“We should have been faster. It's far too late now,” Hubert frowned as they left the council building of Loseine.

“Too late? It's hardly too late,” Katarina smiled slightly at the agitated inquisitor.

A group of startled merchants moved to avoid them, staring in confusion at the sorceress and her strange retinue, earning themselves a mild chuckle.

“Is it? I really don't see how that's the case. The bastard's gone. And we have no way of tracking him. Not even Eris knows where he may have gone,” Hubert spat in annoyance, glancing over at the monster that moved to approach them, the rest of Katarina's entourage in tow.

Even in public, she moved like a shadow, gliding noiselessly among the crowd, her lithe, comely form shrouded by a cloak that distorted her appearance.

“Well, we must reacquire the trail,” the witch shrugged, smile withering as her piercing gaze locked onto the man alongside her.

“You say that as if it were easy. He never even entered Loseine. For all we know he may be leagues away, he could have traveled anywhere,” Hubert snorted and shook his head.

“Shut up and use your head instead of making excuses,” the woman snapped at him, “He has to have allies. Support. This is the first mage of any note slain in the territories of Astana in three years, do you really think he would have appeared from nowhere?”

The inquisitor flushed with anger but stayed silent.

“Why the rage? Are we not all friends here?” Eris lisped as she drew near, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Were it not for the rows of needle-sharp teeth the dark-haired woman could have almost passed for a human.

“Think Hubert, where would he go?” Katarina bluntly asked the man.

“I'm not sure,” he shrugged and adjusted his hood, “The border regions perhaps?”

“Perhaps? What a boost in confidence,” Eris rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

“It would make sense he'd go there,” Metterlich added, “The people there are, simpler. More accepting of his kind. My father was very critical of their ilk.”

“Klober?” the witch raised an eyebrow at the dragoon captain, who had remained silent until now, holding his chin in contemplation.

“Nothing,” he shrugged the question away.

“You are here with the same task as the rest of us, captain,” the silver-haired woman said simply, “Share your thoughts.”

He frowned at her slightly, as if mulling over his idea, “What about the others?”

“The others?” Metterlich's voice was one of incredulity.

“The other orders,” the officer said simply, “The Gray. The Troia-”

“And the Korotians,” Katarina finished his sentence.

“That's three orders, none of whom will be thrilled about our interference or inquiry,” Hubert said cynically, “They were very resistant, even when the Malthorians were proven traitors and heretics.”

“We can enhance their enthusiasm,” Eris' grin broadened, razor teeth glittering in the morning light.

“Absolutely not,” Hubert snapped back at her, “Are you mad?”

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The woman shrugged, the grin remaining as broad as ever, her golden eyes widening with amusement.

“We can't. They have too much power, even now. The Troia are well beyond our reach anyway, and they don't serve the Southern Church, we have no real leverage against them,” Katarina dismissed Eris' suggestion.

“If you say so,” the young woman said cheerfully, as if the decision bore no effect.

“But Klober is right, we should speak to the other orders. The Gray and Korotian. We can reach them,” the witch added, “They may even be willing to help us find their erstwhile kin should we use the correct leverage.”

“Could they have hired him?” Klober pitched.

“Both voiced their concerns about Orrin's dabbling at the last Kronsmoot,” Hubert noted, “Father Parrou demanded the man face censure and official royal investigation.”

“And he was turned down, the accusations were hogwash,” Metterlich insisted vehemently, drawing a snort of derisive laughter from Eris.

“Doesn't matter what they were,” Katarina said coldly, “The simple reality is we have to reach out to the orders. If any of them are found to have aided Orrin's killer, much less recruited him, then the king shall be informed, and punishment exacted.”

Hubert's mouth drew taut, “We should focus on the border regions, by the time we get any useful information from the other orders, it may be too late.”

“You are right, the border regions cannot be neglected, and we are drawn thin, Hubert,” Katarina frowned and swept a hand toward her associates, “Take Eris and Metterlich with you. Speak to the simpletons, see what you can find.”

“They're going to resent our interference, the King's authority is not worth much out there,” the inquisitor frowned.

“Make it work. Just remember that you're not on friendly territory,” the witch answered frostily, “You're a man of the church anyway. They'll respect you for that if nothing else.”

“And those two? Your apprentice and- her. You don't think that's just a little undesirable? The people will not take kindly to a foreign savage prowling on their land in search of a fugitive, necessary or not,” Hubert shook his head, “Trust me on this. Give me Klober, or some of his men. You can keep Eris.”

He gave the young woman an acrid look that made Metterlich shudder. To his surprise, the harsh words had wiped the smile from her face, and for once there was no snarky retort to the inquisitors crass words.

“No,” Katarina said coldly, “You need a wizard, and-”

She forestalled his attempt to interject with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Eris is the best chance we have of catching the bastard,” her cold eyes met Huberts, and for a brief moment the two locked gaze.

The witch turned away abruptly with a slight snort of irreverence, “None here are as capable of hunting down such a man. If he has a Malthorian cross, it will be difficult for sorcery to have a serious impact. Which leaves physical means as the most reliable. You need a proper hunter, and Eris is the best you have. Tell me honestly, Hubert, do you fancy any of us as capable of capturing the witch-hunter alive?”

“No, I suppose not,” he said frostily.

“Good. Then we can agree on something,” she said with a smirk, “In the meantime, I will take Klober and his detachment back. We will head for the local Gray Order offices. I want to speak to Father Parrou, or whatever unfortunate lackey of his is present, and see if they have anything useful on the matter.”

“What of the Korotians?” Klober raised an eyebrow.

“Ha!”

Hubert laughed at the notion, the gesture echoed by Katarina. Metterlich sensed their thoughts mirrored on the matter, yet the sound of their agreement was a strange thing indeed.

“The Korotians are a weak joke Klober,” the witch chuckled, “The Gray retain some semblance of competence, but the Korotians- The true Korotians, are long gone. They've been busy squandering the church coffers on all sorts of frivolities. Do they even have a Grand Master?”

“They don't,” Hubert said, the contempt in his voice all too heavy, “They keep it that way. Too tied up with internal power struggles.”

The dragoon captain seemed mortified, as if that sentiment were aimed at him.

“Don't look so glum, you couldn't know sir Klober. Fortunately for you, you are far detached from such things,” Katarina smiled at him slightly.

“I suppose that settles things,” the inquisitor shrugged away his irritation as he glared over at his two new traveling companions.

“What of communication? We cannot rely on pigeons on such a long move,” Metterlich asked.

“There will be no communication,” the witch stated bluntly, even as the group began to separate, Klober moving to rally his small squadron of dragoons in preparation for the march ahead.

“We'll manage. It isn't my first time hunting a traitor,” Hubert grimaced, “Most important thing will be to leave a trail, should we need to rally.”

He glanced warily at Eris as she made her way through the crowd, slipping back toward the stables where their horses were held with an eerie silence.

“I have faith,” Katarina's lips curved slightly, “We will succeed.”

“Of course, how else could it end,” the inquisitor nodded.

“Metterlich,” she said suddenly, her tone taking on a more somber note as she turned to her young apprentice.

“Yes madam?” the young man asked politely.

“Take care of yourself,” the witch gave him an encouraging smile and clapped him across the shoulder, “Stay safe, don't do anything stupid. You're dealing with a dangerous man and don't forget it. He'll prey on your arrogance if you aren't wary.”

“I know,” he nodded awkwardly, “I'll be careful.”

“Make sure you do,” she said sternly, “Too much has been lost already dealing with these monsters. I don't want to lose you like I did Clarisse.”

“He'll be fine,” Hubert interjected, “We'll get this over with, and we'll be back at the capitol before we know it.”

The witch turned at him, scrutinizing the man with an intensity he found disconcerting, as if she were poring through his mind. Then, she tore away, her gaze breaking off from the inquisitor, “You're right, Hubert. Finish this quickly. That is all we can do.”