the Frozen Wastes, having failed to thwart the movements of a powerful new cult—and bearing news of a higher Demon they successfully awakened.”


    Sean’s nervousness faded away as he followed along. There were a lot of pieces here—and he felt the High Inquisitor was just getting started.


    “And then, not wholly two days later, who arrives back in Verdanport but Lord Darius Loch, and who is with him? His usual students, of course—yet also a wild, hitherto unknown woman whom he promptly escorts to the Blodmane estate.”


    The High Inquisitor’s lips stretched into a grin. “Lord Loch meets with Lady Blodmane herself, by all accounts—and his departure occurs with a distinctive lack of his prior companion. A companion, you might note, who arrived in the city on the very same morning our wards detected the ingress of a higher Demon.”


    “And then.” The High Inquisitor leaned back, their entire bearing returning to an indifferent air of relaxation. “And then, come morning, imagine my complete and utter lack of surprise when Templar Sean—one of those regular five students I mentioned—when Templar Sean arrives at the temple seeking an audience with any Councilor who will hear him.”


    Sean wasn’t nervous anymore. No, he was nothing but embarrassed. The whole thing was so thrice-damned obvious, yet he’d needed the High Inquisitor’s borderline patronizing explanation to understand it. “I…” He shook his head. “Your analysis is correct, High Inquisitor.”


    “Of course it is.” The Inquisitor’s smile this time was still at his expense, and perhaps self-indulgent—but it wasn’t mocking. Despite their words, it was clear they felt flattered. “I could hardly deserve the title of High Inquisitor otherwise. What do you think we do all day?”


    Only the tone told him that the joke there was friendly and not meant to be insulting. I suppose a lot of people who interact with the Inquisition go through something similar. It wasn’t very often you saw them do anything, even though that was the point.


    “Well. Now that you understand your position here, would you care to add anything? You mustn’t now assume my own abilities—though augmented as they are by those of my fellow Brothers and Sisters—to be so comprehensive as to foresee everything.”


    “Ah. Right.” Sean might be having a little trouble staying on track now, but he could hardly blame himself. “The Demon is named Zoe—or at least, that’s what she calls herself. None of us were able to detect her true nature. She had some ability that was highly effective at concealing herself. Not even our Rank C comrade from the Blodmane’s was able to see through it.” Sean paused. “Well, I don’t think he did. Only Lord Loch was able to…”


    “Understood.” That was all the High Inquisitor said, but Sean got the feeling he was supposed to keep going—even if they were no longer looking in his direction. As if they were ever looking—the blindfold could be just ceremonial or even a trick, but—I don’t think it is. “But uh, Lord Loch brought her back to Verdanport instead of killing her. He was also very clear that none of us were to reveal anything. Even though I knew he must have some good reason…”


    “That’s why you sought out the Council, then.” Sean nodded. The High Inquisitor made a quiet hum. “Good. And you haven’t revealed this to any others by intention?”


    “No,”


    “Good. You did well, Templar Sean. You are correct that Lord Loch has his reasons. You clearly possess an amount of wisdom. Henceforth, I suggest  you maintain your silence.” Then the High Inquisitor stood. Sean was left sitting, which was a bit awkward—was he about to be dismissed?


    “Said wisdom is noted. I will see to it that my favor towards you is known, despite the necessity of obscuring the circumstances. If you don’t have anything left to add—?”


    Sean stood. “No, High Inquisitor—that is all. Oh and, thank you.” As he made his way to the door—which had opened to reveal the same two Inquisitors waiting in the strange corridor outside—a disturbing feeling washed through him.


    The colossal weight of an immense gaze pressed down—no. Not a weight. Something vast, strange, and so horrifyingly distant beheld the entirety of his being. It didn’t bear down on him. It just looked.


    An Aspect of the Hallow witnesses you.


    Through the presence of a Hallowed Chosen, you have been touched by an Aspect of the Hallow.


    …


    The feeling shifted, mutating—and then it vanished. Sean blinked. He was still standing at the doorway.


    “Is something wrong, Templar Sean?”


    He shook his head. “No—no. Everything’s fine.” As he stepped into the hall, Sean tried to dismiss whatever had just happened. Being witnessed was—intense, but he would have assumed it was just the power of a High Inquisitor.


    If not for the second message that came after.


    …


    An Aspect of <veiled> witnesses you.


    You have been witnessed.