When Brekan and Joven entered Lieutenant Hanu's office in the morning to discuss their upcoming missions, they found Hanu missing. This was highly unusual, as Brekan’s teacher had always been punctual in all the years he had been working with him. Brekan could smell the faint scent of pipe smoke, lingering in the air like a memory.
Above the desk hung a small portrait of Hanu, captured in a moment that mirrored the day he had adopted Brekan.
Brekan's gaze fell upon Hanu's orderly desk, a reflection of the disciplined man he was. A single white envelope lay in the middle of it, its stark presence leaving Brekan unsettled.
Brekan and Joven exchanged a worried look. Both knew Hanu to be a man of routine and responsibility, and his absence was a departure from the norm.
As Hanu finally entered the office, the furrowed lines on his forehead and the concern in his eyes confirmed that something was wrong. The atmosphere in the room grew tense, and Brekan could feel a sense of unease settling over them.
Hanu wasted no time in addressing the unusual circumstances. He informed Brekan and Joven about a mandatory briefing in the great hall, one that included every Inquisitor. The mere mention of such an assembly further fueled Brekan's curiosity and anxiety. As they left the office and joined the stream of colleagues, Brekan couldn't help but notice that the expressions on the faces of his fellow Inquisitors mirrored his own - they were all marked by shared concern and uncertainty.
The trio, composed of Brekan, Joven, and Lieutenant Hanu, proceeded down the hallways of their Inquisition headquarters. As they walked, Brekan couldn't help but reflect on his very first day as an Inquisitor, a memory etched deeply into his mind. He had been scared and intimidated by the Headquarters back then. And just like then he was now following Hanu.
The grand hall, which now served as a place for meetings and briefings, was once the site of Brekan's initiation into the ranks of the Inquisitors. Rows upon rows of chairs now filled the expansive room, each seat occupied by a fellow Inquisitor. Brekan vividly recalled his own initiation ceremony, where he had stood among the new recruits, filled with excitement and dread.
The hall was bathed in the soft, artificial light that had replaced the sun's rays.
Brekan's gaze roamed across the room, taking in the sight of his comrades, some of whom he had trained alongside. Others were new recruits, their eyes filled with anticipation.
High Inquisitor Khurin stood on a raised platform at the front of the hall, his imposing figure commanding the attention of all present. His voice carried weight as he addressed the assembly.
Brekan, Hanu and Joven took a seat.
High Inquisitor Khurin began to speak, his words booming through the hall. “A new Witch Storm is brewing.”
The short murmur between the Inquisitors was interrupted by the hall doors opening and slamming against the wall. The short murmur between the Inquisitors was interrupted by the hall doors opening and slamming against the wall. A figure in a golden robe strode into the room, their footsteps echoing on the stone floor.
The Agent's hood was pulled up, but Brekan, and as he was sure everyone else here, knew exactly who that was: An Agent of the White Sun. The Emblem of the Sun could be seen on top of his hood, the back, and the front.
The Agent walked up the steps to High Inquisitor Khurin.
The Leader of the Inquisition said: “Some of you veterans know what is going to happen. For everyone else: Listen closely, as it could save your life. Or end it.”
The Agent nodded thankfully and made a step forward. Brekan sensed the silent unrest in the room. He himself had never seen an Agent of the White Sun show up at Inquisition headquarters.
With a calm, loud voice, the Agent said, "As High Inquisitor Khurin said, another Witch Storm is approaching. Sooner than expected, but just as deadly and dangerous nonetheless."
Brekan's heart began to race when the High Inquisitor mentioned the imminent return of the Witch Storm. He couldn't help but think of Sari and his desire to protect her. He also remembered the day his father died in the last Witch Storm. He could still hear his mother's cries of anguish echoing in his mind. A fierce determination to stop the Witch Storm welled up within him. He clenched his fists and set his jaw.
“As a reminder,” the Agent said, his voice echoing in the hall, “The jurisdiction of the executive is very clearly defined: The city guard is responsible for preventing crime. The Inquisition is responsible for Cultists and Traitors. And the Agency of the White Sun is responsible for the Witches and the Witchqueen.”
Brekan narrowed his eyes. He knew about the Witchqueen being responsible for this century's lasting conflict. But to this day she eluded the Sun Kingdoms grasp. He read all about it in his studies in training. Everyone knew about the Witchqueen, the specter haunting the citizens of the Sun Kingdom. In every generation there were people just like himself who lost a family member to this eternal conflict.
“Never,” the Agent said with a threatening tone, “Never, interfere with another branch. Witch Beasts and dark magic are no match for Inquisitors or the Guard.”
Brekan rose from his seat, his voice ringing out as he posed a question that had been gnawing on him ever since he learned about the history of the Sun Kingdom. “Are you, this time, finally going to find the Witchqueen and defeat her once and for all?” His question hung in the air, and the gaze of every Inquisitor, veteran and trainee turned toward him. Their expressions a mix of discomfort and curiosity.
Hanu hissed: “Sit down. Now.”
Brekan stood there, resolute, in the midst of the expectant silence that followed his question. All eyes were fixed on him, their collective attention like a heavy weight pressing down on him. The air in the hall seemed to grow denser as the seconds ticked by.
The Agent of the White Sun, who had been delivering the briefing, looked down at Brekan, his expression unreadable. He seemed unfazed by the interruption.
In a calm and measured tone, he addressed Brekan's question. "The Witches and their queen are within the jurisdiction of the White Sun Agency," the Agent said, his voice carrying a steely authority. "Our mission is to confront the Witches and their dark creations. We have successfully repelled these Storms in the past, and we will do so in the future."
Brekan felt a surge of frustration at the Agent's response. He asked: “Why despite the Kingdom's repeated victories, do the Witch Storms continue to plague the realm?” he asked, his voice tight with tension. He tried to not sound combative.
Before he could voice his further concerns, Lieutenant Hanu, seated beside Brekan, intervened. His grip on Brekan's arm was firm, a silent warning to rein in his questions. Brekan reluctantly sank back into his chair, though his mind continued to churn with thoughts and doubts.
The Agent rested his gaze on Brekan for a few moments before he said: “The Agents of the White Sun are the bastion, repelling the onslaught of these dark forces. And we are going to win. Again.”
As the Agent continued with the briefing, delving into logistical details and the importance of maintaining supply chains during the impending crisis, Brekan's gaze wandered. He watched as the Inquisitors around him absorbed the information, their expressions uneasy and doubtful.
Thoughts of Sari, resurfaced in Brekan's mind. His heart clenched. He couldn't bear the idea of her being endangered by the Witch Storm, and a burning desire to protect her and the people of the Sun Kingdom coursed through him. But the answers provided at the briefing only left him with more questions.
As the briefing concluded, the Inquisitors began to rise from their seats with faint rustling of their garb. Brekans thoughts swirled with the gravity of the impending Witch Storm. The need to understand why these storms persisted and what more he could do to stop them consumed him.
The Agent from the White Sun Agency departed the hall without sparing Brekan a second glance, leaving him with an unresolved sense of frustration. He would do whatever it took to protect the people he loved and to find a way to put an end to the cycle of destruction.
The tension in the room began to vanish, replaced by the low hum of conversations among the Inquisitors. Brekan remained seated for a moment, still processing the dissatisfaction that had welled up within him during the briefing.
When he finally stood up, he was met with the stern and disappointed gaze of Lieutenant Hanu.
"You embarrassed yourself and our unit today," Hanu berated in a low voice, his tone edged with disappointment. "I didn't raise you to be impulsive and insubordinate."
Brekan met Hanu's gaze. He respected his mentor and father figure deeply and understood the importance of discipline and subservience within the Inquisition and especially in regards to the higher ranked Agents of the White Sun. But he couldn't suppress the burning questions that worried him.
"I'm sorry, Luitenant," Brekan replied. "But I couldn't help but ask. We've faced 10 Witch Storms, and they keep coming. I want to know why."
Joven, who had been standing nearby, intervened in an attempt to defuse the tension. He placed a reassuring hand on Brekan's shoulder.
"Luitenant, you know Brekan's heart is in the right place," Joven said. "We all want to protect the Sun Kingdom."
Hanu exhaled heavily, his expression softening. “I raised you like a son,” he said. “I can’t help but be concerned about the path you are treading.”
Brekan said: “My path is the same it has always been. Nothing changed.”
"I understand your passion," Hanu said, his tone gentler now. "But there are some things that we, as Inquisitors, are not meant to question. Our duty is to protect, to uphold the Codex, and to follow orders. That's how we maintain the order and unity of the Sun Kingdom."
Brekan nodded. He knew that Hanu was right, that the stability of their world depended on adherence to the rules and hierarchy. But the nagging feeling that there was more to the Witch Storms than they were being told continued to linger in his mind.
"Understood, Luitenant," Brekan replied, his voice shaded with resignation. "I won't question the orders again."
Hanu nodded in approval.
With the tension diffused, the three Inquisitors left the hall.
There has to be a way, Brekan thought. A way to protect the people he cared about without breaking the code.
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“An increase in Cultist activities”, said Joven, pointing at the cork board with the daily reports. “Just as the Agent predicted.
Brekan scanned the other hanging reports, greater in number than usual.
A young trainee came along the hallway and put up another one. He said: “Our informants are sending reports after reports. We also got a lot of new people passing information to us.” The trainee looked for a place he could pin the new one. The trainee looked for a place to pin the new report, his eyes darting back and forth. "I don't know how we're supposed to deal with them all…".
Brekan stepped forward and placed a hand on the trainee's shoulder. "One of the skills you have to acquire in your training is to prioritize," he said calmly. "Which of those incidents or occurrences will be the biggest threat to the Sun Kingdom and its people?"
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The trainee took a deep breath and scanned the reports again. "The one claiming to have heard about an attack on the Square of Heroes?" he asked hesitantly.
“The one claiming to have heard about an attack on the Square of Heroes?” he asked hesitantly.
Joven was the one to answer this time. "Good first choice," he said, his eyes darting back and forth across the corkboard. "But try to see if you can catch a pattern. This one, for example." He unpinned a report and handed it to the trainee.
Brekan smiled. Joven and him were thinking the same. This was one of the reasons they were best friends.
Joven said: “The informant reports problems at the mills at Thorian’s Knot. That's the place where all the grain for the capital gets milled into flour. An attack on the Square of Heroes might harm or kill some people, but a sabotage of the food supply could endanger the whole city."
The trainee nodded. "You're right. Thanks for the lesson." He gave the report back and left, his footsteps echoing.
Brekan took the report from Joven's hand and read it. "The Thorian Knot, then?" The information in the report talked about suspicious figures trying to blend in with the local rail workers.
Joven's eyes glinted with resolution and anticipation. Brekan knew that his spirit was entwined with Joven's in this regard, in an unspoken pact.
Brekan and Joven blended seamlessly into the bustling heart of the Thorian Knot, a train station nestled deep within the cavernous depths of an underground cave.
Brekan inhaled deeply, savoring the earthy and metallic scent of the air, mingled with the faint aroma of freshly milled flour. Overhead, bright orange crystals sparkled in the ceiling.
Around Brekan, life was industrious. Workers and craftsmen moved with purpose over the square and in the streets, their footsteps and shouts echoing in the cavernous space. Trading posts, storage halls and crystal powered mills stood sentinel, their walls garnished with the ornaments of commerce.
Brekan and Joven positioned themselves between two storage halls, their eyes scanning the square and the train rails that tangented it. The few workers who passed by and noticed them quickly turned away their gaze, knowing not to pry into Inquisitor affairs.
Brekan watched the workers intently, but he saw no immediate signs of suspicion or malice. The workers were engrossed in their duties, unloading crates and sacks of grain with practiced efficiency.
The rhythmic clatter of wood and the hum of conversation filled the air, interrupted only by the occasional burst of laughter.
After a long while, Joven leaned closer to Brekan and whispered in a doubtful voice, "Perhaps this is one of those times when the informant was wrong, or overly cautious. There seems to be no cause for alarm."
Indeed the city guards stationed in a small watchhouse nearby and the private security hired by wary industrialists maintained a vigilant watch. They were a testament to the Sun Kingdoms devotion to safety and protection, even amidst the mundane.
A crystal-powered train appeared and chugged into the station, its wheels squealing on the tracks. Brekan was fascinated by it every time he saw this marvel of engineering. While the Sun Kingdom had developed far greater technological marvels, the "Avalian Rail" was the first of its kind. Now they could fly with the Augo wherever they wanted, but the train was the first to connect and unite the Sun Kingdom.
When the last of the cargo was unloaded, a subtle shift occurred on the square. Brekan's sharp eyes caught a gradual dispersion of the city guard and private security. They marched in unison towards their sentry house and other buildings, their footsteps fading into the background.
A shred of concern crept into Brekan’s mind. The absence of the guards felt calculated. His eyes narrowed, focusing on the workers who remained, their hands busy with drawing carriages or transfer of the goods into storage halls. They probably try to blend into the laborious activities of the workers, Brekan thought. His gaze was steady, as he observed with newfound scrutiny.
Brekan surveyed the now appearing railroad maintenance crew. He could tell they moved with an air of suspicion, their steps too mindful and measured. None of them smiled or talked with each other. They all carried maintenance tools but it was the small box, cradled like a delicacy, that raised the alarm within Brekan’s vigilant mind.
"This is highly suspicious," Brekan said, his eyes never leaving the suspicious men.
Joven only answered with a short growl.
Brekan watched carefully, as the crew took deliberate steps down the small slope behind the rails, trying to hide from prying eyes. Only their upper bodies remained visible.
Joven’s voice broke through the silence: “Let’s go, before it’s too late.”
Brekan and Joven rushed out from between the buildings and across the square.
A sudden realization struck one of the maintenance crew. His piercing gaze locked onto Brekan's approaching figure. Brekan could see the panic etched across the man's features as he hastily engaged in a desperate conversation with his comrades. A jolt of urgency surged through them and one of them started to flee into the tunnel in a frantic scramble.
Brekan’s hands instinctively tightened around the hilt of his sword. There was no doubt anymore. As he closed the distance, he drew his sword, the blade gleaming with the promise of justice.
He locked eyes with one of the workers. What he could read in his face was a bitter spite and haunting deathwish. This obvious desire for the workers' own death was what flared Brekan’s instincts to life. A surge of hot fire coursed through his veins. He dropped his sword, grabbed Joven and yanked him down, right into a small ditch in front of the rail bed.
A deafening bang sundered the air, the force of the blast sending growling shockwaves through the cavern.
Pieces of rail flew over Brekan’s head, a wave of debris and gravel. Dust clouded his vision and filled the cave with dirty fog.
As the uproar subsided, a ringing silence filled the void, punctuated only by faint cries and moans.
Brekan’s ears throbbed with pain, the aftermath of the explosion's wrath. He checked on Joven, relieved as he found him coughing but alive.
Getting up and surveying the aftermath, Brekan looked upon all the scattered workers. The closest ones were lifeless bodies, their faces twisted in agony. Others writhed in pain, their bodies broken and mangled. The wall of a nearby trading hall had crumbled under the weight of a rail piece, crashing through it.
Amidst the chaos and death, Brekan’s intention hardened. One of you is still alive. And I will find you.
Grim satisfaction filled him when he found the carnage of blood and torn flesh let behind by the fallen cultists. But he only halted for a moment before he activated the light crystal and started sprinting into the tunnel.
Brekan’s athletic training as a fighter propelled him forward, his strides quick and full of strength and his endurance honed through countless battles. His heart pounded, each thud driving him forward, his focus narrowed on the target somewhere in the dark.
To no surprise, Brekan’s pursuit through the twilight came to an abrupt halt, as he discovered the out-of-breath cultist sitting on the side of the tunnel. He heaved gasping breaths while clutching his side.
Brekan pointed his sword menacingly at the cultist, ready to kill him. However his intention faltered when he noticed a sinister smile slowly creeping across the cultist’s face.
The traitor said: “You think you’ve won.” His voice was a twisted melody of malevolence.
A sudden transformation began to unfold before Brekan's horrified eyes. The cultist's face erupted in a grotesque explosion of flesh, revealing a black and sharp beak-like appendage bursting forth. The head was shattered into fragments, peeling back to unveil a dark, bird-like creature with eyes glowing like cloudy rubies.
The black creature, its form twisted and unhinged, crowed a bone-chilling scream. The sound echoed through the tunnel, making Brekan's blood run cold. Its wings adorned with razor-sharp claws lashed in a frenzied assault.
Brekan was caught off guard by the creature's sudden onslaught. He stumbled backward, but quickly regained his composure. His training as an Inquisitor kicked in.
Just as the creature spewed forth black fire, Brekan dove out of the way. The flames seared the air where he had just been standing. Brekan scrambled to his feet and aimed to strike the heart of the monster, but it was cunning and agile. It blocked his blade with its claw, its grip unyielding.
With a ferocious slash, the creature attacked Brekan with its free claw. Curved daggers tore through Brekan's flesh, sending a wave of pain through his body.
With an eruption of strength he summoned all his power and shoved the creature against the hard, cold wall, before delivering a resounding punch with his elbow to its bird head. The creature's grip on his sword weakened and provided him with the opportunity he needed.
Swiftly, he seized the moment, aimed the point of his sword and drove it deep into the creature’s heart. The dark being writhed in agony, letting out a last inhuman screech.
Brekan took a step back and gripped his sword with both hands. In one swift motion he pulled it out of the body and severed the creature’s head from its twisted form. The final defeat.
As Brekan looked down on the creature, his chest heaved with exertion. Brekan trembled, his body still reeling from the horrors he had witnessed. The creature laid there lifeless. Its dark essence vanquished.
It must be a Witch Beast, he thought. In his whole career as Inquisitor, he had never encountered one. Not even as a kid, when the last Witch Storm occurred. As most other kids and elderly people, they were housed in secure underground facilities for a few weeks.
Lost in thought, Brekan jumped in surprise as Joven appeared suddenly, his reflexes almost leading him to an accidental attack.
His best friend glanced down to the loveless abomination. Brekan could see the mix of curiosity and concern in Joven’s face.
“What in the world is this?”, his friend asked.
Brekan shook his head. “I have no idea, but it’s dead now. That’s what matters.”
A sudden flash of light erupted from the tunnel leading to the Thorian Knot, blinding Brekan for a second. He recognized one of the Agencies drones hovering in the air, shining bright light onto them. Below it stood an Agent of the White Sun, accompanied by a Templar. A mechanical battle armor, piloted by a warrior of the Agency.
Servants of the Agency, carrying bags and a floating stretcher rushed past them and collected the remains of the dead creature.
Brekan’s job was done. Finding and eliminating the cultist threat. That was the protocol. Everything else was the duty of the Agency. It was a symbiotic relationship, each group fulfilling their purpose to protect the Sun Kingdom.
Joven said: “Their arrival was to be expected considering the grotesque creature. Our role ends here.”
Brekan nodded with a sense of relief. He glanced over to the Agent who had been watching them without saying a single word.
When they passed the Agent and his Templar, Brekan felt a pressure touch the recesses of his mind. It got weaker the further Brekan was away, his footsteps echoing through the tunnel as he left the macabre scene behind.