The lead inquisitor, Maximilian, was in a bad mood. He did enjoy his work, who wouldn't? Saving the world one wild mage at a time. But that didn't change the miserable working hours. In his youth, he could have drunk through the night and still be ready for a good old manhunt the next day, but he was not so young anymore. He leaned heavily on his crooked wooden staff as he glanced at the mansion, hardly visible in the predawn gloom.
"What is the report for today's case?" Maximilian asked Sev, his first executor. He did not bother reading the reports beforehand anymore. Let the younglings struggle and strive, when you've been around as long as he has, you could take certain liberties.
His first executor was a middle-aged man clad in heavy steel armor, which was covered with runes. The engravings should protect an ordinary human like him against the typical attacks from wild mages. But in Maximilian's opinion, the best defense was a good offense. You just never knew what the Deepspawn had up their sleeves.
"A woman, unknown to the locals, moved into the abandoned Threewater mansion about three years ago. Seldom seen in the town, no close connections. There've been rumors of evil rituals and black magic. One eyewitness is adamant that she saw, and I quote, 'A horrible twisted creature, with more limbs than a spider and as tall as a tree wandering through the forest.' Oh, and apparently a handful of people went here for help. Poor fools."
"No need to pity them, by coming here, they made themselves traitors to the crown. The iron statute is hard but necessary. Now, I, for one, am not so sure that we have a real case at hand. In my experience, the stories are too on the nose. Blighted monsters, evil rituals. Ridiculous. That's only for nighttime stories about the Black General, it doesn't really happen.” Maximilian looked at the bulging scars stretching up his left arm. “At least not anymore. And there were too few of the typical signs. No stories of miraculous healing. No cornucopia of gifts for the hungry townsmen. I know how they think, and these rats can't help but gloat with their ill-gotten gains. But no need to speculate, we will see soon enough."
The first executor answered only with a grim smile. He gave a sign to the four junior executors, hiding behind in the woods, and together they marched on the mansion.
Maximilian was proficient with elemental magic. To craft his spells, he used the echo of wind and fire, water and earth, which he found in nature. Or more likely in the vast woodlands of the Guild, provided for exactly this reason.
When he was a youngling himself, he wanted to emulate his idol, Tiberius Anderberg, the greatest weather mage to ever live. But his abilities simply weren't enough to summon thunderstorms or hold back floods, so he'd resolved himself to focus his average abilities on the small but effective. While Tiberius brought rain during droughts and stilled even the fiercest storms, Maximilian brought death to traitorous mages. This scum usually didn't even defend itself.
He thought back to the time after the war. Back then, the wild mages had still been challenging, leftovers of the army of the General or simply trained mages refusing to accept the new status quo. The Red Rebellion to the south. The druids playing hide and seek in the Everwood. He ignored the phantom itching of his left arm. Secretly, he was relieved that barely any adept wild mages were around anymore.
With a flick of his hand, the newly built door was blown off its hinges, and Maximilian's white hair billowed in the sudden wind. One of four carefully twisted tree branches attached to his belt withered and fell to the ground.
The inquisitor took in the layout with the ease that comes from years of practice. The main room was large but gloomy, as all the places where there once must have been beautiful glass windows were now covered with wooden planks. There was one door that probably led to only one other room, if Maximilian had assessed the size of the repaired part of the building correctly, and there was a big hatch in the corner, leading to some form of cellar. The most notable thing, however, were the hundreds of defiled bones covering the walls. Maximilian noted dozens of human bones among them. He had seen enough human remains to recognize them.
"Well, seemed the good people were right, after all," said Sev. "We've got our work cut out for us." He grinned as he pulled his sword from its scabbard. The rest of his team was less pleased with the situation. It was probably their first real combat mission, Maximilian mused. The youngest of them, Ilse, started to retch. Maximilian forced a chuckle as he turned towards the junior executors.
"Don't worry, children. I have seen far worse than this in my day. But it seems we have a trained mage at hand, so be vigilant. Our target could be a necromancer, so keep an eye out for undead creatures. She's presumably still asleep, check the door first and be careful." His face was seized by an old grief as he scratched his arm. "I have lost too many comrades already."
Then the door opened, and a small woman in black pajamas came out. "Could be a Necromancer? Could be? What else would I use all these bones for? It's not very subtle, is it now? By the way, would you guys mind letting me through to the cellar? I've got something nice in there that I'd really like to show you."
"Kill her" hissed the inquisitor, and the junior executors fanned out in a half circle and drew their swords as one. They grew noticeably paler, though. Maximilian was too experienced to waste a single moment the necromancer could use to prepare herself. He blasted her with a gust that slammed her back into the bedroom, and the executors stormed inside, Sev in the lead. A second branch on his belt withered away.
The inquisitor followed them, but he wasn't as fast as the young warriors anymore. Also, though he did not like to admit it, he was exhausted from the rapid spell casting. He had only prepared five spells for today and wasted one on the front door. He scolded himself for the sloppy mistake. But no need to fret, he had prepared a spell for exactly these circumstances. Maximilian removed a small inscribed piece of coal from his pocket. Under the focus of the inquisitor's will, the piece of coal started to glow.
The bedchamber was sparsely furnished, with only a bedroll on the ground and a small fireplace. There were luckily no inscribed bones present. So no spells for her. He had cut the necromancer off with his quick thinking. Yet, the image in front of the inquisitor's eyes was not at all to his liking. Somehow all the executors' swords had melted, and Sev and Ilse lay unconscious or dead on the floor. On the other hand, Lisa, Albert, and Jonathan, the other three junior executors, were bearing down on the woman with their armored fists.
"Enough," Maximilian said after a moment. The executors let go of the woman and stepped beside the inquisitor. Blood trickled down their hands and onto their arms. He was confident that she had no more tricks prepared, otherwise, why would she let herself be beaten to a bloody pulp? He wanted to give the rookies a good execution and his spell was activated anyway. Better not to waste it.
"I, Maximilian Octus, Inquisitor of the Mages Guild, with the power given to me by King Albert of Angrien, judge that you are in violation of the iron statute and sentence you to death." Under the awestruck gaze of the executors, a swirling vortex of fire had formed in his hand. He raised his hand with the fireball in a grand gesture of judgment, but just before he could unleash it to end the miserable life of the bleeding woman in front of him, a hand grabbed his legs from behind and threw him through the bedroom door. Something, probably his spine, cracked as he crashed against the wall on the opposite side of the bone room.
As his vision faded, he heard the agonized screams of the young executors and a wet munching sound. Then a horrible creature, as if straight from the nightmares of the Black War, lumbered out of the bedroom in his direction. Rotting limbs were protruding randomly from its misshapen body, and its dozen mouths were opened in a silent scream. The last thing the inquisitor noticed was the smell of rotting corpses, so intense that he mercifully lost consciousness.
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True to its name, it was a quiet evening at the Serenity Inn, and David liked it that way. His grandmother named the inn after the Silent Waters, the system of freshwater lakes from which the name of the duchy originated. Or rather, one-third of the name.
He was proud that after all these years the inn was still one of the social centers of Cloverbridge. It was the place where the townsfolk came to celebrate, to talk, or just enjoy the company of others in silence. He knew his grandmother would be happy to see him here. But the city was just not what it used to be. The crown-appointed governor had moved to the coastal city of Saltstone twelve years ago and the job and people soon followed. But that was the course of history, David thought. People came and people went, and there was nothing he could do about it, but enjoy the quiet years while they lasted. Maybe his son would someday see the inn bursting with patrons again. If Noah wanted to follow in David's footsteps, that was.
David decided that he had been lost in his thoughts long enough and went back to cleaning glasses. Not that they really needed cleaning, but he learned from experience that his patrons would get nervous, if he just stared into the room for too long.
A woman in a back robe entered the inn. On her back was a big travel back and a long, stick-like object, draped in dirty linen cloths. She went straight to the bar, where David stood.
“Hello Lucia, I haven't seen you here in ages. How are you doing up there?”, he said. Then he noticed the grim expression on her face. He had never seen her in such a bad mood. Strictly speaking, he could not remember her showing any emotions whatsoever. It was as if she hadn't really been present at all.
“Is everything alright? You look... upset?”
Lucia dropped onto one of the chairs at the counter and let her travel gear clank to the floor. “Have you noticed anything unusual recently?” she asked. Her voice betrayed nothing of what she might think. “Any newcomers asking too many questions. Warriors with strange armor? People in robes similar to mine?”
Now he really was getting worried. He looked around but none of his patrons seemed interested in their conversation. He signed her to come behind the counter into a separate room anyway. “No, of course not. I would have warned you of the inquisition. I hope you don't think I – “
“Don't worry, I know you wouldn't rat on me,” Lucia interrupted him. “But you have been sending people looking for help my way.”
There was no love lost between David and the Mages Guild. Even though he was just four at the time, he could still remember how the crown betrayed the Threewater family, after the Iron Statute was enacted. Soldiers marching through the streets of Cloverbridge, dragging anyone they thought might be a mage out of their homes. The Threewater Academy burning. His father telling him with tears in his eyes that his grandparents died, protecting their patrons from the soldiers.
He used to hide wild mages from the Inquisition. Organized passage to the Green Continent or helped them escape to the Everwood. But with time all the mages escaped or were eventually found by the relentless inquisitors. At least in this part of the Middle Lands
Then, about three years ago, Lucia had moved into the ruin in the mountains, and he had gladly helped her get established. As the innkeeper, he was also in the unique position to quash any rumors of the odd woman who moved into the old mansion. As for the people he occasionally sent to the mansion...
“Only the ones that truly needed your help. I was checking them for guild connections. You know what I think about mages. What are your abilities worth, if you don't use them?”
Lucia sighed. “We talked about that David. I wouldn't want to help strangers even if it didn't put a giant target on my back.”
David gave her a sly smile. “But you did help some of them. Don't think, I did not notice. Anyway, what going on with the Inquisition? Do you think they are on to you?”
Lucia continued concisely as always. “I was visited by the inquisition this morning. I'll have to flee, so I'll need some supplies.“
“I – I didn't know they were already so close. If it was me leading them here, then I am sorry. I truly am.”
“What's done is done. There will be more investigations in the future, so – ”
“I'll tell them nothing, you can rely on me,” he interrupted. David had made up his mind a long time ago. He would never cooperate with the Mages Guild or their lackeys. He was lucky that so far, he'd never had to test his resolve.
Lucia gave him a strange look. “I'd like you to do the opposite, really. Tell them there lived a crazy witch up in the mountains that scared the hell out of you. Thank them for saving the town from evil. Do whatever you must to get them off your back. There is no need to put yourself in danger, it's the opposite actually. The more nonsense you tell them about me, the less relevant information they'll squeeze out of you later.” After a pause, she added, “Preferably, there'll be no squeezing at all.”
Grudgingly, he agreed. This was going to test his resolve in an entirely different way.
“Oh and one more thing.” Lucia pulled a dead sparrow out of one of her pockets. “If I get any letters, could you bind them to its leg and set it free outside? I'd hate to let my correspondence slack.
David eyed the dead bird. “I don't see how that will work.”
“Don't worry about it, the bird's more than capable of finding me. But you certainly should hide it if the Inquisition decides to pay you a visit.” She thought for a moment. “Thee meters of rock or earth between it and any inquisitor should be enough, so the wine cellar is all right.”
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
After Lucia dropped the cold body into David's hand, the bird jumped to her feet and gave a single chirp. Then it froze again as if dead.
Lucia stood up and turned to leave, but there was still one part of the story David could not quite make sense of. “How did manage to escape the inquisitor?” he asked the leaving woman. She turned back and gave him the cold smile of an entirely different person than the Lucia he got to know.
“Oh, no one escaped.”
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The apprentice hurried down the corridor. The Grand Inquisitor had not been at his office, but then, he seldom was. When he was not out in the field, you could almost certainly find him in the dungeon, questioning prisoners.
He heard a stern voice from a cell at the end of the corridor. The apprentice was not keen on disturbing the Grand Inquisitor, but it was well known that his interrogations could last hours. Before he could knock on the half-opened cell door, the inquisitor spoke.
“Do come in, Daniel. I suppose you have a message for me?”
Daniel stepped into the dank cell. A man was shackled to the wall by an iron chain extending from his feet. He was sitting on a wooden plank which probably doubled as his bed and looked at his interrogator with a quiet fury. The Grand Inquisitor sat on his simple office chair, which he must have brought down with him. He had neatly trimmed black hair and was shaven clean and examined the prisoner with a placid gaze.
His pale blue eyes were still looking at the shackled man when he spoke. “You can deliver your message in a moment, but I intend to teach you a little lesson first.”
Daniel was creeped out by the man, but he was careful not to show any of his emotions. Rumors said that he noticed these things immediately. He walked to the side of the inquisitor and tried his best to give him and the prisoner and interested look.
“The prisoners always think that they can resist, in the end. They believe that they have something worth fighting for, but their notions of family, justice or freedom are a pathetic excuse for real purpose. Only if you know what it is you value above all else, are you really free.”
The Grand Inquisitor nodded towards the prisoner in front of him. “Do you know what it is, you are fighting for? Is it loyalty towards the ones that helped you? Freedom? The safety of your family? You should think about that, because I'm afraid that you will have to decide.”
The Grand Inquisitor removed a ball of cloth stuffed with something from this pocket and presented it to the prisoner. It was too mangled for Daniel to identify, but the man's eyes widened in shock, even though he evidently tried to suppress his reaction.
“Yes you are correct,” the Grand Inquisitor answered the man's silence. “This is indeed what you think it is. My executors unfortunately had to take this item from your son, Kristof, as evidence for the case against your wife. As you might have heard, she is being investigated for infringing on the iron statute. To be precise, we have found conclusive evidence that she is a wild mage.”
“I will tell you nothing,” the prisoner spat. “You'll never find my wife. “
“That is precisely my concern,” the Grand Inquisitor continued. “With yourself incarcerated for obstruction of justice and your wife hiding away, shirking her duties towards your child, I worry for little Kristof. It is an unforgiving world out there, for such a small boy. Especially if all his belongings are seized by the crown. We take evidence in a case like this very seriously, you see.” The Grand Inquisitor studied the cloth toy in his hand, then threw it in the prisoner's lap.
The man's face had taken on a pained expression and he had to stop his hand from shaking when he picked up the toy of his child. He started to whisper, more to himself than to his interrogators. “Kristof will understand. He – He is a strong boy. He will survive on his own.“
The Grand Inquisitor gave him a gentle smile. “I am sure you are right. It is no easy task, weighing the life of your child against the life of your loved one. But before I leave, please consider one more thing. What will your wife do, when she realizes that Kristof has to beg on the streets? Hunger and weather slowly eating away at him? We asked around the neighborhood, but no one wanted to take him in. Curious, isn't it?”
Although he was crying, there was still defiance in the eyes of the prisoner. “I will never help you. No matter the cruelty we must endure,” he spat.
The Grand Inquisitor stood up from his chair and regarded him with a disapproving shake of his head. “I am sad to hear that. I truly am. I had hoped you would see reason, and there is a reason for the statute, you should never forget that. I wanted to convince the court that you should be reunited with Kristof, but you have given me nothing to bargain with. Nothing at all.” He said the last sentence with the stern voice of a disappointed teacher.
“If there is nothing more from you, then the only thing that remains is to drag Linda out of her cave. Near the lake Southeast of the city, is it not?”
Horror dawned on the prisoner's face. “She is – You won't find her there anyway,” he whispered, but it seemed to Daniel, that the man tied more to convince himself than his interrogator.
“Oh, we will catch her eventually. She is trapped in the caves now and I made sure that she cannot escape. It might take us weeks, or even a month, but she will have to come out for food at one point.” He smiled softly. “So tell me, now that you know, she cannot be saved, what do you value more? Your integrity, honesty, your loyalty to traitors or the life of your son?” The Grand Inquisitor leaned forward slightly and Daniel saw the glint of something in his eyes.
A few moments later, the prisoner broke. His whole body deflated and his eyes became dull, as he stared at the inquisitor's feet.
“What do you want to know? I'll tell you everything.” said the man.
“The names and faces of the people who helped you organize the escape. Where you met. What they ate and what they smell like. Everything you can remember about them. Oh, and the various crimes of your wicked wife. We wouldn't want the court to think you would defend a wild mage. My assistant will take care of the rest.” A gray-robed man with paper and ink entered the cell. “I suppose there was a message for me?” He said to David as they left the cell.
Still dazed from the interrogation, David had to remind himself of the message. “Yes, Grand Inquisitor. Your expertise was requested in a recent case. A team has gone missing while investigating a case. The inquisitor and the lead executor are both veterans, so it is certainly not a runoff. We haven't got their original report yet, so we don't know the details, but it seems to have been a low-likelihood case. Now with them gone, well...”
David gave the inquisitor the preliminary report on the suspected wild mage and he scanned the pages. At the name of the town the Grand Inquisitor looked up.
“Cloverbridge. So it must be the old Threewater mansion.” After a moment he gave the report back to the apprentice. “Intriguing. I will take care of the situation myself.”
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Dear Lucia,
I am saddened to hear that your research has been disrupted, and I hope this letter finds you well nonetheless. If your situation demands it, you can travel to the Academy of Westend. The academy here would greatly benefit from a researcher of your qualities and I am sure any hypothetical problems with the authorities could be worked out under my influence. But as always, I do not want to be too overbearing. You are surely more qualified than I to asses what your situation demands.
I, for one, have great news. The theory of a forgotten fourth infernal, you proposed last year, did not leave my mind, and I have made an extraordinary discovery regarding that. My colleagues, illiterate imbeciles that they are, did unfortunately not take my findings seriously, but I am sure you, who came up with the theory in the first place, will grasp the importance of what I have discovered.
In three of our oldest historical sources on the Second Dreadwar, I could find mentions of warlords of superhuman prowess. Though they are clearly different people, all three of them use a special sword, described in great detail. This description is the same, down to the smallest detail.
I dare not ask how you came up with your admittedly rather bold hypothesis, but perhaps this sword sounds familiar to you. It is an unusually long yet very light sword with an engraved bone hilt and a black blade that does not reflect light as a metal ought to.
You might wonder what this has to do with a potential fourth dreadlord, but here comes the best part. I found a very old fairytale that seems to describe the separation of the island of Gnrak from the Middle Lands during the First Dreadwar. And according to this tale, the land was sundered by a divine figure wielding the very same sword. The, unfortunately sparse, description of this evidently nonhuman entity did not fit any of the descriptions we have of the avatars of the other three infernals, though its abilities seem to be similar.
I know this is not much, especially since all our reports of the First Dreadwar are apocryphal at best, but if someone were to find the vessel you believe the fourth infernal was trapped in...
I do not mean to pry into your personal life, but I hope you are as aware of the significance of this finding as I am, and are prepared to take the necessary precautions.
Yours,
Aurelius Ianus
Lucia threw the letter in the fireplace of her room and watched as the flames consumed the paper. Then she dismissed the undead little bird at her window, that had so stalwartly carried the big letter to her. The sparrow gave an affirmative chirp and then made its long way back to the Serenity Inn.
So Baal was an infernal. She looked at the cloaked sword lying on the floor next to her bed. That was – something. She wasn't sure what, though. Maybe she should just dig a very deep hole and bury the sword in some inconspicuous position. But that seemed like an awful lot of work.
Lucia spooned the gruel the kitchen help had brought up to her room. She did not mind the taste, or lack thereof, but it was cold now, because the fire in the kitchen was already out, when she arrived at the inn. She liked the feeling of warm food once in a while. Next time, she probably had to eat with the other people to get something warm. She'd survive.
After sending out her three undead rat scouts, Lucia got ready for the night. She eyed the bed warily. The only room they'd had left was the one usually reserved for rich merchants or nobility, and while she didn't mind the price, it was stuffed full of useless baubles. Worst of all, the bed was hopelessly cushioned up.
After a moment of consideration, she took the top layer of the intricate construction that failed to be a useful blanket, folded it up, and laid down on it on the floor. She slept within seconds.
A soft but insistent squeak woke Lucia from a dreamless sleep. One of her rats had come back and she felt its intention immediately. The Inquisition was close and it seemed they had come in force this time. The rat had impressions of about 15 different people on the king's road to the south of the village. It was unfortunately not clear, how many of those were mages. It was hard for a rat to distinguish these things. If the memories of the rat were reliable, she had about four hours until they entered the village.
Lucia hadn't bothered to lay a false trail or hide her presence in the villages and towns she had passed, but the Inquisition was apparently hot for her, and she had been forced to leave Goliath hidden in her cellar at home. He was extraordinary in many ways, even for a flesh golem, but subtlety was a skill he decidedly lacked. So it was on her to pick up the slack.
Two and a half hours later, Lucia was on her way up the king's road. The border to the Kingdom of Nesdalen wasn't far anymore, maybe one more day, but that would not help her escape the inquisition hunters. Nesdalen bowed to the Guild just as any kingdom in the Middle Lands and the Everwood was no option for her. No, she would only be safe outside of this forsaken landmass and since the storms of autumn made passages by ship difficult, she had to flee to the North.
You could not say that Lucia was happy, not really, but she was satisfied with her work back in the village. If all went well, her hunters would follow the revenant she had left behind for days. And since they had to sleep and eat as least as much as she had to, that could buy her time until she reached the Coldwood and crossed into the Northlands. She'd have to get a horse though. That would bring back some unwanted memories. Still better than the druids.
As Lucia trudged down the king's road towards Nesdalen and the road of a different king, she thought about all the ways she could slow down her hunters. She had to be efficient with her magic, though. There were only so many bones she'd been able to take with her when she fled Threewater. She had to admit, that she hadn't felt so alive for a long time. Even though this incident had disrupted her research immensely, being hunted by trained mage killers was oddly enjoyable to her. Perhaps because it gave her back some kind of purpose. Which was not dying, she supposed.
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Daniel woke with a start. They had made camp next to the king's road and only a thin layer of cloth separated him and the night sky. Skreeeeeeeeee. There it was again. The sound grated on his mind. They had to put up with this for five days now. It was a kind of domesticated ghost that haunted them at night, and even though it could do nothing more than make them miserable, that was enough to slow them down. Skreeeeee.
Everyone was on edge, ready to explode at the slightest problem and more than one of the executors had fallen off their horse, as they dozed away. Only the Grand Inquisitor was entirely unaffected by the nightly terror. It probably reminded him of his dungeon, Daniel mused. He'd sleep right through the screams like a baby.
Originally, they had tried to catch the ghost, but it was surprisingly slippy and never came nearer than a hundred meters when it screamed. The Grand Inquisitor had decided they could not afford the time for a prolonged hunt.
The wild mage they hunted, had left behind many other surprises for them along the way. It was now clear, that she intended to cross the border into the Northlands and escape their justice that way, so she could no longer obscure her track like she did in the beginning.
Daniel still wondered how she had managed to get the remnant. These magic constructs made from animal bones and leather were a specialty of the shamans of the Emerald Isle. It was rumored that every man and woman under the protection of one of the powerful sorcerer rulers of the island lived like a king or queen themselves. Of course, no one trustworthy could actually check any of the incredible stories sailors told of the island since the rulers had the habit of executing any foreign visitors.
Still, some magical trinkets made their way to the Green Continent, somehow. And by far the most prized of them were remnants. Undying servants with absolute loyalty and no material needs to speak of. Who would not want them?
It must have cost a fortune on the black markets of the Green Continent and that was before you smuggled it over the Gray Sea into the Middle Lands. Fueled by ghosts, they were obviously forbidden by the Guild.
But the logistics of getting a remnant weren't even the most surprising part of their chase. When they had caught up far enough with the construct to feel for its magic, Daniel had noticed nothing unusual. Yes, he didn't have the best echo perception, but he should have still been able to feel that they were not chasing a human. He was a bit relieved, that the other two inquisitors hadn't sensed anything either. Only the Grand Inquisitor had noticed, that something was off, and broke off the chase. They had lost three days.
But that wasn't the only surprise the wild mage had in store for them. Far from it. In the last two weeks, they were set upon by every kind of undead animal, weaponized in the most bizarre ways. A flog of birds bombarding them with burning tar, a moose with sharpened antlers charging them out of the forest, a swarm of rats that exploded into putrid chunks of wiggling flesh, when they had reached their camp. One night, an undead fox had tried to slip into their camp and poison the food supplies. Luckily the Grand Inquisitor had caught the fox in time.
These incidents made Daniel afraid of their eventual confrontation and he found himself quietly hoping that the wild mage would escape to the North. If she was willing and capable of using the nightmarish undead creatures of the past days, just to slow them down a bit, he was scared to death of what she would use in a real fight. Scared for him and all surrounding settlements. The stories of the Black War and the Red Rebellion he'd read were very clear on the horrors a rouge necromancer can unleash. He thanked the Source that the Black General was dead, the Red King banished and the Iron Statute passed.
The Grand Inquisitor, in contrast, seemed more eager by the day to catch the wild mage. But after all, that was his job. And Daniels, one day. He wasn't sure he wanted to become an inquisitor anymore.