Sar stroked his hand over his moustache as he placed the communicator-artefact back on the table, frowning at it. The things were notoriously unreliable, despite how often the artificers in Lightire claimed they had no issues. However, he’d had no choice but to use it, Isabella had been silent for too long now. Suspiciously so. His instincts told him foul play was at work, not a mere communication issue.

And he’d been doing this work for long enough to know to trust his instincts.

She'd been off investigating reports of magic in some old ruins on the northern coast. Sometimes people would flee with their magic born children, assuming that if they hid somewhere remote the Seekers would leave them alone.

It never worked.

A sharp rap on his door pulled him from his thoughts.

"Enter." He said, shifting in his chair to stop the ornate eye and lantern sigil embossed on it from digging into his back.

A young man, dressed in a crisp uniform, walked into the room and snapped to attention.

“My lord Seeker, there is a man here who claims to have information about a pair of free mages.” He announced, eyes fixed formally on the wall above Sar’s head.

That got Sar’s attention. Free mages were rare, exceedingly so, and often frightfully dangerous. Only when the Seekers weren’t doing their job properly did they have a chance to come about, so this particular report couldn’t be about a local.

Sar never made mistakes.

“Take me to him.”

The man had been placed in one of the interrogation rooms, simple boxes of stone with a single table and a pair of chairs bolted to the ground in the middle of it. He was pacing back and forth, running his hands through slicked back hair and tugging at his embroidered doublet.

“I hear you have information.” Sar said as he entered the room.

The man jumped in surprise, flinching away from the sudden sound. After a moment, he recovered enough to nod vigorously. “Y-yes, my lord Seeker. I do.”

Sar stroked his moustache as he observed the man, waiting in silence. No one spoke.

“Well then, spit it out.” Sar growled, irritated.

“O-oh, of course.” The man said, nodding nervously. “You see I was in Littlestream, checking to see if a particular girl would be up to my standard. My dad wants me to marry her, you see, but I think she's not the right fit. You know how it is.”

Sar ground his teeth as the man rambled.

The man continued. “Anyway, Telac, you know Telac? He arrived, about when I’d had enough of the date, so I got up to leave. But then these three mages attacked and killed him. Telac that is. They were working with the girl, Rachel, I’m sure of it. She’s the daughter of the Mayor, did I mention that? That’s why I even considered the marriage, anyone less wouldn’t be enough for someone like me.”

Sar’s mind took a moment to extract the information from the vomit of words that had spewed from the man’s lips. Three unknown mages had attacked and killed the province's appointed tax collector, and were working with some local girl.

“The mages, tell me about them.”

“Well, there was a man, really distinctive. Really really pale, like sickly pale. He didn’t really do much but stand around. There was also this woman, black hair and carried a sword. She did some sort of magic that made her glow white. And the final one was a skeleton.”

“A… skeleton?”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“Yeh, like just bones, walking around like a person.”

Sar stroked his moustache. Necromancy, maybe. The final figure could have been a minion of the man, given he’d shown no other magic. Or it could be a creation of a third party. As far as he knew, there were no necromancers in Rudase, and all the kinetomancers were in the capital. That gave the claim that these were free mages some weight.

“Um, my lord Seeker?” The man interrupted his thoughts. “There's some reward, right, for the information?” He said, wringing his hands, his eyes shining with greed.

“Oh yes, your reward. You truly believe that those three were free mages?” Sar asked.

“Fully, my lord. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” He responded eagerly, completely missing the edge to Sar’s voice. “And I’m sure Rachel was working with them.”

A savage smile spread on Sar’s face. “In that case, you know the law. Zero tolerance for free mages, and what did you do? You fled. You did not fulfil your duty.”

The smile dropped from the man’s face, replaced with horror as the realization of what he said dawned on him.

“No, my lord, I didn’t… I couldn’t...” He dropped to his knees, clasping his hands, begging.

Sar ignored his pleas, raising his right hand. “In the name of his Holiness, I judge you guilty of the crime of tolerating a free mage.”

“My lord, you can’t do this!” The man squealed.

Sar flared his magic, an intense blue flame springing into life in the air above his open palm. The cowering man scrambled backwards until his back touched the wall, his eyes wide and fixed on the blazing orb floating in the air. With a thought, Sar sent the globe shooting across the room. The man on the floor raised his arms, shielding his face.

A futile gesture.

The orb slammed into the man, engulfing him in flames. Desperate screams filled the room as he writhed on the floor. Sar watched until the screams faded, and the body went still. If he had his way, they would have scoured all the filth from this vile country. Just like with a forest fire, once the old had been burnt away the new could grow in its place, clean and pure.

This report was worth investigating, however. Isabella disappearing, and this attack happening, was all too suspicious. Especially when the two events happened so close together. His instincts told him they were connected in some way.

Sar turned on his heel and strode out of the room, stroking his moustache. A young initiate was stood to attention outside the room, eyes fixed forward at the opposite wall.

“Initiate Romelo, gather the mess in there and scatter it for the plants in the terrarium. It will provide excellent fertilizer.”

“Yes lord Seeker!” The young man snapped a crisp salute.

—

Sar walked along winding corridors before emerging into the large open courtyard at the heart of the fort. Out here the air was filled with the sounds of training soldiers, the crash of the wooden training blades, the yells of the instructors.

Sar looked over the men under his command with a critical eye, noting their inexperience. All the men with any talent had been snapped up by the enclave in Avonford, leaving him with only the runts. Such was His Holinesses will, however, and Sar would perform his duty with even these imperfect tools.

To one side of the courtyard a huge wagon trundled out of the gate, its dark wooden surface reinforced with pitch black magebane bands, a prison for the young cargo currently slumbering within its confines. The two young magelings uncovered in Littlestream currently lay within, kept comatose with a concoction of drugs. The caravan was leaving for the enclave in Avonford, where they would then be processed and sent onward, all the way to Lightire.

And the holy duty for which they were bound.

Exactly why they’d uncovered so many with affinity in the last decade, he wasn’t sure. They simply received a notice from the enclave in Avonford every now and then, suggesting a particular village or another to search. And, more times than not, looking there uncovered another newly awakened mage.

It wasn’t his task to question it, however.

No, his task was simply to root out those with affinity, and to crush any dissent. Without him, these people would quickly forget how to live as true members of the empire, and descend into anarchy.

Really, he was doing them all a favour. They should be grateful.

Sar crossed the courtyard and climbed the stone steps up the wall to stare out over his assigned domain. A worrying feeling, a twinge of uncertainty, built in the pit of his stomach. Free mages, fully grown, roaming the lands. Seekers disappearing. Mages killing one another. It was all connected, he knew it. But how?

He raised his eyes, glaring at the dense forest that covered this hated land. So different from the rolling hills and gentle rivers of his beloved Lightire. So… primitive. Absent-mindedly, he raised his hand and stroked at his moustache once again.

Maybe it was time to make an example of another village. If they were truly harbouring a free mage they would only have brought it onto themselves, and if they had a hand in Isabella’s disappearance then only purging fire would absolve them of their sins.

Sar smiled to himself. One way or another, he was going to find out the truth.