“The inquisitor has arrived, Princess Mars.”

Mars, short for Marissa, and currently second in line for the throne, glanced up from the report in her hands. She met her trusted First’s eyes for a second, searching for any sign of alarm. When none was found, Mars let out a relieved sigh and filed the report away in her desk.

“I take it the inquisitor has not come for an arrest then?”

“Not this time,” the First said.

The First, the right hand of Mars, preferred to use her title over any other name. A habit developed due to the woman’s affinities and sigils, or at least Mars thought. Regardless, it was easy enough to oblige. And it provided a certain operational security.

“It was a joke,” Mars said, though a slight smile threatened to break her composure.

“As was I,” the First returned with an unruffled and dry expression. “I’ll show him in, then?”

Mars shrugged, “May as well. Oh!” she snapped her fingers and pointed. “Before I forget. Did you recognize him?”

The First nodded, “Yes, Princess. From the Tower. From what I determined, this visit is more disciplinary for him, rather than investigative into us.”

“Hm. Wonder what he did to deserve us,” Mars grinned. “Well, show him in. But give me five minutes to get ready.”

“Your will.”

The First left the chambers to go about her given task, while Mars pulled out a compact mirror and reviewed her image and composure.

Her black hair was held firmly within a bun, which while comfortable, was not the image she wished to portray. Fortunately, she had a trick for just that. From a drawer, she pulled out a lavender militaristic cap and rested it over the bun. She then checked her foundation and eyeliner, nothing was smudged, not that she would have time to fix any problems should they have occurred. Finally, she straightened her jacket, connected the buttons, and pulled out a simple knick-knack to decorate her desk with: an artificed falchion, one capable of shearing through armor as easily as cloth.

The statement amused her, as the falchion had since time memorial been the tool of the Landed to run down unruly peasants, just for its ability to slice through cloth armor such as gambisons. The artificed falchion, likewise, could do that, but also added those that could afford protection to the same grouping as the peasants. It was an understated reminder of the world’s place before Mars, for the Landed and peasants alike.

A polite and coded knock sounded at the heavy wooden door. All was well then, without signs of obvious subversion.

“Princess Marissa, the Inquisitor requests an audience. Shall I send him away?”

A question largely for show, to show the Inquisitor the regard his station deserved.

After a notable pause, Mars folded her arms across her chest, kept her back straight in her chair, and lifted her chin.

“Enter.”

The door opened wider than should be necessary, and the Inquisitor entered. Mars’ eyes almost widened at the sight of his deviation. He wore massive hawk wings on his back, likely from an improper calibrated Bonding. Unless it had been intentional, which given the benefits of flight, may very well have been.

Princess Marissa gave him cool regards, allowing him to take in the spartan office. His eyes paused momentarily on the falchion, before he cleared his throat and bowed. The First stood behind him, to the side of the door, doubling as both chaperone and bodyguard.

The Inquisitor whetted his lips, and grimaced, before straightening. “Princess Marissa, I must beg forgiveness for my unannounced arrival, but my orders were unexpected and I reached Southbridge prior to any messenger sent from command.”

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“Oh?” Princess Marissa asked, a single eyebrow raising fractionally, by design. The Inquisitor squirmed as he met her lilac colored eyes. “And what were those orders?”

“They were unclear, Princess….” he trailed off. Princess Marissa’s eyebrow raised further. “Except that I was to assist you in your endeavors…”

“Why were you selected for this task?” Princess Marissa asked, thinking back.

It was true that she had requested additional Inquisitorial presence in Southbridge, but that was largely a bluff. She had reasoned that if she requested aid from an overworked and bureaucratic institution, that she could be certain that they both would neither send help, nor send an investigator to any alleged rumors or misdeeds. However, it appeared that unknowingly, the Tower had called her bluff. An unfortunate development, but not irrecoverable. In fact, it might even serve as a boon.

“That… I cannot say for certain, Your Highness.”

“Then speculate. The most likely reason?”

“I… well, I must pay penance.”

Princess Mariss exhaled smoothly, almost a scoff, but more fitting her station. “And the Tower thought to assign you to me, equating your duty with punishment?”

Inquisitor Nathaniel winced, but nodded. “Speculation, Your Highness.”

It was fitting. And while Princess Marissa had to play the part of mild offense, she actually was unbothered. In fact, all the while they were speaking, she was wondering where to send the Inquisitor to both hamper her enemies and to prevent delays to her own plots. Although, she did find it curious that an obviously devoted and likely competent Inquisitor was suffering under the Tower’s management. Perhaps, in time, she could exploit that. Thoughts for later.

“For what offense then, are you punished?” Princess Marissa asked, continuing to think.

She knew her brother would send agents to Southbridge in an attempt to thwart her, even if he was an idiot and had no idea what she intended. He was obstructionist that way, simply knowing that whatever Princess Marissa desired was counter to his own desires. And idiotic though he may be, in that regard, he was correct. But the issue was that doubt could not be cast upon her own family without proof, and even then, it would need to be done quietly and discreetly.

“I pushed for direct intervention despite my superior’s orders.”

“Oh.” Princess Marissa halted in her thoughts, replaying what he had just said. “You were insubordinate?”

“For just cause, Your Highness!” he said in an outburst.

An aura radiated off of Princess Marissa’s First, detectable as a sudden chill in the room as hoarfrost began spreading up the walls from the floor.

The Inquisitor cleared his throat. “Beg pardon, Your Highness.”

“You are forgiven.” The Inquisitor almost started to deflate, before Marissa held up a finger. “This time. Do not let it happen again.”

After a pause, the aura receded, and Marissa gave an imperceptible nod to her First.

“A thousand apologies,” he bowed once more.

“Enough. But now I am curious. What made you so impassioned as to forget yourself and earn penance?”

Left unsaid, was the fact that he risked worse than disgrace. While it was generally frowned upon to execute Inquisitors, a slight imprisonment could be smoothed over, especially if the Inquisitor was already serving penance. In fact, this only strengthened Marissa’s position.

“An infestation of wyrkwik to the north,” the Inquisitor said.

Once again, a chilled silence filled the room. All of Princess Marissa’s attention fell upon the Inquisitor. Either the Inquisitor was incompetent, or the Tower was. Either could be believable, but Princess Marissa absolutely needed to learn more.

“Verified?” Marissa prompted.

“I flew low enough to see the infestation. It is a colony in the wastes several days north along the highway.”

That made little to no sense. The wyrkwik, or as the baseborn called them, the jungleborn, lived in the jungles, it was in their name. Not only that, but to have crossed the divide, they would have had to have been smuggled in, which meant human collaborators. If the wyrkwik truly were established to the north, then the city would be hard pressed to serve Princess Marissa’s plans. In fact, all of her plans would be ruined. A major incursion could wreck this portion of the kingdom, and leave other borders exposed to the north and east.

No, this problem needed to be dealt with.

“I believe we got off on the wrong foot, Inquisitor.” Princess Marissa stood, feigning a smile. “Please, tell me more, and how I may assist in clearing this infestation.”

Inquisitor’s Nathaniel’s eyes lit up.

“Crown be praised,” he said.