It was funny to think back on my old life.

There was always one thing that stuck out in my mind. A memory that had crystalized into my consciousness in those cloudy days when I was a stupid, ignorant little kid that didn’t know anything. Most of those times and feelings had been discarded with age, yet the important notes remained. I must have been thirteen or so.

Sitting there, playing on a game console without a care in the world. My parents came into the room with me and looked extremely concerned about something – though at the time I didn’t notice. She sat down next to me, looked me dead in the eyes, and spoke with a frankness that sent me spiralling into a state of emotional shock.

Breast cancer.

In all the gleeful ignorance of youth, I asked her if she was joking.

What was I thinking back then? Did I really believe that she’d pull such a cruel prank on me? No, it was something else, something deeper and more universal. I’d lived a life of nothing but comfort until that point. I wasted away my youngest years indulging in all of the things that I enjoyed indulging in. My hobbies, my schoolwork, my friends.

The prospect of something bad happening to me or the people I cared about – it was something I didn’t even want to entertain. I hoped that by asking the question, she’d affirm to me that everything was okay. It did end up being okay. She was cleared a few years later, after chemotherapy and lots of injections. It became routine to me, and perhaps to her as well.

The nature of the statement remained the same, “Are you joking?”

A lot of terrible things had happened to me since then. I hadn’t lost my perspective to an extent where I was blind to that. Things that were more traumatising than hearing about the diagnosis, more dangerous, and perhaps more memorable for all the wrong reasons. Bad things happen to good people every day. There was no guarantee that being virtuous reduced the chances of it happening to me.

In this case – a stroke of luck. I woke up.

That alone told me that the guards hadn’t found me and stabbed me to death where I lay. What else could I see? A ceiling. A wardrobe. A window. I was in a bedroom. Someone had grabbed me and dragged me to safety. I reached under the covers with my aching arms and touched the place where one of the stab wounds had gone. A bandage covered it. They’d fixed me up, I could see an empty potion vial on the bedside table next to my head. The room was otherwise sparsely decorated.

I pushed the covers away and struggled to sit up under my own power. Everything hurt.

“Hello?” I shouted.

I waited. A second later I could hear footsteps moving from behind the door. I braced myself for whoever had decided to rescue. Even my wildest expectations could not prepare me for who was responsible. The door swung open and standing there was the one and only Adelbern Weiss. I couldn’t believe it.

“You?”

“Me,” he smiled, “Yes, good to see you too Ren.”

The fact that it was Adelbern wasn’t the issue at hand. I’d just slaughtered several of his comrades in public. The entire city would be looking for me. What the hell was he doing dragging me out of there and patching me up while I slept. There had to be a catch. He wanted something from me that I couldn’t do if I was dead.

“What is this?” I asked, “Why are you helping me out again?”

Adel frowned, “I would say that this is the first and only time I have helped you at all. If you recall, the previous occasions were under duress.”

“If you say so.”

Adel walked deeper into the room, “Your companions are here as well. I spent a few hours searching for them.”

“What were they doing?”

“Hiding. But not a scratch between them. You’ve made a mighty fine mess out there.”

“You don’t need to tell me twice. What a shitstorm. How did you get me over here without getting caught?”

Adel looked out of the window; “This is a safehouse. I covered you with a sheet and claimed you were a person in distress. Nobody is willing to ask questions of an Inquisitor like me.” Fair enough. If an Inquisitor told a normal person that there was nothing to see, they’d cut out their damn eyes to make it the case.

“You were heavily injured - yet far from death. A peculiar phenomenon indeed. I stitched the wounds and dressed them, and force fed you that potion there. The fact that you are awake so soon is a testament to your hardiness. The scene I came across was…. distressing. Never with my own two eyes have I seen a sight as grisly as that.”

“Is that a problem?”

Adel pulled back, “No, that is war. The Absolver is not a man troubled by the aesthetics of his pet projects. If anything, he desires to see chaos like this as proof of Stigma’s true nature.” The man looked like he was about to vomit if he was forced to remember any more of it. With the benefit of clear thoughts and fresh eyes, I had to agree. What I had done back there was horrifying. I’d ripped dozens of men limb from limb and suffered punishment that would have killed anyone else.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“How the hell do you keep finding me?”

Adel laughed, “Hard not to hear about the cursed sword bearer being caught by Petty King John. Though if you really must know – my primary responsibility at the moment is to do as the Absolver wishes; which is shadowing you. I return here to Blackwake whenever there is nothing of importance to be done.”

Adel assisted me in getting out of bed and ushered me down the stairs into the living room. He must have placed me into the spare bedroom, because the living space looked lived-in in comparison. There was a fluffy wool carpet underfoot and a roaring fire to try and keep the cold away. Adel’s armour rested against the back wall on a straw dummy. I sighed and sat myself down on one of the couches. He sat across from me.

“What the hell am I gonna’ do now?” I pondered aloud.

Adel twiddled his fingers and hesitated to make his suggestion, “Kill Lord Forester?”

His urging elicited a new question.

“Were you the one who put the bounty on his head?”

He shook his head. “To put it plainly, no. It just so happens that the Federation’s and the Absolver’s interests align on this matter. The Absolver has never given explicit orders to remove John or Forester. But if the opportunity were to present itself to me…”

I finished his sentence, “You have to do whatever it takes to make it happen.”

“Yes. Right you are. And who happens to be the one the Federation sends to assassinate him? You, of all people.”

“They offered a lot of money.”

“Any money they offer to an individual is much less than what they could lose if this offensive succeeds. The Absolver doesn’t want that to happen.”

“I thought he didn’t care about who was winning?”

He reiterated it for me, “The fate of either nation is of little interest to him – what kind of logic it generates from the militarist wing of the Inquisition is his primary concern. If this plan were to succeed, they would grow their power base amongst the other officers and drag the organisation down a more confrontational path. As I said, he’s a scholar first and foremost, and he is not beyond holding a grudge.”

I couldn’t imagine a more confrontational Inquisition if I tried. If his concern was genuine, what kind of power could they exercise over the domestic politics of the Kingdom? It was a big if. The Absolver was an unknown quantity even to Adelbern. I could tell that he didn’t believe the story he was trying to weave.

“I don’t believe a word of that.”

Adel laughed, “Until I gain the ability to read his mind, it’s the only thing I have to go on. But between you and me, I don’t believe it either.”

I looked around the room and into the kitchen, “Where’s Tahar and Cali?”

“They stepped out for a moment, they should be back soon. I told them it was a bad idea. The entire city has gone into lockdown because of you. An assassination attempt on Lord Forester and escaping from a scheduled execution? The other Inquisitors are whipping up hysteria as we speak.”

“I think in this case they’re right to…” I was panicking. If Lord Forester went to ground, I wouldn’t be able to kill him and get the rest of my payment. Having another chunk of the Federation conquered would also make my next jobs (if I chose to do any) much harder.

“I have a proposal for you.”

“Yeah?”

“I have a spare set of Inquisitor’s armour in this house. If you want to take another shot at Lord Forester’s head, I can be of assistance.”

“What? You’re gonna’ dress me up like a squire and get me inside?”

“Sure. The Inquisitors know each other, but they don’t know me or many of the men from other chapters around the Kingdom. If I simply tell them that you are with me, they won’t ask any further questions.”

“All that for something the Absolver didn’t explicitly tell you to do.”

“He rarely does. He loves plausible deniability. It’s the sharpest sword he has.”

I really wanted more details from Adelbern as to what the Absolver thought of John and Forester, but he wasn’t going to be forthcoming with them. It was possible that even he doubted his true opinions and motivations, even after being brought in as his personal enforcer and right-hand man. Or, on the opposite side of things, he knew full well what was going on and he was just projecting the image of a hapless lackey to earn my trust and compliance.

Adel has a troubled expression, “I suppose the legends about Stigma were true then.”

“Legends?”

“You know, the Inquisitors like to talk. Always with the talking. They try to scare the new recruits straight with tales of corruption, decadence and violence caused by corrupting objects. The Absolver takes a dim view of these tall tales, the only truth to them is that of how it empowers the wielder.”

“Why aren’t they true?”

“The usual sense of exaggeration applies. But something they do not know is that most of the wielders die before ever experiencing a fraction of its true power. The Inquisition hunts down its users with such zeal that they seldom survive past the first few weeks. Putting it into the hands of a thief though – that is a first. The Absolver says that only a few men have exploited Stigma’s abilities to change the tides of history, and those men lived in antiquity before the Inquisition reached its peak.”

“Does he spend a lot of time studying Stigma?”

“Yes. The man buries himself in hundreds of books, even going so far as to translate tomes nobody else has touched for hundreds of years. No matter his intentions, he knows more than you or I for certain.”

What he said about the previous wielders did line up with Stigma’s own statements. None of her owners had gotten very far. I was one of the ‘lucky’ few to see things this deep into her corruption. I wondered again what would happen if I continued to consume her ‘sisters.’ Would I grow even more powerful than I was now? Or would it simply hasten the potential negative effects of giving her control over my body?

“What about the other cursed items? Has he told you to do anything with them yet?”

“No. Did you consume the last one?”

“Not yet. I wanted to save it for a rainy day. Why can’t you just dump all of them on me if he wants it so bad?”

“It’s complicated,” he stated plainly, “The Absolver has the sole authority to maintain vigil over them. Nobody even knows they’ve gone missing yet. We need to keep it that way, because if they start investigating he will not stay in his position for very long.”

“So you’re being careful.”

“Yes.”

Our conversation was interrupted by the door opening. A haggard looking Tahar stumbled through into the living room, followed closely by Cali.

I smirked, “Hello.”

Cali tipped her hat to me, “Good evening, Ren.”

Tahar was about to start crying over me. I held up my hand and stood from my seat, “I’m fine. No need for the tears.”

“I was worried!” She responded.

Adelbern sighed; “Before we discuss what comes next, you should eat and drink something. You must be very fatigued after the battle.”

“…Fine.”

I needed to get Cali and Tahar caught up on what happened to me anyway.