Reumara was a small town, filled with a couple thousand souls that had made a living there. The townsfolk walked out and about, cloaked in thin robes that seemed to starve off the wet heat as they went to and fro from wooden buildings, made out of the thick sturdy wood from the surrounding swamps. Mist hovered off the ground ever so slightly, lending an air of mystery to the place.

Some would've found it beautiful.

Craeft thought it was a shit hole.

The blood-bugs buzzing around, the hostile wildlife that seemed to make it their mission to gnaw on his Gugnir-steel armor, the people that sent them odd glances, faces covered by the hoods of their brightly colored robes. It was frustrating and Craeft wondered why anyone would want to live in this wretched town when places like Athsbane existed.

The only thing that Craeft could say made the trip worth it, outside of the money and promotion that the squire would get if he succeeded, was the Lepezhaya trees. The shades of pink and purple, along with the deep rich amethyst color of the waters lent a rather scenic view.

Was a shame the rest of it wasn't like that.

"Got ya." Craeft growled out, wiping the smashed bug blood on his armor which left a large black mark on his arm. That would have to be cleaned later. "Just think of the mission," He mumbled to himself, "just got to get it completed and it'll be much easier from there."

"Who are you talking to?" Veliane bit out as the two of them trudged behind theirs superior. Sir Finguine seemed to be taking the place in stride, waving at the locals and being a bit all around smug at what he was subjecting his squires to.

"Myself." Craeft replied, the annoying buzzing returning as another blood bug seemed to make it's life mission to terrorize him. It didn't last long as he simply froze it in mid-air.

A playful smile spread across her face. "Am I going to have to start worrying about you? First you start to lose your mind in that cabin, and now you're talking to yourself?" She shook her head, her short hair swaying. "What did I do to get stuck with you as a teammate?"

"You know you love me." Craeft grinned back. It was nice that he could allow himself to relax with her. Having been friendless for most of his childhood due to his status as a bastard, it was a welcome relief to have someone accept him and rely on him.

It didn't hurt that she wasn't bad on the eyes either. Pitch-black hair framed a cute round face, her amethyst eyes dancing with amusement, full lips on display. She was an exotic beauty, her dark-skin contrasting the usual pale of the Ascean natives.

It probably wasn't very professional of him to fall for his squad mate, but over the past year, he couldn't help himself. She may have been smug, a bit bratty, and cold sometimes, but Craeft didn't think of anyone else he could trust to have his back.

"That's up for debate." Veliane shot back, letting out a groan as her foot sank a bit into the ground. She yanked upward on her knees, mud spilling out of the hole and leaving her sabaton covered in the swamp's muck. "Ugh, couldn't we have taken a different mission? At this rate, we're just going to be a conglomeration of bug bites, mud, and probably a few diseases." She ran a hand through her hair, the straightened locks beginning to curl. "How anyone could stand to be here instead of on some nice shiny beaches is beyond me."

"Cheap land." Sir Finguine shrugged, trudging along one of the few paths that seemed solid within the town. The wooden buildings began to shift, changing into large reconstructed concrete habitats that made up the housing of the ruling body. "Lusus are a much bigger threat outside the major cities, but land is cheaper so people come all the way out here. Further west, the more Lusus, but since we're in the center, we shouldn't expect much."

"...Still don't think that's a good reason." Veliane replied, her lips curling up in distaste as another blood-bug made its mark. "I hate this place."

"You get used to it." The Inquisitor lazily smirked at her, before turning his attention back towards the road. Time seemed to crawl by as they made their way to the local lord's home, the red coats of the Enforcer's becoming more and more common as they made their way to the heart of the town.

Craeft noticed their armaments become heavier and heavier, amulet gloves giving way to casters, the barrel of the ranged weapon thrumming with elemental power.

It was odd. Their forms were rigid, as if they were expecting something, their eyes staring at the squire's squad with a hint of intrigue and suspicion. The squire wondered what had gotten them so riled up.

The murders perhaps, but that didn't explain the paranoia that seemed to permeate the very air as they drew closer to the center of the town.

The squire shivered as he the sensation of walking through water ran over him, the wards accepting him through. They were powerful and fully active. On the western front, that would make sense.

But in a small town like this?

Something was seriously wrong.

"Here we are." Sir Finguine tilted his head up. The concrete building was bigger than any other in Reumura, topping even some of the trees surrounding the place. Craeft had expected a castle, or a mansion, but it seemed the lord had preferred a more defensive fortress. "I think. Biggest place here and I know very few lords that don't have much of an ego."

"You know the one that runs this place, sir?" Craeft eyed one of the guards, feeling a bit skittish around someone who could easily pierce his armor with a simple twitch of their finger. "Maybe he can explain why everyone seems so on edge."

"Ah, you noticed that have you." A sly grin spread across the older man's face, the scar that ran across his face stretching slightly. "Yes, it seems that they're a bit on edge. Surprised you noticed that. Perhaps I'll make an Inquisitor of you yet."

"Perhaps..." Craeft wouldn't disagree. Inquisitor's got paid more but they usually got the sketchier jobs than the common Knights. Plus, they dealt with people, and if the past year had taught him anything, was that people were sometimes worse than Lusus. "Whichever one gets me into the nobility faster is the one I'll take."

"Whichever one gets me away from this place is the one I'll take." Veliane spoke up, slowly fanning herself with her hand. "Come on, let's get inside. The place probably might actually have some air conditioning."

"Agreed." Sir Finguine nodded at the Enforcer's near the door, receiving one in turn as he led them inside, relief filling them as the cool air caressed them.

The place was a bit barren on the inside, a few chairs lining the walls along with the sun-like symbol of the Ascean Empire plastered onto every side of the concrete structure. A pretty woman sat at the far end of the room, jotting something down in a folder which she quickly closed upon spotting the squad.

"Oh hello there," Her voice was crisp and clear, a woman used to being in command. Probably had some military or enforcer experience. "I am the secretary for Lord Morozova. Are you here to see him?" Her shoulders slumped in relief. "If so, he's in a meeting right now with the local garrison, but they should be done soon. I'm just happy that someone is doing something about those murders."

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

"Murders?" Sir Finguine frowned, his gaze becoming just slightly more intense as he stared the lady down. "We were only told of one murder case, the one we were sent here to investigate in the first place."

"Oh no, it's only been one murder." She quickly corrected. "One confirmed murder case, but people," The woman looked left and right before leaning forward over her desk. "they've been going missing for a while now."

"Have they?" The Inquisitor's frown slowly shifted into a nasty scowl. "Funny. Lord Morozova didn't say anything about that in his missive Mrs..."

"Sofia Ozerova."

"Mrs. Ozerova." Sir Finguine sauntered up to her desk. It was clear the woman was a gossip, and the Inquisitor was going to milk it for all it was worth. "These disappearances...how long have they been going on for?"

The brown-haired woman tapped a finger against her chin, a large bandage wrapped across her hand. Judging by the way the guards looked as if they were chasing ghosts, it was probably from a fight. "Well, a couple months now. There hasn't really been any evidence about who's doing it outside of some weird marks that my boss refuses to tell me anything about. And some people have been acting a bit strange. One even attacked me the other day."

"Strange how?" Sir Finguine asked, drawing a shudder from the woman. She clenched a hand around her wounded limb, gripping it tightly as she continued on.

"Shaky movements, people muttering nonsense, just odd all around." Sofia's knuckles turned white. "My lord told me he was investigating himself, but-"

"Ah, Inquisitor Finguine." The voice was a deep baritone, matching the man who had to be the local lord as he walked up to the group, a cane thumping against the floor with each step. A scar ran across his nose, harsh blue eyes, short brown hair, and a rigid muscular body denoting a history in the military. He was clad in a tight-fitting red robe that seemed to accentuate his strength. "Just the man I wanted to see."

"The same could be said for you." Sir Finguine regarded the man coldly, eyes darting towards the artificial leg made of a thick porci-steel material. "I see...that must have been what was taking you so long."

"Just finishing up with the chief enforcer." Lord Morozova countered, his gaze turning towards the squires. "And I see you've brought some assistants with you! Good, that should speed things up in regard to my...problem."

"You mean problems." The Inquisitor drawled out, the metal in his gauntlets grinding together as his hands balled into fists. "Need I remind you that keeping information that is vital to a mission can result in harsh fines and penalties, my lord?"

The nobleman shook his head, a nasty glare sent the secretary's way as Morozova focused his attention towards Sir Finguine. "None of that will be necessary, I assure you. I have been keeping things under control for a while now."

"Not from what I hear." Sir Finguine retorted.

"I said under control." Lord Morozova said. "I didn't say they were good. I would like to discuss ways to make it that way, but perhaps we should sequester ourselves to my office?" Sofia withered as the nobleman glanced her way. "Keep away from loose lips and prying eyes?"

Sir Finguine acquiesced to the man's offer, the trio following him into his office. Craeft's opinion of the man had proved right, medals and trophies of all kinds adorning the walls of the man's office. Animals, dark beasts, even small trinkets from the meat grinder that was the western front.

The squire's opinion shot up at that. Craeft didn't respect many nobles considering how they viewed him and his mother as lesser for having the audacity of being born outside of marriage, but the blonde knew that the military had a different, more pragmatic view of such things.

Magic was in the blood, and bastard or no, any human willing to throw themselves at the seemingly never-ending hordes of Lusus was a welcome addition to the Knighthood.

Lord Morozova laid a few glasses onto the desk that sat in the middle of the room, carved from a delicious red wood that gleamed under the crys-fueled lanterns that hung from the ceiling. He fetched a large bottle of vodka, popping the top off and letting its grating smell fill the small space.

"Spirits to raise our spirits." The lord chuckled at his own joke, pouring the viscous blue alcohol into the glasses. Sir Finguine grabbed a glass, subtly casting a spell to detect any poisons. Seeing as the Inquisitor considered it fine, Craeft grabbed one of his own.

It would be rude to turn the drink down, despite his family's history with such things. His mother had her own problems regarding drugs and spirits, and he would be remiss to not heed her example...still, he couldn't afford to piss the man off. He could prove useful when Craeft wanted to obtain the status of lord for himself.

Craeft chugged the liquid, the fierce taste burning the whole way down as it settled in his stomach and burned there too. His face clenched tight as he laid the glass back on the desk.

Yes, he wouldn't have to worry about drinking again if this is what he had to look forward to.

His teammate wasn't much better. "Is this crys-fuel?" Veliane muttered as she tried to hold down the drink. "How can people drink this stuff?"

"Ah, you're from the Thiatam Islands, aren't you?" The lord grinned, showing off several golden teeth. "Heard they have sweet drinks down there, but nothing can surpass the taste of good ol' Ascean vodka." He sighed, his cane clicking and clacking against the concrete floor as he sat down behind his desk. "But unfortunately, I didn't bring you here to discuss the wonders of a good spirit." His visage grew stern. "Now, what have you found from your reports?"

"The victims were definitely sacrificed." Sir Finguine said. "The mutilation was bad, but any sick sadist could do that. I levitated their bodies and found a ritual mark filled with a foul magic that reeked of the Lusus." Lord Morozova looked panic, brow furrowing in concern. "I dispelled it, thankfully. However, the sigil was one I recognized. It seems we have an Archonist on our hands."

The nobleman stilled, his knuckles white as they gripped the ball at the top of his cane, the wood groaning under the pressure. His jaw tightened, teeth gritting together as his face reddened and his eyes burned with rage.

"I was afraid of that." The lord hissed out, stumbling towards the far wall. He lifted his cane up, tapping it several times as magic ripples appeared. The wall quickly folded away, concrete flowing over concrete like water as the ward went down and dispelled the illusion. "We managed to recover this from a home we raided a few weeks ago."

His hand grasped a small rectangular glass container, dark purple wisps that were nearly black writhing and twitching within. A crystal colored a luscious and deep violet was held inside it, the air around the gem distorting as its image blurred.

'Use me...'

Craeft kept a calm exterior as he shored his mental defenses, feeling the seductive hiss of the gem. Unlike the ritual magic, it caressed his mind like a lovely seductress, whispering sweet lies of power and greatness which had never been seen before and would never be seen after.

He tore his eyes away from it, but Craeft could still feel it. Waiting, watching for a chance to corrupt him and turn him into a monster, for nothing good could come from such a thing.

'Ah, but such a sweet corruption it would be, to have all you ever wanted in your hands...'

"A blighting gem." Sir Finguine spat in disgust, every word drowning in venom. "So, they've been giving themselves those unnatural powers again."

"Correct. I didn't contact the Knighthood earlier as my Enforcers had only ever managed to find traces of people, but never any of those missing." Lord Morozova poured himself another shot, downing it within a single moment. "I had thought I could handle it. Handled the Lusus on the western front just fine but these Archonists have proven to be just as bad as them, and unlike then, I don't have a whole host of knights to provide back up."

"You will have us." Sir Finguine assured the man. "And I promise you that we will not rest till all of these treasonous creatures have been executed."

"Ah, well..." A chuckle escaped the nobleman's lips. "That's the first bit of good news I've had in months." He tapped the side of the case, tendrils touching the other side of the glass where Morozova's finger had been. "This little abomination shall stay with me, but I trust that should anything happen to me, that it shall be destroyed?"

"Of course." The Inquisitor nodded in response. "Such creations should never have existed in the first place, let alone actually be used. Do not fear, my lord. Should you fall, we will still follow our orders for the good of the Empire."

"For the good of the Empire." Lord Morozova grinned, pouring himself another drink. "Pardon me, I forgot myself. These past few months have been particularly harrowing and I find myself taking comfort in some spirits. Would you all like some more as well?"

"No thank you." Craeft quickly responded, Veliane nodding in turn.

"Ah, suit yourself." The nobleman waved him off as he chugged the burning liquor. "My secretary, Sofia, shall escort you to your rooms. I shall provide them for you since you are providing me your services. I shall even provide her as well should you find yourself needing some help during your investigation, seeing as she seemed so knowledgeable when she spoke to you." The man derided, contempt filling his tone. "I hope she can be of service to you."

"I thank you," Sir Finguine stood up, bowing his head. "as does the Empire. Long may your lineage reign."

"Long may it reign, Inquisitor." Lord Morozova took as sip of his drink. "Long may it reign indeed..."