Chapter 10: Inquisition (Patreon)

“I want to speak to the people I’m staying with. It’s a merchant named Breka and her guard Hadrian,” Elliot said after a minute of tense silence. Baird had left to fetch whoever the lady was—presumably the inquisitor—while the knight had taken a seat at the desk, staring over at him with a grim intensity.

“I don’t know either of those names, although I assume they’re your compatriots. Rest assured, once we finish here, I’ll deal with them next.”

“No,” Elliot said, squeezing his eyes shut, “I don’t have compatriots. They just offered to let me stay with them for a few days. But they can vouch for me. I’m not a bad person, or here to do anything bad.” Why did I let him take me out of the house? God, I hope they don’t have a way of telling how I got here. Inquisition could mean a lot of things. If it was sharp questions and intimidation tactics then it would be feasible to weather it in silence. If it was magic…well then he’d have to see.

After a stretch of time that felt interminable, but was probably about ten minutes, Elliot heard boots on stone. Baird walked back in, followed by a woman. Her hair was black and braided into a coil above her head, and her dress was pure white, with heavy pleated folds that swayed rhythmically as she moved. Her sharp blue eyes sought out Elliot’s face immediately.

“This is your Talessi agent, Royce?”

The knight rose to his feet. “Don’t let his looks deceive you. He’s told nothing but lies. His arrival in the wilds left no discernible trail, and he invented a cover story rather than explain himself properly.”

“You should cultivate a healthier level of open-mindedness, knight-lieutenant. You still need my services, which means that you can’t tell truth from lies yourself.”

“Damn it Alys, can’t you just trust me? I’m trying to prevent a catastrophe! You—”

“That’s enough,” she snapped. “You speak too freely.”

Royce took a deep breath. “You’re right. Goodman, I apologize, but I need to ask you to leave.”

“No no,” Baird replied, “don’t mind me. Just get it done.” He turned and left.

Alys glared at Royce. “I hope you know I won’t join you in anything illegal. Whatever the stakes, my oaths bind me to my path, and there will be no inquisition without a formal writ.”

Royce straightened his shoulders, bringing his chin forward. “I completely agree.” He stepped over to the desk, eased the drawer open, and pulled out a scroll of parchment.

It was beautifully lettered, with a golden seal raised in thick wax at the bottom. For several seconds Alys stared at the seal, barely blinking, before she looked up with a frown.

“How did you get this? It’s sealed by the prelate. He wouldn’t trust this to a falcon.”

“He made an exception because of the significance of what’s at stake,” Royce replied. His right hand was behind his back where Alys couldn’t see it, squeezed so hard his knuckles were white.

Alys placed the scroll on the table. “I’m surprised you didn’t come to me with the evidence first if it was so cut and dry, but I suppose that’s your prerogative.” She looked at Elliot, brows drawn together. “What is your name?”

“Elliot Field,” he said, licking his lips. “I don’t know what the Talessi are, I promise you, and I don’t mean any harm to anyone, I—”

“I’m sorry,” she interrupted, what looked like genuine regret in her eyes. “It doesn’t matter. A writ sealed by the prelate is above my head, and wouldn’t have been given unless a significant piece of your guilt was already established. I will try to blunt the suffering as best I can.”

Elliot’s eyes widened. Already established? What did that mean? Nobody had proven anything, they just had guesses, and they hadn’t even blamed him for the right crime. And it had only been a day! How could there have been time for anything to be formally proven even if they knew more than he thought?

A numbness was spreading through his arms and face, and his heart hammered. “What are you going to do? What suffering? The inquisition is painful?”

“Not quite pain,” she replied, drawing a small white crystal from some pocket hidden within the folds of her dress. “You will see.”

“Wait, I don’t want to see, I haven’t done anything wrong, you—”

Alys’ whole body erupted in golden fire. It hung about her, the fractured incandescence like a sun broken into a million shards. Elliot squeezed his eyes closed, but it shone right through his lids. The crystal in her hand began to emit a harsh whine. 

“Speak in the Godslight,” her voice intoned, much deeper than before. “Tell me what plans you have that might affect the people of the Broken March, and what connection those plans have to the Talessi, or to the Titan That Sleeps.”

As soon as he registered the words, he felt his mouth open against his will. “I obey.” 

He wanted to writhe. It was an incredibly violating feeling, like someone had cracked him open and displayed his naked soul to a room of mocking spectators. A sense of vulnerability so intense that, if he had been in control of his body, he would have vomited and curled up weeping on the floor.

“I have no plans that might affect the people of the Broken March. I do not know what the Talessi are. I do not know what the Titan That Sleeps is.”

Nausea churned in his gut. It was like a gremlin was piloting his brain and body who possessed every thought or feeling he’d ever experienced and was completely willing to share.

The crystal in Alys’ hand shattered, and she lowered her hand.

As if a fog had lifted, he was back in control. He curled in on himself as tightly as he could, moaning. What the absolute fuck was that.

“I am not encouraged by this beginning, Royce. Do you wish to end the inquisition with that?”

“Absolutely not,” the knight said, scowling ferociously. “I may be wrong about who he serves, and the nature of his designs, but he serves someone. Ask him what his plans actually are.”

The knight’s tone was desperate. There was something wrong. Elliot tried to think, but he couldn’t focus. Why hadn’t that first answer been enough? Why was he so committed to proving Elliot was a danger?

Alys’ face was tight, but she pulled another crystal from her dress and held it up.

“No, wait,” Elliot exclaimed as the crystal began to whine, but it was too late.

“Enumerate your intentions, and any specific plans you have for the future.”

The vulnerability again, like a scraping against the innermost parts of his being. Words rushed out. “My sister and I were both sent away from our home against our will, and without cause. She’s lost, and I intend to find her and make sure she’s safe. I don’t know how to do that, except to travel very far south towards her. I plan to find a map, and have considered finding a caravan. I plan to stay with Breka and Hadrian for a few days until I get my bearings. I plan to eat, and sleep, and—”

“Enough,” Alys said, turning to glare at Royce as the crystal shattered and Elliot came back to himself once again. “What is this?”

“That is not your place to ask,” Royce snapped back, “I have the writ. Ask him how he was sent here, and by who.”

Through the nausea and a deep, irrational emotional distress, Elliot felt a rush of cold. He couldn’t be asked that question. He would answer, and they’d know about the demon thing.

“None of this makes any sense,” Alys replied. “What evidence did you provide for the writ? I do not understand how his case could have passed the threshold.”

The writ. Elliot’s eyes widened. Baird had done something for Royce, a request the knight had been ashamed to make. It didn’t make sense he’d have a writ specifically for Elliot so quickly.

“I will repeat myself,” the knight replied heatedly. “That is not your place to ask. I demand that you proceed.”

He’d seemed nervous from the beginning, and committed to Elliot being dangerous. The writ had to be forged. Royce forced the issue because Elliot had seemed so suspicious, and now he was panicking as his initial thoughts weren’t justifying the overstep. But if they continued, Elliot’s origin would come out, and Royce would have the crime he was looking for.

“I am deeply uncomfortable with this,” Alys said, drawing out another crystal slowly. “And I wish you to know that I will be filing a formal request for review of process when this is done.”

“Fine,” Royce barked, “just ask him.”

Elliot forced his head to rise despite a feeling of deep shame, made all the worse by the fact that it didn’t make any sense to feel shame, and used [Detailed Appraisal] on the scroll.

It returned as a Writ of Inquisition, an official document from the Sunsguard prelate allowing the questioning of a specific prisoner for a specific purpose.

Shit. Was he wrong? He couldn’t be wrong, if he was wrong that was it.

Alys had raised the crystal as if about to begin, but it hadn’t started its whine. She was hesitating.

“You must ask,” Royce said again, eyes feverish. “You must.”

With every fiber of his being Elliot focused on the spinning force at the back of his mind, slamming [Detailed Appraisal] to life once more. He was lightheaded, cold, panicked, and spiritually raw in a way he’d never before experienced, but he bent himself to the task and pulled.

For a second there was nothing, just resistance, but then something broke open. The document was forged, by a combination of abilities called [Counterfeit Seal] and [Exquisite Fabrication]. It held up to a superficial check well, but the fakery was only surface level, and a strong press of ethera would destabilize the whole thing.

“Wait!” Elliot choked out. “Stop, it’s a forged document. I heard him say something to Baird about it, and I have an inspection skill. It says that the seal is a fake. If you channel ethera into it the whole thing will crumble.”

“Be silent,” Royce said, taking a step forward.

Alys, still holding up the crystal, paused. She glanced at Royce, pursed her lips, and dropped her arm. “Knight-lieutenant?”

“It’s not…that is to say I did not—You must ask him the question!” The knight’s forehead gleamed with sweat.

Crossing to the table, the lady picked up the scroll and glared at it, her radiance dimming. After a few seconds, the golden seal cracked and disintegrated into dust.

There was silence, broken only by Elliot’s panting.

Royce was staring at the scroll as if it was a snake about to strike him from across the room.

“Knight-lieutenant,” Alys said softly, “I am extremely disappointed.”

“But how,” Royce whispered, collapsing slowly to his knees. “How could it be a coincidence? At the epicenter of the trouble, with rising enemy incursions, he teleports in from nowhere as a weak merchant. It’s impossible. How could he not be involved?” 

“Life is full of surprises,” Alys said, her voice still dangerously quiet. “And because of that, we rely on due process rather than gut feeling. You have broken your oaths.”

“No.” He squeezed both hands into fists. “I was serving the common good. I was working to prevent catastrophe. I—”

“You. Have. Broken. Your. Oaths.”

This time the silence stretched longer. Royce’s face tightened. He raised his hands almost as if to fight, but then something in him visibly collapsed. He sank in on himself, letting out a ragged breath. “Yes,” he said, voice faint. “I did.”

“You had this writ forged. You subjected this boy to a false inquisition.”

“Yes,” Royce practically whispered, knees folding as he dropped to the floor. “I felt we weren’t making enough progress, and I found someone who could forge the writ to help push forward when the opportunity arose. When I heard about the boy, he seemed an obvious choice. I thought I would be saving lives. It is no excuse.”

“It most certainly is not,” Alys agreed, her radiance fading completely. She turned and placed a hand on Elliot’s shoulder, and he felt a flood of warmth. “I’m so sorry, Elliot.”

The heat travelled through his whole body, making him gasp. The numbness faded, his heart rate calmed, and although the spiritual rawness didn’t completely go away, it felt covered in a soft layer of something protective.

“I can make amends for this. I can—”

“Enough.” Alys’s voice was still soft, but the knight-lieutenant’s mouth snapped closed as if he’d been struck. “You will be silent unless addressed.” She had kept her eyes on Elliot as the energy ran through him. “Did that dull the sensation?”

“Yes,” he replied, blinking. It worked fast. Every second he was closer to normal. He glanced between the two Sunsguards, trying to get his thoughts in order—without much success. Was that it? Was he clear, or would they ask more questions without the magic?

“This should not have happened.” Her lips twisted. “Obviously. I am ashamed to have been party to this. Please have confidence that the knight-lieutenant will be punished appropriately.”

Elliot let out a long, slow breath. It’s over. “What was that? Will it leave permanent damage?”

“No. The process of inquisition is deeply uncomfortable, as it plucks directly at your soul. You would generally feel a rawness for the next several hours, but I have laid protections that should blunt almost all of that sensation. Past that, you will be as you were, save for the memories.”

“Yeah.” His mouth tightened. “Except for the memories.”

She met his gaze squarely. “I do not intend to make light. Please believe me when I say that to bring someone falsely to the question is a horrific act, and I am deeply ashamed for my part in it. Know that if you need any service, and if it is not inconsistent with my duties, I will provide it.”

“Can you help me travel south?” he asked immediately.

Her mouth twisted. “I can give you supplies, but I am sorry to say that I cannot take you south myself, nor send any knights. There is no excuse for what Royce did, but he was not wrong that a crisis is brewing. I cannot in good conscience send away resources that are already slim, even when you have every right to demand such aid.”

Well, I suppose extra supplies are always useful. “What about a map? Can I get that?”

“Of course. I will have it made ready, along with the provisions. I will also include a letter of introduction to help you find passage with a caravan.”

He perked up. That actually sounded helpful. “Thanks.”

“Please,” she said, expression stiff, “do not offer me thanks. This is barely the beginning of redress.” She hesitated. “There is one final thing I must ask of you.”

Tension coiled through his body, and his jaw tightened to the point of pain. Damn it.