"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.

If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

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.