The sun was set by the time Kint arrived home.
He opened the door, relieved to feel a familiar warmth permeate his chest, soothing his aches and worries away. There was nothing else like it. A feeling just for him.
He hung his coat, loosening his tie as he made his way to the sitting area.
The old Inspector was heartened to see his daughter cross legged on the floor, doing her assignments, dark hair hanging like a curtain around her face.
Kint stepped around her to check the pot cooking on the stove, lifting the lid with a nearby rag.
"Boiled potatoes." Nessa stated, answering his unspoken question.
He gave her a raised eyebrow, receiving an eye roll in return.
“I’ve had a long day.”
"I'm sure you did." He chuckled, thinking of his own day.
The Inspector moved to sit in his old leather chair.
Pulling out his pipe, he lazily tapped the dottle to the floor.
"Papa, you got ash on the floor." Nassa complained.
"It's my floor."
"Ugh."
Kint smiled, humming to himself.
He reached into his other pocket in search of his tinderbox. Pulling it out, he opened it, and froze.
The warmth fled his body.
There was a small object sitting in the center of the box. The thing he’d pulled from the crime scene while he’d been in the Silent State.
It was a fingernail. A child’s fingernail…
"Papa?" Nessa called, voice far away.
He stared at the evidence in his hand.
He heard the voice of Mrs. Tanzeen.
‘Screams… awful screams in the night…’
"Papa, dinner's ready." The girl called again.
There was a ringing in his ears.
“Papa.”
He closed his hand, snapping his head to look at her.
"What is it, Ness?"
She gave him an irritated eyebrow.
"Dinner's ready."
She pointed to the table where two plates were laid out.
"I'll be right there." He muttered, still lost in thought.
Why had he kept this thing? It could only muddy the waters…
What had his Silent mind been thinking?
Eventually he shook himself, dropping the nail back in the tinderbox.
Sealing it away.
The investigation was over. Whatever this sliver of evidence meant, it no longer had anything to do with him.
He took his place opposite his daughter, thoughtlessly shoving a potato into his mouth.
It wasn’t very good, but he smiled anyway because Nessa had made it.
"Papa?"
He met her eyes.
"I was hoping that maybe tonight we co--"
She continued speaking, but Kint’s mind had returned to the tinderbox in his pocket and the evidence within.
Why was he so fixated on it?
"Papa." Nessa groaned, frustrated. "Are you listening?"
"I'm sorry Nessa. It's just work." He said.
The excuse was weak, the smile he gave, even weaker.
"What were you saying?"
She gave him a long reproachful look.
"I asked if you could tell me another story tonight?"
He sighed, reflexively.
His thoughts were still churning, he didn’t want to deal with another argument right now.
Kint’s teeth ground in his skull.
"Come on, Dad." She pleaded. "I didn't tell anyone about what you told me last night, even when I really wanted to."
"I don’t kno–"
Let it go...
The thought came to him unbidden.
This is your place of warmth, of comfort. Leave bad things outside.
Kint shook his head, trying to clear it.
These thoughts are too serious...
The words felt foreign.
Leave them outside. Home is for family.
Home is for Nessa…
Kint ground his teeth harder. He could feel a headache coming on.
Stop worrying. Your worries will be there tomorrow.
A snarl grew on Kint’s face.
This wasn’t him. These weren’t his thoughts.
He looked up at his daughter.
Concentration lined her face.
Pain lanced through his forehead.
Focus on what's in front of you. Tell your daughter a story and—
Kint slammed his fist down on the table. Plates and cups rattled violently.
Nessa’s face went pale.
She’d finally recognized the look in his eyes.
Rage.
He stared daggers at her, blood trickling from his nose.
The warmth of the room evaporated. It became dull, lifeless.
“Why?” He snapped, voice hoarse. “Why do you tempt me? Why do you throw it in my face? You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”
Her eyes welled with tears.
She was terrified, staring death in the face.
The Inspectors teeth ground till his ears were ringing.
Tears flowed from his daughter's eyes, but she dared not move, sobbing silently in the chair before him.
Eventually, his anger began to abate.
Kint took a deep breath, and sighed.
"I'm sorry Papa." Nessa pleaded, tears spilling down her face.
He sighed again, trying to regain his composure.
“I know sweetheart.”
Why did she keep pushing him like this?
Couldn’t they just keep things as they were?
Thunk Thunk Thunk.
A heavy knock thumped the door.
Kint’s eyes widened, he looked at his daughter, sharing a moment of terror.
"Go to your room." He commanded.
There was no argument this time. The girl bolted to her bedroom, closing the door behind her.
Kint stood, mind racing through possibilities.
In five years living here, the Archaedis household had never once received a visitor at night.
His anxieties peaked, sweat beading on his forehead.
He was afraid.
Had they been seen?
Had she been discovered?
Had he been discovered?
The knock came again, with more urgency this time.
Should he run?
Kint took a deep breath.
There was no use in running. No sense in avoiding whatever this was.
He’d been caught unawares.
Might as well face it.
The inspector moved with purpose, hand grasping to the handle of the Stalwart Knife at his waist.
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The knock came again, loud and heavy. He flinched at the closeness of its power.
What could it be?
His past? His power? Nessa…
Kint took a deep breath, turning the handle.
The door swung wide.
An enormous man filled the opening, his ebony skin shining in the candle light.
It was the Acolyte from Lord Crecius's office. The one who'd ushered them inside. Even in the chill of the evening air, his black and purple robes were without sleeves, emphasizing his well muscled physique.
"Good evening, Inspectah." The man smiled.
The depth of his voice hummed through Kint's skin.
"Acolyte." Kint nodded, unable to keep the tension from his voice. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"I'm sorry to intrude at this hour." The man began, "I was in the District, checking on a few things for our lord, and I thought I might stop by to introduce myself properly."
Kint narrowed his eyes, confused.
This man spoke with eloquence, but his accent was thick with the casual joviality of the provinces. It was like talking to a well read farmer in the homeland.
"I brought a gift, if that helps?"
He reached into the folds of his robes, pulling out a bottle of dark liquor. The glass was small in his massive hands.
"It's an honor."
Kint accepted the bottle, seeing no other choice.
"Please come in."
He motioned the man inside.
The dark Acolyte ducked his head beneath the doorframe. The Inspector followed close behind.
He flashed a glance at his daughter's door as they passed. It was shut fast.
"Please, have a seat." Kint said, pointing to a chair next to his. "I'll grab some glasses."
The Inspector sorted through the cupboards for a suitable glass, one eye trained on his uninvited guest.
The Acolyte moved cautiously through the sitting area, lowering himself gently to the chair. The seat creaked as his weight settled.
Pulling the cork from the bottle, Kint was hit with an oaky aroma. He raised an eyebrow in appreciation.
Returning to the living area, he handed the large man a glass before moving to sit across from him.
"So..." The Inspector began. "Am I one of the interests the Lord has you checking on?"
Before replying, the large man brought the glass to his nose, closing his eyes to enjoy its scent.
He took a sip.
"Ahhh." He exclaimed. "Now that's the good stuff."
Kint did not drink from his own glass, eyes locked on the Acolyte.
There was an obvious intelligence to the man, an intensity that belied his casual bearing.
"You’re an interesting man, Mastah Kint.” The Acolyte admitted. “And your vocabulary in the Ignatium has heightened your profile in the Lord's eyes."
The man raised a mischievous eyebrow at him.
Kint grimaced.
He'd known his little outburst would cause trouble, but he hadn’t expected to meet that trouble so soon.
“How fucked am I?” He asked.
The Acolyte grinned at his bluntness.
"You're in a bit of a bind." He noted. "The lack of clarity in your past hasn’t helped. It makes the Lord nervous."
Kint took a sip of the liquor, coughing as it went down.
The Acolyte leaned forward, laughing. There was no judgment, just earnest, compassionate laughter.
"That bad eh?" The man asked.
He wasn’t talking about the drink.
Kint didn’t respond.
"You're not gonna tell me anything are you." The man guessed, still grinning.
"The past is dead and buried." Kint grumbled.
"Fair enough." The man shrugged, the motion causing the chair to groan. “But nothing stays buried in a hurricane.”
“I try to avoid those.”
The large man chuckled, taking another sip from his glass.
"Most people do. ‘The best politics is no politics at all', or so they say."
Kint nodded, agreeing.
He took another sip. Beginning to enjoy the warmth in his belly.
"You know, you don't seem like the Acolyte sort." The Inspector commented, feeling oddly familiar. “How did you end up so close to the Lord?"
The large man cocked his head in thought.
"I've a past of my own, Inspectah. Probably just as dodgy as yours.” He admitted, “‘Suppose I just came to different conclusions."
"How so?" Kint probed.
"Let's just say… I'd rather guide the hand, than take a sucker punch from on high."
Kint nodded, understanding.
"At least you'll see it coming." He quipped.
The large man burst into laughter. It was a sonorous laugh, filling the whole room. Hearing it, even Kint let out a few chuckles.
"Damn..." The Acolyte exclaimed, laughter cooling. "I like you Kint."
The Inspector found himself agreeing with the sentiment. There was something about this man. A charisma. It was so familiar.
It didn’t last, however.
The dark man’s smile turned down to a frown.
"Damn." He repeated, this time in frustration.
Kint's smile fell as the tone changed.
"I'm sorry, Kint.” The man started, looking at his feet. “But, I'm not here for a laugh and a drink. I'm here to deliver a message."
"Alright..." Kint replied.
He’d suspected as much, but his worries had been lost in their conversation.
"I’m to relay a story to you." The large man continued, hesitant.
Kint took a deep breath.
His expression turned to stone, as he set down his glass.
The Acolyte did the same.
"Get on with it." The Inspector grumbled.
"Are you familiar with Caligore Inkhold?" The man asked.
"Who isn't? He's got a statue in every Inkhold district."
"Right." The man nodded, solemn. "And do you know why he’s famous?"
"Greatest politician since Seevert.” Kint recited. “Negotiated the First Great Expansion, and ushered in the Second Age."
The Acolyte nodded.
"Would it surprise you,” He muttered. “If the Apostle had another deed... a secret one?"
"No." Kint said flatly.
The large man gave a half chuckle.
"Fair enough."
The cool joviality from earlier was gone.
"These are open secrets among the Families, but kept well hidden from Kadenites." He prefaced.
"The First Great Expansion was not a negotiated settlement with Ingoria, it was a war. There were no agreements, just conquest and genocide."
The man paused, judging Kint's response.
There was none. The Inspector wasn’t surprised at all. He’d seen the underbelly of this society. He knew its nature.
"Caligore was known as a great politician, not because he made peace with other nations, but because he made peace among the Apostles, allowing them to acheive goals that were unthinkable in times before. Caligore Inkhold was as good as King for over two decades. He achieved one goal after the next, bringing prosperity to the Noveriat. But, toward the end of his life, he wanted more. He wanted to leave a greater mark. To grow the Prophet's reach... He wanted war with the Anjiri."
Kint grimaced.
The Noveriat had been going to war with the Anjiri since the Prophet’s death in their lands. In fact, it had happened so frequently, that the term ‘going to war’ had become a popular idiom for ‘picking an unwinnable fight.’
The Acolyte wet his lips.
"All of the Apostles agreed with his plans... All except one... The Sixth Apostle..."
Kint's ears perked up. This was new to him.
The Deeds of Sixth Apostles, outside of Koresh, were church secrets, rarely told.
Another reason so few Kadenites believed the post ever existed.
“Caligore worked for years to convince him. Trying every justification from religion, to economics, to revenge. But the Sixth would not be swayed. He had seen the results of Caligore’s previous expeditions, seen how long it had taken for the colonized lands to recover. He would sponsor violence no more.”
Kint’s eyes narrowed. Where was this going?
“Eventually, the Inkhold Apostle admitted defeat. Declaring in the halls of the Heladon that the Sixth Apostle was the one man he could not sway with his legendary words… so instead, he would slay him with the sword.”
The Inspector gripped tight to the arms of his chair. He couldn’t help it.
Was this really happening?
Was this man really telling him this?
This story, this information… it would cut to the core of any Kadenite.
"Caligore, in his pride and fear of death, decided that his greatest deed would not be a war of conquest, but a civil war. A war to change the structure of the greatest empire ever forged. That night, as he spoke his final words to the Heledon, the armies of the other four families set out to destroy the Sixth Apostle and all his Brothers."
The man glanced at Kint, face solemn.
“They succeeded.”
Kint was cold, emotionless.
"You know what this means, yes?"
The Inspectors face was a stone.
He did not respond.
“To change the structure of our society, to pull off such a coup, Caligore needed to bring all three branches under his wing. The Blessed Apostles, The Church, and the Gods themselves…”
The old Inspector sat, stunned.
The Brotherhood was gone…
Killed by the Apostles…
Killed by the Church of the Prophet…
Killed by the Gods themselves…
What was an average man to do, when the whole world was stacked against them?
Kint huffed a laugh.
“Just another Kadenite in Kaden City.” He muttered.
“So you understand?” The Acolyte asked.
The Inspector looked up at the man, sneering.
The large man frowned, face full of sorrow.
“There is no one coming to save you, Mastah Kint. No one to punish the Apostles for their misdeeds. There is only you, with all the powers of the Noveriat set to crush you should you oppose them.”
Silence fell, both men festering in the stillness, the stench of this story.
“Are we done?” Kint asked, irritated.
The Acolyte sighed, nodding.
"I'm sorry, Inspectah. I truly am." He grimaced. "This is the Lord’s will. Not mine."
Kint gave the Acolyte a hard stare.
He wasn't angry with this man, the messenger. But the message had struck a nerve.
"Get out." He snapped, voice cold.
The towering man did not hesitate, standing smoothly.
"I am sorry, Kint."
"Out."
The Inspector ground his teeth, lips twitching with emotion.
He sat still in his seat until he heard the door close.
He shook his head. Ears ringing with anger.
Why had they done this?
He knew the score, every Kadenite did…
So why spell it out?
After several minutes, he was shaken from his stupor by a muffled voice.
"Papa..." His daughter whispered.
Kint took a breath, hoisting himself from his chair.
“Back to bed, Sweetheart. I’ll be there in a minute.”
He grabbed the two glasses bringing them up to the kitchen counter.
Then moved to his daughter's room.
"Nessa?" He whispered, voice hoarse. "Are you ok?"
"Yeah..." She responded. "Can you come in?"
Kint opened the door wide. Where last night he felt he needed the respite of sleep, now he was in need of her warmth.
But it was not there.
He sat on the edge of her bed.
She had the sheets pulled up to cover everything but her face, ready to hide.
He grimaced.
Was she so scared of him, now?
"Papa..." She began, eyes shining with emotion. "Is what that man said true?"
Kint furrowed his brow, concerned.
"You heard all that?" He asked.
"No."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Parts..." She adjusted.
"I don't know sweetie…” Kint sighed, “I think he might have just been trying to scare us?"
"But he works for the Lord, right?" She questioned, "So why would he want to scare us?"
"Well..."
He bit his lip.
What lie would he tell this time?
"Sometimes when people are scared, they try to make other people scared.” He explained. “So they do their jobs better."
Her small brow furrowed.
"That's silly." She decided.
"Yes it is." He smiled. "But, my work for the Lord is easy stuff. So they just want to make sure I don’t slack off."
She thought about it, mulling over his response.
He wished so badly to know the thoughts behind those dark eyes. But, she was as mysterious as his Wife had been.
"Papa..." She said, locking her eyes with his. "Will you protect me? If they come."
The words took him by surprise. They were so full of meaning. So full of fear and tension.
There was only one answer.
He knew what she needed to hear.
Knew what he should say.
But…
He paused.
Crimson eyes overwrote his thought, a bright predatory smile filling his vision. The wretched vision of his smiling daughter, pulling secrets from his head.
He shuddered, eyes coming back into focus.
His breath caught.
Her face… horrified, broken… Betrayed.
She’d seen him hesitate.
There was only one answer, and he hadn’t given it.
"No-- of course." He pleaded. "Of course I'll protect you sweetheart."
He tried to correct it, but the damage was done.
She'd seen him struggle...
Nessa wrapped herself in blankets, hiding... from him.
He reached out to grab her, to hold her, comfort her…
But his hand froze, then pulled away.
There was nothing he could do.
He’d done enough…
He’d hesitated…
He could not make it right… not tonight.
Maybe not ever…
The Inspector stood making solemn steps toward the door, flinching as it closed shut behind him.