It had been several days since the messenger had seen Rhodes, the capital of Charun. When he'd left, the army had been using forced labor to build camps outside the western walls. Multiple farms had been cleared for long rows of tents and training areas. Now there were three times as many tents as when he'd departed, and a haze of dust hung in the air from the supply wagons.

The training fields were filled with press-ganged soldiers, with more streaming in. Beyond the wall, the city was no less bustling. Charun had a strong monarchy, and as the peasants liked to rhyme it, all roads led to Rhodes. With war looming, the grey cobblestone streets were filled with merchants, officers and messengers like himself.

The messenger pushed through the masses to reach the more sedate Basilica plaza, where most of the passerby were monks in their faded blue robes. Before long, he was handing off his letter to Notary Janswith, a long-faced man with an impassive demeanor. The Notary waved the messenger away, broke the seal, and read.

Before long, he was calling for more messengers. And by the next day, he was scheduling a meeting with his superior.

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"Just the facts, Notary Janswith. My time is limited."

The Patriarch, a man in his sixties who was built more like a retired gladiator than a priest, looked up from the papers on his desk and pinned Janswith with a gaze that said the interruption had better be worth his time.

"Yes, Patriarch. Simply put, we believe we may have a rogue mage dabbling in death magic."

"A mage? Then it's a matter for the Magi."

Janswith nodded before replying. "Normally so, Patriarch. But the Magi and Arcanum are both fully invested in the war effort, as well as the aberrations on the northern border."

The Patriarch shifted, resting a heavy hand on his desk and drumming his fingers briefly. He stared at Janswith unblinkingly, but the Notary didn't look away.

"And yet, a rogue mage is still Magi's responsibility. A responsibility they guard jealously. Are you suggesting that we intrude on their authority?"

"I am suggesting that, given the in the current chaos, we have the opportunity to accrue more responsibilites to the Church."

The Patriarch stared for a moment longer. Then he chuckled, shifting his hand to stroke at his thick beard.

"Well, go on. Let's hear the details."

"Two nights ago, we believe this rogue mage struck Gentleham. The home of a local witch renowned for astromancy burned down, which could likely only happen if she was already dead. But since the destruction was rather complete, there was no evidence left to find. Instead, the evidence came through a local Ovate of the Church, who examined an unrelated cadaver. The signs of death magic were found on the cadaver."

"Unrelated? How unrelated?"

"A shopkeeper who lived on the outskirts of the city died alone in bed. His wife believed his heart gave out, so the Ovate was only performing a routine examination. However, the evidence of death magic was rather strong, according to his report."

"And there's no chance that these two events, the witch's home burning and the shopkeeper dying, are truly unrelated?"

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"I can't say with certainty, Patriarch. However, Gentleham is a quiet town. The Ovate reports that nothing similar to either event has occurred for several years. For both to happen in one night would be--"

"Yes, yes. I get the idea." The Patriarch waved a hand irritably. "What of the supposed death mage? Someone living in the town?"

"They could be hiding in Gentleham, but it's unlikely. It's a small town, so strangers get noticed. Also, I believe there may be a connection to another incident related to the Arcanum."

"Oh? Go on."

Janswith finally pulled out the rolled paper he'd held tucked under his right arm. He held up the sheet, reading from it.

"Four weeks ago, an unknown mage assaulted a known criminal organization in the capitol. The bodyguards were found to have been blasted with lightning. But the body of their boss, one Donalim Grut, was never found."

"A mage who gets his hands dirty? This must be an interesting fellow," grunted the Patriarch.

Janswith nodded, then continued to read. "Three weeks ago, a mage assaulted a well known shop in the capitol, Hrazim's Curiosities. The shop was extremely well warded, according to my sources. Rather than circumvent the wards, the mage simply blasted through the door. Again, lightning magic was used. That shop was also burnt, but there were additional wards, so most of its inventory survived."

"I heard about that, actually. Strange that the mage wasn't caught, isn't it?"

"Witnesses looking out of their windows saw a figure flee the shop less than two minutes after the lightning, Patriarch. The sound was loud enough to wake up half the neighborhood. However, nobody further than a street away saw anything. And given the clear evidence of magic use, the city guard chose to forward the matter to the Magi rather than aggressively pursue the mage."

"Ahh. Of course. The guard tends to be selectively brave. So what was stolen, if this mage was in and out so quickly?"

"A black mana stone, measuring 70 carats and worth over four thousand gold pieces. It had been held in a secure display case for several years, apparently. Nobody wanted to buy it, but it helped the shop to attract viewers."

The Patriarch's bushy eyebrows had risen at the first part of the statement. He narrowed his eyes skeptically as he replied.

"A black mana stone? And the Arcanum hadn't confiscated it?"

"They have their legitimate uses, I'm told. Several shops in the capitol were allowed to sell black stones, although none of were nearly as large as that one. After that incident, though, the Arcanum did confiscate the others."

"By which time the damage was done. Typical sloppy work from the Magi," grumbled the Patriarch. "Well, go on. Tell me how you've connected incidents from weeks ago in the capitol to some town in the hinterlands."

Janswith's thin lips creased into a small smile. "Simple, Patriarch. The Magi know who is responsible for the capitol incidents. A mage from a village near Gentleham, named Annel Oriyan."

The Patriarch's eyebrows were once again trying to ascend to his hairline.

"And you know this how? Nevermind, keep it to yourself. But they know the who and where, and they haven't sent anyone to go take care of it yet? I find that hard to believe."

"This mage is considered quite dangerous. He's a full graduate of the Arcanum, and given what he accomplished in the capitol, the Magi would need to send a significant group to confront him. But again, given the war and the northern aberrations..."

The Patriarch grunted. "They can't spare the resources. So instead, they sweep it under the rug, and hope this Annel Oriyan won't make too much noise, until they eventually get to him."

"Or perhaps they hope the orcs will take care of the problem. They already razed his village, Heartrest."

"Hah, I see. Which is perhaps why this mage went rogue. Still, you're operating on tenuous assumptions. These events may in fact be unrelated. Oriyan could be anywhere, and this instance of death magic in Gentleham could have been someone else."

Janswith nodded. "It's possible. Oriyan is only assumed to be dabbling in death magic due to the theft of the black stone. For the Magi, the uncertainty serves as an excuse not to investigate."

"Ahh. Ahah. So if we investigate and find out that it is Oriyan, we not only claim the credit, the Magi also look lax. Still, we are not excluded from the current chaos, as you put it. Listening to all this has already taken too long from my day. And who do we have to spare?"

Holding his sheet of parchment up to look at again, Janswith hesitated. "May I suggest... Inquisitor Hargrim?"

The Patriarch blinked, opening his mouth to speak. Then he closed it. A moment later, he barked out a short laugh. The rings on his finger cracked against wood as he slapped a hand on the desk.

"Clever! Very clever. I approve, Notary. Have it done."

With a smile, Janswith tucked away the parchment again before bowing and seeing himself out.