Eventually, as the sun rose, he noticed the soft glare coming through the window. His companions might awaken soon, so best get to the interrogation. The leader, whatever the name, was clearly dead. Blood loss was obviously the cause, and his fluids stained much of the floor. Al sighed, sending a brief apology to whomever was going to clean this place.

This left three remaining captives thinking about potential interrogation methods. He woke up two of them, the women and the older guy. The female was pretty for a zealot, dark hair, blue eyes, high cheekbones. She would have a decent career as a model back on earth. Exotic beauty was the term that came to mind.

The two other guys were a mid-twenties ginger and an older fellow with dirty blonde hair. The older guy was in his late forties, and he became the focal point for the interrogation. Waking him up, he struggled against the very ropes they tied me up with. Al cut the ropes into pieces, but that only gave him more rope to tie people up.

He half expected them to fling fire, yet they did not. Perhaps the rope affected their abilities, yet they had no impact on his own wind magic. It was odd, so he began his inquiry in earnest. “How come no one is throwing fire at me like your boss?” He asked, directing a thumb at the bloodless corpse. No one made a sound.

The two awake just glared at each other. A combination of hate and fear was clear in the man's eyes. The woman was more concerned, swinging at the ropes. “Come on, I would advise to answer.” He remarked, eyeing the two keenly. They didn’t budge. This annoyed Al slightly.

Thinking it over, he weighed many options regarding his interrogation techniques. Settling on an idea, he withdrew one amulet, presenting it. “Is this why you can't go all fire bender on me? Do you guys need these to perform your magic?” Asking two poignant questions, he received again no reply. Sighing, he went in a different direction. “You!” He pointed to the man. “Answer my questions or see the breath from your lungs torn free.” He threatened.

The man still didn’t budge, continuing to hate at Al with all the fire a powerless captive could muster. “You wouldn’t dare heathen!” Finally, he spoke or spat to be more accurate.

“I wouldn’t dare, huh? What makes you think that?” Al griped before questioning.

He didn’t explain, instead settling back into a hateful glare.

“Fine, then.” Al declared, presenting his palm and gripping the air.

Swiftly, he gathered invisible tethers linking the air molecules with a certain zealot greedily inhaled. Pulling away as if grasping a piece of paper, before clenching his fist. A sudden rush of air and the sound of choking followed the motion.

“I find your lack of faith disturbing.” He spoke menacingly, coldly glaring at the suffocating man.

Shifting his gaze to the woman maliciously staring at her, barely registering the dying man. Waiting for an answer, the woman eventually got the message. Talk or watch her associate suffocate and die.

“We don’t have a spirit bond.” She quickly answered.

It wasn’t a complete answer, but it was a start. He released the choking zealot, who promptly passed out. The woman shrieked, likely concerned her compatriot had expired. “Don’t worry, he is still alive. Please continue.” Al reassured, prompting her to continue.

She spoke reluctantly, explaining the ins and outs of spirit magic. He was correct in assuming they used the amulet as a channel for their powers. What he didn’t know was that most spirit magi could not harness elemental powers like he could. Most required some sort of talisman to channel a patron spirit's power.

In her case, she channelled the power of a vassal spirit to Pyrus. Priests consecrate each temple across the empire to a lesser spirit under the greater spirit. They produce amulets and tether them to the spirit. This allows members of the order to channel elemental force. Still, a rare few have the honor of bonding directly with a minor spirit. They become leaders of individual sects, such as the bloodless corpse.

Al wondered what happened to the spirit after the contractor's death. The woman named Jennifer did not know it was above her pay grade. She lacked the same fanaticism as the others, as he found her to be the most informative. He woke up the third man, and he acted the same as the other guy. He fell asleep while Jennifer became his major source of information.

“I’m curious Jenny, why are you so forthcoming with a heathen like me?” He asked, curious.

“It’s simple, really. I don’t want to die.” She stated matter-of-factly.

He understood completely, survival is a powerful motivator. Yet faith overrides such things. “I understand the need for survival. I would think a member of the order would lean in other directions.” He mused, inviting her to reply.

“How can we serve our calling if we are dead?” She queried.

Al nodded. It was refreshing to hear such a rational answer. The religious zealots he encountered on Matesh were more of the die for the cause type. This situation may become a real treat to converse with a rational religious figure.

“Is that a sentiment shared with your brothers and sisters?” He asked.

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“I don’t have any siblings; I am an only child.” She answered, not getting his inference.

“No, no, I mean your fellow members of the order. Do you not call them brothers and sisters in the order or something along those lines?” Reversing his statement, he queried more intently.

While pondering the question, she acted as though she had no restrictions and might be a loose end. “We do not. These are my cohorts, not siblings.” She explained, before rendering to silence.

The term cohorts reminded him of the roman military. They seem militaristic, perhaps some sort of faith militant. They could be the kill in the name of God types. Despite the negative connotations, this one seemed reasonable.

“Well now, Jenny, how about you tell me about your little order?” He leaned over, smiling mischievously and settling in to listen.

He could see her resisting the impulse to comply. But one look at the corpse and the silent vampire, she reevaluated. She didn’t go into major detail; it was clear she kept stuff back. She still gave up a decent chuck of information on her order.

The Order of Pyrus is a nominally religious organisation, but where they differ from similar organisations on earth, is how they revere their patron. Instead of worshipping, praying and sacrificing to a distant god. Their patron is a spiritual entity and far more present. Not every single member gets direct contact, but most of the upper to mid-hierarchy directly speak with his vassals.

They act less like temples consecrated to a single god and more like satellite military bases. A vassal spirit, typically direct descendants of Pyrus himself, hosts each temple. How a fire spirit can reproduce is anyone's guess. Their temple is based in Helgos and their patron is a fire spirit named Sayron. At first, Al almost spit out his waterskin, assuming the guy was named after a certain lord of a precious ring.

The geek in him slowly bubbled to the surface. “Is your patron spirit made up of a flaming eye, perhaps?” He asked, trying to keep his smile neutral.

That look of confusion said more than her simple negative ever did. He slumped slightly before gesturing her to carry on. She did so and explained a little more about the internal workings. The Order is not the only one. Each elemental spirit has their own, in one form or another. The Order of Pyrus is the more militaristic of the four.

They adhere to a long-winded oath to their patron spirit. They mentioned terms like wrath, purification of the unclean, and the power of fire. Like the templars, holy warriors devoted to combating what Pyrus saw as evil, they behaved. Demons, vampires and monsters were the beings that gained his ire. Despite their similarities to the templar, that’s where they ended.

In the empire, they have no formal power but receive respect for carrying out their perceived duty. Also, their members were not fighters per se, but individuals with a talent for spirit magic. They were less like holy knights, more like mages that used spirits, heavily revering them.

“So let me get this straight, you guys, a bunch of militaristic zealots that kill demons at the behest of a fire spirit. Using said powers granted to you by your patron?” He queried, simplifying their order to its base elements.

He could see she wanted to snap back, but took the time to think it over. He found that a little encouraging, a zealot that takes the time to think over something.

“No, that’s an oversimplification. Our job is to protect humanity from evil.” She countered, getting a little heated.

“By doing the same thing as those quote, unquote evil beings.” He struck back, prompting her to frown. “Seriously, think about it. I mean, you guys receive power from your patron. By the way, remember to jot down your patron is composed of fire. You adhere to his doctrine, kill in his name, and recruit others. That’s pretty much what warlocks do, sorry sorcerers.” He explained before correcting himself.

“That’s not right, that’s heresy.” She answered shakily.

“Heresy is just another opinion. Whether it's right or wrong is determined by the current power base. The Empire rules here, so the temples are the good guys, regardless of the disturbing similarities.” As he spoke, she frowned harder. He could see his words had an effect. Yet indoctrination was like a nail, hammered in over years.

No doubt the others of her cohort would barely let him speak before declaring him a heretic. Jenny seemed to be of more reasonable stock. Still, Al doubted she would come to his defence when he was on the pyre. He shifted topics, questioning her about her current mission.

It wasn't much of a discussion from her side; that was high-level content. She knew they were after a demon posing as a child. She described Felix to a tee, along with a description of Al. Apparently, they labeled good old Al as a sorcerer, a servant of the demon they sought. There was no mention of his connection to the wizarding union. It’s likely they were not aware of or haven't yet put two and two together.

Regardless of the fact they knew, Al was a wanted man. Among the group of other wanted individuals. Not exactly the best start, but Al could handle it. Unfortunately, that was the limit of her knowledge. The one that knew more was a bloodless corpse. Still, he woke up and questioned the others. They had nothing to say beyond heretic this and heretic that.

"Alright Jenny, from the block, we have finished our dalliance and now we must depart." The reference went over her head, so she just nodded.

He didn’t want to leave too much of a poor impression on Jenny. Looking down at the corpse, he guessed that might be a challenge. Before he could decide his next move, the sound of an explosion pulled everyone's attention.

Casting their collective gazes towards the window. The outside world concealed by drapes; light shined through. “Was that you guys?” Al asked, getting a collective no from his prisoners. He stood up to investigate. “Getting under the covers Alek.” He directed. Luckily, his vampiric friend realised the danger.

Concealing himself under the blankets, Al opened the window, letting the sunlight in. Looking around, he could see smoke towering over the city. The shouts of men and women echoing in the distance. It was clear this was no celebration; those were screams of panic.

Listening intently, he could hear a few indistinct words. “Down with the Empire!” A group collectively cheered. He tried to locate whoever was cheering. He could see a mob rampaging their way down the street. Kicking in doors, breaking windows and dragging out civilians. “When did this place go full purge on us?” He wondered out loud.

Shaking his head, he filed these events under crazy is as crazy does. With that in mind, he closed the curtains, prompting Alek to emerge. Giving the vampire a cloak, allowing some protection from the sun. He ordered him to get Felix and Joan. He left without a word, heading towards their room.

Now he had to deal with his captives. He could kill them all. It was tempting, but felt a little too cold-blooded. Eventually he decided and as gently as he could rendered them all a sleep. Once they were in the land of dreams, he robbed them blind and left the room.

It was time for his crew to blow this town and make their way north. The only problem was the ongoing riot, locating his associates, and possibly informing Arthur that he has been exposed. So much to do and so little time.