“It defies belief, surely the Absolver has lost his mind?”
Petty King John stewed silently at the back of the chamber. Several other members of the Inquisition had gathered at his behest to discuss recent events. From left to right, Joseph, Maria, Maritan, and Sequester. These were the men and women that he trusted the most; the ones who understood the full burden of their purpose and mission.
Joseph filled the air with expletives and curses, “Those damned Federation pigs. I understand perfectly well now. They intend to weaponize that cursed man against us!”
Maria pinched her brow, “I was told those stories were just that. Stories.”
“Nay. Sir John attested to the truth of them. The power of the sword allowed him to cut down some of our best soldiers. A profoundly hideous sight. Yet the drive for vengeance has not taken us back over their borders, and now the cowards amongst us demand that we separate ourselves from the Kingdom’s movements entirely.”
John finally spoke up; “The Absolver means to keep his silence. Whatever our opinion is, we cannot directly contravene his orders. He is adamant that our goal as an organisation is to capture, study and protect cursed items from civilian hands. Any more than that is unnecessary. We are not another wing of the Sull army.”
Joseph scowled, “Even as the Federation intends to spread their taint, all for the purposes of their conquest? We must pick a side - and there is only one that aligns with our mission. The Kingdom of Sull will grant us access to their lands, from where we will purge this gathering darkness with haste.”
“You needn’t tell me, Joseph. We must decide on a plan of action.”
The failure of John’s garrison within Blackwake had caused severe consequences. The loss of young, talented knights had shredded his reputation to pieces. The non-interventionist wing of the Inquisition had made sure of that. Difficult questions arose about the value of dispatching men to protect Sull’s territory. They were investigators and heroes, not mercenaries for hire. From John’s perspective it was all the same regardless. Why did it matter as long as they were there to fulfil the Inquisition’s goal?
There were no excuses. John hated excuses. He had deployed a small force of men and they were left wanting for strength in the face of an enemy that he had underestimated. Even worse – that very same enemy had then killed one of his key allies within the Kingdom itself. Now he was being besieged on both sides for entirely different reasons. They wanted more Inquisitions to counter the Blackvein, Inquisitors he could no longer spare after they were killed in action. Judging from some of the reports he had received, they were safe for now. But they were not willing to accept his assurances that the mercenary was staying still in the Federation.
Maritan nodded, “Perhaps some men of lesser repute would be willing to chance killing him?”
Sequester poured cold water on her idea; “He’s too strong for that now. The drunkard worms who’d be willing to do such a thing would simply find themselves slain instead. The power of Stigma is insidious indeed. The longer it is left to fester, the harder it becomes to remove.”
“Then we must handle it ourselves.”
John tapped his fingers against his desk in a slow rhythm. His eyes drifted from place to place. The carefully collated and cultivated image that he projected to his subordinates. This was what it was all far. The armour against the wall by the door, the collection of weapons that hung from his mantlepiece. Everything in service. Everything in playing the fool to appease those who did not understand corruption like he did. This was pointless. The conversation was pointless. No matter what they proposed – the Absolver would not permit the usage of Inquisition resources in such a manner again, and he was entirely justified in doing so. John could only blame himself. He knew what was on the line when he agreed to help Forester – all so he could expand the Inquisitions reach into the Federation. Failure was not so quickly forgiven.
“I should have been the one to die there,” he muttered. The room was silenced in an instant.
Maria tilted her head, “Sorry, sir?”
“We can no longer send others to do our bidding. A fitting punishment for our hubris. The Absolver wishes to protect our knights as they are often asked to do. His oath is infallible. In order to show our competence once more, we must prove it. This is a problem that we alone can solve. If you are all willing…”
“Of course, sir!”
“You have my backing,” Maritan added. All of the officers nodded in agreement.
“But to do so, we must cast away due process and the shackles of our oath. This is a game for the person that lies beneath the red armour. This is our task. Our lives are the ones that will be forfeit if we fail, yet it is a small price to pay. To allow this ‘Blackvein’ fool to rampage through the continent is to invite even further disaster and suffering.”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
A solemn sense of realisation spread between the junior members of the order. Very rarely were they asked to put themselves at direct risk. They were being groomed as the next generation of leaders, just as John was decades before. John was everything to them. A wolf between sheep. An officer of the old guard who had seen and experienced more than anyone else. As long as he was with them, glory would follow.
Maria set her brow, “Even if I must wear the clothes of a commoner – I will do as you demand.”
John smiled, “That may well be what we must do. I will organise our passage through the Bend. Prepare yourselves, but bring only what you need for the journey. That means no armour and no weapons larger than a dagger.”
“No armour sir?” Sequester repeated.
“Sometimes the path to success is in subtlety. We will not be granted access to the Federation in our usual garb.”
“Ah, of course!”
“Your life is the single most important possession you have. To spend it in service is a profound thing. Now, be away, and steel your nerves.”
“Aye!”
----------------------------------------
It was another quiet evening. Just the way I liked it. Cali and Tahar had already turned in for the night, but I had decided to stay up and watch the people go by from my position next to the window. Even as the sun set, there were still hundreds of people moving through the streets. The city never truly slept. There was a lot on my mind.
We’d messed up. To describe killing thousands of people and destroying a small country as a ‘mess up’ was almost parodic, but what other way was there to describe it? Everything we did was with the best of intentions. In the end, the damage was clear to see. It was as Benadora had said – the only people who would believe in our guilt were the Inquisitors. She didn’t know that though. As a consequence, Ryan went to Pascen and lost an arm and half of his face. Everything a person did could have unintended consequences, but it was rare to have it directly affect someone you know.
“I can fix your friend, you know.”
My face twitched. Of all the times and things she could choose to say to me, that was the first idea she landed on? Her voice contained a particular kind of prideful ignorance. She was trying to push past what I’d learned just a few hours ago like it had never happened. I remained silent as she continued.
“We just need to collect another of my missing pieces, master. You can exchange some of your life energy to grant him new flesh-“
“Do you really think that’s what I want to hear?” I snapped. It didn’t matter to me whether what she was saying was true or not. I had forgotten that she wasn’t to be trusted – in the heat of a stressful situation I had briefly believed that she had my best interests at heart. No matter what kind of position a manipulative person was in, or how dependent on you they were, they’d always fall back into bad habits soon enough. It was compulsive.
The silence that followed was lengthy. It was the first time I had ever shocked Stigma into silence. She sensed that things had gone too far. Since she was reversing her right to remain silent, I decided to steer the conversation in my direction.
“I swear, if going any further with this is half as destructive as what happened in Pascen – we’re not working together anymore.”
“I was unaware of how damaging it would be,” she responded.
“You know what happens if I decide to call off this partnership of ours. You go back into the dark, the sword gets taken back by the Inquisitors. And I don’t like your chances of getting out again. You can seize my body all you like, but you’re not in control.”
“Is that so?”
“That’s right. I expected to die back there, everything since then has just been a bonus.”
“I think you’re unwilling to admit just how much you enjoy living,” she sneered, “And what about your little friends? You seem awfully attached to them for a ‘lone wolf.”
“This has nothing to do with them. If I bite it, they’ll move on to other things.”
She scoffed, “Even I am capable of seeing what’s happening here. Your purposeful ignorance is a waste of our collective time. You like them. You want to spend more time with them, you even threw yourself in Tahar’s way when she was about to be killed.”
“It’s called pragmatism. Tahar is helpful.”
“Hm. And do you think she’ll be glad to hear that you think of her that way?”
“That’s irrelevant. None of this matters. I could never trust you, but it’s my fault for forgetting that. I’m not doing anything for you until I’m sure it’s the right thing to do. So just sit back and keep quiet.”
“Of course, Master.”
What a thoroughly unproductive conversation. I was starting to come around to Cali’s story about Stigma being the soul of a trapped criminal. Navigating her was going to be more complicated than I thought. She was going to be stubborn to the very end. Neither of us were going to give any ground like this. I couldn’t in good conscience trigger another disaster like that – but I still didn’t know what her intentions were. Did she even know what would happen if we killed the Branch? As far as I could tell, she got nothing out of it.
To my annoyance, she had started to believe that I was too afraid to die to prevent that from happening again. Or rather that I wanted to stay around Cali and Tahar. That was true. I didn’t want to up and disappear on them if I didn’t have to. But if I was faced with a choice between dying or killing thousands again, I wouldn’t know what to choose. I had taken the easy route; mostly killing those who I knew had done ill deeds in the past or monsters that didn’t have the capacity for rational thought.
My mind took me back to the moments where I cut through dozens of men in Blackwake. They may have never done anything wrong, but how was I to know that? I had resolved to do whatever it took to defy fate. I didn’t need to go on a killing spree. I could sit back and relax for eight or nine years without worrying about it.
But there were gears turning in the background, I knew. I couldn’t expect to be left alone after everything I had done. I was going to be dragged back into the fight sooner or later. As long as I was involved, I had to do everything I could to learn the truth and break my curse. Not because I believed it would turn me back into a human, but because I could no longer spend my waking hours worrying about what Stigma would do to my body.
This was no partnership. It was war.