《Inquisitor》


 A Death - Part 1

    "Alexander, our presence has been requested in town. There''s been a murder."


    Alexander blinked, startled out of his deep focus, and looked up to where the disturbing voice came from. Marcus was standing in the doorway of the house, arms crossed and a serious expression on his face.


    "Ah," Alexander replied as he put down the small piece of wood and knife he was holding, "I was hoping to have finished these today," he said to the older man while gesturing at the two small piles of wooden shards on the ground beside him before standing and brushing the dirt from his trousers.


    "An extra day or two won''t do the crops any lasting harm," Marcus replied, patting the younger man on the shoulder as he left the walled courtyard and entered the main house. "Besides, the garden did alright before you arrived, it''ll be fine until you can finish the enchantments. Get your gear, we''ll try to be fast."


    Alexander moved quickly, changing from his work clothes into his armor. Helmet, mail hauberk, cuirass, and greaves all made of the same dark grey metal from the enchanted forges of the Inquisitor headquarters near the capital, stronger and lighter than steel. He strapped his sword, dagger, and pistol to his waist with a leather belt. Finally, he put on his grey cloak with the black sword and eye symbol of the Inquisition embroidered across the back. Now fully dressed, Alexander followed Marcus, clad in identical armor and cloak, to the gate at the front of the villa where a boy and an older woman were waiting.


    "Inquisitors," the woman said with a raspy voice as she handed each of the men a small, dark loaf. "yesterday''s bread but I warmed it up a bit for you."


    "Thank you, Chloe," Marcus said as he took the loaf, "we''ll be back as soon as we can but don''t be surprised if we''re gone a few days.


    "I''ll keep the lads busy while you''re away, always work to do."


    Alexander took the loaf and gave a thankful nod. Chloe had been serving Marcus for many years by the time Alexander had arrived five years prior as Marcus'' apprentice. She ran the villa that served as the Inquisition outpost in the area, managing all its affairs as smooth as clockwork. Legally a slave belonging to the Inquisition, Marcus refused to treat her or the other villa staff as such. Instead, the short woman with wild, dark blonde hair was free in every sense but legally.


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    The two inquisitors left the villa with the boy from Croton, a farmer''s son dressed in rough clothing. The sun was still low in the sky, a chill in the early spring air.


    "I don''t suppose they already know who committed the murder and we''re just wanted to oversee the execution?" Marcus asked a few minutes into the trip to town.


    "Uh, no, sorry, Inquisitor." the farm boy mumbled in reply. Alexander could tell the boy was nervous, only fourteen or fifteen years old at most, the same age Alexander was when Marcus first took him from the Imperial Orphanage in the capital. The Inquisitor wondered if he looked as small and child-like at that age as this boy did.


    "Do you know anything about the crime? The victim? Any witnesses or suspects?" Marcus asked.


    "No, sorry, Inquisitor," the boy stammered, "I just know it was a girl they found dead just ''afore the sun came up. My da and me, we just got into town and they sent me to fetch the Inquisitors, uh, you two. I''d tell you more if I knew."


    "No worries, lad, I didn''t expect you to know everything, we''ll get the full story when we arrive."


    "We''ll see what we can do when we get there," Marcus said loudly so that Alexander could hear him clearly through their helmets, "hopefully someone saw something. Without a witness it''ll be difficult to get anywhere."


    "I could perform a ritual to curse the guilty, perhaps that would encourage them to come forward to face justice," Alexander suggested.


    "I''d rather not, if you do that and the murderer doesn''t admit their guilt then every time a man stubs his toe or drops a plate people will wonder if that''s the curse afflicting him for his crime."


    The rest of the hour-long walk from the Inquisition villa along the dirt road passed fields into the town of Croton passed in silence broken only by the sound of clanking armor plates, jingling mail, and bird songs. The air was cool but the sun in the clear, blue sky was warming the air to an almost comfortable temperature.


    "Where is the victim?" Marcus asked the farm boy as the trio reached the outermost building of the town.


    "Smithy," the boy replied. The three made their way through the town until they reached the smithy where a small crowd was gathered around. A man was holding a sobbing woman, fighting back tears of his own while several of their friends were trying to comfort them both.


    "I made sure no one touched her," the blacksmith said as the Inquisitors approached. Marcus removed his helmet, revealing what was left of his greying hair, and held it by his side with Alexander doing the same shortly after. "Figured you''d want to look around where she lay before anyone disturbed her."


    "Show us."


    The blacksmith nodded and gestured for the Inquisitors to follow. He lead them around the back of the shop and pointed to the ground by the wall where a young woman, who Alexander figured could not be older than him, lay motionless on the ground in a worn linen dress and wool cloak. Her light brown, curly hair was a wild mess, brown eyes staring unblinking at the sky.

 A Death - Part 2

    "Who found her?" Marcus asked the crowd, which had already grown since the arrival of the two Inquisitors. Townsfolk who witnessed their arrival followed them in, while more gathered simply because others had.


    "I did," the smith answered, raising his hand. A tall, bald man with thick arms and skin toughened by years at the heat of the forge.


    "How? When?"


    "I was woken, just before sunrise, heard a noise that woke me up. I was still too asleep to even know what I heard, just that I heard it, if you know what I mean?"


    "I do," Marcus replied, "that''s happened to me before."


    "Ok, well, I lay awake for a moment, then I thought maybe it was a thief coming back to rob my house so I grabbed my knife and got up to look around. Couldn''t find anyone inside the house so I went out to check the forge and that''s when I saw her lying against the back wall," the smith said, gesturing to the pale girl at the Inquisitors'' feet, "thought she was sleeping and I tried shaking her awake. That''s when I saw she wasn''t breathing and I raised the alarm."


    "And you saw nothing? No one?"


    "No, like I said, I was asleep and the sun wasn''t up yet. Took me a minute to come to my senses before I remembered about thieves, then I checked the house before looking outside."


    "You''ve mentioned thieves a few times." Marcus stated. Alexander eyed the crowd that had tripled in size since he arrived. Some were comforting the girl''s parents, many were simply stopping to observe the spectacle as they passed by. Very little out of the ordinary happened in a place like Croton and when it did the people, hungry for novelty, would swarm on it like flies.


    "Yes, Inquisitor. I was robbed recently. Someone stole a bag of iron discs from my home."


    "Iron discs?" Marcus asked, raising an eyebrow.


    "Yes, about this big," the smith said as he made a circle with his thumb and finger about the size of a coin, "I was going to make good luck charms out of them, or possibly," he began with a glance towards Alexander, "bring them to your apprentice so he could, if he had time."


    "When did this theft happen?"


    "A few weeks ago, maybe a month now."


    "I don''t recall you mentioning anything about a theft when we were in town before."


    "Didn''t want to bother the Inquisition with someone stealing my scrap iron project. Besides, I didn''t know how or when exactly it happened, and at first I wasn''t sure I didn''t just misplace them."


    "Fair enough," Marcus replied before turning to the crowd of onlookers. "Did anyone else see anything? Hear anything? Anything at all?"


    The crowd was quiet, everyone looking around to see if anyone else would come forward. A few people murmured among themselves.


    "Actually seen or heard anything, mind you," Marcus continued, "I don''t want to hear if you had a funny feeling about her a week ago or if you had a dream about a crow the night before. Seen with your own waking eyes."


    When no one came forward Marcus shrugged and turned to Alexander. "Let''s see what she can tell us, then."


    The two men knelt down beside the body. Alexander felt odd seeing her lay so still. She looked as though she just needed a loud noise or a shake and she''d wake up, the only indication she wasn''t sleeping was her lack of breathing.


    "Tell me what you see, Inquisitor," Marcus said after a moment, standing back up, "My knees are too old to be crouching for long these days."


    "No blood on the ground under her, no obvious wounds, I don''t think she was stabbed."


    "Check her back, anything?"


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    Alexander gently rolled the girl forward and lifted her cloak before rolling her back. "No blood or wounds behind her, either."


    "What else? Check her hands and nails."


    Alexander lifted her arm, surprised by the coolness of her flesh in his hand, and examined her in the light of the morning sun.


    "No injuries on her hands or arms, nothing but dirt under her nails."


    The young Inquisitor lowered the girl''s arms with care, knowing that her parents were watching his every move, trying to be as respectful as possible. He moved up to her head, carefully turning it to observe her entire face.


    "No wounds to her face either," Alexander said before standing up.


    Marcus nodded and walked to the girl''s parents.


    "We have finished our examination, you may have her taken to be prepared, but we''d like to ask you some questions as well."


    Alexander watched as several young men, identified as slaves by the collars around their necks, arrived and carried the girl off. The mother let out a loud cry as the body was picked up, the father clenched his jaw tight but kept silent despite the tears streaming down his face. Marcus walked over to an older woman who Alexander recognized as one of the midwives and spoke something to her, receiving a faint nod in response before he rejoined his apprentice.


    "What did you say to her?" Alexander whispered with a nod of his head towards the midwife.


    "I asked her to check if the girl had been lain with recently when she dresses the body, and to tell us only if so." Marcus whispered back.


    "You think she was forced? With no one hearing?" Alexander asked, keeping his voice as low as possible to avoid being heard by anyone but Marcus.


    "Perhaps, the fear of a knife can keep mouths shut tight. Or, she had a lover who became displeased with her when he was finished. Wouldn''t be the first time a man killed to cover up his own shame."


    Alexander nodded and continued in silent procession behind the girl''s parents as the group made their way to the bakery the girls family operated. The slaves would carry the body inside through the back, placing her on a table for the midwife to clean and wrap for the funeral. Midwives tended to all aspects of a woman''s health, from delivering her into the world, advising her on all aspects of marriage and pregnancy and childbirth and motherhood; it was only fitting for the midwife to tend to her one last time at the end.


    "First, let me say, I am sorry for the loss of your daughter," Marcus began when they arrived at the back of the house. The father nodded, the mother only looked toward the door where her girl had been taken.


    "How was the girl''s health? Was she prone to sickness or fainting?"


    "No, she was always healthy, full of- of life," the father choked.


    "When did you last see her?"


    "Last night, as we all went to bed."


    "You did not see or hear her leave the house?"


    "No, she sleeps in a corner of the store room on the main floor. We, her mother and I and her siblings, we sleep in the upper level. We permitted her to sleep downstairs after our youngest was born."


    "Do you know anyone who might have wanted to harm her?"


    The father shook his head in response.


    "Did she have any friends we could speak to? She was more than old enough to marry, did she have any suitors?"


    "There was one boy, Edwin''s oldest, but I rejected him. Edwin is a poor farmer with little property, our daughter could do better. We wanted a more beneficial match than Edwin''s boy."


    "And friends?"


    "Edmond the carpenter''s oldest, Elena, they would play together as girls. I think they are still close." The man said, before correcting himself, "Were close."


    "Where could I find both of these households?"


    Once given directions to the homes of both Edwin and Edmond, Marcus and Alexander thanked the parents for their help, apologized again for the loss of their daughter, and departed.


    "We''ll speak to Edwin''s boy first, the suitor, then talk to the friend." Marcus said to Alexander as he put his helmet back on. Alexander put his own helmet on as well, knowing that he would likely remove it as soon as the two men arrived at their destination. Marcus had taught him early on to always remove his helmet when speaking to people unless he had reason to believe he was in danger. Exposing oneself, even a little bit, showed you trusted people and when people feel trusted they tend to trust in return.


    "Are we sure she was even murdered?" Alexander replied, "I could find no injuries on her body."


    "I suppose it''s possible she died of some unknown malady," Marcus said, "but a healthy young woman doesn''t typically drop dead after sneaking out of the house at night. I am assuming she wasn''t abducted from her home, too hard to get her out without waking everyone up."


    "It was a cold night, perhaps she froze?"


    "Perhaps, cold does do strange things to the mind, but she was dressed, wearing a cloak, and with shelter all around her, plus the night should not have been cold enough to kill her that quickly, and if she was freezing we should have found her curled up for warmth rather than stretched out as she was." Marcus said.


    "How else could she have died then?"


    "Lots of ways to kill someone without it being obvious. Strangulation doesn''t always leave a mark, nor does suffocation. There''s always poison, and once I saw a boxer take a punch just so to the side of the head, suffered a seizure and was dead a minute later."


    Alexander frowned and nodded. The town was abuzz with activity now, farmers and merchants and slaves going about their business. He could hear the distant sound of hammering metal from the blacksmith.


    "Let''s continue to ask questions and see what we can learn, though without witnesses this investigation may not accomplish much beyond letting the people know we''ll at least try to deal with crimes." Marcus said as the pair passed the outskirts of the town and began walking down the road leading to Edwin''s farm.

 A Death - Part 3

    "So, who do we have as suspects so far?" Marcus asked. The two men walked side by side along the road through the farmland surrounding Croton, men and women laboring in the fields under the morning sun. The air was warm enough to be comfortable now, a light breeze rustling the tree branches under a mostly cloudless sky.


    "The blacksmith, William," Alexander began, "he discovered the body and she was found on his property, right outside his door."


    "Very good, and who else?"


    "Edwin''s boy, the suitor. Perhaps he developed romantic feelings for the girl and killed her in a fit of jealousy after her father wouldn''t let him have her."


    "Entirely possible, the young are often driven by passions rather than intellect. No matter how many tragedies are written about the perils of romance it seems that youths are determined to prove they could make it work."


    "Who else?" Marcus asked after a moment of silence.


    "Eh?"


    "The father. Would not be the first time a man killed his child in a fit of rage or to remove them as a stain on his name."


    "Ah," Alexander replied, "I didn''t think of him as a suspect because there''s no reason for him to do it in secret. The law gives him absolute authority over the lives of his children."


    "There''s a vast gulf between what is legally permissible and what is socially acceptable," Marcus said. "Yes, the law permits a man to do whatever he wishes to his children, including execute them if he decides. In reality, any man who makes use of that authority will be seen as a failure who could not discipline his offspring and would be shunned by the community. His father-in-law would almost certainly break the marriage. Only if the child committed some heinous crime would the community support him but if the child did commit deeds wicked enough to deserve death it might be too shameful to expose them publicly."


    It was only a short walk out of town to reach the home that Simeon the baker directed the Inquisitors to. As the men turned and made their way down the lane to the small home a child saw them approaching and ran to the barn. A moment later a middle aged man appeared and walked towards the pair.


    "Inquisitors," the man began with a nod towards each of them, "how can I help you?"


    "Are you Edwin?" Marcus asked as he removed his helmet, Alexander following suit shortly after.


    "I am."


    "We have some questions for your oldest boy."


    "Is he in trouble?" Edwin asked, concern evident in his voice.


    "No, we just want to talk to him," Marcus replied in a reassuring tone.


    Edwin nodded and waved a child over from the barn. The boy crept forward, eyes darting between the two men standing in their dark grey armor.


    "Go and fetch Edwin from the field. Tell him to come quickly, Inquisitors are here to talk to him."


    The dirty child with unkempt hair nodded and ran off barefoot through the dirt.


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    "Stay between the rows!" Edwin shouted, gritting his teeth in anger and shaking his head.


    "Mind telling me what you want with my son?" Edwin asked.


    "We have some questions about the eldest daughter of Simeon the baker." Marcus replied. Alexander''s eyes moved between the two men speaking and watching the boy running through the field. He saw the child reach a figure in the distance and the two began walking back together.


    "About Simone? Why would the Inquisition be asking us about her? What could she have possibly done that deserves your attention?"


    "We just need to ask some questions," Marcus stated again. "Your boy, has he been home all day with you?"


    "Yes, I woke him up at dawn so we could get to work."


    "And he was with you in the house all night?"


    "Well, no," Edwin replied slowly. "He sleeps in the barn when the weather''s warm enough, has since he was young."


    "Does he ever sneak off in the night?"


    "Why would he? He''s a grown man, I give him freedom to come and go as he chooses. If he wants to spend time with his friends I won''t stop him so long as he''s always able to work the next day."


    "Did he go out last night?"


    "Not as far as I know, ask him yourself." Edwin said gesturing to his son.


    Alexander turned towards the younger Edwin as he approached the group. He was roughly the same age as Alexander though shorter and with the stocky build of a lifelong farmer, one who has always known hard work but rarely hunger.


    "Edward, the Inquisitors have questions for you about Simone."


    "Simone? Did she do something wrong?" the young man asked, blinking in surprise.


    "No, she didn''t. I''m sorry, but Simone is dead." Marcus said, his voice was firm and clear. Father and son gasped in surprise. "The smith, William, found her just before dawn this morning."


    "She can''t be dead, she... how?" the young man asked, his voice breaking.


    "We''re not sure. Might be sickness, might be murder, we''re still trying to figure it out." Marcus replied, "Do you know of anyone who might want to harm her?"


    "No, everyone likes Simone. She''s always kind and friendly, doesn''t act like she''s better than everyone else just because her family has some money."


    "When did you last see or speak to her?" Marcus asked. Alexander shifted his gaze between the two Edwards, observing how they reacted to his mentor''s questions. He became aware that his left hand was resting on the hilt of his sword. He raised his hand to rub his chin before letting it dangle at his side. Marcus had told him years ago that while an Inquisitor''s weapons must always be visible, touching them is hostile and people who feel threatened are less cooperative.


    "I dunno, last¡­ week? a few days ago? When we went in to town for supplies."


    "Did you go anywhere last night? To visit friends, into town, perhaps?"


    "No, I was here all night, I swear." the younger Edwin said, his voice cracking as tears welled up in his eyes.


    "Well, thank you for your time. And I am sorry for the loss of Simone," Marcus began with a pat on the young Edwin''s shoulder, "If you think of anything that might help, please come find us."


    The two Inquisitors nodded at the father and son before turning and walking back down the lane, donning their helmets once more when they reached the road.


    "What do you think, Alexander?" Marcus began as the two started the walk back into town.


    "Well, he seemed genuinely surprised to hear Simone was dead," Alexander began, "and he kept referring to her as if she were still alive. What did you think of the father? Could he be a suspect?"


    "Ah yes, the elder Edwin. I suppose it is possible he felt insulted by Simeon rejecting his family and killed his daughter as revenge for the offense to his dignity. Though it was Simeon who slighted Edwin, not Simone, and to kill her would require that Edwin sneak into town in the night, somehow lure the girl out of her home or otherwise find her by herself already out, and then kill her and leave without anyone noticing him. Not impossible, but not likely either."


    "Let''s hurry to speak to Simone''s friend, see if there''s anything she can tell us," Marcus said as he quickened his pace with Alexander speeding up to match him, "if we don''t find something soon I fear nothing but a guilty conscience prompting a confession will tell us who killed Simone."

 A Death - Part 4

    It was nearly noon by the time Marcus and Alexander entered the gates of Croton for the second time that day. The pair made their way through the streets to the two story building that Simeon the baker had indicated was the home of his daughter''s closest friend. A pair of signs hanging from the front wall by the door indicated the occupants were a carpenter and a seamstress.


    Marcus knocked on the door. A moment later it opened to reveal a dark-skinned, black-haired man with thick hands and strong arms.


    "Inquisitors." the man said as he stepped aside and gestured for his guests to enter, "I imagine you''re here to speak to Elena about Simone."


    "We are, and you must be Edmond?"


    "I am," the man replied as the two Inquisitors passed him into a cluttered workshop full of lumber, tools, and sawdust. A couple of young boys worked with chisels at a table while a pale, blonde woman and three girls were seated in a corner with needles and thread. The oldest of the girls had red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks.


    "Elena, come here, please." Edmond said, his tone firm yet gentle. The girl nodded, placed the garment she was sewing on a table beside her, and walked over to the entrance. Edmond took a few steps away but remained close at hand. The girl was tall and thin, hair and skin dark like her father''s.


    "First, I am sorry for the loss of Simone," Marcus began as he and Alexander removed their helmets. "I understand you two were close."


    "We were, best of friends since as long as I can remember." Elena replied in a quiet voice, eyes on the floor.


    "Do you know if anyone would want to hurt Simone?"


    Elena shook her head. "No, everyone loved her and her singing."


    "That''s right," Marcus replied with a nod, "She would sing at feasts, right? I only heard her a couple of times but she had talent."


    "She did, when we were little we''d pretend we were putting on shows for the emperor or the royalty across the sea, in Wollema and Osterval and the lands further east."


    Elena looked up and her eyes met Marcus for a second before she looked back at the floor. "It was just childish fantasy," she quietly added, "for me at least. Elena knew she''d have to get married and raise children here but she still hoped that someday she could see the world beyond Croton and sing for all sorts of interesting, new people."


    "I''m sure anyone who heard her would love it," Marcus said softly, "Do you know if she was ill lately? Any complaints of headaches or feeling tired or weak or faint?"


    "No, why?" Elena said, lifting her head and eyes searching the older Inquisitor''s face.


    "I''m just trying to see if there''s anything that could explain her death." Marcus said. "We were summoned on the assumption she was murdered but with no obvious wounds and no witnesses it may be that she actually died from a weak heart or stroke, often there are signs of such ailments before they strike."


    "Well, no, she was in good health as far as she told me," Elena replied, wiping away a tear from her eye as she once again stared at the floor, "still had her silly hopes of singing in far off places some day."


    "Thank you, Elena, that will be all." Marcus said. The girl nodded and returned to her place by her mother''s side and resumed sewing.


    "Before we leave, how well do you know Simeon and his family?" Marcus asked Edmond.


    "Pretty well, he and I have been good friends for years. He often said if my boys were older he''d gladly marry Simone to one of them."


    "Do you know if he had any enemies? Anyone who might want to hurt him through his daughter?"


    Edmond scoffed and shook his head. "No, I mean, there are people who resent his success, a skilled baker can charge good coin for his wares and there''s always people envious of those who work hard and get ahead in life, but no one I can think of who hate him enough they''d kill Simone just to spite him."


    "Thank you. If you think of anything else, please find us."


    "What now?" Alexander asked after the two men left Edmond''s shop and once again put on his helmet.


    "Now we return to Simone''s home and look around where she slept," Marcus said as he likewise donned his helm, "and if we don''t find anything then we may have to tell her parents that there''s not much else we can do."


    The Inquisitors made their way through the streets towards Simeon''s bakery and home. As they approached the two story building Edna the midwife exited the front door and, seeing the men approaching, quickly made her way over to the pair.


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    "Inquisitors," she said in a hushed tone, "I''ve finished dressing the body, had a chance to examine her close, too."


    "And?" Marcus replied, moving in close so Edna could speak without risk of being overheard even though Alexander was the only other person around.


    Edna shook her head. "Nothing," she began, "if anyone lay with her soon before she died, he was careful not to leave any trace of himself."


    "I''ve heard," Alexander began, stepping close to his mentor and the midwife, "that a girl will tear and bleed her first time with a man, could you tell if she was still intact?"


    Edna''s eyes narrowed at the young Inquisitor and she frowned. "Some girls bleed," she said with an icy tone that made Alexander recoil slightly, "Many don''t. Too many don''t to be makin'' assumptions about their honor based on weddin'' night bleedin'' alone."


    "I''m sorry, I had just heard-" Alexander began, feeling his face heat up with embarrassment.


    "Lots of men heard," Edna interrupted with a voice like a mother scolding a child, "women too, and I always say to forget ever hearin'' it."


    "Easy, Edna," Marcus interrupted, "The young Inquisitor has spent much of his life among the boys of the orphanage and the Inquisition tutors, and then I''ve had little reason to educate him about such matters since I''ve had him. He knows better now. When you dressed her, did you happen to see any marks or wounds on her?"


    Edna shook her head. "Nothing that I could find."


    "Ok, thank you, you''ve been helpful."


    The midwife nodded and continued on her way. When she was out of earshot Alexander turned to Marcus and said "How was that helpful? She didn''t find anything."


    "Finding no evidence of certain things happening can help narrow down the possibilities of what did happen." Marcus replied, "Now we know whatever happened to her left no mark on her body."


    "I think I offended Edna."


    "Don''t feel too bad, you asked a question based on something you were told was true, no reason to be ashamed of being misinformed unless you refuse to learn when corrected. She was likely offended by every other time she had to deal with this issue, not just the one time you asked about it. Also, don''t hold back questions out of fear of embarrassment, too many injustices and plots go unchecked simply because people are too afraid to offend others by asking questions about sensitive matters."


    Marcus and Alexander walked up to the front door and knocked loudly. "Enter," a man''s voice called out. Marcus opened the door and entered the shop with Alexander close behind, each man once again removing his helmet.


    "Simeon, are you still working?" Marcus said gently.


    "What would you have me do, Inquisitor?" the baker said as he mixed something in a metal bowl. "Sit around idle, weeping the day away? Sobbing won''t bring back my daughter, rather keep my hands busy."


    "I won''t tell you how to grieve, if working helps you then, by all means, work."


    "Did you find out anything?" Simeon said after a pause, still not looking up from his mixing.


    "Nothing yet, I was hoping we could take a look around where she slept."


    "In the back, in the corner to the left."


    Alexander followed Marcus through the bakery and into a storeroom that ran the width of the building. Shelves lined walls, filled with sacks and crates and other containers. A large wooden door was set in the center of the room leading outside. To the right was a staircase leading up into the dwelling area, to the left the foot of a mattress poked out from behind a low wall of wooden crates.


    The area Simone slept in was tiny, barely wider than the mattress on the floor. At Marcus'' suggestion Alexander picked up and spread out the blanket, nothing wrapped it. He lifted up the pillow and turned it over in his hands and squeezed it. Finding nothing inside, he ran his hands across the whole surface of the mattress before lifting it up to look underneath, inspected the edges for any openings that would allow something to be hidden inside.


    "Nothing." Alexander said after several minutes of careful searcing.


    "Check the floorboards." Marcus suggested. Alexander nodded and began pressing on the edges of each board until he found a loose one. He pushed until an edge raised just enough to grab hold of and then lifted the board out of place, revealing a small cavity beneath.


    "How did you know this was here?" Alexander asked.


    "I didn''t, but I know young people like to keep secrets from their parents, have something, even a very small thing, that''s just for them."


    "Couldn''t have that in the orphanage, and not just because we didn''t have parents to keep secrets from," Alexander said with a wry smile. "Anyone caught with contraband would get the lash."


    "Well, what did she keep in her little stash?" Marcus said, gesturing to the hole in the floor. Alexander nodded and placed his hands on either side of the gap, kneeling low to look inside. He reached in and pulled out a pouch. Alexander loosened the strings and looked inside.


    "The smith''s missing discs." he said, pulling out an iron disc the size of a coin, letters engraved on each side. He placed the disc back in the pouch and handed it to Marcus, who pulled one out to inspect.


    "Could she be the thief?" Alexander asked.


    "Possibly," Marcus said as he dumped the contents of the pouch onto the lid of a box to reveal a dozen discs with similar engravings on each. "Or the thief gifted them to her. Is there anything else?


    Alexander turned back to the gap and reached inside, pulling out a small, empty glass bottle. Alexander removed stopper and sniffed the entrance, recoiling at the foul scent.


    "Eugenia the herbalist uses these to store her medicines, we may need to pay her a visit to ask what was in this." Marcus asked, also wrinkling his nose at the smell from inside the bottle. "Anything else?"


    Once more Alexander reached into the gap and pulled out a small cloth sack. "Odd." He said as he looked inside. He stood up and held the bag open for Marcus to see inside. "Appears to be barley that''s begun to sprout."


    "Odd, indeed," Marcus said after peering into the sack. "What do you make of that?"


    "I''m not sure," Alexander replied, once again looking into the bag. He dug his fingers through the grain in search of some hidden item but found nothing. "Maybe she was trying to perform some magic? A blessing for crops, or for success in some venture?" He added, wiping his hands off on the side of the bag.


    "Perhaps, we can ask her parents about these things, though I suspect Simone kept them secret. If they know nothing, we''ll see William about his stolen discs and then head off to speak to Eugenia about the bottle. She might know about what Simone was trying to accomplish, if anything, with the barley as well."

 A Death - Part 5

    ¡°You¡¯re sure you¡¯ve never seen these things before?¡± Marcus asked, gesturing once more to the bottle and bags.


    ¡°No, I haven¡¯t,¡± Simeon said before turning to his wife, who shook her head as well.


    ¡°And you have no idea what sort of ritual she might have been performing with the grain?¡± Alexander asked, holding up the sack of barley.


    ¡°She¡¯s never said anything about magic, do you know what she might have been doing?¡± Simeon said, taking the bag from Alexander and holding it open to his wife. She looked inside with dull eyes and slowly shook her head before turning back to the stairs.


    ¡°I should get back to Simone,¡± she said in a sad, quiet voice and walked up the steps.


    ¡°Well, we have a couple of more leads to follow up on,¡± Marcus said once the three men were alone. ¡°I will inform you of whatever we learn.¡±


    A short walk later the two Inquisitors arrived at William¡¯s forge. The man was hard at work, sweating from the heat and effort, a collection of farm implements all around him in various states of disrepair.


    ¡°William, a moment?¡± Marcus stated. The smith wiped his brow and turned to the two newcomers. ¡°I believe these are yours?¡± Marcus added, holding up the pouch. William took the bag and opened it, fishing out an iron disc in the process.


    ¡°They are, where did you find them?¡± he asked, dumping the contents of the pouch into the palm of his hand.


    ¡°They were hidden under Simone¡¯s bed.¡± Marcus replied.


    ¡°Oh? You think she stole them?¡± William asked while spreading out the iron discs to count them.


    ¡°Perhaps, or perhaps they were given to her. Might not have known you were missing them.¡±


    ¡°Possible, she didn¡¯t strike me as the sort of girl to go about burgling homes.¡±


    ¡°The best burglars are ones who don¡¯t look the type. Tell me, what do the letters mean?¡±


    ¡°Letters? On the coins, you mean?¡±


    ¡°Yes, what is their purpose?¡±


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    ¡°I don¡¯t know, the ones I made were blank. They were stolen before I had a chance to sit down and engrave them, or ask the young Inquisitor if he would.¡±


    ¡°Awfully presumptuous to think he would help you in this venture,¡± Marcus began, ¡°Alexander is an Inquisitor first, a Caller second. A distant second, mind you. His priority is always to maintain peace and uphold the laws and values of the Empire, his skills as a Caller support those ends, not personal gain.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Inquisitor, I¡¯m sorry, I wasn¡¯t thinking clearly,¡± William stammered, his face turning red.


    ¡°Think nothing of it, it¡¯s easy to forget our station here, especially with me ignoring many of the formalities our order adheres to down south.¡±


    ¡°So, if you didn¡¯t engrave the letters into these discs, who did? And why?¡± Alexander asked during the awkward pause.


    William shrugged. ¡°Couldn¡¯t tell you why. As for who, anyone with a steady hand and the right tools could do it.¡±


    ¡°Could Simone have done it?¡±


    ¡°Doubt it, bakery probably doesn¡¯t have the tools to mark iron.¡±


    ¡°What about a carpenter?¡± Alexander asked.


    ¡°Possible,¡± William said, rubbing his chin. ¡°Tools for wood aren¡¯t necessarily good for iron. Could do, with enough effort.¡±


    The conversation was interrupted by a boy about twelve years old announcing his return. William excused himself to hand the boy finished tools and instruct him where to bring each.


    ¡°What do you think, Alexander?¡± Marcus whispered while William was occupied, ¡°Could Edmond or Elena be involved with the discs? They likely had the tools and skill to engrave them.¡±


    ¡°Possibly,¡± Alexander whispered back, ¡°But William also obviously has the tools and the skill.¡±


    ¡°Very good,¡± Marcus said with a smile, ¡°until we know who, if anyone, actually killed Simone we cannot rule anyone out, though some suspects are more likely guilty than others.¡±


    ¡°My apologies, Inquisitors,¡± William stated as the boy ran off with an armful of tools, ¡°the lad is fast and can be trusted, but he needs very clear instructions.¡±


    ¡°Is he an employee of yours?¡± Marcus asked, watching the boy disappear down a street.


    ¡°Sort of, many people in town use him as a courier. He¡¯s fast and can run for hours without tiring. Can be trusted, too, never have to worry about things you give him going ¡®missing¡¯ if you know what I mean. Ever since his father died a couple winters back his mother and sisters rely too much on the money he brings in to jeopardize his income by stealing.¡±


    ¡°If it¡¯s all the same to you, we¡¯ll keep hold of the discs for a little while longer, until we complete our investigation.¡± Marcus said, changing the subject. William nodded and put the discs back in the pouch before handing it to the Inquisitor.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± William asked, pointing at the bottle in Alexander¡¯s hand.


    ¡°Empty bottle, not sure what was in it but we found it hidden away with your missing discs." Alexander replied.


    ¡°Ah.¡± William replied and turned back to Marcus. ¡°Are we done here? I have a lot of work to catch up on.¡±


    ¡°Of course, and we¡¯ll be back to return your discs as soon as we can.¡± Marcus replied.


    ¡°No hurry, I¡¯ll have to melt them down to make sure they¡¯re clean. Can¡¯t go selling tainted charms.¡±


    ¡°No, I suppose not. Once again, thank you for your time.¡±


    ¡°To Eugenia, then?¡± Alexander said once he and Marcus had stepped away from the smithy.


    ¡°Indeed, and hopefully she has some answers for us.¡±

 A Death - Part 6

    "Eugenia''s cottage should be just up ahead," Marcus said.


    "Hopefully she can tell us something that makes this hike worth our time." Alexander replied.


    "Still young, and he complains about a walk. Put another thirty years on those knees and then you might be allowed to complain. In the army, soldiers are expected to march twenty miles a day in their armor, carrying enough supplies on them to last several days. Maybe I should start making you do likewise so that little trips like this seem easy."


    "Yes, but then you''d have to march with me to make sure I don''t just walk out of sight and take a nap."


    "Fair enough."


    The two men continued to make their way along the dirt path through the forest. The sun streamed through the branches overhead as a light breeze moved through the trees. The path was broad and packed hard from heavy use, branches and vegetation regularly cut back to ensure the way was clear and easy to travel on.


    The path ended in a large clearing with a small cottage set at the edge nearest the path. Beyond it Alexander could see gardens and various trees and bushes and a stream running through the middle of the clearing with a small wooden foot bridge spanning it and a wooden shed off to the side that was larger than the cottage. Surrounding the clearing was a chest-high wooden fence.


    "Eugenia, are you home?" Marcus shouted as the pair of men stopped at the edge of the clearing. A moment passed before a blonde-haired woman in a pale blue dress poked her head around the cottage and then walked out to greet them.


    "Inquisitors, what brings you out to my humble home?" She said with a smile as the two men removed their helmets yet again. "Here for a tonic? Ointment? Or just to visit?"


    Alexander had come with Marcus to see Eugenia the herbalist a few times before. The townsfolk of Croton and the surrounding farms and nearby villages relied heavily on her knowledge of plants and medicines.


    "I''m afraid we''re here on official business, have a couple of questions for you."


    "Oh? Well, let''s go inside, then," she said as she began walking towards the door of her small home. The Inquisitors followed her into the cottage. The inner walls were lined with shelves, cupboards, and hooks. Every inch of the place was filled with tools, containers. Drying herbs hanging from the ceiling and walls filled the cottage with a strong, earthy scent. A bow, quiver of arrows, and spear rested by the bed in the corner and an axe leaned against the wall by the door.


    "It would be a lot more convenient for me if you lived closer to town, or even in it." Marcus said as he entered the cottage.


    "Yes, but a lot less convenient for me," Eugenia replied as she uncovered a pot on her wood stove and smelled whatever was inside, "I''d have mothers banging on my door every time their baby coughed in the night, old men pestering me at all hours for tonics to help with constipation instead of changing their diet," she continued as she added another log to the fire.


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    "So, what business can I help the Inquisition with?" Eugenia said as she sat on a stool and rested her elbows on her worktable. Her hands were stained by the plants she worked with; her arms thin but toned from years of hard labor.


    "We were hoping you could tell us what was in this," Marcus said as he gestured for Alexander to hand her the bottle. She took it and sniffed the bottle, unfazed by the pungent odor inside. "Bitter Kiss extract," she stated.


    "Bitter Kiss? Isn''t that plant poisonous?" Alexander asked.


    "If eaten raw or ingested in large doses, yes," Eugenia replied as she swirled her little finger in the opening of the bottle before dabbing it on her tongue, "but the dosage determines whether a thing is poison or cure, as the physician Galetes wrote. A sip, just a tiny sip, of Bitter Kiss tonic each night before bed promotes health and vigor. Popular among young men engaged in hard labor, or old men who refuse to accept the realities of their age gracefully."


    Alexander looked to Marcus, who looked back at him and nodded. "What about among women?" Alexander asked.


    "Ah, so that''s what this is about, is it?" Eugenia asked, raising an eyebrow and leaning back against the wall behind her stool. She sighed before saying "Bitter Kiss extract can help prevent conception, taken correctly. A larger sip, not quite a mouthful, taken on the first day a woman bleeds and then on the 8th day after that will help keep her belly flat."


    "So, she was laying with someone, after all?" Alexander said, furrowing his brow and looking at Marcus.


    "Possibly, though perhaps she wanted it for health." Marcus replied.


    "If so, why keep it hidden from her parents?"


    "Likely because it could be used to thwart conception. I do believe it is likely she was using it as a contraceptive, it seems the most likely explanation, but we cannot discount the possibility that she was taking it for its health-promoting effects but feared being suspected of unchaste deeds."


    "Pardon my intrusion on this conversation happening in front of me in my home," Eugenia interrupted, "but who are you talking about?"


    "Ah, sorry, we didn''t mean to ignore you," Marcus apologized, "but Simone, the daughter of the baker Simeon, was found dead this morning. We found this bottle, empty, in a hiding spot beneath the floorboards where she slept."


    "I didn''t provide her with this, I swear it," Eugenia said, placing the bottle on the table and raising her hands, a note of concern in her voice.


    "Could you tell use who you did sell it to?" Marcus asked.


    "I''m afraid I can''t." Eugenia replied before quickly adding "Not because I don''t want to!" as she stood up and opened a cupboard door to reveal three shelves full of nearly identical bottles. "I couldn''t pick this specific bottle out of any of the others I''ve used."


    "Could you tell us who you did sell Bitter Kiss to, then?"


    Eugenia snorted. "Most men within a week''s journey who can afford it have bought it from me at some point, for themselves or their wives or, well, just their wives, I''m sure. Bottle like that, taken in proper dose, would last months for a man, a year for a woman. All I can tell you is that the courier boy, Patrick I believe his name is, comes by to pick some up for the men in town and drop off their payments."


    "Thank you, we''ll have to ask him about who his clients are when we return to town."


    "Will that be all, Inquisitors?"


    Marcus prodded Alexander with his foot. "One more thing," the younger man said as he put the bag of barley on the table in front of Eugenia, "Do you know anything about rituals-"


    "Inquisitor, I''ve told you before," the herbalist interrupted as she threw up her hands and shook her head, "I can''t teach you Thaumaturgy. I wasn''t born with the gift, I can''t instruct-"


    "No no, nothing like that," Alexander said quickly, "We found a sack of grain hidden along with the bottle and thought perhaps she was attempting to use it in some spell."


    "A sack of grain, you say?" Eugenia said slowly as she leaned forward and looked inside the bag on her table.


    "Yes, barley, specifically, that''s begun to sprout."


    Eugenia frowned and nodded her head.


    "Well, Inquisitors, it saddens me to inform you that your dead girl was pregnant."

 A Death - Part 7

    Alexander and Marcus looked at each other and then back to Eugenia.


    "Pregnant? How do you know?" Marcus asked in a surprised tone.


    Eugenia tapped the side of the bag of grain on her table. "It''s an old technique for detecting pregnancy. Piss on a sack of barley for three mornings. If the seeds begin to sprout by the fifth day you''re with child."


    "But you said the bottle had contained Bitter Kiss, how could she be pregnant?" Alexander asked as he leaned over the table to peer into the bag at the seeds inside.


    "No medicine works perfectly," Eugenia replied, "Some women fear the Bitter Kiss'' poison and take too small a drink, others lose track of days and drink too early or too late. Sometimes the seed is just too strong and a child plants itself in the womb regardless."


    "Who knows about this test with the barley?" Marcus asked.


    "Many women know of it but not all, and it doesn¡¯t always work. A woman will know she''s with child eventually when her flow doesn''t come, makes no difference to a married woman if she knows sooner or later. A woman who isn''t supposed to be getting pregnant, on the other hand, will want as much warning as possible to plan how to reveal her condition or else to flee if she fears her patriarch''s wrath."


    "I think we need to find Patrick, the courier boy, find out who he''s purchased Bitter Kiss for in the last year." Marcus stated as he took the bottle from Alexander. "I am sure someone provided Simone with this, possibly killed her when she told him it didn''t work."


    "Could it have been Simeon that killed her? Found out she was pregnant, killed her to keep the shame of his daughter''s promiscuity secret?"


    "Promiscuity? You simply assume she''s to blame for becoming pregnant, then?" Eugenia said with pursed lips.


    "The midwife found no marks or bruises on her body, so she wasn''t forced." Alexander replied.


    "Lots of ways to coerce someone that don''t leave visible marks." the herbalist replied coolly.


    "But doesn''t the fact that she became pregnant prove she was willing? Galetes taught that women must have an internal ejaculation to mix with the man''s external one to conceive so she had to have been willing and enjoyed the experience enough."


    Eugenia sighed and shook her head. "As wise as Galetes was, he wasn''t infallible. Not that you''d know it, his teachings are held with more fervor than the words of the old priests and prophets before Tario had them put to the sword. Speak to any midwife who counsels newlyweds and you''ll find many babies are sired by men who were never able to sufficiently please their wives for Galetes to be correct on this matter."


    Alexander glanced at Marcus and then at the floor. He said nothing, his cheeks burned. He felt something but couldn''t tell if it was embarrassment or anger or both. Nor could he tell what the cause of this unpleasant feeling was. Something about Eugenia''s tone reminded him of the tutors he had in the orphanage and later in the Inquisition academy, correcting him for some mistake in his lessons. Perhaps it was hearing someone dispute the teachings of the most respected physician in history, or maybe he felt ashamed on behalf of the men who were unaware they failed to perform their husbandly duties in ensuring their wives were properly satisfied while procreating.


    "We should get back into town, speak with Patrick about who he''s delivered Bitter Kiss to recently." Marcus said after what felt to Alexander like an eternity.


    "If I may, I suggest you ask each man he''s delivered to recently to show you their bottles." Eugenia said, her face softening as she turned from Alexander to Marcus. "Glass isn''t cheap or easy to come by, I charge an extra fee to anyone who doesn''t return their last bottle to me. I can''t recall anyone failing to return one recently. Find whoever can''t show a bottle and you''ll likely have Simone''s lover."


    "Thank you, Eugenia, you''ve been the most helpful person we''ve spoken to all day."


    "I am always glad to be of assistance, Inquisitor, hopefully you come see me again soon under more pleasant circumstances."


    The two men left the herbalist''s cabin and made their way down the path back to Croton at a brisk pace.


    "Marcus," Alexander began slowly, picking his words with care, "I know you have a more, uh, lenient approach than the Inquisition has down south," Alexander trailed off.


    "Go on." Marcus prompted.


    "Sorry, I am not criticizing how you handle things, I just want to be clear on official policy."


    "Go on." Marcus repeated.


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    "And I was wondering if what Eugenia is doing, selling medicines that prevent pregnancy, is actually permitted by law or if it''s something you merely tolerate."


    "No law against contraceptives as far as I''m aware."


    "Even with no law," Alexander puffed, finding it difficult to speak while walking at the pace his companion set, "isn''t it against our principles? Doesn''t the Philosopher say that those who couple solely for pleasure are no different from gluttons and drunkards and others who are slaves to their appetites?"


    "No laws against eating or drinking too much that I''m aware of, either. Vice that doesn¡¯t break the law should be a personal matter, we don''t have the time nor resources to teach and enforce the Philosopher''s ethics on every person in our jurisdiction."


    A few moments passed in silence save for the sound of rustling leaves, birds singing, and the clinking of armor.


    "Do we tell Simone''s parents about her being pregnant?" Alexander asked between breaths.


    "I suspect her mother knew when she saw the barley."


    "Why didn''t she say something?"


    "The woman woke up this morning to learn her daughter was dead, then, mere hours later, she learns the girl was most likely carrying her grandchild. Can you blame her for not knowing what to say? Come, let''s just focus on getting back to town."


    It was later in the afternoon by the time the Inquisitors passed through the gates of Croton for the third time that day, walking quickly to the small home of Patrick the delivery boy only to find it empty.


    "What now?" Alexander asked.


    "I''ll ask around and see if I can find where Patrick is delivering to. In the meantime, go and speak with Edwin the younger again. This wouldn''t be the first time young lovers found excitement in sneaking around behind a disapproving father''s back."


    Alexander nodded and took off down the road towards the farm of Edwin the elder. He was covered in sweat and panting for breath when he arrived at the small farmhouse at the end of the lane. He banged on the doorway and put his hands on his hips while trying to slow his breathing.


    The door to the home opened to reveal Edwin the elder.


    "Inquisitor? How can-"


    "I need to speak to your son, outside, alone." Alexander interrupted. The young man exited the home and followed Alexander up the lane a short distance.


    "Have you ever purchased Bitter Kiss from Eugenia the herbalist?" Alexander demanded in a low growl through his helmet.


    "Bitter- what? No, I don''t have money for that."


    "Are you sure? Didn''t offer her trade or work for a bottle?"


    "No, never!" Edwin protested, throwing up his hands. "What is this about?"


    "Did you ever lay with Simone?"


    Edwin stepped back in shock at the question.


    "Lay with her? Of course not, her father forbid us from marrying."


    "Being unmarried didn''t stop her from becoming pregnant."


    Edwin''s eyes widened in surprise. Alexander immediately regretted the impulsiveness of his tongue but kept his face firm. There would be time to scold himself for his lack of prudence in speech later.


    "So that''s why she-" Edwin said softly to himself.


    "That''s why she what?"


    Edwin looked up, hand trembling and eyes full of fear. "I wasn''t honest with you earlier, not completely. Last night she came to the barn in the middle of the night, woke me up. Tried to offer herself to me, said she wanted to marry me no matter what her father wanted, said we could run away together and sail to Wollema and just tell people there we were married but I never touched her, I swear, I told her she was talking crazy and sent her away."


    "Why didn''t you tell us this earlier?"


    "I was afraid, I didn''t want Simone to be shamed for some passing dream of romance and adventure, and then when you said she was dead I was worried you''d think I had something to do with it."


    Alexander clenched his jaw and stared at the young man who appeared to be on the verge of tears.


    "Will you swear all that you just said is true, in blood?"


    Edwin''s eyes widened before he gave a short nod. Alexander kneeled on the lane and drew a circle with his finger in the dirt, then wrote the five letters representing suffering, pain, loss, illness, and death in the middle. He removed his dagger from its sheath and placed it in the dirt then stepped back from the circle, hand on the hilt of his sword.


    The farm boy knelt in the dirt before the circle and picked up the dagger. He made a small cut on his left forearm and placed the dagger back on the ground. He pressed his right hand against the wound, rubbing it until his palm was bloody, then placed his hand in the circle with his fingers covering the five letters.


    "I swear that I have never lain with Simone, that I never harmed her, that I did not know she was pregnant, that I turned her away when she tried to seduce me, and may my life be so cursed with misery if I am lying that my life becomes a warning to others."


    Edwin rose from the dirt and then took a few steps back, blood trickling down his arm. Alexander retrieved his dagger, dismissed Edwin, and made his way back to town as fast as he could, the sun hanging low in the sky by the time he arrived at the gates of Croton for the fourth time that day.

 A Death - Part 8

    ¡°Have you seen the Inquisitor, Marcus?¡± Alexander demanded of a passing farmer. The man directed the young Inquisitor to the house of Edmond the carpenter. Alexander took off and arrived just as Elena, in tears, hurried through the door into her father¡¯s shop and home. Marcus stood to the side of the home, helmet in hand.


    ¡°Alexander,¡± he called out as he noticed his apprentice, ¡°what have you learned?¡± Marcus continued as he walked to meet him.


    ¡°Edwin said that Simone had snuck over last night, offered herself to him and tried to convince him that the two of them should run off together and start new lives in Wollema. Says he rejected her, sent her away and never touched her.¡±


    ¡°How sure are you that he was telling the truth?¡±


    ¡°He swore it in blood.¡±


    ¡°Well, I finally tracked down Patrick. Boy said he¡¯s delivered a dozen bottles of Bitter Kiss to men within the town in the past half a year, including William the smith. I was passing by Edmond¡¯s house so I decided to speak with Elena one last time, confront her with what we know about Simone now. Privately, of course, don¡¯t want to spread details about Simone¡¯s life more than necessary.¡±


    ¡°Did you learn anything from her?¡±


    ¡°Indeed I did. Simone had taken a lover about three months back, though she kept the man¡¯s identity a secret. Said the man gave her a bottle of Bitter Kiss to keep her belly flat.¡±


    ¡°Clearly, it didn¡¯t work.¡±


    ¡°No, perhaps he told her the instructions wrong or she lost track of days. In any case, that¡¯s not all I learned from Elena. Turns out this man had been giving her gifts for her companionship a couple of months before they lay together. Gifts in the form of valuable iron coins from Wollema that she could use to start her new life there.¡±


    ¡°But Wollema doesn¡¯t make coins from iron, do they?¡±


    ¡°Of course not, they use gold and silver like any other nation.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t William say his discs had been stolen within the last month? According to what you learned from Elena, someone had been giving them to her for around half a year.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, I think we need to speak to our smith again.¡±


    The pair of men made their way to the smithy, which was now silent.


    ¡°William? We need to speak with you.¡± Marcus called out as he banged his fist on the door. When no answer came Marcus placed his left hand on his dagger and opened the door slowly with his right.


    ¡°William? I¡¯m coming in.¡± Marcus called out, looking inside. The two men entered cautiously, slowly picking their way through the rooms of the building, calling out to the smith as they went.


    ¡°He¡¯s not here.¡± Marcus said after a few moments. The two men exited the home.


    ¡°Where could he have gone?¡± Alexander wondered aloud.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure, but I think it¡¯s plain to see that William was Simone¡¯s lover, I¡¯m sure of it now, and therefore most likely her killer as well.¡±


    Marcus drummed his fingers on the hand of his dagger for a moment. ¡°Alexander, I want you to check on Eugenia. If Simone had told William she was pregnant before she died, he may be angry with Eugenia that the tonic he paid for didn¡¯t work. Go quickly, take someone¡¯s horse if you can. I¡¯ll search around town to see if anyone saw where he went in case he fled elsewhere.¡±


    Alexander nodded and took off running towards an inn at the edge of town. He entered the stables and saw several horses being fed by a young man wearing a leather slave collar.


    ¡°You, saddle up a horse for me, I need one quickly.¡± Alexander barked. The young man looked afraid but nodded silently.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll tell the owner, just have ready it for me and bring it around front.¡± Alexander shouted as he walked around to the front of the building and entered the inn itself. Several faces turned towards the newcomer dressed in his dark grey armor and the conversation inside the room died down to a few quiet murmurs.


    ¡°Attention, everyone,¡± Alexander said in a voice that was not as authoritative as he would have liked, ¡°I am taking a horse from the stables on the authority of the Inquisition. I will return it as soon as I have concluded my business.¡±


    Alexander turned and exited the building. He could hear grumbling of patrons as he left, no doubt upset that their horse could be the one taken but no one dared speak against an official demand from an Inquisitor.


    A few moments passed before the stable hand appeared, leading a small brown horse. Alexander climbed into the saddle with the hand¡¯s assistance and took the reins. Marcus kept several riding horses at the villa and had been teaching Alexander to ride for when they travel to check in on the more remote towns and villages in their jurisdiction but the young Inquisitor was far from an expert rider. Thankfully, the horse Alexander rode was well trained and calm, responsive to the commands of the stranger in armor riding it.


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    Alexander urged the horse down the path towards Eugenia¡¯s cottage at a quick pace. The trees rushed past in a blur, the fading light making it appear as if they were whipping by faster than they were. He hoped he would arrive at Eugenia¡¯s cottage before the sun set completely, he did not relish the idea of leading a strange horse through the woods alone with no light source.


    Eugenia¡¯s cottage came into view beyond the trees as Alexander passed a small bend in the path. He could see the smith, William, standing in front of the door to the cabin and heard him shouting as he banged on the entrance. Alexander rode to the edge of the clearing and looped the reins around the fence post.


    ¡°William!¡± Alexander called out, stepping carefully towards the large man. The smith turned and faced the newly arrived Inquisitor.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t kill that girl,¡± he called out with a slow shake of his head.


    ¡°It looks a lot like you did.¡± Alexander replied as he continued to advance towards the other man slowly.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t kill her.¡± William repeated. He turned and faced Alexander, clenching and unclenching his fists.


    ¡°But you did get her pregnant.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t force her! She was more than willing!¡±


    ¡°Easy for you to say, her being dead and unable to say otherwise.¡±


    ¡°Simone didn¡¯t want to spend her whole life in Croton, pushing out babies for whatever man her father married her to that would be good for his business. She wanted passion and excitement, like women have east across the sea, I gave her a taste of that. She started things, not me, I just, I had been lonely since fever took my wife and boy, I couldn¡¯t resist her. We were careful at first, not doing anything that could get her pregnant, but she wanted more so I got a bottle of Bitter Kiss a few months ago so we could be safe, but it was her idea!¡±


    ¡°But you paid her for company with fake coins, tricked her into thinking she¡¯d have money to start a new life with in Wollema.¡±


    ¡°That- I didn¡¯t mean for her to take it that way. She loved hearing stories from when I travelled in my youth, thought she¡¯d be excited to have something from far away she could hold in her hands. I didn¡¯t think she¡¯d plan to actually do anything with the money.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s very suspicious that a girl you slept with and gave counterfeit money to winds up dead at your doorstep,¡± Alexander said, perhaps a dozen paces from the smith now.


    ¡°I told you, I didn¡¯t kill her!¡± William shouted, pointing an angry finger at Alexander. ¡°She came to me before dawn this morning, barged right in. I had told her never to come to my house, but she woke me up, all out of breath in a panic. She saying she was pregnant, that the potion I gave her didn¡¯t work, that she needed help leaving Croton before her father found out.¡±


    William shook his head before continuing, ¡°Before I could say anything she just gasped, clutched at her chest and collapsed on my floor, not breathing. I couldn¡¯t rouse her so I put her body outside. I wanted to take her further away but couldn¡¯t risk being seen. Once you found the bottle and coins I knew you¡¯d come around to me. But I didn¡¯t kill her! It was Eugenia''s potion, it poisoned her, I know it!¡±


    ¡°Then come back to Croton with me, tell your story to the town elders and I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll only hold you accountable for unlawful intercourse with Simeon¡¯s daughter.¡±


    William shook his head angrily. ¡°No, I will not be punished for succumbing to some lustful woman¡¯s temptation! They¡¯ll still think I killed her, you said it yourself, it¡¯s too suspicious that a girl I lay with drops dead in my house.¡±


    ¡°William, I¡¯ll testify that you didn¡¯t kill her,¡± came a muffled woman¡¯s voice from behind the door. ¡°You said you gave her the tonic only some months ago? The bottle the Inquisitors brought me was empty, if she drank nearly a year¡¯s supply in one sitting it would have stopped her heart within hours.¡±


    ¡°I still gave it to her! It was your poison but I gave it!¡± William shouted, turning to bang his fist on Eugenia¡¯s door before turning back to Alexander. ¡°I am going to take some provisions and that horse and I am leaving. Do not try to stop me.¡±


    Alexander shook his head. ¡°I can¡¯t let you leave, William. Justice demands that you answer for your role in all this.¡±


    ¡°Very well.¡± William said. For a moment Alexander thought the smith would come quietly. Instead, the large man yelled and charged at Alexander with surprising speed for a man his size. Alexander saw the flash of steel as William pulled a dagger from his belt as he ran. The distance between the two disappeared faster than Alexander could blink. Instinctively he brought his left arm up while his right grasped the hilt of his sword. The smith threw his shoulder into the Inquisitor, knocking the smaller man off balance and throwing him to the ground. Alexander slid in the dirt and fumbled for his weapons as William advanced on him, dagger in hand. The smith¡¯s weapon was no match for Inquisition-forged armor but Alexander knew that if he couldn¡¯t get back on his feet with his own weapon in hand quickly the other man could simply hold him down and slide the blade through a gap in his armor.


    William cried out in pain and surprise and dropped his dagger as an arrow struck him from behind, protruding a short distance out of his right shoulder. He whirled around to see Eugenia standing in the open door, bow in hand. Siezing the opportunity, Alexander scrambled to his feet and withdrew his own dagger. William turned towards the sound and began to raise his hands as the Inquisitor plunged his blade deep into the smith¡¯s chest. The man grunted and stepped back as Alexander withdrew his dagger. William stumbled and collapsed to the earth, writhing for a moment before laying still.


    Eugenia put down her bow and stepped cautiously towards the large man, kneeling down to examine him. She looked up at the Inquisitor and shook her head. ¡°Struck in the heart.¡± she said.


    Alexander blinked. He had served with Marcus as an Inquisitor for two years, spent three years training in combat at the Inquisition academy before that. Even the last two years of his time in the orphanage at Tariopolis had involved basic fighting skills in case the army would take him when he became too old. Before now, however, he had never actually been in a real fight for his life. It dawned on Alexander that he had just killed a man. He felt numb, weak. His mind felt like it was racing but also blank at the same time.


    ¡°Come,¡± Eugenia said as she rose up and placed her hands on Alexander¡¯s shoulders. ¡°I¡¯ll fetch a lantern, we¡¯ll take William¡¯s body back to town together, tell everyone what happened. I¡¯ll let everyone know what he said, and that he attacked you and gave you no choice.¡±


    Alexander nodded but said nothing.

 Respite and Calling - Part 1

    Alexander focused on the image in his mind. He pictured the villa garden lush and green, plants with stems bent over under the weight of their fruit. He imagined himself walking through the vines, running has hands along the leaves, feeling the weight of their fruit in his hands, the image becoming as clear as if seeing it with his own eyes and nearly replacing the sight of the wood and knife he held in his hands as he sat cross-legged on the ground. Careful not to break his concentration, Alexander took the knife and carved the words "Abundance" and "Produce" in the thin slice of wood, one word on each side.


    With a sigh Alexander placed the engraved shingle carefully on a pile to his right. He stood to stretch his legs. The sun was high in the clear, blue sky. The villa garden was peaceful, quiet, a welcome refuge from the frantic activity of the prior day. Alexander was not sure if he had even slept the night before, the events of the day playing in his mind over and over. The sight of Simone lying on the ground, the faces of all the people shocked by her death, always coming back to the image of William charging at him. The dagger in the large man''s hand, the frantic struggle to draw his own weapon while lying on his back in the dirt, the feeling as his Inquisition-forged blade punctured bone and found the smith''s heart, the resistance as he withdrew his dagger from the man¡¯s chest.


    The young Inquisitor shook his head to clear his mind. He checked the sun. "Not quite noon," he thought to himself and then looked at the piles by his feet, "and I''m over halfway done."


    Alexander sat back on the ground and took a fresh shingle in his hand and began to concentrate, this time on the fields surrounding the villa. The memory of his fight with William, intrusive as it had been since the previous evening, was unable to disturb Alexander''s concentration on his task. He had always been a daydreamer, at least since he had arrived at the orphanage in Tariopolis. Perhaps he was a dreamer before then, but he had few clear memories of his life prior to the orphanage. He knew his parents were not wealthy, though not poor either, but they were taken by sickness and he remembered little of his life with them.


    Life in the orphanage was not easy by any means but he was fed, clothed, and educated. He would often lay awake in his bed, long after the other boys in the dormitory had fallen asleep, imagining himself in all manner of scenarios. Sometimes he imagined his life if his parents hadn''t died, or if they somehow came back, often dreaming that the physicians were mistaken and they hadn¡¯t died and were searching for him all this time. He''d picture himself as the character in the stories he heard, or make up wild scenarios of traveling in an airship and single-handedly fending off a boarding party of sky-pirates. Often he was scolded by the teachers he drifted off into fantasy instead of paying attention to his lessons. Fortunately, he was able to learn discipline to apply himself to his studies well enough that he was not sold into slavery the year he turned thirteen. Many of his peers who did not show enough potential in skilled labor, military service, or academics were sold off to farmers or craftsmen who needed help with simple work. Alexander, though far from the best, showed enough merit to be worth keeping around for a couple more years for more advanced training and instruction.


    Alexander often wondered if his vivid imagination was a result of his ability as a Caller or if it merely served it ever since Marcus first discovered his talent. Many children have vivid imaginations without the ability to reach out to the unseen forces that govern the world and manipulate them to bring their imaginings to reality. Shortly after bringing Alexander north from the Inquisition academy, Marcus brought his young apprentice into his study and sat the young man down. The older Inquisitor pulled out an old manual from Wollema on the training of Callers, what they called those with the gift of magic in that land. Marcus placed two identical candles in front of Alexander and lit them both simultaneously, taking one out of sight and instructing Alexander to imagine the candle burning hot, bright, fast. As soon as the flame sputtered out Marcus licked his fingers and snuffed the remaining candle, revealing it had only burned down by two-thirds.


    Again, two identical candles were lit. This time, Alexander was instructed to imagine the candle burning but slowly this time. When the candle had burned down to its last fifth Marcus snuffed out the flame with his fingers, revealing that the other candle had burnt completely. "Take this, read it whenever you get a chance. Calling is too great a gift to ignore, but remember that you are an Inquisitor first," Marcus said as he handed Alexander the book, which the young Inquisitor had read multiple times over the next two years, always seeing some new thing he had overlooked in his prior readings.


    Alexander finished his carving late in the afternoon. One of the men who worked for the villa would retrieve the piles and distribute the shingles to the other workers. A few would be buried in the ground beneath the garden, the rest would be buried deep in the fields and orchard. The magic would nourish the crops, encouraging a bountiful yield come harvest time. Alexander sometimes wondered what his life would be like if his gift had been discovered earlier but was glad it was Marcus who discovered it. Life in the north was generally slow and peaceful, events of the prior day notwithstanding. The far north was relatively untouched by the machines common in the south and central provinces of the empire, though metal and pistons and gears crept closer each year as progress marched inexorably onwards. If his gift had been discovered sooner he would no doubt have been sent to the College of Thaumaturgists, learning to employ his gift in supporting the Empire by enhancing the performance of machinery, increasing crop yields, possibly even directly stoking the steam engine of a ship in the Imperial air fleet.


    "Hello, Inquisitor, all finished?" Chloe greeted Alexander as he entered the house.


    "I am, hopefully we have another good year."


    "I don''t doubt that we will, not after what you did last year. I imagine you''re hungry, not eating all day as you did. Dinner is still a little ways away from being done, I''m afraid. Marcus- apologies, I forget myself. The Inquisitor is in the study if you''re looking for him."


    "No need to be so formal, Chloe, Marcus of all people wouldn''t mind if you called him by name, he thinks of you and everyone in this house as free."


    "I know, still, best to practice proper manners in case we ever have visitors who''d take offense to a slave addressing her master too familiar."


    Alexander made his way to the study and knocked gently on the door.


    "Enter." Marcus called out from inside. Alexander opened the door and stepped inside.


    "All finished?" Marcus asked, closing his book and placing it on the desk.


    "I am, took me all day but it should be worth it in the end."


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    "Excellent. Chloe will see to it that they get buried soon."


    "What are you reading?"


    "Oh, lots of different things. I realized this morning I''ve been neglectful in continuing to learn lately. Here, listen to this," Marcus said as he picked up a different volume from the desk and flipped through until he found the page he wanted.


    "This is from ''A Collection of Folk Remedies and Cures in the North.'' This part deals with all things related to conception and pregnancy, and this section is called ''A test for learning of pregnancy and determining the sex of the child.'' Talks about having the potential mother urinate for three days on a bag of barley and wheat mixed together. If the barley sprouts, she''ll have a son. If the wheat sprouts, a daughter, and if neither sprout she just needs to eat more chicken eggs to encourage her flow to return."


    Marcus placed the book back down on the desk. "Had I read this before I would have known what the sack of barley was about and we wouldn''t have needed Eugenia to tell us hours later."


    "To be fair, you have little reason to be reading about pregnancy tests and ailments."


    Marcus chuckled. "I suppose you''re right, but even still, this just shows that you never know what piece of information will be useful. It''s important to learn as much as you can, even things that don''t seem useful and don''t apply directly to yourself."


    "By the way,¡± Marcus said after a short pause, ¡°A messenger came by today while you were in the garden. The town council wants to speak to us tomorrow."


    "Did they say what about?"


    "No, but I imagine it''s about what happened with Simone and William."


    "I can''t imagine they''re happy about the loss of the town smith," Alexander began, "especially with no apprentice to take his place."


    "Yes, people had been urging William to take on a new one ever since his son died but the man stubbornly refused to let anyone else replace his boy."


    "If the council asks us about Simone," Alexander began slowly, "how much do we reveal?"


    "We answer any questions they have truthfully and in full."


    "Even if our answers about his daughter''s conduct would shame Simeon before the council?"


    Marcus took a deep breath and turned to his apprentice, studying him carefully.


    "Alexander, what do you think about Simone? Her actions?"


    The young Inquisitor blinked in surprise. "What do you mean?"


    "I mean, do you feel contempt for the girl?"


    "I''m not sure if contempt is the right word. I mean, I pity her for the way she died. I know women are lustful and lack the discipline to control their appetites and emotions-"


    "And how much discipline did William show, hmm? It''s not as if Simone overpowered the smith and ravished him against his will."


    "But she sold her body to him for what she thought was money."


    "So William said. We do not have the truth of this matter, Alexander, we have only heard William''s side of things. Simone died before she could tell us hers. One of the most important things for an Inquisitor to learn is that people rarely tell the full and unadulterated truth. Even if they aren''t lying on purpose, people usually give versions of events that favor themselves or whichever position they want to be true."


    "But didn''t she attempt to trick Edwin the younger into laying with her so he''d think her baby was his?"


    "So he said. Falsehood can never be condoned, but can you blame the girl for acting in fear? The world is not kind to girls in Simone''s situation."


    Marcus paused for a moment, thinking. "Do you know what William''s punishment would have been if the affair had been discovered before Simone died? The council would have charged him a fine payable to Simeon to compensate him for how much the council believes Simone''s marriage would have benefited her father. And do you know what Simone''s punishment would have been?"


    Alexander shook his head and Marcus continued. "Whatever Simeon wanted. Legally, she was his property. The best-case scenario for Simone would be getting married off to someone who didn''t care about her past, likely a man whose family was too poor to be picky about brides. Otherwise, Simeon could sell her as a slave to be rid of her, he could have her stoned to death if he wanted. Or, since the child would be his property as well, he could raise it up until it was old enough to be sold as a slave, get some money out of the situation. Cruelest of all, I think, he could have his daughter carry the child in her body and go through the pain of labor only to force her to abandon it in the wilderness to the cold and hunger and beasts."


    Alexander said nothing.


    "Which of those fates do you think Simone believed awaited her, do you think? Seducing Edwin and convincing him to run away, thinking the child is his wouldn''t be right, but fear can drive even the most principled person to take extreme measures."


    Marcus scoffed and shook his head again. "Exposure, funny how that stuck around. Do you know where the practice of exposure comes from?"


    Again, Alexander shook his head and said nothing.


    "It''s a practice centuries old, predates the Five Kingdoms period. You see, the ancient people would abandon infants who were unwanted, typically because they were sickly or had some defect or often just because they were girls. Leave them out in the wilderness to die. Except, not necessarily to die. See, before King Theskelos banned all worship of gods and spirits, people would take an unwanted baby on the ground and call out in a loud prayer to tell their gods they were renouncing their claim on the baby before leaving. Then, if the gods wanted the baby to live, they could claim it themselves or send some servant to rescue them. Theskelos outlawed the stories of the gods but the Inquisition has collected some fragments of the old tales. Their legends often featured children who were rescued by devout farmers or shepherds or even wild animals."


    "Funny how we kept the practice centuries after the justification for it was outlawed. That''s another lesson you should keep in mind; sometimes people, entire nations even, will simply go along with some act or tradition despite having no idea what it means or why it came about in the first place."


    "Inquisitors! Dinner is ready, come get it while it''s hot!" Chloe shouted from down the hall. Alexander could smell it and became aware of how very hungry he was.

 Respite and Calling - Part 2

    "Accusing a man''s daughter of harlotry is a serious claim, Inquisitors," the elder magistrate croaked. Horace was the most senior member of the town council, both in terms of years served and in age. The other six magistrates were also men advanced in years, though none were quite as old as Horace. Alexander was certain that many of the magistrates were not even born when Horace first took office, white-haired and wrinkled though they were.


    "We are not accusing Simone of anything, we are merely repeating to the council what others had told us in the course of our investigation," Marcus answered from his place in the middle of the meeting hall, Alexander at his left hand with Eugenia the herbalist and Edna the midwife standing behind him. Both men wore their full armor and weapons, their standing with the Inquisition exempting them from the laws forbidding arms being carried in the assembly or the presence of the gathered magistrates.


    Alexander glanced at Simeon. The baker simply stood off ones the side of the room with the rest of the men of the town who attended the hearing, his arms folded, glowering at the floor. Edmond the carpenter stood beside him.


    "Do you believe it to be true? Did Simeon''s daughter engage in carnal relations for pleasure and gain?"


    "What we believe does not matter, magistrate. We have only heard William''s account of events. Without Simone''s version we cannot be sure how truthful William''s account was."


    "Very well," Horace began, then stopped to clear his throat repeatedly, "with both parties unable to provide testimony the matter rests on hearsay. Simeon, there is enough unknown that we cannot pass firm judgement on this matter so the decision to give Simone a proper funeral as a daughter or dispose of her as a harlot will be left up to you. I am inclined to believe William''s account as repeated by the Inquisitor. Women are lustful creatures, driven by their passions and appetites, but the final decision I leave to you."


    Simeon the baker was silent for a moment, the muscles in his arms flexing as he clenched and released his fists, before he said "I will inform the council of my decision shortly" and walked out of the hall, jaw clenched tight in anger. Alexander wondered if his anger was with the conduct of his daughter or with the way Horace spoke about her. The young Inquisitor had heard similar things about the impulsive nature of women all his life, from his teachers in the orphanage and the philosophers at the Inquisition academy. Yet, hearing the words now made him uncomfortable. Perhaps it was because these words weren''t about an abstract concept of a woman described by the Philosopher but an actual person whose body now lay waiting to either be honored in death as a child or discarded as rubbish. Perhaps it was because he stood next to Eugenia and Edna. Regardless of the cause of his discomfort he was glad to be done with the discussion.


    "The next matter to be discussed is the slaying of William the smith. Alexander, please step forward and tell us exactly how this happened."


    Alexander recounted the events of the evening to the council and the assembled men. Marcus had warned him to expect this. The Inquisition did not answer to anyone but itself, any wrongdoing on the part of an Inquisitor would be investigated by a branch of the order dedicated to fighting corruption within their ranks. Still, even if the council had no legal authority over Marcus and Alexander, keeping in good standing with them was necessary for the Inquisitors to perform their duties with ease.


    The members of the council asked Alexander many questions, most focused on whether the slaying was truly necessary. The younger Inquisitor had to repeat his story many times, sometimes Eugenia would be asked to confirm his testimony, sometimes Marcus would be asked to confirm his apprentice''s evaluation of the situation was correct. Eventually the council determined that William gave the young Inquisitor no choice but to kill him in self defense, though Alexander couldn''t help but feel the older men believed he should have been able to overpower the much larger and stronger man and bring him back to face their judgement.


    Eugenia was next to be questioned about the tonic that killed Simone, though Alexander paid little attention to their queries about the production and safety of Eugenia''s tonics. Being forced to relive the fight with William over and over, questioned by men who seemed convinced Alexander had done something wrong, it made the young Inquisitor feel almost sick with shame.


    "You are certain, then, that there is no risk to anyone else in town who takes your concoction of Bitter Kiss?" asked one of the council members. The names of each member had been called out as the assembly began but Alexander could only remember Horace due to his advanced age setting him apart. The rest of the men may as well have been brothers for how similarly they looked to one another.


    "Yes, magistrate," Eugenia replied, "when taken in the manner I instruct there is no risk of poisoning."


    "Very good. As long as you are certain there is no risk to the health and safety of this town I am satisfied."


    "As am I." Horace stated before another round of throat-clearing that made Alexander clench his jaw tight. "Anyone who takes this potion himself, or whose wife takes it, be sure to take it only in the way prescribed by the herbalist. Tell your daughters of this as well, perhaps the dead girl''s fate will encourage them to keep their legs closed. Fear will suffice in keeping them chaste where virtue will not."


    "The women are excused from this assembly." Horace stated, tapping his cane on the floor. Eugenia and Edna nodded and exited the assembly hall.


    "The last order of business that this council has that will involve the Inquisitors is the need for a replacement smith." Horace said.


    "How does the council wish for us to assist in this matter?" Marcus replied.


    "Since the loss of William''s services to us was due to the actions of the young Inquisitor, we believe it only fitting that he travel south to Tariopolis to procure a replacement for us."


    "The usual messenger from the Inquisition will be coming by in the summer, we could send correspondence back to the metalworkers'' guild with him when he arrives."


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    "And be without a smith''s services until autumn or later?" Horace exclaimed, the effort bringing about another too-long fit of coughing and throat clearing.


    "The nearest smith with the skill we need is over a week''s travel away, there and back," Horace said after wiping his mouth with a square of cloth, "Our farmers and craftsmen cannot put aside their work for a week at a time when they need their implements repaired. We need a man here, in town, able to do our work quickly and for a fair price, and we need him before harvest."


    "Very well, if that is what the council needs, I will send Alexander down to the capital to procure a smith for Croton. He can leave the day after tomorrow, once we''ve had some time to prepare."


    "The day after tomorrow, but no later," Horace said firmly. "Men will make the journey to Stratham out of necessity for now and implements will need to be shared as needed but the prosperity of this town and the well-being of her people depends on having a functional smithy."


    "Certainly, magistrate." Marcus replied. Alexander wondered how Horace''s tone would be received by an Inquisitor other than his mentor. The Inquisition had final authority over nearly anyone in the Tarid Empire, their judgements final and not subject to the scrutiny of anyone but themselves. Marcus'' friendly approach to those in his jurisdiction could cause problems for anyone who expects other Inquisitors to be as lenient.


    "One issue I must make the council and those assembled aware of, however." Marcus said. "The north does not have a positive reputation amongst those in the heartland. Alexander may need to recruit a foreigner, as many Tarid citizens will be hesitant to come this far north to endure our winters without demanding exorbitant payment."


    "The young Inquisitor should try to find a proper Tarid smith, if possible, but our situation is such that we can accept a foreigner. So long as he is competent and respects our laws and customs, that is. We expect the Inquisition will deal with him should he threaten to corrupt the morals of our town."


    "Of course, magistrate."


    "Good. Tell the smiths you attempt to recruit that all of William''s possessions will be his, in addition to the forge, the shop, and the house."


    "Certainly, magistrate."


    "Very well, unless anyone else has business with the Inquisitors they are dismissed."


    Marcus and Alexander nodded and left the meeting hall as Horace began addressing the assembly.


    The two men walked along the road to the villa under clear, blue skies. Laborers worked in the fields as they passed, birds wheeled overhead. The air still had a coolness about it but Alexander was warmed by the sun on his dark, grey cloak.


    "You''re awfully quiet." Marcus said halfway to their destination.


    "Sorry, I was thinking about William, attacking me."


    "Alexander, he left you no choice. The man was not thinking clearly, feared punishment or losing his reputation perhaps, but he would have killed you and probably Eugenia as well if you hadn''t killed him first."


    "I know, I just keep thinking about how I could have done things differently. I made so many mistakes and nearly died because of them, and William did die."


    "What mistakes?"


    "I got too close, had no weapon drawn. William was able to close the distance between us and throw me to the ground before I could remove my sword from its scabbard. I should have had my sword out as I approached him, or stayed back and drew my pistol. Pumped the tank and kept it trained on him, maybe fear of my bullets would have kept him at bay long enough to return to town with me. Instead, I simply walked up to him essentially unarmed, and now he''s dead and I would have been had Eugenia not saved me."


    "Is that what this is about, Alexander? You are ashamed that you were saved by a woman?"


    "No, of course not!" Alexander exclaimed. "I am grateful that she saved me. Eugenia is a skilled hunter and she lives a more rugged life out in the woods than most do, and she does it alone. No shame in being helped by her bow."


    "Then what is it?"


    "It''s the fact that I needed to be saved at all. I was trained to fight for two years in the orphanage to prepare me for possible military service, three years they trained me in the academy, and then I''ve spent two years practicing with you. My very first actual fight I confronted a man wearing work clothes and armed with a steel knife while I was wearing Inquisition-forged armor and he tossed me aside like I was nothing. If it wasn''t for someone else being there to help me, my first real battle would have ended with me dying without even leaving a mark on my opponent."


    "Well, it sounds to me as if you know what mistakes you made and the consequences have driven the lesson home. You''ve been given a chance to learn and improve, next time you''ll be better prepared."


    "I suppose."


    "When you return from your journey south I''ll be sure to drill you in combat more often. I could use the practice myself; I can feel the rust forming on my arms."

 Inquisitors and Smiths - Part 1

    "How much longer will we have to do this." Marcus said as he leaned back, away from the stack of papers on his desk.


    "Write reports?" Alexander asked from the door of the study.


    "All of this. Writing reports that get read once and filed away in some archive hundreds of miles from here. Going from town to town, village to village, asking the same questions and getting the same answers, listening to the same rumors and hearing neighbors accuse each other of the same vices, year after year."


    "Are you thinking of retiring, then?"


    "Retire?" Marcus exclaiming with a laugh. "I wouldn''t know how. I''m too old to learn a new trade, and the idea of puttering around some cottage by myself doesn''t appeal to me. Couldn''t take a wife, wouldn''t want to subject the poor girl to my withering body. Besides, if I wanted someone to nag me to eat and bathe, I already have Chloe for that."


    "I''ll be sure to tell her you said that."


    "Trying to get me killed, are you? Get rid of the old man so you can take his place? No, the same year you were born I had already been Inquisitor for this area for ten. I think I''ll be here until I''m forced to give it up or my heart fails."


    "Then why were you wondering about how long you''ll be doing this?"


    "Ah, yes, sorry. I meant us, not me, as in the Inquisition as a whole."


    "What do you mean?"


    "The world is changing, Alexander, much as we try to fight it. You''ve read the reports the Inquisition sends to us, sharing what they learn about the nations across the sea. Each year they leave us further and further behind. Eventually our people are going to look at theirs, growing numerous and prosperous and think we need to hurry to catch up to them. When that happens, I suspect many will begin to question why the Inquisition is permitted to have such authority over their lives and cast jealous glances at the properties and wealth we use to fund our operations."


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    "There have always been vicious men who shirk Virtue, it''s our duty to ensure they cannot spread their immorality to others."


    "Yes, that is what we''ve become, isn''t it? Headmasters running around the halls of the Empire, rapping boys on the knuckles when they misbehave, making sure they don''t encourage rowdiness in the other students."


    "We keep the people safe, and the Emperor knows our value in enforcing the laws."


    "Magistrates can appoint constables to enforce laws and punish criminals. As for safety, we have the army for that, we levy more than enough taxes to pay for the legions. I''ve been an Inquisitor for thirty years now and I suspect we had already outlived our purpose by twenty the year I started."


    Alexander stood in silence, unsure of what to say. Hearing Marcus speak this way made him feel like a small boy listening to his father and mother talk about some problem too complex for a child to understand beyond that it made his parents upset.


    "Ah, but listen to me rambling on. Pay me no mind, this is nothing more than the mutterings of a man realizing he''s getting old and wondering what his legacy will be. I think everyone who passes fifty years suddenly believes the generations following them will be the end of civilization. My instructors thought when me and my cohort took over that our lack of discipline and zeal for Virtue would result in everyone under our watch throwing off all morality, and I suspect their teachers thought the same about them."


    "I will say this, Alexander," Marcus began after a short pause. "Follow my example. Keep on the good side of the people under your watch so that if our nation does decide it no longer needs the Inquisition, the locals may permit you to resign and leave rather than be cast aside in a less pleasant manner."


    "I will keep that in mind."


    "See that you do. Keep your eyes and ears open, Alex. Change can come about so slowly you don''t even realize it until you look back and see how far you''ve come, or it can burst forth all at once like an air tank pumped too full. A hundred years ago, the only way a foreigner would set foot on our land outside of a trade port would be as a slave. Now, we permit some to live among us. Under careful watch, of course, to make sure they don''t spread foreign beliefs and ideas among our people, but who knows how much more will change as our citizens continue to encounter people who were raised without the guidance of the Philosopher''s Ethics and the Inquisition and still managed to avoid becoming like dogs concerned only with eating, sleeping, and humping."


    Alexander nodded, still unsure of what to say to his mentor. Marcus had always been confident and sure of himself, hearing the man talk about the possible end of the Inquisition was unsettling.


    "But enough of the ramblings of an old man," Marcus said as he stretched in his seat and picked up his pen. "I need to finish these and you need to pack for your journey."

 Inquisitors and Smiths - Part 2

    "Thank you for your hospitality, Inquisitor Morgan," Alexander said with a nod.


    "I am always happy to do my duty, Inquisitor Alexander." the other man replied. Morgan was a harsh-looking man, his face was thin and pointed, hair cut so short as to almost appear bald.


    "Slave, fetch some food from the kitchen for the Inquisitor''s journey, meet us with it by the stable." Morgan said while snapping his fingers. A boy about thirteen years old wearing a leather collar nodded and hurried off.


    The two men walked through the house and out into the yard. Half a dozen Inquisitors were stationed in this town, the greater population requiring additional men to oversee. The Inquisition outpost in this area was a large, two and a half story building surrounded by a high wall, located in the center of town near the market square. Another young man wearing a leather collar appeared, leading an aging brown horse from the stables adjacent to the house. Without a word he knelt down in the dirt and held out his hands to help boost Alexander into the saddle.


    The boy from earlier appeared, carrying food wrapped in cloth. He hurried to the Inquisitors and held it up.


    "Thank you," Alexander said as he took the bundle. The boy''s eyes widened in surprise, Morgan raised an eyebrow.


    "I have done only what was expected of me," the boy said quickly with a glance at Morgan before taking a few steps backwards and looking at the ground.


    "There is no need to thank slaves for performing their duties here, Inquisitor Alexander," Morgan said coolly. "I know the people up north are wild and unpredictable, having only known civilization a short time, but down here we do not need to placate those under our watch with pleasantries. Slaves in the heartlands know their place."


    "Apologies, Inquisitor Morgan, I will try to keep that in mind going forward."


    Morgan nodded. The stable hand led Alexander to the gate, opened it, and then handed the reins to the Inquisitor. Alexander stopped himself from thanking the young man just as the words were about to leave his mouth.


    Alexander rode away from the Inquisition outpost, hearing the sound of the gate being closed and barred behind him. The town of Borecester was larger and more populous than Croton but Alexander had no difficulty riding through its relatively crowded streets. People who saw him in his Inquisitorial armor and cloak quickly moved aside to let him pass. It did not take Alexander long to pass through the south gate of the town with its high stone walls. The Inquisitor took one last look at the Borecester, then set off on the dirt path beside the cobblestone road towards his next destination, the city of Orenmoth.


    The six days Alexander had been riding so far had been uneventful. Four days he had stayed at inns, the proprietors obligated to provide food and lodging for the Inquisitor and his horse. Two nights he lodged in an Inquisition outpost. The first was a small villa outside a town similar in size to Croton, home to three Inquisitors and their servants, and reminded Alexander of his own home. The sixth night he arrived in Borecester and lodged with the Inquisition outpost for the area where Inquisitor Morgan, assisted by half a dozen subordinates and numerous slaves, kept a watchful eye on the people of the surrounding area. The building was formerly the governor''s home when the area was the northernmost province of what would later become the Tarid Empire. When Emperor Tario the First conquered his rivals in the north and the south, administrative centers were moved to better serve the population of the unified island and the building and its lands were granted to the Inquisition.


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    Around mid-morning Alexander passed a group of soldiers patrolling the roads between Borecester and Orenmoth, then a second group an hour or two after noon. Each time the men saluted the mounted Inquisitor and continued their march. Each patrol consisted of eight men, all wearing the standard helmets and mail armor of the legions. Six of the men carried spears and rectangular shields, the other two held long-barreled guns and wore leather backpacks containing additional ammunition, air cannisters, and the pump needed to fill them. During the six days he had been travelling north of Borecester Alexander had only encountered three such patrols, now he had seen two in a single day. The roads were never completely safe but they were certainly better patrolled closer to the heartland.


    The road eventually came to run parallel with the river that flowed through the center of Orenmoth and out to the sea. The city was one of the largest in the northern provinces. For centuries ships would sail to Orenmoth from other ports on the island, from the Kingdom of Wollema across the eastern sea, even longboats from Starklund would make the long, dangerous journey to trade goods and, in years past, slaves. No other port of significant size was to be found further north, the waters becoming too treacherous for larger ships to risk the journey.


    Alexander passed through the western outskirts of the city in mid afternoon, crude houses and shops lining dirt paths that connected with the paved road leading to the city proper. Alexander rode past the line of merchants and travelers waiting to have their goods inspected and evaluated for tariffs. The soldiers manning the gate saluted the Inquisitor and stepped aside to allow him to pass.


    Inside the walls of Orenmoth the city buzzed with activity. Everywhere he looked, Alexander saw endless people walking, talking, carrying goods, pushing carts, leading horses. The sound of hundreds of voices filled his ears in a dizzying cacophony. Alexander was no stranger to the smell of many people living together in one place but Orenmoth dwarfed Croton and the stench assaulted his nose. Three days into his journey, Alexander had begun to feel lonely despite his initial enjoyment of the solitude. Now, after only an hour inside the walls of Orenmoth, he found himself longing for the isolation of the road with its silence and clean air.


    Alexander''s horse stopped and snorted, raising and turning her head, startling him from his thoughts. On the ground a child, perhaps four or five years old, was laying a couple of feet in front of him. The boy turned over on his back and looked up at the mare looming over him, his eyes full of fear. Alexander was grateful his mount was calm and well-trained, knowing that a kick from a startled horse could easily kill a grown man, let alone a child.


    "Careful, boy!" Alexander called out. The child burst into tears and remained on the ground, propped up on his elbows. A young woman in a plain linen dress with her brown hair in a tight bun appeared and knelt down to drag the crying child away from Alexander''s horse.


    "My apologies, Inquisitor, my son is prone to running off without looking where he''s going," the woman blurted out as she pulled the boy to his feet by one arm. "How many times must you be told to pay attention!" she hissed as she slapped the boy on the cheek with an audible smack. Alexander, too surprised to react, simply looked down at the pair from his horse.


    "I will be sure his grandfather has him punished for you." the woman said as she put her hands on the boy''s shoulders.


    "There''s no need for that." Alexander said, finding his voice. "I don''t want him to be punished, I just don''t want him to get hurt. A horse that''s more easily spooked than mine could kill him. Just see that he watches where he''s going from now on."


    "Yes, Inquisitor," the woman replied before hurrying her still-crying child away. Alexander urged his horse onwards and resumed his journey through the city, turning south at one of the city''s large markets, eventually passing through the old gates into the new industrial district. Walls constructed only decades before enclosed an area half the size of the old city. Warehouses and factories and tenements, some five stories high, lined broad streets paved with bricks. Alexander rode past all of these buildings and the numerous workers and carts on the streets until he arrived at the southern gate of the new district where Alexander found his goal: The great train station that connected Orenmoth to the south. The steam-powered locomotive here would allow him to make the rest of the journey to the capital in a day as opposed to the multiple weeks it had taken for centuries before.


    Alexander asked a passing worker for directions to whichever inn was nearest to the station. First, he would arrange lodging for the night and care for his horse while he was in the capital. Then he would head into the station to arrange his place on the next train south.

 Inquisitors and Smiths - Part 3

    The great city of Tariopolis seemed to stretch as far as Alexander could see from his place within the coach near the front of the train. Farms and houses and villages flew by at a dizzying speed. High above the city Alexander could see the silhouettes of airships seeming to hang in the sky. The train had departed the station at Orenmoth just as the sun was peeking over the horizon and was still racing along its tracks as the sun was beginning to dip behind the earth again, yet the novelty of the experience still thrilled the young Inquisitor. He felt a mix of fear and excitement at the prospect of this journey when he first saw the locomotive pulling into Orenmoth station from his room on the third story of the inn the previous evening, a grey plume rising from the engine pulling what seemed like an impossible load behind it. The scream of metal on metal grew louder as the machine approached the city at a frightening speed before the mechanical behemoth came to a stop. Passengers poured out of the coaches as men scurried to unload the cargo, hauled away on carts pulled by horses, donkeys, and slaves.


    Alexander looked around at the other passengers in the car. Most were older men, some accompanied by their wives or children. A handful wore slave collars but were dressed in clothes finer than anything worn by even the wealthiest men in Croton. No doubt servants of powerful men who wished their status to be known by the attire that even their slaves wore. Alexander sat on a bench by himself with several empty seats in front and behind him. He was among the first to be seated when the whistle blew to alert passengers of the train¡¯s impending departure. Passengers who entered the coach quickly found seats further away when they saw the dark grey Inquisition armor Alexander wore. At first, he was almost saddened by his isolation but that was quickly replaced by excitement when the train began to move.


    The train had made several stops at small towns that had sprung up along the twin tracks, slaves unloading and loading cargo and refilling the coal and water with well-practiced speed. Each time, new passengers would board but none dared sit next to the Inquisitor, leaving Alexander alone with his thoughts. Just after noon another train passed, heading north, the cars moving by the windows of the coach so fast they were a blur. Alexander had to fight hard to resist the urge to move to the other side of the car to watch the spectacle of the other train speeding by. It would not reflect well on his character to be so concerned with novelty, he had to satisfy his curiosity with sideways glances from his seat.


    Several blasts from the train''s whistle announced its approach to the great station of Tariopolis. Alexander felt a lurch as the train began to slow, its wheels screaming on the tracks. Perhaps the body of the coach muffled the sound, perhaps he was accustomed to noise or partially deafened from the constant rumble of the train on its tracks and the periodic blasts from the whistle, but Alexander thought the metallic screech was more painful to his ears the prior evening as the train approached Orenmoth. Still, even if the sound was more tolerable than before, Alexander was glad when the train finally came to a stop and the noise ceased.


    The sun was below the horizon by the time the passengers disembarked. The great station outside of Tariopolis was almost a city unto itself. Multiple sets of metal tracks converged from the north, west, and south. A broad highway connected the station and the numerous warehouses around it to the city itself a few miles away. Inquiring about the nearest inn, Alexander discovered that there were multiple places to lodge in close proximity to the station for the convenience of passengers.


    Alexander picked a tall building and entered it. He could feel a change in the mood of the place when he passed through the doors into the common room. Boisterous conversations and laughter were replaced by hushed tones at the sight of him. He walked up to the proprietor behind the counter and asked for a meal. The smell of the place made Alexander well aware of his hunger, he hadn''t eaten since the previous evening. He skipped breakfast in his eagerness to board the train, afraid that he''d miss the departure and need to wait an entire day for the next one. It was only after the train pulled away from Orenmoth that he realized passengers were expected to bring their own food for the journey. Fortunately for him, an Inquisitor was no stranger to hunger. Regular fasting was promoted by the Philosopher as an important part of mastering the appetites and bringing the body under submission to the intellect. Alexander suspected the other passengers believed he was doing such a fast given the way they turned away from him in their seats, shielding their meals from him with their bodies. A few seemed to avoid dining at all to follow the Inquisitor''s example, little knowing that he would happily eat if he could.


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    A bowl of stew and a cup of wine was provided. Alexander forced himself to eat slowly, deliberately, despite his hunger. A man who cast aside restraint simply because he hadn''t eaten in a day would be seen as a man who did not truly have self-control. The Inquisitor attempted to make conversation with the innkeeper as he ate. The man was courteous and answered Alexander''s questions with utmost respect but it was plain the man would rather not speak too long with a member of the Inquisition.


    Finishing his meal, Alexander asked for a room for the night. The innkeeper led him to a door at the back of the inn on the main floor.


    "I hope this is not too extravagant for your tastes, Inquisitor," the innkeeper said as he opened the door to reveal a room, barely larger than a closet, containing a simple cot and a bucket for waste. "I can have the bedding removed if you prefer simpler accommodations."


    "No, this will be fine." Alexander said. He hoped his voice masked the disappointment he felt. His years with Marcus up north in the isolated villa had made him forget how austere Inquisitors lived in the heartlands. As the chief proponents and defenders of the Philosopher''s Ethics, members of the Inquisition were held to higher standards of Virtue than those they watched over. They were to provide living examples of the Empire¡¯s ideals and any hint of excess or luxury was avoided. Not to the point of asceticism like the practitioners of some religions in other nations where the body is hated and punished, but an Inquisitor must strive find the perfect balance between excess and deficiency that promotes well-being in both body and mind. Since it is easier to fall on the side of excess, members of the Inquisition tended to err on the side of restraint.


    Alexander removed his armor and stripped off his clothes, laying them out as best he could on the floor in the narrow space between the bed and the door. He had hoped for a basin of water to wash himself when he arrived but that would have to wait. He knew the Inquisition headquarters had a large, heated bath that he may be able to make use of after concluding his business tomorrow. Regular attendance at the public baths was considered a civil duty and was vital to remaining in good standing with the community. The public display of hygiene was proof you were doing your part to spare your neighbors from filth-borne illnesses, rich and poor alike sharing the same water helped keep the divide between classes from growing too large.


    Noise from the men working the train yard continued to pour in through the window in Alexander''s room despite the darkness, the work of loading, unloading, and maintaining the trains never stopped. He lay on the bed and pulled a thin blanket over himself and closed his eyes, waiting for sleep to come. Alexander''s body ached but not as much as he thought he would. The train had rattled and shook him for the entire duration of the trip, and his ears were still ringing from the noise, yet Alexander felt surprisingly good other than the aches he had already acquired from his week in the saddle. His thoughts drifted to when he first went north with Marcus two years ago. The journey took many weeks on horseback, sleeping on the hard ground when there was no one to offer them lodging. Alexander had asked why they didn''t take the train to speed their journey. Marcus replied that he was afraid of it, concerned that the noise and vibrations and speed would cause some manner of illness or injury, or at the very least be painful. The last thought to cross Alexander''s mind before drifting into a deep sleep was about telling Marcus how much pain and discomfort he could have saved himself if he had simply screwed up his courage and rode the train both ways instead of spending two months on horseback.

 Inquisitors and Smiths - Part 4

    "I must say I am surprised, Inquisitor Alexander, that it took you so long to draw blood."


    Alexander stood with his helmet in his hand, his feet aching from standing for so long. Before him a man easily in his eighties sat behind a simple wooden desk, holding the report Marcus had written detailing the events with William the smith and Simone.


    "It had not been necessary before then."


    "Truly? Well, you must either be very fortunate or very lax in your duties."


    "I assure you, Keeper, that Inquisitor Marcus and I perform our duties with all diligence."


    "You know, I had not even gone a week after arriving at my post before I performed my first execution," the old man said as he leaned forward and put the page on top of the other documents that Marcus had sent down with Alexander. The Keeper waved to a young man wearing a leather collar who stood nearby. "Place these with the others from the Croton outpost," he said. The slave nodded and carefully picked up the stack of pages and marched off. The Inquisitorial Archives consisted of a pair of massive buildings. The first, a spacious library three stories high with shelves that reached to the ceiling and ladders rolling on tracks allowing Keepers to quickly access information that they deemed significant or likely to be inquired after. The second building was a warehouse where documents containing information that was less urgent or significant were stored. The slave was clearly marching to the door leading to the latter.


    "What was I saying? Oh yes, the proselytizer. I uncovered her within a week of my arrival down south, turned over to me by her own grandchildren when she attempted to teach them about the gods she had worshipped as a girl, before Emperor Tario rid her land of its superstition."


    The old Keeper gave a faint smile and rubbed his chin. "I was proud in my youth, given to vain fantasies. I had always imagined my first kill would be one of the secessionists plotting insurrection, or some charismatic fellow trying to win converts to a religion passed along in secret through the years, even a battle with some fanatic believing his gods would grant him victory over the entire empire. But no, my first kill was a doddering old woman spreading myths she learned in her youth some sixty or seventy years prior. She was the first, but certainly not the last. It seemed like you had but to look under a rock to find someone preaching subversive beliefs of some manner or another, encouraging worship of invisible spirits or indulging in vices and carnal appetites. Which is why it surprises me to learn you have gone two years at your post and the only time you''ve wet your blade is with the blood of a man fearing punishment for defiling another man''s property."


    "Perhaps, Keeper, it is because of the diligence of Inquisitors such as yourself in prior years that we newer ones have fewer subversives to find."


    The Keeper smiled and nodded his bald head. "Perhaps. ''A man knows toil, his son plenty, his grandson sloth'' as the saying goes. Perhaps the north has been freed of its superstitions and there truly is less work to be done, perhaps they have merely gotten better at hiding from you. We read every report that comes to us, Inquisitor. There are still those out there who would tear down the empire and plunge our whole land into anarchy just so they can sacrifice goats and sing to figments of their imaginations, or indulge in whatever perversity their appetites desire. You and Inquisitor Marcus would be wise not to let your guard down."


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    "We will execute the duties of our office to the best of our abilities, Keeper."


    "Good. One more thing before you go, Inquisitor," the old man said. His face had never appeared friendly but now it was hard and serious. "You mentioned that you came to the capital on behalf of the magistrates of Croton to recruit a new smith for the town to replace the one you killed."


    "Yes, Keeper."


    "The Inquisition is not a messenger service. We cannot perform our duties if those in our jurisdiction see us as their servants to be ordered about. You are young and inexperienced so this failing can be excused this time. However, in the future, do not, ever again, tarnish the reputation of the Inquisition by acting as a mere courier at the beck and call of every man too lazy or cowardly to make the journey himself."


    "I won''t Keeper."


    "You may leave now."


    Alexander nodded and left the archives building and placed his helmet back on his head as soon as he stepped out into the daylight. The town that served as the Inquisition headquarters spread out before him. Barracks, dining halls, training grounds, administrative buildings all laid out in a carefully organized manner. The streets were busy with men hurrying from place to place, some in their grey Inquisition armor, other wearing plain tunics and leather slave collars. Alexander could see the baths off in the distance and for a moment considered visiting them. Instead, he turned and walked towards the eastern gate.


    Beyond the inner walls the town was surrounded by farmland, which was in turn protected by another, outer wall. The crops were already much higher than those surrounding Croton, a combination of the warmer climate and coaxing by the Thaumaturgists enabling them to grow faster in order to supply the needs of the Inquisition. The fields would sometimes be planted and harvested two or three times in a single season by the small army of slaves serving the Inquisitors.


    The sun was already low in the western sky when Alexander passed through the gates of the outer wall. He would likely be making the last bit of the journey back to the city in darkness. The day had not gone as Alexander had planned or hoped it would. In his mind, he would leave the inn at dawn after a quick bite to eat, arrive a few hours later, deliver the reports to the archives, have lunch in the mess hall with whatever friends he had from his time in the academy who were still there, then visit the baths before returning to the city for the night.


    Instead, the Keeper he delivered the records to insisted on questioning him. He was asked repeatedly why he was delivering reports that he did not consider urgent instead of waiting for the usual courier. The Keeper insisted on reading each document that Marcus and Alexander had written over the past half a year since the courier last came before winter settled in. The Keeper read every line on every page, stopping to ask Alexander to clarify some detail or he would recite a story that the described event reminded him of or to offer the young Inquisitor condescending advice should the situation arise again in the future. The ordeal had taken hours and when he was finally dismissed Alexander simply wanted to leave and return to the city so he could conclude his business and return home as quickly as possible.

 Inquisitors and Smiths - Part 5

    Alexander woke feeling sore and tired. He had arrived in the city after sunset when the gates were shut and briefly considered making the trek to the train station to stay at an inn there but Alexander was tired and the disappointment of the day left him in a sour mood. The guards hesitated for a moment when he called out but let him in upon seeing his armor. He demanded directions to the nearest place he could find lodging and was directed to an inn just inside the gates. Alexander''s mood improved somewhat after some wine and a warm meal but it was still late by the time he was able to climb into bed.


    The blacksmith''s guild was located deep within the heart of the sprawling city of Tariopolis. Alexander set out on the broad highway that ran from the western gate straight through the city and down to the port on the eastern edge. Ancient streets connected to the highway and wound through buildings new and old. Carts drawn by animals and slaves moved up one side of the road and down the other with a broad space between them in the middle, large enough that two wagons could fit comfortably, while pedestrians kept to the sides. The way the city sloped down to the sea allowed Alexander a view of the ships anchored in the bay, cargo being moved on smaller boats to and from land for the ships too large for the docks.


    Airships hung in the sky above, ascending from and descending to the anchorage just outside the north walls of Tariopolis. Larger cargo vessels drifted lazily through the sky, pushed along by massive screws and steered by an array of smaller propellers and rudders. Smaller passenger craft moved through the sky much quicker, though how fast they actually moved was hard for Alexander to judge with no frame of reference. He knew they could cross the sea to the shores of Wollema as much as eight times faster than a traditional sailing ship and were not subject to the tides dictating their arrivals and departure, but airships were still limited. The Aether sacks that provided lift needed to be heated to keep the vessel aloft, the steam engines that drove the screws required water and fire to work. Enchantments on the machinery and a Thaumaturgist stoking the flames to burn hotter and longer allowed the engines to function efficiently enough to be practical, but vessels still had to dedicate significant space to coal and water storage. The enchantments on the hulls of the vessels could only go so far in strengthening them, limiting how large an airship could get before it would be pulled apart by its own weight. Despite the advantage of speed and the ability to travel over land that airships boasted, traditional sailing ships still played a significant role in the world thanks to the volume of cargo and passengers they could move across the water.


    After a few minutes of walking Alexander realized the city was much larger than he had anticipated. He asked a passing man how long it would take to walk to the docks and learned it would take as much as five hours. Alexander thought, briefly, about commandeering a horse but quickly pushed the thought out of his mind. He was letting impatience get the better of him. His mission was not urgent, his desire, however brief he entertained the thought, to achieve his goals quickly at the expense of others'' ability to go about their own business was a sign of pride, one that needed to be stamped out.


    Alexander heard a sound on the road behind him, the sound of steam hissing and metal wheels on stone. He turned and saw what appeared almost like a smaller locomotive, light grey smoke or steam puffing from a chimney while it rolled along the street on large metal wheels. Alexander walked into the road, avoiding horses and carts, and stood in the street next to where he believed the strange vehicle would travel, waving at the two men seated at its front. It slowed and came to a stop a short distance past Alexander, the engine continuing to rumble and puff.


    "Yes, Inquisitor?" one of the men asked, his hands on a wheel attached to a rod jutting out from the frame of the vehicle.


    "Are you going past the smith''s guild headquarters?" Alexander asked.


    "Yes, Inquisitor, all the way to the docks to deliver cargo from the train station, Inquisitor," the man said, gesturing at the load of wooden crates stacked behind him.


    "Do you mind if I ride with you part of the way?"


    "Of course not, Inquisitor."


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    Alexander nodded and climbed up to the bench as the second man moved closer to his companion. The metal wheels began to turn, the vehicle lurching as they slipped and found traction on the road. Carts and pedestrians alike moved past Alexander on his right.


    "I thought this vehicle was moving faster than this when I waved you down." Alexander said as much as asked.


    "Apologies, Inquisitor, the wagon is heavy and the wheels tend to slide on the paving stones. It takes time to get up to speed from a stop but once we do gain our momentum we will travel five times as fast as a man walks."


    Alexander nodded and turned to watch the road ahead. He could see several similar vehicles off in the distance approaching from the opposite direction, travelling along the empty space between the carts pulled by animals and slaves. It took several minutes but the vehicle did pick up speed, first matching the pace of the pedestrians beside it and then surpassing them. Alexander gripped the side of the vehicle tight. He knew that the train he rode just yesterday travelled much faster than this contraption but it had felt much safer. It was secured to metal rails dictating where it could go and the coach he rode in felt like it provided shelter from the world speeding past. Here he was sitting on a crude bench exposed to the air, feeling as though a good bump would send him flying out of his seat and crashing onto the road below.


    "So how does this work?" Alexander asked, turning to the men seated on his left.


    "The steam wagon, Inquisitor?" replied the man gripping the steering wheel.


    "Yes, do you know?"


    "Apologies, Inquisitor, I am merely a driver, not an engineer."


    "Ah. How about you?" Alexander said to the man seated in the middle, "Do you know how this works?"


    "Sorry, Inquisitor. I''m just a driver as well."


    A few moments of silence passed.


    "So, you''re both drivers, then? Does this steam wagon require multiple men to control it?"


    "It can be handled by one man, Inquisitor. The magistrates require that two men be present at all times for the safety of the citizens, though. If a man faints or becomes distracted while driving a wagon pulled by a horse, the horse can still see where it''s going. A steam wagon will simply continue to move until it runs out of fire or water, or else it hits someone or something, Inquisitor."


    "Makes sense."


    Alexander rode in silence for the rest of the journey. They passed a handful of other steam wagons heavy with cargo making their way up the road. Horses and slaves were definitely still the most popular method of transporting goods within Tariopolis, despite the speed offered by the steam wagons.


    "The guild is just up ahead, Inquisitor, we will stop the vehicle shortly so you can disembark."


    "No need to stop completely, I know how long it takes for you to get back up to speed. Just slow down enough and I''ll jump off."


    "Apologies, Inquisitor, but we''ll bring the wagon to a stop for you if you would allow us. We do not want to risk bloodguilt on ourselves if you should slip and fall under the wheels."


    The vehicle slowly reduced in speed until it managed to stop, the weight of the vehicle and its cargo along with the slope of the road making the process a slow one, the driver repeatedly pushing or pulling levers to prevent the wheels from losing grip and sending the wagon sliding into other travellers. Once stopped, Alexander climbed down and stepped onto the road, thanking the drivers for their assistance. The men nodded and their vehicle began to lumber away towards the docks once again.


    Alexander glanced at the sun and saw that it was only mid-morning. If he found a smith to bring to Croton quickly enough he may be able to bring the man to one of the inns at the train station that day and depart the next morning. Alexander adjusted his armor that had moved into an uncomfortable position during his ride and then walked through the grand doors of the smith''s guild headquarters.

 Inquisitors and Smiths - Part 6

    "I am sorry, Inquisitor," the bald, dark-skinned man said, "journeymen rarely wait here long for employment after receiving their papers. The smithies of Tariopolis have no shortage of work to be done, and there is a long list of towns across the island advertising their need of qualified men."


    Alexander sighed and looked around the spacious foyer. The room was wide and tall with high ceilings and numerous windows. The outer doors were wrought iron but balanced so they were surprisingly easy to open and close. Cushioned benches lined three of the walls while the fourth, which separated the foyer from the rest of the building, was decorated with plaques and tapestries depicting smiths in a variety of clothing styles engaged in different kinds of work. Throughout the foyer pedestals and tables were arranged with examples of smith''s work displayed, items ranging from nails and horseshoes to swords and full suits of armor. Two bronze statues, each depicting a burly smith at an anvil with hammer raised, stood flanking the heavy wooden doors that led further into the great stone building.


    "Are there any apprentices who are close enough to receiving their journeyman status that I could just bring them north with me a bit early?" Alexander asked.


    "Apologies, I am not attempting to defy a request from the Inquisition, but the guild does not send apprentices out until they achieve their journeyman status, no matter how talented they may seem to be. If their work is of low quality it will tarnish the reputation of the entire guild."


    "Then what should I do?" Alexander asked, louder than he intended. Several heads from other visitors turned but quickly turned away when they saw the sound came from an Inquisitor. "What should I do?" Alexander asked again after taking a breath to compose himself. "Croton requires the services of a smith, we can''t have men traveling for a week or more every time a scythe needs repairing or a horse needs shoeing."


    "The town could submit a formal request to the guild informing us of their need. We can post a notice here for any guild-trained smiths to see. We can also circulate a letter to masters throughout the Empire to inform them of Croton''s need in case they have any suitable and willing candidates for the position."


    "Assume that I am putting in the formal request, now, on behalf of Croton''s magistrates." Alexander said, trying his best to mask the irritation he felt. "How long would it take until our position was filled?"


    "It is difficult to say, Inquisitor. There is work available throughout the Empire, and many openings are in climates more agreeable than the north. There''s no guarantee that anyone will volunteer."


    "Can''t the guild assign someone to us, then?"


    "All journeymen and masters are free men, Inquisitor, the guild''s authority extends only to ensuring those who practice our craft do so in a way that does not bring shame to our profession. We cannot force them to go where they do not wish."


    "So, are you telling me my journey has been a waste of time? That I came all this way for nothing? There is absolutely no one I can speak to about coming to work in Croton?"


    "I am sorry, Inquisitor," the man said in a frightened tone. He reached up and grabbed a small iron hammer on the end of a chain around his neck, turning it over in his fingers. The man wore finely made though otherwise plain white clothes, the hammer being the decoration on him. Alexander had no way of knowing the man''s rank or role, only that he is the one who came out of the wooden doors when Alexander told the young man wearing a slave collar that he needed to speak with someone about procuring the services of a blacksmith.


    "There may be one option," The man said, then hesitated.


    "Option? What option?"


    "There is a journeyman residing with us who is interested in finding work."


    "You have been telling me that there''s no one available, and now you say you''ve got someone here, now?"


    "Please accept my apologies, Inquisitor, I did not intend to mislead you. The guild has been hesitant to recommend this man for positions."


    "Why?"


    "Well, he''s a foreigner, a strange one. From Starklund. Arrived with his sister about a month ago."


    "And? What''s the problem with him? Are his skills insufficient?"


    "No, the masters put him to the test, confirmed that his badge was well-earned."


    "Then why not put him to work?"


    "Forgive me for repeating myself, Inquisitor, I do not do so in a disrespectful manner. He''s a foreigner, the guild is concerned that if he takes a position somewhere and begins to spread foreign ideas it may reflect poorly on us."


    "If you''re so worried about him proselytizing, why is he still here?"


    "He may be a foreigner but he is still a smith, we are honor-bound to provide him with food and lodging even if he was trained on foreign soil."


    "So, you plan to just feed him and house him forever?"


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    "No, Inquisitor. We will show him hospitality for as long as necessary but he and his sister are currently confined to a room by themselves. Meals are brought to him and he is not permitted to interact with the other members lodging here. We hope that the pair of them will grow weary of the boredom and return to where they came from."


    "Bring me to him, I will see if he is suitable for our needs."


    "Yes, Inquisitor," the man began, opening his mouth as if to say more, then closing it again.


    "Don''t worry about him spreading foreign ideas," Alexander said, guessing at what was on the man''s mind, "He will be under my direct supervision."


    Satisfied with that statement the man led Alexander past the wooden doors and through the halls until they arrived at one of the dormitories. The room was long and narrow with a single window set in the far wall, opposite the door, which looked out onto walled yard containing multiple forges. The walls were lined with bunk beds, enough space for sixteen apprentices though the room was currently only occupied by two individuals. A young man with blond hair sat on one of the beds, turning towards the two men entering the dormitory. He wore a light-colored tunic and trousers and had the thick arms of a smith. A tall woman with blonde hair tied up in a bun was standing in front of the window, also wearing the same tunic and trousers as her brother. She turned when she heard the two men arrive. She had an annoyed look on her face that quickly turned to surprise when she saw Alexander in his armor with sword and pistol at his side. He noted that she moved her hand to her waist where a weapon would be but, finding none, she shifted her right foot back and stood facing the newcomers.


    "This is Inquisitor Alexander, here on behalf of the town of Croton, looking to acquire the services of a smith," the guildsman said. Alexander could tell by his tone that the man thought a member of the Inquisition recruiting a worker to be unusual, despite the man''s best efforts to hide his feelings.


    "Finally!" the young woman exclaimed, her pose relaxing. She took a few steps towards Alexander and the guildsman. Alexander noted she stopped the same distance from him that he would have stood if he wanted to appear friendly but also needed space to react if things turned violent.


    "A month we''ve been here now, always being told there is no work for us. Another week in this place and I would have gone completely mad. You truly have work for us?"


    "Croton is looking for a new smith." Alexander replied. "What is your name?" he asked, gesturing to the young man still seated on the bed.


    "Einar, son of Torbjorn."


    "I am Katla, daughter of Torbjorn, both born of Svala."


    "You look young to already be a journeyman, Einar, how old are you?"


    Einar glanced at Alexander, making eye contact for just a moment before he looked down at the floor. "I''ve passed nineteen winters." he said.


    "Our father trained us both to follow in his footsteps as soon as we passed our sixth winter." Katla said. "We would watch him each day until we were old enough to hold tools. By the time most smiths begin their training we had already been learning for seven winters."


    "I see." Alexander said. The woman, Katla, spoke fast and loudly. Her words were clear for a foreigner but Alexander could still detect the Starklund accent, mostly in the way she pronounced ''S'' and ''Th'' sounds. "And you said he passed the masters'' tests?" Alexander asked the guildsman beside him.


    "We both passed the tests." Katla interjected.


    "Is that true?"


    "Yes, Inquisitor," the guildsman replied. "She insisted on performing the same tasks laid out for her brother."


    "And I succeeded at everything, didn''t I? But they would not give me the paper they gave Einar!" Katla exclaimed. She turned and picked up a small, multi-colored metal disc inlaid with intricately carved symbols, showing it to Alexander and the guildsman. "I crafted this badge with my own hands, approved at the same time as Einar by the master smiths in Starklund, but these masters won''t recognize me because I''m a woman."


    "Perhaps in Starklund they grant papers to women but that is not how we do things here."


    "Why not? Do men here hold iron in the fire with their cocks?"


    "Only men may become smiths, that is the guild''s laws, this is not work meant for the weaker sex."


    "Our former smith, William, his wife would assist him in the forge before she died." Alexander said, watching a wave of anger wash over Katla''s face at the guildsman''s words.


    The man sighed and threw up his hands in exasperation. "It is not unusual for a smith''s wife to labor with him, or a man''s daughter if he believes her to be unfit for marriage, but they are merely assistants working under a master, they are never certified themselves."


    Katla scowled, turned, and walked back to the window. Einar continued to sit on the bed in silence, occasionally squinting and opening his eyes wide or opening his mouth as if yawning but closing it again after a second.


    "Could she work alongside her brother?" Alexander asked the guildsman quietly.


    "I... she could, I think. He is the oldest male relative she has so legally he is her patriarch and he can compel her to labor for him if he wishes. But he would have to charge a lesser price for work done by her, and would be responsible for compensating clients for any of her mistakes."


    Alexander nodded and rubbed his chin. He was anxious about bringing foreigners north even though Marcus had warned the council that such workers may be necessary. Still, he did not want to return empty-handed and force the people of Croton to endure the hardship of an entire season with no one to work the forge.


    "I am willing to bring you north to the town to work our smithy." He said after a few moments of thought. "You will be granted the forge, the tools, and the home attached to it as well as any goods that were owned by William, the previous smith."


    "Really?" Katla said, turning around with eyes wide. "Einar, we are finally getting out of here!"


    "Now, I must warn you, Croton is far to the north, hundreds of miles away. It is not the easiest place to live, the winters are long and cold."


    Katla and Einar looked at each other. The side of the young man''s mouth pulled up into a half-smile. Katla''s face contorted as she fought to stifle a laugh. "You forget we are Northerners," she said, "what others consider a bitter cold is not worth putting on our furs for. We''ll be fine."


    "Very well," Alexander said, "gather your things, we''ll stay at an inn at the edge of the city today and then start the journey north first thing tomorrow."

 Inquisitors and Smiths - Part 7

    "It feels so good to be out of that room!" Katla exclaimed as the trio exited through the iron doors of the smith''s guild headquarters and began the long walk to the western edge of the city. "Much longer in there and I would have gone as mad as a rabid dog. Poor Einar would have had to put me down or risk losing his hearing to my ravings."


    "So, how far is this inn?" Katla asked after a few moments of silent walking.


    "It''s about a five hour walk." Alexander replied.


    "Five hours? And the entire journey will be within the city itself?"


    "Yes."


    "This city must be massive! Stoklavik is the largest city in Starklund, a man could cross it on foot in an hour if he hurries. Oh well, after being locked away in that prison they call a dormitory my legs could use a good stretch."


    "If you were so unhappy there, why did you stay?"


    "We had nowhere else to go. We spent the last of our money securing passage, expecting that we could find work in the city quickly, if not as smiths then perhaps as day laborers until we could find a forge to work. Instead we are confined, alone, and told we risk being jailed if we wander the streets without permission. I knew you Tarids were cautious about strangers but I didn''t think it would be this bad."


    "It used to be worse."


    "Worse?" Katla exclaimed. Alexander could see heads turning at the sound, eyeing the tall blonde woman with suspicion but looking away when they saw she was escorted by an Inquisitor. "How could it have been worse? Did you greet newcomers with a spear to their arses?"


    "Not quite," Alexander said, suppressing a startled laugh at the woman''s bluntness, glad his helmet could hide the smile that crept onto his lips. "The laws made it very difficult for non-citizens to enter the island beyond the trade ports, even then confined to the area immediately adjacent to the docks. Fear of outsiders spreading disease or foreign ideas. Emperor Philolaus has been reforming the laws to make it easier for outsiders with skills that benefit the Empire to settle here but it''s a slow process."


    "Ah. Well, as long as we can work and eat and have a place to sleep out of the rain I''ll be happy."


    A few moments of silence passed as the trio walked up the broad street. Einar mostly looked at the ground, Katla''s head was in constant motion, looking up at the tall stone buildings or the crowd of people and wagons on the road. Alexander could see heads turning to gawk. Katla stood as tall as most men in the city but her brother Einar towered over her, the top of Katla''s head only coming up to his shoulders. Alexander was shocked when the man first stood up from his place on the bed in the dormitory. He had heard stories about the great height of Starklunders and while they had been exaggerated their true height was still impressive.


    "The guildsman called you Inquisitor, is that like a constable?" Katla asked after a pause.


    "Not quite." Alexander replied. "The Inquisition is charged with defending and promoting the values of the Empire, making sure that people uphold the Ethics and that no subversive philosophies or religions take hold in the populace."


    "Ah." Katla replied, nodding.


    "Actually, I should have mentioned this sooner. I know people in Starklund tend to be very religious, you cannot, under any circumstances, talk about your people''s gods or goddesses. Don''t talk about the stories of their deeds or how they''re worshipped or anything like that."


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    "Yes, we have heard that you Tarids do not believe in any gods. We will be sure not to bring such things up, right Nar?"


    "Don''t even speak about them if asked." Alexander added. "I cannot state this enough. You cannot say a word, not even simply giving their names, even if someone asks you about them. If someone so much as asks you what your people call your deities, reply that such matters are not appropriate to speak of. Then, report the question and the questioner to myself or the other Inquisitor, Marcus. It''s possible the person asking you did so as a trap and if you don''t report someone for showing interest in a foreign religion then you could get in trouble as a sympathizer."


    "Understood, we will be sure to say nothing, right Nar?" Katla said. Einar replied with a word Alexander didn''t understand.


    "That''s another thing, do not speak Starklund where anyone can hear you," Alexander added. "and to be safe you shouldn''t speak it at all. By law only the common tongue can be spoken throughout the Empire."


    "Even between ourselves?" Katla asked.


    "Yes, part of the duties of the Inquisition is to stamp out anything that could divide and therefore weaken the Empire. When Tario the First unified the island and put an end to the Three Kingdoms period, he feared that his people speaking many languages would divide them and pull apart what he built. Since most places could speak some Wolleman for trade he declared all his subjects would learn to speak it and it alone. Anyone caught teaching the old tongues could be flogged, imprisoned, or executed at the Inquisition''s discretion."


    "So many rules in this place! How does anyone get anything done? It seems like I have to spend an hour deliberating each word I speak before I open my mouth!"


    "That could be a good thing." Einar said quietly. Katla made a face and growled at her brother while shaking her fist at him but smiled when Einar leaned away from her.


    "It''s not actually that hard." Alexander said. "There''s many small details in our customs but they can all be summed up in a few principles. The most important is to never speak of any gods or spirits or afterlives of any sort. Second, only speak the common tongue. Everything else that would get you in immediate trouble are things I think are common to every nation: Don''t steal, don''t murder, don''t harm a man or his property, things like that. The majority of our Ethics are focused on finding the balance between excess and deficiency in all things. Failures in these matters only become a problem if you persist in them despite correction or if you attempt to encourage others to do the same."


    "Will you teach us these rules? Or are we expected to learn them on our own?"


    "Croton has several ethics tutors, they tend to instruct youths but I''m sure they will be able to teach you."


    "I suppose we can humble ourselves and learn like children if it means we have a home and work, right Einar?"


    "Yeah." the man replied. Alexander could see the Starklund man''s eyes focused on a steam wagon that puffed out great clouds as it struggled up the road. "There are lots of horses here." he said, eyes still on the vehicle.


    "There''s a lot of cargo that needs to be moved, most of the Empire''s wealth passes through this city at some point."


    "Steam wagons are faster and stronger than horses. I''ve only seen four since we left."


    "I imagine steam wagons are harder and more difficult to manufacture." Alexander replied. "To get more horses you just need to keep a mare fed and provide her with a stallion at the right times and then raise and train the foal."


    "Maybe. There''s a lot more steam wagons in Starklund, I think."


    "That''s a good thing, though, Einar." Katla said. Alexander noticed she moved her hands a lot when she spoke but was careful not to make contact with her brother. "More horses means more work for us! It''s much hard to shoe a machine like this."


    "There will be plenty of work for you, I promise you that." Alexander said. "The north has remained relatively untouched by all these machines, everything is still done the old way."


    "That suits us just fine! We want to be able to put the skills our father taught us to use for as long as we can."

 Inquisitors and Smiths - Part 8

    "We''ll have to sleep in the common room, I can compel a room for myself but I''m not sure I could extend that obligation to each of my companions." Alexander said as the group arrived one of the inns surrounding the train station. The sun was hanging low in the sky, illuminating grey columns spewing forth from approaching locomotives.


    "A room for each of us? Why would we need such extravagance?" Katla asked, pausing briefly to look back at the walls of the city illuminated against the horizon by the setting sun.


    "Well, we couldn''t share a room."


    "Is this another law or custom? About being in too small a space with foreigners?"


    "No, it''s just that an Inquisitor sharing a private room with a woman would look improper."


    "Improper?" Katla replied with a laugh. "Would people think I let you plow me while my brother watched?"


    Alexander''s eyes widened in surprise under his helmet at Katla''s bluntness while Einar wrinkled his nose but said nothing.


    "An Inquisitor must be beyond reproach in all matters, giving no grounds for anyone to accuse him of any vice or corruption."


    "Yet people might think you''re putting your sword in my scabbard even with my brother as chaperone simply because we sleep in the same room." Katla said, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.


    "It would not be the most perverse thing ever done by vicious men."


    "No, I suppose not. No matter, we are simple people, we have no expectations of private lodgings while traveling. In Starklund, a man who requests a private room is seen as being a man on important business or someone desperate to be seen as one."


    "Honestly, anything will be better than the ship we came over on. Einar and me, we''re accustomed to the cold so we could huddle up on the deck wearing our spare clothes," Katla said, holding up the small cloth bag she carried that held all of her meager possessions. "But the southerners we picked up along the coast on our way here? Oh, I pitied those thin-skinned wretches. They had to sleep below deck. I tried once, but it stank and was even more damp than the deck was! I''d rather freeze to death and have my body tossed overboard to feed the sharks than spend a night down there."


    The common room of the inn was packed with travelers when the group entered through the front doors. The hum of conversation quieted at the sight of an Inquisitor dressed in his armor and cloak. Behind him followed a tall, blonde woman wearing a tunic and trousers instead of the simple dresses commonly worn by women of the Empire. Finally, a blond man so tall he had to duck to avoid hitting his head on the doorframe entered. Alexander could feel the eyes of the patrons on him as he lead his companions to the proprietor. He handed the man two small coins and requested food for three. The man eyed the two Starklunders but nodded.


    Alexander led his companions to an empty table and the three sat on wooden stools. The innkeeper brought three bowls of soup and a small loaf of bread to share. While the man poured wine from a clay jug into three plain cups Alexander picked up the bread and tore off a large chunk and held it out to Einar, who blinked several times and wrinkled his nose but said nothing.


    "Ah, Einar does not like people touching his food," Katla said sheepishly before turning to the innkeeper. "Do you have a knife I can use?"


    Alexander placed the remaining bread on the table and kept the piece he tore off for himself while Katla cut the remaining loaf down the middle and pushed one half towards her brother with the blade. Einar thanked her and began eating, the innkeeper watching the proceedings with a raised eyebrow.


    "Does he think I''m dirty?" Alexander asked when the innkeeper had left them alone.


    "Yes, but not you specifically. He just doesn''t like when people touch his food after it''s been made."


    Alexander nodded and began to tear off chunks of bread and dip them in his soup. Katla raised her wine cup above her head. "Pro-" she began but stopped herself, "Uh, Health!" she exclaimed in a loud voice before taking a mouthful. People turned to look at the outburst but looked away when they saw the woman was seated with an Inquisitor.


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    "It''s so quiet here," Katla said after a few moments of eating quietly, her mouth full of bread. "Everyone is hushed, no laughter, no song. I''ve been to funerals for children more joyous than this place."


    The mention of a funeral reminded Alexander of Simone. He wondered if her father decided to allow her proper funeral rites. He would have to ask Marcus about the outcome when he returned. Alexander felt a brief sadness wash over him. He thought of everything he had seen since he left over a week ago: The cities, the trains, the ships in the air and the sea, the great stone buildings that seemed like they could contain the whole of Croton within their walls, and the tens of thousands of people of all different types. He knew that excessive desire for novelty was a vice but it still saddened him to think that Simone dreamed of seeing all these things and the lands across the sea but died without ever leaving Croton.


    "The reason there''s always singing because you''re always there, singing." Einar said before lifting his bowl to his mouth.


    "Someone has to, otherwise our people will turn as dour as this lot." Katla said with a grin, glancing at Alexander. "Oh, it was just a joke. Does your rules forbid laughter as well?"


    "No, the Philosopher teaches that humor has a virtue to be cultivated like any other thing. The virtue of wittiness is finding the right balance between being overly serious and being a buffoon. A clever remark or play on words or humorous story, all at the proper time and proper amount."


    "This place!" Katla exclaimed. "Even your clowns must know more rules than our judges. Do you think anyone would object if I sang?"


    Alexander blinked in surprise at the speed his companion changed topics. "I think people would be too shocked to ask you to stop, but we generally keep our singing to specific events that call for song."


    "Ah." Katla said, shoulder slumping in disappointment. "No matter, I only know songs in Starklund anyways. I''ll need to learn the words to some Tarid ones so I can sing without being flogged."


    "Singing their songs as badly as you might get you flogged anyways."


    "Can you believe my brother?" Katla said to Alexander with an exaggerated pout. "So mean to his sister. Are there rules in this country to force a brother to be kind?"


    "Well, legally speaking-"


    "It was a joke, Nar and me like to tease each other. Helps keep us humble, if Nar''s head got any bigger he would start a new quarry everywhere he lay down to sleep. It was already explained to me when we arrived that your country''s laws consider me Einar''s property. Though he would keep in mind that I will feed him his own fingers if he isn''t careful."


    Katla raised her cup and gulped down the rest of her wine and wiped her mouth on her sleeve. She looked around for a moment before leaning over to Alexander. "How does one ask for more drink in your country?"


    "You don''t." Alexander replied. "We take one cup of wine with meals for our health, people who drink more than that risk becoming drunkards."


    "Just one?" Katla said as her face twisted in shock. "In Starklund, drinks are poured for as long as you can hold your cup steady enough for the tavernkeeper to pour into it. Just one?"


    "Everything in the Empire is done in moderation. No wine results in poor health, too much wine also results in poor health but also poor decisions and uncontrolled tempers and the like."


    "Does this law apply to what is done in your own home? When you are alone?"


    "Well, no. Private vices are a matter for the individual to strive to correct, but the law only requires the intervention of the magistrates or the Inquisition if the vice begins to impact others."


    "So we could have more than one cup at home as long as no one sees?"


    "Legally, yes." Alexander said, hesitating. This was the first time someone had asked him, an Inquisitor, if it was alright to indulge in a vice of excess as long as she did it privately. It felt surreal but it was a welcome change from the people he had been around since he set out from Croton who were too afraid to even speak about the weather with him unless questioned directly.


    "Good!" Katla nearly shouted with a broad grin on her face, ignoring the heads turning to stare at her. "If I thought I had to work all day at the forge and then have to slake my thirst with a single cup of wine, I would sprint down to the port and swim back to Starklund," she said in a voice that was quieter than before but still felt to Alexander like it was booming in the ears of every patron in the room.


    "I''m tired, I''m going to sleep." She announced when finished the last of her soup. She stretched out on the floor up against the wall with her clothing sack as a pillow. Alexander just had time to sit on the floor a short distance from her when she began snoring. He looked at her for a moment in shock, then envied how quickly she was able to doze off. He didn''t dare remove his armor and weapons out in the open like this. His gear was more finely made than anything a common soldier would wear but it was still not comfortable to wear for extended periods of time. Sleep would not come easy. He watched as Einar stretched out on the floor beside Katla, back turned to her and his head at her feet. Laid out side by side the man made his sister look tiny despite her own impressive height. Alexander closed his eyes, hoping that sleep would come as easily for him as it did for Katla.

 Inquisitors and Smiths - Part 9

    "I think the first thing I do when we reach Crow Town, after I take a bath of course, is forge myself a proper knife, I feel so naked out here without any kind of weapon." Katla said as she dumped an armful of sticks and branches on the ground beside the clearing Alexander had made in the dirt.


    "You''ll need two or three baths, Svinya." Einar said he put down his own, much larger, armful of firewood. The group had moved off the road a short distance to set up camp for the night. Alexander''s horse was tied to a nearby tree, a wooded area a short distance off to the west.


    "At least if I bathe thrice, I will be cleaned thrice. Three baths for you only cleans up to your arse."


    "But I would still smell better than you."


    Katla and Einar both made faces at each other, which Alexander attempted to ignore. He wondered if all Starklunders behaved this way with each other or just their siblings, or if these sorts of childish displays were limited to the two travelling with him.


    Alexander piled the materials for a fire into the crude pit he had dug. He retrieved the flint from his saddle bag and knelt in the fire, dagger in hand. He focused on his breathing and imaged the sparks from the flint erupting in a great shower, igniting the tinder and roaring into a blazing fire. A few moments passed before the image felt real enough in his mind and Alexander struck the flint and dagger together. Sparks leapt from Alexander''s tools and several tiny snakes of smoke began to rise into the air. The Inquisitor focused on the smoldering pile, imagining the embers turning to flame. The smoke grew thicker, a glow appeared within the tinder, tongues of flame began to appear and consume the tinder before spreading to the thicker wood. Within minutes a bonfire was crackling and casting dancing shadows in the fading light.


    The Inquisitor exhaled and leaned back from the flames and saw Katla and Einer both staring at him.


    "Was that Seider?" Katla asked. "Sorry, magic, ''Calling'' I believe it''s called in Wolleman."


    "It''s actually called Thaumaturgy here, but yes, I am a Caller."


    "Are all Inquisitors Callers?"


    "No, very few are. It''s not entirely unheard of but most people born with the gift are discovered much younger than I was. They tend to join with the Imperial College of Thaumaturgists to have their skills trained and put to use. It''s only been two years since my mentor, Marcus, tested me and discovered I was capable."


    "You did not have to join this college when it was found out? That you were a Caller?"


    "No, they couldn''t force me and I couldn''t have joined even if I wanted to. I was already sworn to the Inquisition by that point, there are almost no ways to be absolved of the oaths, once taken."


    "What would happen to someone who wasn''t sworn to your Inquisitors? If he was a Caller, I mean," Katla said, staring at Alexander with an intense focus as the campfire flickered in her eyes, "would he be forced to join this college?"


    "No, membership is not compulsory except in times of great need, such as the Great Rebuilding, or if the Empire were at war. Most patriarchs gladly consent to their children joining the college, even daughters. It''s the only place to learn how to use their gifts to their fullest, members have respectable positions and excellent pay. Very few turn it down if given the chance."


    "But you''re certain a Caller would not be compelled to join?"


    "Yes." Alexander said slowly, eyes shifting being Katla and her brother.


    "Can a man who is not a member Call if he is able? Or is that against one of your many rules?"


    "No, there''s no law against Calling so long as the Caller doesn''t use his gifts in a way that harms others, either intentionally or through carelessness. Some people are wary of people practicing magic independently but only because they have a healthy fear of what it can do. People in Croton are more afraid of me for my position as Inquisitor than for my meager talents with magic."


    Katla and Einar exchanged glances.


    "Why? Are you Callers?" Alexander asked.


    "I''m not, Einar is. Show him." Katla said, gesturing at the campfire. Einar turned to face the crackling flame and stretched out his arm. He raised his hand and the flames grew taller, brighter, until they stood nearly the same height as the Einar himself. He turned his hand over and moved as if he were pushing down the flames and Alexander watched as they shrank smaller and smaller until they were nothing but brightly glowing embers. Einar relaxed his arm and the flames returned to their normal height. Katla and Einar both turned and looked at Alexander, who sat with his eyes moving between the two of them and the fire.


    "Impressive." Alexander said after a silent pause. Einar grinned and Katla''s body relaxed when she saw the Inquisitor did not appear angered by the display.


    "Would Einar be able to make use of his gift in Crow Town? He won''t have to hide it?"


    "No, I think the town will be happy to have its very own Thaumaturgist in residence, you may get more requests for enchanting than you will for smithing."


    "Then it is good I will be there to pick up the slack at the forge!" Katla exclaimed happily to herself.


    "Do they persecute Callers in Starklund?" Alexander asked.


    "No, of course not. Seiderema, uh, Callers have been valued for their talents since forever. When we arrived here and began hearing all of your laws we weren''t sure how his magic would be received so we chose to hide it."


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    "Could you teach me?" Alexander asked, turning Einar. The man¡¯s grin faded and he began to blink rapidly.


    "Maybe." Einar said as he turned his head to face the fire and opened his mouth wide a couple of times. "I''m not very good at teaching."


    "You''d have to be better than no one, all I''ve had to learn from is an old book my mentor found in the study."


    "Maybe."


    "There will be plenty of time to think about such things later. Right now, we eat!" Katla said.


    The trio ate the food Alexander had purchased that morning. The group had arrived in Orenmoth late in the evening the previous day and slept in the common room of the inn by the station. Alexander had made the decision then to ride past Borecester. He knew he could have stayed with Inquisitor Morgan again and have private rooms for himself and his companions but feared what the harsh man would think of the Starklunders. Einar with his silence and his strange facial movements, Katla with her endless stream of careless words. The three could have stayed at an inn but if Morgan heard Alexander had stayed in town with foreigners but avoided him it could appear suspicious, better to simply ride around and if he were to encounter one of Borecester¡¯s Inquisitors explaint he detour as being due to his haste to return home.


    "I''ll take first watch." Alexander said. His two companions happily agreed and settled in for the night. Again, the time between Katla''s last words and the start of her soft snoring was so short that Alexander wondered if she was only pretending to sleep. A few moments of observing her still form seemed to confirm she actually did simply fall asleep almost immediately.


    Part of the Inquisitor wanted to stay awake all night but knew that he would have to sleep eventually. He had not been worried for the first two nights travelling with Katla and Einar, surrounded as he was at all times by citizens of the Empire. Out here, alone with the two foreigners, Alexander felt vulnerable. Murder of an Inquisitor was not unheard of, though it was exceedingly rare. Citizens knew that anyone who harmed a member of the Inquisition would be harshly punished. Actually killing one would result in the perpetrator being tortured to death in a public spectacle that was so horrific that none who witnessed it would risk earning such a fate for themselves.


    Alexander forced himself to trust that the two Starklunders did not mean him harm. He woke Katla for the next shift by prodding her foot until she woke. Alexander lay himself on the ground and closed his eyes. He hoped the next night he would be able to find a proper inn to sleep where he could remove his armor for the night. It was uncomfortable to keep his equipment on but this far from town he didn''t dare remove it. The Imperial Legion patrols helped curtail bandit activity throughout the Empire but there were always those who preferred to make a living by stealing from others rather than honest labor. Few weapons available outside of the Inquisition or army could hope to penetrate his armor but it wouldn¡¯t do Alexander any good if he wasn¡¯t wearing it when attacked.


    The Inquisitor woke the next morning and the first thought to cross his mind was how grateful he was that his throat had not been cut in his sleep. The rest of the journey to Croton was uneventful. The trio managed to arrive at the next small town or village most nights and slept in a common room each time. Once, the distance had been too great and they were forced to compel lodging from a farmer. Alexander could not tell if the man''s fearful expressions he tried so hard to hide was due to the presence of an Inquisitor or two foreigners but he was visibly relieved when his guests left early the following morning.


    Alexander wondered if his horse would be grateful she didn''t have to carry a rider or frustrated that she had to walk slowly enough for the humans to keep up with her, or if horses could even feel such things. Frustration was surely located in the animal or spirited part of the soul but he couldn''t remember if something like gratitude would be there as well or if it would be the domain of the rational part. It was difficult to remember the lessons he was taught in the Academy while Katla''s seemingly endless fountain of stories bubbled into his ears.


    The arrival of the Inquisitor and the two Starklunders caused an immediate stir in Croton when they arrived in the middle of the afternoon. Einar was the tallest man in the town by a good margin, Katla herself stood eye to eye with most men. The magistrates were summoned to the meeting hall and most of the men of the town crowded in as well, those who were able to put off their work temporarily. The magistrates were visibly upset at first by their new smith actually being two foreigners, despite Marcus'' warning that a non-citizen may be required to fill the role. Alexander could tell they were annoyed by the way Katla spoke on behalf of her brother but since he was her patriarch and he did not correct her they had no choice but to tolerate her. Normally, if a woman under a man''s control spoke or acted out of place, the man would be approached quietly and told about her behavior for him to correct but Alexander did not think this would accomplish much with Einar and his sister.


    The magistrates'' attitude towards the Starklunder changed when they learned of his gift. The prospect of having a Thaumaturgist who was also a smith employed for the benefit of the town caused them to be more willing to overlook the giant man''s scarcity of words, odd faces, and loud sister.


    With Katla and Einar accepted by the magistrates the Inquisitor''s job was complete. The brother and sister from Starklund were escorted to their new home as Alexander mounted his horse and rode for the villa. He kept his pace slow, enjoying the first peace in daylight hours he''s had since he first left the smith''s guild headquarters over a week before. Part of him would miss Katla''s endless chattering even as another part of him was glad for the quiet. The foreign woman was one of the only people outside of Marcus and the villa staff that Alexander could remember being friendly towards him in the past two years. In hindsight, though, the people of Croton and the surrounding area were as warm to him as sons were to a kind father compared to the people he had seen on his journey.


    Alexander passed the gates of the Villa in the late afternoon. He began to tend to his horse when one of the workers in a leather collar took over. He entered the house, grateful for the peaceful and familiar surroundings.


    "Inquisitor!" Chloe cried out from a hallway to Alexander''s left. "When did you get back? Just now?" she said in a loud voice as she hurried to meet him. "How was your journey? Were you able to fetch a smith for the town?"


    "Hello, Chloe." Alexander replied. "I was, two smiths, in fact. A brother and sister from Starklund."


    "Foreigners? I bet that the town was right pleased by that but as long as their horses get shoes and their knives get sharp I don''t think folks''ll object too much."


    "No, I don''t think they will. Is Marcus in the house?"


    "Yes, he''s in the study. Spends most of his time there when he''s not out and about visiting folks, making sure they''re all behaving themselves out there. Makes a right mess of my meal plans, him just having me bring him cold food instead of sitting down for a proper dinner. I think he missed you while you were gone, kept trying to chatter my ear off about this or that. I''m glad you''re back, Alexander, now he can leave me to my chores instead of asking me to play philosopher."


    "I''m glad to be back too, Choe." Alexander said with a friendly nod. "Though if you want to stand in for me during his philosophy lessons, you are more than welcome."


    "Oh no, that''s all you. Now, let me go get a proper dinner started and no matter what Marcus says about reading or already eating, you make sure he comes out and sits at the table when I call for you."


    Alexander promised he would do his best to ensure his mentor ate a real dinner and moved past Chloe, down the hall to the study. Marcus was seated at his desk, book in hand.


    "Welcome back, Alexander." he said with a friendly smile as he closed his book and placed it on the desk. "Please, tell me all about your journey."

 Secrets and Vice - Part 1

    ¡°Alexander!¡± Katla cried out with a grin. She placed the tool she was working on down on a table next to her and bound over to where the newcomer was standing. Einar was kneeling beside the forge, tapping the inside of it with a hammer and chisel.


    ¡°Actually, people around here call me Inquisitor.¡± Alexander replied as he removed his helmet. He felt a brief pang of guilt for correcting Katla for being friendly but it was important to maintain proper etiquette, especially with the newcomers.


    ¡°Ah, yes, your people do strike me as the sorts who would be overly concerned with using titles,¡± Katla said with a nod, her smile not diminishing as far as Alexander could perceive.


    ¡°So, Inquisitor,¡± Katla said with almost sarcastic emphasis, ¡°what brings you to our smithy? Hopefully nothing urgent that requires the forge, Einar is still enchanting it. When he¡¯s finished it will make more heat with less charcoal and produce finer works than ever!¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t need any work done. I¡¯m just here to check in on you two.¡±


    ¡°Ah, making sure we stay out of mischief, is that it? Making sure we¡¯re not spreading beliefs in strange gods or encouraging people to drink a second glass of wine?¡±


    ¡°Sort of. Marcus wants me to visit you two frequently in the coming weeks. Partly to make sure you¡¯re integrating well and also so that the people see that we are keeping an eye on you. The Emperor may be changing the laws to make it easier for foreigners with valuable skills to live here but most people are still suspicious of outsiders.¡±


    ¡°That seems wise, yes.¡± Katla said.


    ¡°So everything has been going well? No one has been causing you trouble?¡±


    ¡°Trouble? Ha! Hardly.¡± Katla said with a laugh. ¡°The way men speak to us when they come around the forge, you would think we were terrible monsters from some story told to frighten children into behaving. Wait, are stories with monsters allowed in this place or is that also against some rule?¡±


    ¡°Generally, stories about imaginary creatures are frowned upon as friv-¡±


    ¡°Of course, I should have known. I¡¯m sure your children sit eagerly at their grandfather¡¯s feet to hear the tale of the boy who received a spanking for eating a second cookie. I¡¯m sure we will make good substitutes for monsters, the woman who wore trousers and her very tall brother who dared to have a beard. I swear by whatever it is you swear by in these lands, I would have thought your country was ruled by a council of barbers whose wives had all been plowed by cloth dyers. Every man has the same short hair and shaven face unless he¡¯s old and then they all have beards trimmed the same length. And everyone is dressed is such plain clothes! If I did not see two women at once with my own eyes I would have thought there was only a single dress shared among all the women in Crow Town!¡±


    ¡°People don¡¯t want to appear vain.¡± Alexander said after taking a moment to process everything Katla had said.


    ¡°Vain, of course not.¡± Katla said, rolling her eyes. ¡°Will you be eating at the public house tonight?¡± she asked. ¡°It¡¯s nearly dinner time.¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯ll be getting back to the villa. I just wanted to stop in after making my rounds.¡±


    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.¡°Alright then, we¡¯ll try not to terrify too many of your people before you come by next.¡±


    Alexander turned and began the walk back to the villa as Katla returned to her work. He had questioned some of the people in town about the newcomers before he visited them himself. So far, no one had any specific complaints about the two. Many expressed concern at the presence of foreigners in the town at all but most were willing to tolerate the presence of a smith who was also a Thaumaturgist so long as the Inquisition would be keeping a watchful eye on him and his talkative sister.


    Though there were still several hours remaining before the sun would set, clouds moving in from the west blocked much of the light as Alexander arrived at the villa, making the hour feel later than it actually was. Upon passing the front gate he immediately noticed a strange horse in the stable. When he entered the house he found Marcus and an unknown, middle-aged man wearing worker¡¯s clothing seated at the dining table.


    ¡°Inquisitor,¡± The man said as he stood up.


    ¡°Alexander, this is Orville, from the village of Amdell a day¡¯s ride north of here. He rode out to fetch us, said there¡¯s been a couple of murders in the village recently.¡± Marcus said, rising from his chair.


    ¡°Is that so?¡± Alexander replied as he made his way to the table.


    ¡°Yes, Inquisitor, I was telling the Inquisitor here about it. Three nights ago, Bernard¡¯s boy went missing from the house. Bernard and Gilbert, he¡¯s a hunter, they went looking for him with the help of Gilbert¡¯s smell hound. Found him on the road halfway to Croton, stabbed dead. They carried his body all the way back to town, Bernard was a right mess. That was his only child, see. Well, this morning Bernard himself is found with his throat cut just outside of town. Gladys, his wife, she was beside herself with grief. I never heard wailing like hers before.¡±


    Alexander and Marcus exchanged glances as the man continued to speak. ¡°Some of the men were going to make a party to look for who it was that did this but I said that I would ride and fetch the Inquisitors so they can help.¡±


    ¡°You did the right thing by coming to us.¡± Marcus said as he rose from the table. He walked to the kitchen where Alexander could hear Chloe banging and rattling as she prepared dinner.


    ¡°Slave,¡± Marcus said. Alexander could tell the word was uncomfortable on his mentor''s lips but he had to keep up appearances in front of strangers. ¡°I will be bringing Orville to a guest room. When you have finished preparing dinner please bring him his meal there.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Inquisitor.¡± came Chloe¡¯s reply. Marcus returned to the table. He led Orville down a hallway, Alexander could hear a door creak and groan as it was opened and then again as it was shut, followed by Marcus returning a moment later.


    ¡°A man and his son, both meeting violent ends mere days apart, seems too suspicious.¡± Alexander said.


    ¡°Yes. Normally a single death on the road would be a matter to bring to the Legion, encourage them to increase patrols in the area or perhaps rally the men of town to hunt down robbers. But a boy disappearing from his house at night and being found murdered halfway between two towns? And then his father being killed only days later much closer to home, this doesn¡¯t seem like the work of a highwayman.¡±


    ¡°I agree, maybe it was someone who hated the man or felt wronged by him and his family.¡±


    ¡°Whatever the reason may be, someone who has killed twice will almost certainly have no qualms about doing it again. We need to figure out who is doing this and why before anyone else dies.¡±


    Chloe walked out of the kitchen and past the Inquisitors, carrying a tray.


    ¡°I put him in the second room, with the squeaky door.¡± Marcus said quietly. Chloe nodded and continued on her way.


    ¡°Hopefully we can get there and examine both bodies before they¡¯re burned,¡± Marcus said as the sound of the guest room door creaking on its hinges was heard down the hall. ¡°I know his widow, Gladys, will likely be eager to have the funerals, especially since her boy will have been dead for days by the time we get there.¡±


    The sound of the door creaking again preceded Chloe walking past the Inquisitors and into the kitchen.


    ¡°Speaking of funerals,¡± Alexander began as he took his place at the table, ¡°what happened with Simone while I was gone? What did her father decide?¡±


    ¡°Simeon gave his daughter a proper funeral. Even punched Edwin the elder for saying she didn¡¯t deserve one. The council decided not to punish him for the assault, said he would be excused this time due to grief.¡± Marcus said as Chloe appeared from the kitchen with dinner.

 Secrets and Vice - Part 2

    "I don''t know, Inquisitor, I wasn''t with Bernard and Gilbert when they found him. They just said that the younger Bernard was half-way to Croton by the time they found his body."


    Marcus dismounted and led his horse closer to the dark spot on the dirt road. He knelt down and pinched the dirt, bringing it up to his nose even as the motion disturbed a small cloud of insects.


    Marcus stood and stepped carefully around the spot on the road. "Alexander, look around from up there for anything usual, particularly clouds of flies."


    Alexander nodded and carefully scanned the area around him while Marcus knelt in the dirt again. "Looks to be drops of blood here," he said before walking back to the spot and inspecting the dirt leading away from it and back to Croton. "Appears the trail is only on the Amdell side of the blood pool.


    "Was he wounded further up and fled this way, bleeding as he ran, and then collapsed and bled to death here?" Alexander said, pausing from his search.


    "No, the trail is leading towards Amdell, not away from it."


    "How can you tell?"


    "The blood. Smaller drops near larger ones indicate which direction the blood was moving when it hit the ground."


    "Did they teach you that in the Academy? I don''t remember any such lessons."


    "No, they didn''t. The Academy is primarily concerned with teaching you how to fight and drilling the correct Ethics into your head. Everything else can be learned in the field from your mentor. No, I learned this from some hunters I accompanied many years ago. Figured a man''s blood with splatter just the same as a deer''s blood."


    Alexander nodded and resumed scanning the ground beside the road. Marcus'' words reminded him of how unprepared he often felt when dealing with situations since he was chosen by Marcus to be his apprentice. He felt so confident at first, certain he could handle anything that arose in the course of his duty. Three years the teachers of the Academy trained him how to fight with sword and dagger and shield, to trust the quality of his equipment to overcome the inferior weapons and armor of those he might face outside the Inquisition. Marksmanship with pistols and rifles and the maintenance of both, wrestling and boxing. Hours every week spent studying the teachings of the Philosopher and learning his Ethics until Alexander could recite every word the Philosopher had written by heart, able to answer almost any hypotheticals the instructors could propose.


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    What the Academy did not teach him, however, was how to function outside of it. When he first arrived in Croton he found himself at a complete loss as to how to interact with the people of the town. Three years of formal study among Inquisitors and half his life before that spent in one of the Empire''s orphanages with nothing but other boys and the caretakers for company did not equip Alexander to deal with how normal people spoke and behaved. Luckily for him, Chloe offered a great deal of opportunity to practice conversation skills, even if she was better at teaching how to listen than how to speak.


    "Marcus, I think I see something." Alexander said as he dismounted his horse and handed the reins to Orville. He walked to the left of where the dark spot was on the ground, a short distance away from the road. "I found a knife," Alexander called out as he knelt on the ground, disturbing the another, smaller cloud of flies that were buzzing around. Marcus also handed the reins of his horse to Orville and walked to where Alexander was crouched in the dirt.


    "Looks like blood on it." Marcus said as he picked up the weapon carefully. Alexander looked at the blade and saw what did appear to be dried blood.


    "Orville?" Marcus called out, "Did Bernard or Gilbert say anything about finding the weapon that killed the boy? Anything about throwing it away?"


    "No, Inquisitor, they just said they found Bernard dead and bloody on the road to Croton." the farmed replied.


    "Highwaymen don''t typically care about bloodguilt bringing bad luck to them, not enough to throw away a weapon they might have need of." Marcus said as he stood and looked around. "But this distance," he said, trailing off as he walked in a straight line to the spot on the road. "Only six paces, a child could throw a knife this size further than this." Marcus said as Alexander joined him. "If the killer was trying to hide the murder weapon, he could have thrown it much further."


    "What if it wasn''t to hide the weapon?" Alexander asked. "What if the killer was disgusted by it, threw it like this," he said as he mimicked a sideways throw.


    "Perhaps," Marcus said, stroking his chin. "Perhaps he was travelling with someone, the two of them fought and the boy was stabbed by his companion. The killer acted in passion and seeing what he or she did, threw the knife away in disgust before fleeing."


    "She?" Orville asked from his horse as the two Inquisitors climbed into the saddles of their own mounts and took the reins from the man. "You think a woman could have done this?"


    "It''s unlikely, but not impossible. How old was the boy?"


    "Bernard was about thirteen, if I remember correctly."


    "A bit young but it wouldn''t be the first time youths, intoxicated with the first stirrings of desire, decided to try their hand at the sort of romance they talk about in stories."


    "So you think he was killed by a girl he was running away with?"


    Marcus shook his head. "No, no, no. Please don''t get the wrong idea, Orville. Alexander and I will speak in hypotheticals, present an idea to each other as if it were true so we can examine it for flaws. It is unlikely that he was murdered by a girl he thought he was in love with, but it cannot be ruled out."


    "Oh, I see." Orville replied, nodding his head but furrowing his brow.


    "Though, I doubt it was a highwayman," Marcus said, scanning the surrounding area from his horse. "The road here''s too open, robbers like to lie in wait. Their job is more dangerous if their victims have more time to prepare. If the killer was on horseback he likely would have used a longer weapon than this knife."


    "Did you see the body? Where the boy was wounded?" Alexander asked.


    "No, sorry, Inquisitor." Orville replied.


    "Well, let''s hurry to Amdell, then." Marcus said, urging his horse forward. "Perhaps we''ll have a chance to examine the bodies if we''re quick."

 Secrets and Vice - Part 3

    "Which of these houses belongs to the widow, Gladys?" Marcus asked Orville as the three men arrived at the small village of Amdell. The town was a small collection of crude, low buildings surrounded by a wooden palisade. Orville led the Inquisitors to a house near the eastern gate and then left to return to his own home.


    Marcus and Alexander dismounted and tied their horses to a nearby post before knocking on the door. A moment passed before a middle-aged woman with black hair answered, eyes widening at the sight of two Inquisitors in their armor.


    "Are you Gladys?" Marcus asked as he removed his helmet. The woman shook her head but said nothing. She stepped back and gestured for the men to enter.


    Inside the cramped house half a dozen women were assembled, some sat on chairs, some stood, two sat on the bed. One of the women on the bed was slender, middle-aged woman with a black bonnet on her head. The woman beside her was about the same age, heavy-set with dark brown hair. All of the women wore their hair loose, braiding or styling of any kind was inappropriate during a mourning period.


    "Gladys?" Marcus said as he stood in front of the woman wearing the black bonnet. The woman looked up and nodded.


    "I am very sorry for what has happened to you and your family." He said. After a moment of silence he continued, saying "With your permission, I would like to examine your husband and son."


    "Can''t." Gladys replied. "Burned them this morning."


    "Ah." Marcus replied with a frown.


    "We had to, Inquisitor," the plump woman beside Gladys said, "it''s no good leaving men who met bad ends for long without their proper rites, brings bad luck."


    "I understand, I don''t fault you for wanting to honor your family, Gladys." Marcus said. "We''ll spend the night at the inn and then return to speak with you in the morning, if that''s alright."


    Gladys nodded but said nothing.


    "If you''ll be needing the inn, I best take you there." The other woman on the bed said as she stood and smoothed her dress. "Gladys, I''ll come by to check on you tomorrow."


    The woman led the two men out of Gladys'' home while another woman took her place on the bed beside the grieving widow.


    "You don''t remember me, do you, Inquisitor?" The woman asked as she walked towards the inn a few buildings down from Gladys'' home. "I''m Hattie, the tavernkeeper."


    "Oh, yes, I am sorry, Hattie. I thought you looked familiar but I couldn''t place my finger on where I knew you from."


    "Can''t say I''m surprised, you only come up here a few times a year. I''m sure you meet more people each time you make your rounds than folks in this town meet in their entire lives, can''t be expected to keep track of every face."


    "You two wait out here, I''ll have my husband come ''round and take care of your horses." Hattie said as she entered the inn. A few drops of rain began to fall, the dark clouds that had been gathering since the prior day finally making good on their threat. A tall, heavy-set man with a bald head and round face emerged from the inn and took the reins from Marcus and Alexander.


    "I''ll take care of these, you get yourselves out of the rain." the man said.


    "You don''t need any help with them?" Marcus asked.


    "Me? Nah, go on and get inside."


    The Amdell inn was a large home that had been converted to a public house. Wooden tables and chairs filled most of the space. A fireplace was set in the eastern wall with a metal pot suspended above the flames, beside it was a small oven. A handful of men sat at different tables, eyeing the Inquisitors warily as they entered before turning their attentions back to their meals.


    "Sit yourselves down wherever you''d like, I''ll bring you some food shortly." Hattie called out from behind the counter. Marcus and Alexander sat at a table in the corner, the men nearby eating in silence and avoiding eye contact with the Inquisitors. After a few moments Hattie arrived at the table with a pair of bowls and a plate.


    "You can start eating now, don''t worry about payment, this is on the house." the woman said as she set the food down in front of the Inquisitors. "Now, for drink, do either of you take Bitter Kiss tonic?"


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    Both men shook their heads in response.


    "Ok, I just had to check. I''ve started infusing the beer I serve here in town with it for our health."


    "Isn''t that dangerous?"


    "Not the amount I use, even if a man drank a whole keg by himself in one sitting he''d be fine. Still, can''t be too careful. If a man''s drinking the tonic itself we don''t want to risk him having too much by accident."


    "We''ll have regular beer, if it''s all the same." Marcus replied.


    "Suit yourselves." Hattie replied before heading off to fetch the drinks.


    "I''ll go and make up the room for you two while you eat," Hattie called out as she filled a pair of mugs. "Not often we get visitors who need a place to stay, most who do are here to stay with family anyways."


    Marcus and Alexander began to eat. One by one the men in the tavern finished their meals and left without saying a word. Marcus attempted to strike up conversations with the men who remained but got only simple replies to any questions he asked.


    "It''s really starting to come down now," Hattie''s husband announced as he entered the inn and stomped his boots on the floor. "That''s good though, the crops need it."


    The man walked over and stood by the table the Inquisitors were seated at.


    "Enjoying your food and drink, Inquisitors?" the man asked.


    "We are, thank you." Marcus replied. "My apologies but I have forgotten your name."


    "No apologies needed, I couldn''t keep track of as many names as you have to. I''m Alban."


    "Right, right. Alban. I need to be sure I come up more frequently, I''ve been slacking in making my rounds of late."


    "No need to worry yourself about that, Inquisitor. Amdell''s a quiet town. Or, we were." Alban replied, his face darkening momentarily.


    "Did you know Bernard?"


    "Of course I did! Amdell''s small, Inquisitor, everyone knows everyone. There aren''t two people in the town who''re strangers to each other."


    "Do you know if Bernard had any feuds with anyone? Had any disputes with anyone over anything, no matter how trivial?"


    "I can''t think of anything like that, everyone got along with Bernard. He was hard working, generous, had a respectable family."


    "What about his wife or son, could they have done anything to upset someone in town?"


    "Not as far as I recall, Inquisitor."


    "Everyone loved Bernard and his boy." Hattie said as she exited the guest room. The last remaining patron finished his food and exited the inn with a nod.


    "Is it always this quiet in here at night?" Marcus asked.


    "Usually the men who come here to eat stay a bit longer, but I imagine they don''t feel much like staying here long. The death of the Bernards has put a damper on the mood of the whole town," Hattie replied, sadly shaking her head. "plus it''s hard to enjoy yourself when you''re worried about enjoying yourself too much in front of Inquisitors." Hattie said before quickly adding, "Not that we have people in here practicing vice, mind you."


    "Plus I''m sure folks don''t want to be out after dark with a killer about." Alban added quietly.


    "Oh, hush with that talk," Hattie scolded, "I don''t for a second believe that Bernard was killed by one of our own. You look me in the eye and say you think that any of our neighbors are capable of murdering in cold blood twice, Alban."


    "I didn''t say the killer was from the town, Hattie, I said he was about," Alban replied with an annoyed tone. "Could just be a robber who happened to catch a father and son on two separate occasions by chance, or it could be there''s a lunatic gone mad and is murdering for reasons sane men can''t understand. It was a full moon just a week ago, you know."


    "We''ll explore every possibility, start looking around and asking questions tomorrow." Marcus said.


    "Very good, we''ll leave you to your meal." Alban said.


    "The guest room is just through that door," Hattie said, pointing. "Our room is behind that door," she said pointing to a second door on the other side of the room, behind the counter. "If you need anything, just come pound on the door or just shout. We only have one bed in the guest room so I hope you don''t mind sharing."


    "We''ll be fine, thank you for everything." Marcus replied.


    The Inquisitors finished their meal in silence while their two hosts puttered about the inn, cleaning and preparing for the next day. When they finished the two men retired to the guest room and closed the door behind them.


    "Not the largest bed." Alexander commented as he and Marcus removed their armor.


    "It''s big enough for one, we''ll sleep in shifts." Marcus replied as he lay himself down.


    "You don''t think we''re safe here?" Alexander said as he peered out of the small window in the wall opposite the door. He could see very little, the clouds covering the sky blocking what little light the moon might have offered.


    "I know folks in a town like this will refuse to believe that one of their own would be capable of cold-blooded murder but if it was someone from here they might not like us poking around. One of us will be on guard at all times while we''re here."


    "Sounds good to me."


    "In the morning we''ll talk to Gladys, see what she can tell us about her husband and son. Then we''ll see what everyone else in town has to say. Someone will know something if the killer was from Amdell."


    "What if it truly was a robber or madman who just happened to kill two members of the family by chance?" Alexander asked as he settled down on a wooden chair by the door, dagger resting on his lap in its sheath.


    "We can''t rule it out, though it feels unlikely. Robbers do whatever they can to minimize danger to themselves. Killing a boy out in the middle of nowhere could happen, but then why move closer to the boy''s home only to kill again? And why would the younger Bernard even be out by himself on the road at night in the first place?"


    Marcus sighed and shifted on the bed. "We''ll come at this tomorrow with rested minds. Try to wait as long as you can before waking me up, you''re still young, you''ll have plenty of time to get caught up on sleep when you reach my age." With that Marcus snuffed out the candle on the table beside the bed and Alexander was left to keep watch in the dark, kept company only by the sound of rain and Marcus'' breathing.

 Secrets and Vice - Part 4

    "Can you think of any reason why someone would want to harm your husband or son?" Marcus asked, standing with his helmet in hand. Gladys sat on one of three wooden stools by a small table. A small fire crackled in the hearth, lit by Alexander shortly after arriving. The rain had stopped just before dawn but the thick clouds kept the sun from alleviating the chill and damp in the air.


    "No, my husband got along with everybody in this town, he never gave anyone any reason to hurt him." Gladys replied in a quiet voice. Her eyes stared into nothing as she spoke, dry now but red with dark circles under them.


    "It wouldn''t have to be a legitimate reason, sometimes people can perceive an offense where none was intended."


    Gladys stared, unblinking, at a wall for a moment before locking eyes with Marcus. "My husband was a good man, hardworking and kind. No one can say he deserved what happened to him."


    "What about your son? Can you think of any reason someone would want to hurt him?"


    Tears welled up in Gladys eyes. She covered her mouth and her body shook as she began to sob, fighting to keep her weeping silent. Alexander shifted on his feet, uncomfortable at the display of emotion but unsure of what to say or do. Marcus placed his hand on Gladys'' shoulder. The widow looked up at him in surprise, her eyes searched his face for any sign of disapproval but found only sympathy. She turned her head and wept in silence for a moment before composing herself.


    "Bernard was a good boy, he had a zeal for Virtue that would put an Inquisitor to shame. He didn''t do anything to deserve this."


    "Do you know why he would have been on the road by himself at night?"


    Gladys shook her head.


    "Did he have any close friends we could talk to?"


    Again, Gladys shook her head. "Bernard was a good boy," she said, looking up at Marcus with tears in her eyes, "but he wasn''t a popular one. The other boys would let him play their games, mostly because they had to. Bernard''s zeal for the Ethics, he fancied himself a tutor, I think. He didn''t shy from correcting his own parents when he thought we were indulging ourselves too much."


    "Do you know why he would have been on the road? Could he have been running off with a lover?"


    "Lover? Bernard?" Gladys said with a bitter laugh. "The way that boy held on to the Ethics would make the Philosopher blush. If he ever got married he''d have lain with the poor woman just enough to plant however many children he wanted in her belly and then she''d never be touched again. No, Bernard would not have been running off to enjoy some passionate affair."


    "Now, I''m sorry to ask you about this, but I assume it was you who dressed your husband and son for burial?"


    "It was. Some of the women helped but it was me."


    "Your son, what sort of wounds did he have?"


    "Just one, here," Gladys said, pointing just below her breastbone.


    "Nothing else? No cuts on his hands or arms?"


    Gladys shook her head.


    "What about your husband?"


    "He was cut across his throat," Gladys said, bringing her hand up to her neck and rubbing it before putting her hand back on her lap.


    "No other injuries?"


    Again, Gladys shook her head.


    "What happened the night your husband died?" Marcus asked.


    "I don''t know." Gladys replied. "We went to bed the night before, I woke up in the morning and he was gone."


    "You didn''t notice him leaving?" Alexander asked.


    "No. I know you Inquisitors don''t share beds with anyone but it doesn''t take long being married before you learn to ignore each other''s snoring and getting up to relieve yourselves in the night."


    "Thank you for your time, Gladys. If you think of anything else, please come find us."


    Alexander and Marcus stepped out of the house and onto the muddy road. Based on the thick clouds overhead blotting out the sun the ground would be wet for a long time to come. Hattie approached carrying a bowl covered with a towel.


    "Inquisitors," she said as she stopped next to the men, "how is Gladys this morning?"


    "Upset, but that goes without saying." Marcus replied.


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    "I can imagine, well, I can''t imagine. Losing your only child and then your husband just days later. I''m surprised the poor woman hasn''t gone completely insane. I know if that were me you''d have to put me down like a rabid dog."


    "She''s grieving but I think she''ll be ok, in time."


    "I doubt she''ll ever truly be ok again, Inquisitor, but we''ll all do what we can to help her." Hattie said before bidding the two Inquisitors a good day and entering Gladys'' home.


    "What now?" Alexander asked when the two of them were alone of the street again.


    "I''m going to find the hunter Orville mentioned, Gilbert I believe his name was. Ask him about the night he and the elder Bernard found the younger one. Then I''ll speak to some of the men of the town, see if Bernard had any problems he kept hidden from his wife."


    "What should I do?"


    "I want you to speak to the boys of the town, see if any of them were closer to the son than his mother knew. It''s not unusual for a child to appear well-behaved to his parents while being more wild with his friends."


    The two Inquisitors split up. Alexander went door to door, asking at each house in the small village if there were any boys who would have associated with the younger Bernard. Amdell was small and it only took a few hours to reach every house within the walls before Alexander was forced to trudge through the muddy roads to the surrounding fields and orchards to speak to the other boys at work with their fathers and the slaves owned by those who could be considered wealthy by Amdell standards.


    Each boy Alexander spoke to told him the same thing. Bernard was included mostly out of obligation and the boys preferred to gather without him present. He would act as though he were an ethics tutor, questioning if the boys were having too much fun and if they shouldn''t spend less time at games and jokes and more time thinking about serious matters. The boys were always eager to clarify that they weren''t really spending too much time having fun, just that Bernard thought himself too mature for his age.


    Evening was approaching by the time Alexander had spoken to as many of the youth in the town as he could find. He returned to the Amdell inn and found Marcus already seated at a table in the common room. More men were gathered than the night before, a few sat at tables next to Marcus.


    "Alexander!" Marcus called out when he saw his apprentice enter. "Come here, I was just telling the lads here about your trip down to the capital but I think you would be better at that than me."


    The young Inquisitor walked over to his mentor and sat on a chair that Marcus pulled out for him.


    "Shouldn''t we talk about what we learned?" Alexander whispered.


    "When we''re alone," Marcus whispered back. "Start from the beginning, Alexander," Marcus said in a loud voice.


    Alexander felt awkward but began telling the men the story of his trip to the Capital. The trip on horseback down to Orenmoth, the train, the great network of rails that spread out from the city, the airships floating through the air and the fleet of trade ships in the harbor, the steam wagons hauling cargo between the docks and the trainyard.


    More people began to enter the inn, gathering around Alexander to listen to his story of the world beyond Amdell. The crowd, silent at first, began to warm up to the Inquisitors and began asking questions about the wondrous machines he saw and the great variety of people he saw on his journey. Hours passed in the blink of an eye. The crowd began to disperse as the sun set and Alexander was finally able to eat the meal brought to him by Hattie.


    "What was that about?" Alexander asked Marcus when the two were finally in their room.


    "I thought it might help the people of Amdell trust us more." Marcus replied. "Not just about the case but in general. I can''t tell you how many times I''ve visited this town since I first took up my post as Inquisitor for the area, but I realize today how little I actually know about the people. There''s not a single person here whose name I could actually remember."


    "And telling them stories will help with that?"


    "It might. Thirty years I''ve been Inquisitor, I''ve always tried to take a gentle approach to the people under my watch, yet people still fear us. I worry that I''ve been too focused on not giving people a reason to fear me that I haven''t been giving them any reasons to trust me."


    "It''s a lot worse down south." Alexander replied, "Everyone I met more than a day''s ride from Croton looked like they half expected me to have them arrested and flogged if they made too much eye contact with me."


    "Yes, that''s what they taught us when I was at the academy. ''Fear of the lash and sword will keep people from vice'' my teachers would say. Never sat well with me, any father can tell the difference between a child who obeys out of fear of discipline and one who obeys because he genuinely wants to please him. A boy who only behaves because he''s afraid of punishment will simply find ways to misbehave in secret. People need to be taught to love virtue for its own sake, not just to fear punishment for vice."


    "Speaking of misbehaving in secret, did you learn anything about the younger Bernard?" Marcus asked after a moment of staring at the wall.


    "No, every boy I spoke to said the same thing. Bernard was included because their parents made them. No one seemed to dislike him, much, but he was known for being very keen on obeying the rules at all time, seemed like he wanted his friends to see him as the tutor wise beyond his years. Did you learn anything from Gilbert or the men of the town?"


    "Gilbert just repeated what we already knew. The elder Bernard discovered his son missing in the night, fetched Gilbert to track the boy using his hound, the two raced down the road in the night and found the boy dead with a single stab wound. Bernard carried his son''s body all the way back home himself, wouldn''t let Gilbert help carry at all. All the men said the same thing about Bernard, no one had a word to speak against him."


    "Seems odd, I don''t think anyone is so well-liked that there isn''t a single man who knew him who had nothing against him."


    "People are afraid to speak ill of the dead, particularly on matters they think are trivial. People might be afraid to mention a small feud or disagreement they had, or that they know someone else had, in case it makes us think they might be responsible. No one wants to spread some minor thing that ends with a friend being crucified for a murder they may not have committed. Again, it''s that fear of us that makes doing our actual duty of ensuring the people in our care can attain the good life that much harder."


    "So what do we do now?" Alexander said as he finished removing his armor and settling on to the chair, knowing that Marcus would assign him first watch.


    "Tomorrow we''ll speak to Gladys again. If the killer responsible for her family''s death is someone from the town, she must know something about who could have done it even if she doesn''t realize it. Perhaps her mind will be clearer after more rest."

 Secrets and Vice - Part 5

    "Gladys? Are you awake?" Marcus asked, knocking on the door a second time. The sun was still low in the now mostly cloudless sky but the village of Amdell had seen a brief burst of activity as people rose and went about their labors.


    "Could she have gone out to work in the fields?" Alexander asked after a moment of silence passed.


    "Possibly." Marcus replied, again knocking on the door and calling out to the widow.


    "Good morning, Inquisitors." A voice called out. Alexander and Marcus turned and saw Hattie approaching with another bowl presumably filled with food. "Gladys not awake yet?" she asked as she came to a stop next to the two men.


    "She''s not answering." Marcus replied.


    "Wouldn''t surprise me if she was still asleep, I doubt she''s gotten much rest ever since her boy died. I came over last night with some tea to help her sleep and to check on her and she was very distraught, very. Grief is worst a few days after a loss, I say. At first you''re too surprised to feel it, I mean really feel it. Folks come over to comfort you and mourn with you but they get distracted by their own affairs and stop comin'' around and then you''re just left by yourself in an empty house haunted by their ghosts."


    "Not real ghosts!" Hattie added quickly. "I''m not talking about any kind of afterlife, Inquisitors, I mean their memories. All the little things that remind you of the ones you lost, the feelin'' that you should be able to turn around and they''ll be standing there but they''re not and it''s just you, alone. I''m hoping she moves out of the house and in with one of her relatives, so''s she''s not so lonely. Might not have a choice, depending on what Bernard''s brother wants to do with the house."


    "Probably for the best." Marcus said as he knocked again on the door.


    "Here, I''ll go in and check on her, call you two in when I''m sure she''s decent." Hattie said as she walked around Marcus and pushed open the door, closing it most of the way behind her. A moment later Alexander heard the sound of something clattering against the floorboards.


    "Gladys? Gladys!" Hattie cried out from inside. "Inquisitors!"


    Marcus pushed open the door and entered the small home, Alexander following close behind with his hand on his dagger. Hattie was standing with her hand covering her mouth, wooden bowl at her feet with its bread and cheese scattered on the floor.


    Alexander could see Gladys on the bed, her right arm dangling over the side, a cut beginning at her wrist and ending halfway up her arm. A dark pool had formed on the floor beneath her bloody hand, a knife resting just under her fingertips.


    Marcus knelt beside Gladys and felt her neck for a pulse for a moment before shaking his head. "Body''s cold to the touch," he said before gently pulling on her left wrist. "Stiffness is setting in so she''s been dead for a few hours, at least."


    "When were you here last night?" Marcus asked as he stood and turned to Hattie.


    "I came by just after you two turned in for the night. Sat and talked with her a bit, she was telling me stories about her Bernards before she said the tea was working and she needed to rest."


    "Thank you, Hattie. Please go and tell whoever needs to know about this but keep them out of the house until we say to let them in to tend to her body."


    "Yes, Inquisitor." Hattie replied with one last glance at Gladys'' body before hurrying out the door.


    "I''m going to guess you don''t think this was suicide if you want people to stay out of the house?" Alexander asked when he and Marcus were alone.


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    "I don''t, I believe someone wants us to think it was suicide, though."


    "What makes you think that?"


    "Cut''s on her right arm, which mean''s she would have had to hold the knife with her left hand. Even if she did have a preference for her left as a child it would have been beaten into her to only ever use her right."


    Alexander stood next to Marcus and looked down at were Gladys'' body lay. Apart from her bloody arm the woman looked as though she was merely sleeping.


    "She''s also on the side of the bed nearest the door." Marcus added as he took a couple of steps toward the entrance of the small house.


    "Is that significant?" Alexander asked.


    "Possibly, it''s customary for husbands to sleep nearest the entrance so that he can defend his family from intruders." Marcus replied.


    Alexander looked from the door to Gladys and furrowed his brow. He wondered if this was something that everyone but him knew or if it was something he would have known if his parents had lived and he had not spent most of the life he could remember in an all-boys orphanage and then as a member of the Inquisition, with its mandatory celibacy for the first twenty years of service.


    "The door wasn''t barred when we arrived." Marcus said as he walked the rest of the way to the entrance of the house. He closed the door and rotated a wooden beam on a peg across the door. "Hattie simply pushed it open."


    "Maybe Gladys doesn''t bar the door usually."


    "Perhaps, but the woman was alone after her son and husband murdered days apart, if I were her I would want to make use of any protection I had available to me."


    "If she did kill herself to escape her grief, she might not have cared if her home was secured." Alexander suggested.


    "True." Marcus replied. "Search the house for anything that looks out of the ordinary."


    Alexander nodded and began looking through Gladys'' belongings. "What am I looking for?"


    "I''m not sure." Marcus replied as he rifled through the few belongings the now-deceased family owned.


    The door to the home clunked against the bar as someone tried to push it open.


    "Inquisitors? Is everything alright?" Hattie called out from the other side. "I''ve told Bernard''s brother about Gladys, and brought some of the ladies to see to her body."


    "We''ll be done shortly, please wait outside." Marcus called back as he lifted up a man''s tunic from a basket in the corner of the house. It was covered in blood down the front and beneath it was a pair of trousers, similarly bloody.


    "Presumably what Bernard was wearing when he was murdered." Marcus said quietly. He pulled out a second tunic, blood covering its front as well. "This must have been what he was wearing when he carried the body of his son home."


    Marcus lifted up a pair of trousers and Alexander saw a brief glimpse of something fall back in the basket. Marcus bent over to look at the object.


    "Alexander," Marcus began quietly, "return to our room and fetch my bag."


    Alexander nodded and lifted the bar from the door. He stepped outside and walked past Hattie and a small group of women from the village carrying linens and supplies needed to prepare Gladys'' body.


    "Keep out until I give you permission to enter, please." He heard Marcus say in a stern voice. Hattie began to protest only to be scolded further. Alexander entered the room and retrieved Marcus'' bag and returned to Gladys'' house. He walked pass Hattie who tried to ask him what was going on.


    "Close the door, please," Marcus instructed as Alexander entered the home. "Bar it as well."


    "What do you need?" Alexander asked as he returned from the entrance, Hattie and the other women''s voices coming from beyond the barred door.


    "This." Marcus said as he pulled out the bloody knife they had found by the spot the younger Bernard was killed. Marcus lifted a belt from the basket. Attached to the belt was a simple, empty leather sheath. "Fits perfectly." Marcus said as he slid the knife into it.


    "Eh?" Alexander said as he walked over beside his mentor. "Was the boy killed by his father?"


    "Possibly, or he was killed by someone who used his father''s knife, or maybe the knife was used on someone else entirely, or maybe this wasn''t Bernard''s knife at all and it''s just a coincidence that it fits." Marcus said in a frustrated tone as he removed and inserted the knife into the sheath a few times, inspecting it closely as he did. "There''s a simple decorative pattern etched into the handle of the knife and on the sheath as well. I am fairly certain that they go together."


    Marcus placed the knife and sheath in his bag. "More happened the night the younger Bernard was killed than we''ve been told about, I''m sure of it."


    "Could the father have murdered his own son, Gladys found out and killed her husband, then herself out of grief or guilt or both?" Alexander asked.


    "Possibly, but if that''s the case then Gilbert the hunter would have seen it, unless he was involved. Come, we need to talk to him again. Keep your helmet on and your hand on your weapon at all times, anyone in this town could be the killer."

 Secrets and Vice - Part 6

    "Are you done in there? Can we tend to the body?" Hattie asked as Marcus and Alexander exited the house. "It''s bad luck to leave a body that died in grief unattended for too long."


    "Go ahead." Marcus answered as he marched past the women gathered outside of Gladys'' home.


    "Do you think Hattie could be the killer?" Alexander whispered after he and Marcus walked around a house a short distance from Gladys'' home.


    "Of Gladys? Certainly." Marcus replied, coming to a stop. "She admits to being in the house last night, Gladys would have likely trusted her to unbar the door for her to enter. What I don''t understand is how Hattie could have kept the woman quiet enough to cut and bleed her to death without anyone hearing a struggle of any sort."


    "Hattie is a pretty big woman, much larger than Gladys. Maybe she was able to cover her mouth, hold her down?"


    "It would be nearly impossible to keep her mouth covered and hold her down still enough to cut as nearly as she did."


    "Could she have gotten her drunk? Or given her some sort of sleeping potion?"


    "It''s certainly possible." Marcus said with a sigh. "There''s too many possibilities, too many questions, not enough answers. Maybe Gladys was killed by Hattie, maybe she truly did decide to flee her grief and her husband and son who, by sheer coincidence, were both killed by a wandering criminal. There''s too much we don''t know, too much we can''t know."


    "Part of why people fear us Inquisitors is they have a belief that we know some secret way, some trick to learning the truth." Marcus continued as he stepped closer to Alexander so he could hear without the need to raise his voice. "They think we can look at a man and see his hidden vices, or ask the right questions and learn all of a man''s secrets by the way he answers.


    "But we can''t, can we?" Marcus said after taking a deep breath. "All we can do is ask questions any man could ask if he weren''t too embarrassed at the prospect of offending others and hope people tell us what we need to know. The only difference between us and anyone else is we actually ask those questions and carry enough weapons to compel an answer."


    "Maybe that''s all we need to do." Alexander replied. "Be the people willing to ask the questions and say the things no one else will. You said it yourself, lots of injustice goes on because people are too embarrassed to ask the questions that would expose it."


    "Perhaps." Marcus said before shaking his head. "Listen to me, rambling on. We need to speak to Gilbert and find out what, if anything, he''s not telling us about the night he and the elder Bernard found the younger."


    The Inquisitors made their way along the dirt roads to the home of Gilbert the hunter on the edge of town near the east gate. The sun was rising higher into the sky, its warmth and light helping to dispel some of the sleep from Alexander''s eyes. He couldn''t help but think that he would like to be back at the villa where he could sleep in his own bed the entire night through, not alternating between waking and sleeping every few hours. Alexander scolded himself in his mind for the thought, it was selfish of him to be thinking of his own disturbed sleep when three people, an entire family, had met violent ends mere days apart.


    "Gilbert? Are you home?" Marcus cried out as he banged his fist against the door. It opened under the force of the first blow. "Gilbert?" Marcus called again as he pushed the door open wide and stepped through, left hand resting on his dagger.


    "Alexander, look." Marcus said as he walked into the center of the home, pointing at the floor. Lying motionless on the rough boards was a black, white, and tan dog with large ears. Alexander knelt down and examined the dog. Its mouth was open, tongue limp on the floor beneath, chest still.


    "I think it''s dead." Alexander said as he stood and turned to Marcus.


    "Check it for wounds." Marcus said as he turned and searched the small house. Alexander knelt back and turned the dog over. There was no blood visible on the ground or in its fur.


    "Nothing that I can see," Alexander said.


    "What do you think is the probability that Gladys died by her own hand and this dog simply died of old age on the same night?"


    "Pretty low, I''d say."


    "I agree."


    "Do you think Gilbert could have done it? Killed Gladys, made it look as though she killed herself, and then fled?"


    "Possibly. We need to find out where he is. Carefully, common arrowheads can''t pierce our armor but a skilled hunter can find the gaps well enough if he''s armed and we should assume he is."


    Marcus and Alexander exited the house together and made their way to the stable at the south end of the village where most of the town''s horses were kept.


    "Excuse me, does Gilbert the hunter own a horse?" Marcus asked a man about Alexander''s age wearing a leather collar.


    "Not right now, Inquisitor." The young man replied. "He took it out this morning."


    "Did he say where he was going?"


    "No, Inquisitor. He didn''t say anything."


    "Did he have anything with him?"


    "He had his cloak and his bow and the stuff he takes when he''s going to be far away for a while."


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    "Did you see which way he went after he took his horse?"


    "No, Inquisitor. I have too much work to do to be watching what folks do with their horses once they''re outside."


    "Ok, thank you."


    "It seems more and more like Gilbert has blood on his hands." Alexander said when the two men were outside of the building, alone.


    "Agreed." Marcus replied. "Though whose blood and how much is on his hands alone, it''s hard to say."


    "Inquisitors!" a man''s voice called out.


    "What now?" Marcus grumbled.


    "Inquisitors!" the voice called again, a man waving them over. Marcus and Alexander approached the man.


    "There''s a boy at the western gate, says he has a message for you two."


    "Lead us there." Marcus replied.


    A small crowd had gathered by the western gate where a boy around ten years old was standing with a woman, presumably his mother, holding his hand. The boy''s eyes were red as if he had been crying.


    "He said he had been snatched by Gilbert, the hunter, but let go a ways outside of town and told to come back and give a message to you two." the man who led them said.


    "Hello boy, what''s your name?" Marcus said as he crouched down beside the child.


    "Archie." The boy replied quietly, his face showing the fear he felt at the two Inquisitors standing in front of him.


    "Archie, I''m told you have a message for me?"


    The boy nodded.


    "Can you tell me?"


    The boy shook his head. "I''m only supposed to tell you by yourselves."


    "Ok, let''s walk a little for some privacy, yes?"


    Alexander and Marcus led Archie past the gate and walked down the road until they were out of earshot of the dozen or so people standing just inside the walls, watching.


    "I think this is a good spot." Marcus said as he stopped and crouched next to Archie again, knees popping audibly as he did. "Why don''t you tell me what happened? You said that Gilbert the hunter took you?"


    Archie nodded. "I was walking out to work with my dad when Gilbert came and stuck a knife right up to my neck. He said he wouldn''t hurt me if I was quiet and did what I was told. He lifted me onto his horse and then he got on, and we rode that way for a while," the boy said, waving at the road to the west. "He stopped and we got off the horse and he told me to walk back to town and find the Inquisitors and tell you something but not anyone else."


    "What did he want you to tell us?"


    Archie looked upset. He started to speak but stopped several times before he could get the words out. "He said that him and Alban and Hattie and Bernard and Gladys would get together and drink lots of wine and do bad things with each other."


    "Did Gilbert say what kind of bad things?" Marcus asked. Archie shook his head.


    "Did Gilbert say anything else?"


    Archie nodded. "He said that Bernard and Gladys'' son found them doing bad stuff and was real mad. He said he ran away to tell you about it, but Bernard didn''t want to get in trouble so he and Gilbert found him and Bernard killed him."


    Tears were welling up in Archie''s eyes. Alexander could tell that repeating the story was upsetting him but the boy continued speaking.


    "And then Gilbert said that Bernard was real sad and he was going to tell people, so they killed him too, and Gladys knew but didn''t stop them because she didn''t want to get in trouble either. He said that Hattie killed Gladys, because she might tell you about what they did, and that Hattie tried to kill him with poison but he found out by letting his dog eat her food and he escaped."


    "You''re doing good, Archie." Marcus said with a reassuring tone. "Did Gilbert say anything else?"


    "He said that  everyone who did the bad things has a mark on their legs, way up here," Archie said, gesturing to his inner thigh near his groin, "and that it was part of magic to make them keep their bad stuff a secret."


    "Is that everything?"


    "No, he just said he was going to go away and you wouldn''t be able to find him, but you should punish Hattie and Alban for what they did and for trying to kill him."


    "Thank you, Archie." Marcus said as he patted the boy on his head. "You''ve helped us a lot here. You can go back to your mother but don''t tell anyone what Gilbert said. If they ask, say that I told you to keep quiet, ok?"


    Archie nodded and took a step towards the crowd still gathered at the gate before he stopped and turned to Marcus.


    "Inquisitor?" He began. "Do you think it''s true? Did Hattie and Alban really kill people?"


    "They might have, we don''t know for sure."


    "I hope not." Archie said sadly. "They were always nice."


    "I hope not too, but we''ll try to know for sure. You go and get back to your mother, ok?"


    Archie nodded and ran off, his mother embracing him when he reached her.


    "So, what are we thinking? Was Gilbert the murderer and is just trying to shift blame onto someone else?" Alexander said to Marcus in a low tone despite the crowd being well beyond earshot.


    "Possibly, though by all accounts he and the elder Bernard were both present when they found the younger. It does seem possible that the two of them killed the boy, and if that''s the case then the rest of the story relayed to use by Archie would fit with what we know. If Hattie knows poisons that could explain how she could have faked Gladys'' suicide, poison to render her unable to fight back and then take the knife to her arm."


    "Is that enough, though? Hattie and Alban could say they''re innocent, that Gilbert was the killer and he''s telling lies about them to distract us from him while he gets further away.


    "Possibly. We''ll have to check what he said about the mark on the thighs. There''s very few innocent things that need to be kept secret to the point of cursing yourself. We''ll check Gladys for the mark first and if it''s there, we''ll check Hattie and Alban."


    Marcus put his helmet back on. Seeing him do it reminded Alexander that he forgot to take his own off to avoid intimidating Archie. "Keep one hand on your weapon at all times, there''s no telling how cornered murderers will react when confronted."

 Secrets and Vice - Part 7

    "Everybody, out of the house. Now." Marcus barked. A procession of confused women, muttering to themselves as they walked past the Inquisitor.


    "We''re not done wrapping-" Hattie began to protest until Marcus silenced her with a raised hand.


    "Stay here." He ordered. "Alexander, keep an eye on them while I go inside."


    Alexander nodded and stepped into the door after Marcus entered the house. Hattie and the other women murmured as several other men and women gathered to investigate the commotion. He kept his hand on the hilt of his sword, feeling anxious about the growing crowd.


    ¡°Go inside, look high on the inside of her left thigh.¡± Marcus whispered when he returned to the door. Alexander nodded and moved into the house as Marcus took his place.


    Gladys¡¯ body was laid on the table, nude but partially covered by a white sheet. Bowls of water and cloths rested on the floor surrounding the table while another was by the bed where someone had attempted to scrub the blood out of the floor.


    Alexander walked next to the body. He felt strange, uncomfortable, like he was violating her privacy even though she was dead. The official stance of the Empire was to deny the existence of any kind of afterlife. Funeral rites were to show due respect for the person who was, not to some aspect of them that persisted after the death of their body.


    ¡°Forgive me for this intrusion, I do this only out of necessity.¡± Alexander muttered to himself. Showing proper respect to the dead was necessary to avoid bringing misfortune to yourself. He thought back to what Marcus had told him about the practice of exposing unwanted babies persisting even after the religious justification for it was outlawed. Perhaps the misfortune brought about by not paying the dead whatever honor they were due was originally believed to be inflicted by some deity or the ghost of the dead, rather than simply being Nature itself punishing those who do not render respect that is deserved.


    Alexander pushed gently on Gladys¡¯ thigh. He could see a small mark in her flesh, three lines crossing each other in the middle to form a star shape.


    ¡°Looks to be a scar of some sort.¡± Alexander whispered to Marcus when he returned to the doorway.


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen that sort of thing before,¡± Marcus whispered back, ¡°usually a bit of metal heated in a fire and pressed against the skin. Quick way to mark multiple people.¡±


    ¡°Could it just be coincidence? Gilbert knew about the scar and said it was part of a silence curse to lend credibility to his story?¡±


    ¡°Possibly. We¡¯ll have to check the other two to see if they have matching scars. If they do, his story is likely true as far as the lot of them swearing each other to secrecy.¡±


    ¡°Alright, Hattie, back to the inn, now.¡± Marcus ordered. A confused murmur moved through the small crowd that had gathered. Hattie began to protest but Marcus placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. ¡°Move.¡±


    Hattie turned and began walking towards her inn, the crowd following at a safe distance. Alban was tending to the Inquisitors¡¯ horses when the group arrived.


    ¡°Alban, get over here, now.¡± Marcus commanded in a loud voice. The innkeeper looked confused but walked over as commanded.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Both of you, show me your thighs, up here.¡± Marcus ordered as he gestured to his leg.


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    ¡°Expose myself, here? In front of all these men?¡± Hattie protested.


    ¡°Do not make me ask again.¡±


    Alban and Hattie exchanged worried glances. Alban lowered his trousers as Hattie reluctantly hitched up her dress.


    ¡°Check them both.¡± Marcus said.


    Alexander nodded and moved closer to the couple, instructing them to turn their legs. He could see the same star-shaped scars on their thighs that he saw on Gladys. ¡°Both are marked, same as Gladys,¡± he called out as he stepped back. Hattie let her dress fall while Alban stood, glaring at the Inquisitors.


    ¡°Gilber the hunter had a message passed along to us.¡± Marcus said, loud enough for everyone gathered to hear. ¡°He said that you, Hattie, killed Gladys and made her look as though she killed herself. He also said that you tried to poison him.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s a liar!¡± Hattie shouted.


    ¡°His message also said that you two, Gladys, Bernard, and him would get together in secret to get drunk and do ¡®bad things¡¯, which I am going to guess means orgies, correct?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s preposterous!¡± Hattie exclaimed as the crowd muttered in shock, ¡°he¡¯s just- ¡°


    ¡°He said that you lot swore an oath of secrecy, and marked yourselves with a curse to keep silent. All three of you are marked exactly as he said, and if you have not been so quick to burn the body of the elder Bernard, we would almost certainly have seen the same mark on his body.¡±


    ¡°No, he¡¯s lying, he¡¯s just trying to- ¡°


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s enough, Hattie.¡± Alban interrupted. His wife¡¯s face twisted in shock.


    ¡°Alban, no.¡± she said with obvious panic in her voice.


    ¡°It¡¯s true,¡± Alban began, glaring at Marcus. ¡°We¡¯d get together sometimes, drink too much, strip down and have our fun until no one could walk straight.¡±


    ¡°So you admit to drunkenness and participating in orgies.¡± Marcus said.


    ¡°So what if we did?¡± Alban replied, almost shouting. ¡°No one else knew, twenty years we¡¯d all been together and no one else in the village knew, we had our fun and all went back to work and didn¡¯t hurt anybody by it.¡±


    ¡°Three people are dead, and apparently you tried to kill a fourth.¡±


    Alban opened his mouth to speak but said nothing.


    ¡°Here¡¯s what I think happened, then.¡± Marcus stated. ¡°The boy caught his parents participating in an orgy. Snuck away to come tell us since he held tight to the Ethics, even above his own parents. Bernard and Gilbert went looking for him when he went missing, Bernard was forced to kill his only child when he refused to keep quiet about what he had seen. Sound right?¡±


    Alban and Hattie stood in silence while the crowd muttered in shock.


    ¡°Bernard, distraught over the death of his son, threatened to expose your deeds to everyone so you and Gladys killed him to protect your secrets. Then, with two deaths and the Inquisition present, you decided to kill the other two people who might talk if we pressured them enough and hoped we would eventually give up and leave with the four murders unsolved.¡±


    The two innkeepers exchanged glances. Hattie began to stammer in protest but stopped. The two looked between each other, the crowd, and the Inquisitors.


    ¡°Yes.¡± Alban said as tears began to roll down his wife¡¯s face as she nodded. ¡°It¡¯s all true.¡±


    Marcus sighed. ¡°Then, with your confession in front of these witnesses, by the authority of the Inquisition, I sentence you to death for murder.¡±


    He withdrew his pistol and pulled back on the handle to pressurize the chamber. Hattie and Alban knelt into the dirt beside each other, tears in their eyes as they held hands. Marcus levelled his pistol at Hattie¡¯s forehead and pulled the trigger. The pop made Alexander blink in surprise as the woman fell backwards to the ground. Marcus turned, aimed, and squeezed the trigger a second time. Again, the pop made Alexander blink as Alban fell to the ground. Marcus stepped forward and placed a second bullet into each of them before venting the remaining air in the chamber in a puff of vapor.


    ¡°Dispose of these two murderers as the trash they are. Gladys, too.¡± He said to the crowd before marching off to the stable beside the inn, Alexander following closely behind.

 Secrets and Vice - Part 8

    ¡°You¡¯ve been quiet.¡± Alexander said.


    ¡°Thinking.¡± Marcus replied. The two men rode side by side on the road leading to Croton, the sun high in the sky above them. The pair had left Amdell immediately after Marcus executed Hattie and Alban, neither had spoken a word.


    ¡°About the executions?¡±


    ¡°Yes, and other things.¡±


    ¡°What sort of things?¡±


    ¡°The Inquisition, how much we actually matter.¡±


    ¡°We solved the murders, brought the killers to justice.¡±


    Marcus scoffed. ¡°Did we? We didn¡¯t solve anything. We wandered around interrogating whoever we could until one of the killers felt betrayed by the others and had his full confession relayed to us, while pointing us to evidence that would condemn his accomplices. We got lucky.¡±


    ¡°Is that so bad?¡± Alexander asked. ¡°If we hadn¡¯t been there, Alban, Hattie, and Gladys would likely have gotten away with murdering the two Bernards and continued in their debauchery.¡±


    Marcus was silent for a moment. Alexander wondered if he should say something else or let his mentor have silence.


    ¡°Makes you wonder if our entire mission is in vain.¡± Marcus said after several minutes of quiet. ¡°We¡¯re supposed to ensure that the people under our watch live virtuous lives, protect the people from vice and forbidden ideas. Yet, these people were carrying on for almost the entire time I was Inquisitor for this area and we only found out because they got caught and resorted to murder to cover it up.¡±


    ¡°No one can fault us for not having perfect knowledge of every person¡¯s behavior, all we can do is make sure vice doesn¡¯t become too widespread.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure many would fault us for not being perfect,¡± Marcus replied with a bitter laugh. ¡°But you¡¯re right, I could have spent every day in this town and if people really wanted the thrill of getting drunk and climbing into bed with each other they¡¯d find a way to do so when I wasn¡¯t looking.¡±


    ¡°Makes our job seem hopeless when you put it that way.¡±


    ¡°I sometimes wonder if it is. Hopeless, I mean. All the tutors teaching the Ethics and the Inquisitors to enforce them, we still have people like Alban and Hattie, dipping into debauchery and killing to keep it secret.¡±


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    ¡°I don¡¯t mean this in a disrespectful way Marcus, but if you feel like you¡¯re wasting time why don¡¯t you retire?¡±


    ¡°Because you can¡¯t do this on your own.¡± Marcus replied. ¡°I don¡¯t mean that as an insult, I think you¡¯ll make a fine Inquisitor, not that you aren¡¯t already, but you¡¯re young and inexperienced. They wouldn¡¯t even allow me to oversee this area on my own, that¡¯s why I took you on as my apprentice, but if I retire then they¡¯ll appoint someone to take my place. Someone more senior to you, someone who doesn¡¯t agree with how I¡¯ve handled things and they will require you to handle the people here the way they do down south.¡±


    Alexander thought back to his trip to Tariopolis, how everyone he met shrank back in fear. He knew what Marcus was saying was true. Any Inquisitor assigned to take over his position before Alexander was experienced enough to take charge would almost certainly be as harsh as they were in the heartland.


    ¡°Not that I am champing at the bit to retire, mind you. I fully agree with our stated mission, I agree with the Philosopher¡¯s view of what the truly happy life is for all our citizens, I fully support the Ethics. I just disagree with how violently we are expected to punish people for their mistakes.¡±


    Alexander tried to think of something to say to his mentor, some profound insight into the Ethics and the mission of the Inquisition that would be an encouragement to the man but could think of nothing. Years of being instructed in virtue by tutors in the ethics and two years of intense study with the philosophers of the Inquisition academy and he could not think of a single meaningful thing to say when it actually mattered.


    ¡°Alban and Hattie deserved to die for their crimes.¡± Alexander said, unable to think of anything else to say. ¡°They were murderers, even if their victims were also murderers.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you didn¡¯t mention anything about their drunkenness or orgies when you said that.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± Alexander asked, surprised.


    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s all too easy to hate people for their vices, to see their excesses or deficiencies as something that makes them inherently detestable. We can¡¯t forget that the sole end of all our laws and teaching the Ethics is to ensure that everyone in the Empire can live the good life, and we discourage vice in people so they can achieve that good life, true happiness and well-being.¡±


    ¡°Would you have still executed Alban and Hattie and the rest if the younger Bernard had revealed what they were doing and no one had died?¡±


    ¡°I probably would have had to.¡± Marcus replied with a heavy sigh. ¡°That kind of excessive indulgence in bodily appetites for so long, if it were to become public knowledge and I didn¡¯t put an end to it, someone like the younger Bernard would likely have gotten a message to others in the Inquisition that I was tolerating debauchery. They¡¯d send a force up here to handle matters and many more people would be held accountable for whatever offenses could be found, us included. Hattie and Alban being confessed murderers just helped matters. Hopefully the people around here understand that¡¯s why I executed them, not that I¡¯ll be drawing my pistol on everyone who doesn¡¯t follow the Ethics perfectly.¡±


    Marcus rode in silence for the rest of the journey. It had been dark for several hours by the time the two made it back to the villa, forced to travel by the light of the moon. Alexander barely had time to remove his armor before he collapsed, exhausted, into his bed.