THE INQUISITION
In the Northern Mountains, the massive Doléènes range stretches across the western borders of the Kingdom of Elbak. Almost one hundred kilometers east of the mountain range, King Aldrick must be seething, pacing relentlessly within his mountain palace in the Black Heights, fuming at the disgrace brought by his loyal yet woefully incompetent commander, Eldan Rochefer.
What a fool that man is. Never have the peasants of Elbak shown such little mettle. Only three dwarves—perhaps a few dozen more hiding in the bushes—were enough to make him quake in fear. The irony of his name almost matching that of the dwarf woman he faced is not lost on anyone. Unlike the commander, however, her size was dwarfed only by her fury. And he seemed truly terrified of these diminutive creatures. Why in the name of the gods would the king entrust him with an expedition so perilously close to dwarven lands if he is afraid of them?
“Perhaps it’s all part of the king’s plan. Though I never mentioned your involvement in the expedition, I’m certain he must have foreseen it,” said Yvanna.
The greatest mage in Elbak now accompanies Kael Margonos and his men as they return northward to the cloud-shrouded citadel of Kor Morne. Her appointment as the kingdom's liaison with the Inquisition had been made unilaterally, without consulting King Aldrick or any officials. As a matter of fact, they didn't even stop by the capital when passing nearby. But it's a thankless role, considering the visible ire of the Grand Inquisitor toward the commander’s decisions. No one dared challenge her selection—partly because Kael himself had endorsed it. He already knew Yvanna, and her magical prowess intrigued him, a rare feat in itself.
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ALBION (HUMAN)
A few steps are all it takes to enter the grand workshops of Benamire. This bustling city, renowned as a hub for adventurers, lies at the edge of the vast Fissure Forest. The halls were established under the reign of the current king’s grandfather, with massive forges and dispensaries said to have been inspired by dwarven underground architecture—from the towering columns to the labyrinthine cellars below.
More than thirty adventurers, many of whom marched alongside the military column today, are now returning in disarray. Like us, they were hastily conscripted without so much as an apology. No thanks were given for helping to slay a mutant troll, no acknowledgment for our efforts in a field of debris so alien to us forest roamers who are accustomed to navigating between trunks and roots.
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We don’t go unnoticed, but we don’t arouse suspicion either. We’re just here to collect our gear—polished and oiled as it should be. Unlike us, the larger guilds haven’t joined in. We’ve already planned our “escapade” in secret: a brief trek through the outer woods, about an hour’s journey, will lead us to the devastated zone where Groboln found his curious metal plate.
Right at the troll’s battleground, it’s unlikely another beast will show up so soon. Even if one does, with thirty of us and mages to light the way, we should manage. Still, I can’t shake my unease. What if the dwarves are lurking in the shadows, their squat forms blending with the shifting darkness caused by the pale, weak light bands? Worse yet—what if the Inquisition is back on-site, prowling among those smooth, gray sarcophagi?
Well, there’s no turning back now. I’ve already rallied the group with my pitch, and I’m too curious to back out. Whatever’s out there... I need to see it before the forest is closed off, and Benamire grinds to a halt under the Inquisition’s orders. If the town loses its activity, I’ll have no choice but to leave Elbak. There’s not much left for people like me here, except perhaps the Doléènes mountains—but the horrors lurking there are of another breed entirely. And then there’s the Inquisition, holed up in citadels like Kor Morne.
A sigh escapes me. Salina, ever perceptive, approaches, her expression one of quiet understanding. She’s always ready to lend an ear, even when I haven’t yet asked for her thoughts. I know she regrets this life—this job. Too intelligent to toil in the fields, too proud to sell herself, and not noble enough to pursue official work. Too much a woman to join the army. So she turned to adventuring, driven by necessity to support her family after her older brothers died in the Empire’s war a decade ago.
“Salina,” I begin.
“Albion,” she replies with a sly smile. “Taking your sweetheart on such a daring outing, are we?” she teases, glancing discreetly at Lyrel.
I chuckle softly. “I think we’ll have to leave Benamire eventually.”
There’s no need to elaborate—she’s likely had the same thoughts. Her grimace confirms it. Her family lives near the capital, so moving north toward the mountains would make sense for her. But I won’t. Not for all the gold in the world. Well, maybe for ten thousand credits... no, twenty. That’d do it.
No divine intervention arrives to spare me this fate—no rich noble suddenly overcome with generosity or infatuation. Just the sound of our footsteps leaving the city. The garrison says nothing. They wouldn’t dare—the Inquisition may command fear, but these soldiers don’t serve them directly. And, whether by oversight, ignorance, or intention, Eldan hasn’t ordered the forest’s edge to be sealed. We are free.
Free to embrace the oppressive silence and insidious darkness of the woods. Free to scavenge the remnants of an event far beyond our comprehension. All for a handful of coins. Well, this venture holds more promise than waiting for some apparition to bestow fortune upon me in its divine grace.