Inquisitor Seiger Weiss looked up from his work, allowing the flame mana he had been channeling to evaporate in a wash of heat. His “work” was the broken form of a female, her race impossible to determine due to the quantity of blood and terrible burns marring her form. For a split second, the inquisitor’s mouth screwed into a frown, but his emotions and expression were washed away by the tide of courtly professionalism he affected. The girl sagged against her chains and issued a sob of agony, her consciousness sustained only by the spell Weiss had cast earlier. Bloodrush was normally used by berserkers and powerful front-liners to remain conscious through excruciating pain while a healer worked to restore their wounds. The Inquisition used it for a different purpose.
“Confessor Ebrahim. What brings you to Nafsbirg on this fine afternoon?” Weiss’ face was a study in polite neutrality.
The confessor looked down on the inquisitor’s work, his face a naked display of admiration and sadism in equal portion, “In my meditation this morning, I received a vision from Heylel. Of dark forces at work here in Nafsbirg. Imagine my pleasure to find the Inquisition already hard at work rooting out this heresy. Of course, I gathered my retinue and traveled here with all haste.”
“I assure you, Confessor, the Inquisition has this matter well in hand. We were pursuing a darkling, but it appears his purpose in Nafsbirg was to connect with several adventurers. Regrettably, we were unable to capture the darkling, but I have several leads on the foreigners. One of which is this lovely girl, who was kind enough to educate them on the landscape of the empire while they stayed at her mother’s inn,” Weiss gave the girl a benevolent smile.
“Ah. The mother?” Ebrahim’s leer disgusted the inquisitor.
“Regrettably, she expired during questioning. Truly, a remarkable woman,” Weiss almost seemed sad.
“No father?” the confessor pressed.
“The girl’s father is a scout in service to the Empire. He is deployed on the Northern Front. A coven has been dispatched to retrieve him. We were also forced to neutralize a number of adventurers staying at the inn who objected to our taking the innkeep and her daughter for questioning,” he replied.
“You are most diligent in your efforts, Weiss. A credit to your order,” the confessor motioned a benediction toward the inquisitor, who turned briefly toward the girl and rolled his eyes once Ebrahim couldn’t see his face.
Though the confessor was a sadist and a deviant, he was politically well-connected, with allies in the Inquisition, the church of Heylel, and the Imperial capitol. It wouldn’t do to antagonize him.
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“I believe I have learned nearly all there is to know. The adventurers I mentioned earlier, who had contact with the darkling, were seen headed South into the Fyrwood. Ironically, if one of them had not bewitched the clerk at the Hunter’s Guild, they would have likely escaped my notice. The description of the clerk was enough for me to connect the two,” Weiss explained. “If you will excuse me, young Savka and I have only a few more things to discuss. I will attend you in the Magistrate’s office shortly.”
“Surely, there is little she can tell you in her state?” Ebrahim replied.
In response, Weiss lifted his hand and made a fist, which flared into a brilliant white light, shot through with shimmering green waves, “Restoring Light.”
He laid his incandescent hand on the girl’s head, who had begun screaming and pulling against her chains. When his fingertips brushed her hair, the light exploded into a blazing eruption of swirling mana, essence discharges crackling across the stone and the cell’s chains.
When he removed his hand and the light faded, the girl was whole, her body restored to complete health and all her wounds faded. The blood, however, remained caked on her skin, in her hair, and in thick layers on the floor of her cell. She sagged against her chains, weeping in terror.
“The fifth tier. I had no idea, Inquisitor. Surely, with such power, the Order should have promoted you to Quaestor by now?” Ebrahim’s admiration disgusted Weiss.
“I serve the Empire best where I am, not chained to an office. I am no hound in search of glory or recognition. If you will excuse us, Confessor,” Weiss’ voice was low and dangerous. “Bloodrush.”
“Certainly, Inquisitor. I will leave you to your work. I will await you in the Magistrate’s office,” the confessor gave a small bow as he left.
“I think I spooked him,” Weiss chuckled as he turned back to his work.
“Please,” the girl choked out between sobs, “Please... let me die.”
“Soon, my girl, soon. I promise. You will find release soon. Tell me again, what were their names?” he reached over to the wooden table near the chair in the center of the cell and picked up a slender spike of metal almost a foot long. “Searing Blade.” The tip of the needle rapidly began to glow, first a dull red, then a bright orange, finally a savage white-hot. Savka moaned, a hopeless sound low in her throat.
Her screams echoed from the cell, into the Magistrate’s office, out into the street. Passersby crossed themselves at the sounds of the Inquisition at work. Confessor Ebrahim’s eyes fluttered as he sighed contentedly and stroked the silver chain of his office.