The steps approaching were slow, belonging to someone weary and hesitant. Soon, the door creaked open, and an older man entered the room. Walking beside him was the same sergeant, as well as a handful of guards wearing casual jackets and robes beneath their seagrey cloaks.

I presumed the old man to be captain Ugo Leze, and his presence commanded respect, but in his slumped shoulders I saw the heavy weight he had to endure. He wore the uniform of the Caffrian guard, only without the armor. Sparse strands of white hair still clung to his head, and his eyes sat deep within his wrinkled face. I was sure he must be past his centennial birthday, and his weary yet intelligent eyes conveyed experience, but also exhaustion.

For some time they whispered among themselves, seemingly of nothing important, and then the others saluted the captain, turned, and left. The captain walked and sat down before me, and set down a stack of papers on the table.

“You killed one of my guards,” he said sharply. “And then you willingly handed yourself in. Before you say a single word, I’ll make it clear here and now that you will remain imprisoned within this cell for a long time. I am captain Ugo Leze, commander of the Caffrian Guard. Your fate lies in my hands, and—”

But I wasn’t about to let him deliver a long speech that I would render useless with just a single sentence. So, to save us both some time, I interrupted him.

“I’m sorry, captain, but you’re mistaken on both accounts.”

The captain didn’t take this well. His eyes narrowed, and he was about to counter my insult. I stretched my back and leaned in.

“Captain Leze, I didn’t surrender myself to be imprisoned and sentenced, nor did I kill your guard, Pecca.”

“But my guards found you there, with what remained of his body, covered in his blood! I have dozens of witnesses telling us that you attacked Pecca in broad daylight. Then you kidnapped and killed him in that cellar! Sergeant Arst told me you surrendered yourself willingly. And now you’re changing your story? What madness has taken hold of people lately?”

“Captain, I placed myself willingly into your custody, as it was the fastest way for me to reach you and explain everything. Were you aware that the very same guard, Pecca, was harassing the survivors of Veneiea that were hiding in the church of Iscia? The same ones who were under the protection of sister Catia Zyla, a pupil of high priestess Naeve, the King’s mother, who I talked to not two weeks ago?”

“What?” the captain asked dumbly. His whole interrogation was now deflected.

With deliberate nonchalance and slow, just to ease his nerves, I removed the shackles that were still on my wrists and placed them on the table. The captain looked on with horror at the ease I had done this.

“It was only to make your guards feel safer,” I said. “This should offer some clarification.”

I unpinned Pitties’ mark from the inside of my coat and showed it to captain Leze before putting it back into a pocket this time. Ugo’s face was painted with extreme confusion, and he rubbed his tired eyes. Remaining seated and silent, he fixed his gaze on me and waited for me to continue.

“My companions and I came to Caffria under the direct orders of the King’s advisor himself. I went to talk with the Lord Mayor at first, but he was preoccupied with some admiral and a marshal, so we decided to come to talk to you. The church of Iscia was on our way, however, so we went there first. There I talked with sister Catia Zyla. Have you talked to her? She has quite a few complaints.”

“I haven’t talked to her personally, but I know she has many complaints,” the captain said wearily. “But this doesn’t—”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“Sister Catia Zyla claims that one of your guards has been harassing her people, abducting them for questioning, but they never return! Were you aware of this?”

Visibly taken aback, Ugo Leze mumbled in disbelief, “This is the first time I’m hearing about it. By his own request, Pecca was commanded to oversee and protect the refugees in that church. His reports were punctual and detailed, and I had no reason to suspect him of anything! I’ve never heard anyone mention people disappearing from under sister Zyla.”

“If you send a patrol to his home, I’m sure you’ll find many interesting and horrible things,” I said.

“How do you know? You have no proof!”

“This is what me and my companions do,” I replied.

The captain pondered quickly, and said, “You don’t act like a murderer, though you look like one.”

To that, I nodded. Ugo Leze then jumped up, but I interrupted him again. “Please, captain, don’t send a team out yet. It might be very dangerous and we don’t know the full extent of what Pecca has done.”

He sat back down, rubbed his weary face again, and listened in silence.

“After the Veneiea tragedy, Rainier Pitties took charge and assembled a team who would investigate the repercussions that this could have on the entire country. Unfortunately, I’m there’s much I can’t tell you about the nature of this threat.”

“More of Pitties’ men!” the captain said poisonously. “Many came after the Veneiea… tragedy happened. But they had at least enough courtesy to come to see me before they started harassing my guards and the officials of our Lordship.”

“This was also my plan, captain,” I replied, softening my tone and leisurely leaning against the cool stone wall. A gentle breeze came into the room, diffusing more of the tension between us. I silently crowned myself the victor of this interrogation. “We were walking toward your barracks, but the church lay in our path. We didn’t want to travel the distance twice, so we went there. It just so happened that Pecca stopped by while we were talking with sister Zyla.”

“And Pecca just ran off without even talking to you? Why? This makes no sense!”

“It makes sense, but I can’t tell you why. We haven’t discussed how much I can tell you, because this knowledge is very dangerous. What happened in Veneiea influenced Pecca’s mind. It made him hateful and gave him terrible ideas and murderous impulses that he had to carry out. This is what I fear. Pitties and I don’t know why this happened, or how many are influenced, and this is why my team is here to find out. But in short—the Veneiea tragedy corrupted Pecca’s mind and so—” I didn’t want to use the word soul, as it might’ve given too much away. I hoped the captain would not connect the dots.

Quickly, an understanding dawned on the captain’s face.

“So he was the one who worked against all my investigations?” he said eagerly and with new strength. “For weeks and weeks, I had the suspicion that there was someone who was foiling my efforts, acting against us. They, he, knew our plans too well, and evaded capture and even evidence! But tell me, um—”

“Jonas Espian.”

“Tell me, Mr. Espian, why shouldn’t I send a team to Pecca’s home? There might be clues there. Or hostages from the church. Time is of the essence.”

“You’re right. But Pitties and I firmly believe that this contamination of the mind is very dangerous, and none of your men are equipped to deal with those dangers—”

“Magic!” said the captain, his voice dripping with contempt.

“Magic,” I confirmed. “Bad, dark magic. Something that corrupts quickly and thoroughly. Me and my companions can help if you let us.”

“I don’t have to let you,” said captain Leze. “You can override my commands if you want to. You can even take my men into your retinue, and I would be powerless to interfere. As Pitties’ agent, you can pretty much do whatever you want.”

“That’s technically true,” I said. “But I’d rather work together and give you as much information as I am allowed to.”

“As much as you’re allowed to?” repeated Ugo Leze. “I don’t understand why you’re not telling me the whole thing.”

I nodded. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. We don’t know the full extent of the corruption, nor how dangerous it is to those who are not familiar with it. We don’t know how to shield against it.”

“Those are some dark words you’re saying, agent Espian,” said the captain, and I nodded in reply.

But then we heard an orchestra of footsteps coming down the stairs. Captain Leze got up nervously and looked at the door, then at me.

“It’s baron Fiandconis!” he said.

Even before he could finish, the door opened loudly, and in came the imposing figure of baron Fiandconis, brother of the Queen, wearing a long black coat. Wearing a long black coat, he commanded attention with his towering stature and lean frame, his old face serious, bordering on anger. But contrasting with his slenderness was his flabby stomach that he hid under a dark, embroidered waistcoat. And his boots, and ebony black cane, clicked pleasantly against the old stones of the barracks.

“Leave us,” he said.