You shall not permit a sorceress to live.

  Whoever lies with an animal shall be put to death.

  Whoever sacrifices to any Fallen God, shall be cast to destruction

  The Book of The Exiles 22:18-20 - The First Covenant

  Spring 27, 1388

  “I think Aywin and Noel are in a relationship, Melly,” Adrian said, adjusting his scarf against his neck. The faint flickers of candlelight had been overshadowed by Amaril’s Glare, flooding in through the window.

  “Wah..?” Melissa muttered, curling into the quilts. She sleepily picked herself up, and turned her head to the window. “Darn it, boy… Amaril’s Gaze ain’t even upon us.”

  Adrian picked up his Inquisitorial Gauntlet and slid it over his left hand, positioning the vambrace over his forearm. The Great Eye, etched onto the metal of the vambrace, glowed in divine light when the last seal was fully engaged. He flexed his fingers underneath the metal, and let out a spark of divinity.

  Attunement was such a warm feeling.

  Adrian walked over to Melissa, leaned in and kissed her forehead. “Corn ain’ gonna wait for ya to be ready, dear.”

  Melissa grumbled, but extended her hands up to Adrian's head. Her calloused fingers rubbed the back of his scalp, and played with his brown hair. She tugged at him, and Adrian, as always, complied. For his efforts, Melissa awarded him with a soft kiss atop his lips, lingering in the moment as the Amaril’s Glare warmed them both. She broke free with a playful smile, and playfully slapped his cheek.

  “Ain’t a farmer now, hun,” she cooed, rubbing her eyes and glancing back at the pillow. She’d fall asleep again as soon as he stepped out, a luxury he was glad he could provide for her. “What was you sayin’?”

  He gently pulled away from her radiant face. “I’m sayin’, I’m pretty sure our new pals Aywin and Noel spend their mornin’ like this too.”

  Melissa yawned again. “Really? That’s nice….” She collapsed atop the pillow.

  Adrian pulled up the dress pants, and looped in the leather belt. He pulled on the belt again, needing to add another notch to tighten.

  “WAIT?!” Melissa shot up, her eyes popping open. “THEM? Boy, you best be swearin’ on the Weaver that you ain’ fibbin’!”

  “I ain’t Missy!”

  “An’ THEY WONT INVITE US OVER? WE INVITED THEM!” She shouted, launching herself to her feet. She smoothed out her night gown and quickly dashed out from the bedroom.

  “Missy! What are you goin’ to do?”

  “Gettin’ dinner ready! You’ve to invite both of them, right now! Our first adult couple friends!” She shouted back.

  Adrian tilted his head, and then went back to the mirror to finish putting on the uniform. Next came the leather boots, tied up in imperial lace patterns with the remainder tucked inside. Boots properly bloused, and tucked underneath the lips so none of his socks were visible. He was ready and presentable, and grabbed his tricorn hat off the rack.

  Missy wouldn’t like him wearing it indoors.

  “Amaril’s sake Missy,” Adrian began, walking into the kitchen to see her already grabbing things from the pantry. “First, you know Nathaniel and Jasmine, they’re going to be weaved together soon too. We’ve had them over plenty of times. Second, we can’t do that.”

  “An’ why not?!”

  “...Because I’m an [Inquisitor]?” Adrian dryly said. He moved past her into the living room to peer down the hallway. “Ma doin’ alright?”

  “Aye, been fine since that Hart girl saw-to her. We should be givin’ her a gift. But wait a momen’,” Melissa shouted back, coming out of the kitchen holding some eggs and milk. “What’s you bein’ an [Inquisitor] got to do —” Melissa stopped in the middle of her sentence.

  “Yeah,” Adrian confirmed.

  “That’s straight nonsense. You wouldn’ do anythin’ bout that, would ya?” Melissa had placed the eggs on the table, but stared pointedly at Adrian.

  “Nah. One of the old laws from the first covenant. If I rightfully enforced that one, I’d be obligated to enforce ‘em all, Missy.”

  “Exactly! But uh…” Melissa began. Her eyes shifted to the left, and her tongue rolled adorably. He had to give that woman credit, she had spent her entire life as a [Weaver], and with only a rudimentary education ending at 12, was exceptionally bright.

  His heart fluttered, and he didn’t try to stop the smile from forming while he watched her.

  “...How exactly are ya… able to just ignore it, [Paladin]?” she finally asked. Adrian continued to watch her, before releasing a sigh.

  It always sounded too pompous. It was easier to show, so he would do just that. He raised his left arm up and pulled the sleeve down, exposing his metallic gauntlet fully, and the All-Seeing Eye. Melissa bowed her head, but Adrian had already stepped beside her.

  He leaned up and kissed her lips again; her reverence did just make it easier for him. “I met the guy myself during my Judgement. Father basically told me to keep doin’ what I’m doin’. An’ I don’ believe Father would care that much… besides, it’s the Weaver’s Law that one, not his. An’ I ain’ HER [Paladin].”

  “Hey! Don’ be mockin’ the Weaver when our Weave is five months away. Last thing we need is a frayed knot or a curse.” Melissa, however, didn’t pull away, caressing Adriaan’s head and resting her forehead against his.

  Adrian shrugged. “The old covenant is a mess. Did’ja know if I was enforcin’ it all, I’d have to burn you for talkin’ over me? An’ wors’ of all, mixing linen and wool together.”

  Melissa blankly looked at his eyes. “That’s… in there?”

  “Aye. But the Floran’s have their laws too… It’s why they only let one type of crop be sown on a field. The Old Laws are a contradictory mess.”

  “...And the church ain’ gonna burn those two because of it?”

  “Hopefully not. I’m sure some of the more zealous ones would, but that ain’t me. And as long as they’re in my town, I’m not gonna enforce it.”

  “So…” Melissa began, waving down at the eggs and flour. “Why not let them know?”

  “...Because it’s their secret? I saw them looking at each other and the way they talk. Noel looks at Aywin like I look at you. Aywin makes every opportunity to be beside him like you do for me. But I rightly can’t just ask him. I can only hope to be the person he’d trust to tell a secret like that. I’ll do my best to make myself trustworthy.”

  “Boy, how many times have I told ya not to start lecturin’ me with that Capital speech?” Melissa playfully rebuked, before looking down at the ingredients. “Well, if you ain’ gonna do it tactfully, I’m going to do it. I’ll walk right up to the Adventurer’s Guil–”

  “If anyone reports it to me, I would be obligated to begin an investigation for compliance, Missy. I could refuse to do so, and with that, I’d be removed from my position here and put somewhere else not as close to home. The church aint Father, and Father aint church. And then they’d execute those two.”

  “...An’ since they don’t rightfully know ya, they’d be scared you’d execute them anyway.” Melissa concluded.

  Adrian nodded. “I jus’ wanted ya to know, since Noel’s comin’ with me to Flowers-By-The-River as well. Aywin’s gonna be lonely at the Guild, and I dunno, I figured you’d wanna invite him to your hen’s club with Jazzy and Ashy when she returns?”

  “...Do you think Aywin is the wife, boy?” Melissa tensed.

  “...Yes?” Adrian sheepishly admitted.

  “Boy, I’m gonna smack you for that!” she mock-shouted, but then shook her head. “I’ll see what I can do, but he ain’ a woman, boy. “

  “Thanks Missy. You’re amazing as always.”

  “I know,” she smiled. “Now sit down. I’ll make you somethin’ to eat before you head off.”

  “They’re an oddbunch, Inquisitor-Prefect,” Annabelle said. “Though, I think ya have it kinda backwards. Lady Hart seems to be in charge, not Ophelia.”

  Lord Skye shook his head, and slid opposite her booth in The Mermaid’s Tale. Most of the booths were filthy; covered in vomit and scraps of food, with some even having last night’s patrons comfortably snoring atop their own filth. The air smelled dankly of fish, though Mermaid’s were said to live in the ocean, not a tributary river.

  He pulled out an envelope from his pocket and slid to Annabelle. Her hand quickly grabbed it and shook the folds, hearing the enticing clinging of coins.

  “I doubt that the Hawthorne bit–” he was already aggravated. He closed his eyes and inhaled through his nose. “That Lady Hawthorne is not the lead in that operation. Her coming out of nowhere and claiming heraldry to a [Vampire Lord], and it being confirmed by Crown and Regentry. But she herself is not a vampire? She’s definitely hiding something.”

  Annabelle’s face kept still, watching Lord Skye’s eyes with genuine interest. She pulled out a black book imprinted with the etching of a rose, placing it atop the table. “I’m still learning, Inquisitor-Prefect, but Verity’s tenets tell us to keep an open mind. Lady Hart is the [Hero] of that group, and she didn’t need to refer to Ophelia to offer me apprenticeship.”

  “Right, I was there for that. Do you actually want to be a [Nurse]?”

  “Not particularly. But have people talk about themselves and offer, and they feel like they’re doing you a favour. That’s how secrets get out.”

  “Like a true daughter of Verity,” Lord Skye remarked, though his tone was cold.

  Annabelle crossed her arms. “Likewise, Lady Hart received a loan from Ms. La Croix to purchase seeds. A loan from a Darkmire Witch! I thought you inquisitorial types investigated witches. What’s that saying?”

  “Suffer not The Witch,” Lord Skye immediately said. “Look, it’s not her fault that Wild Magic comes from Danu. If I was enforcing that law, I’d have to execute Noel.”

  “And you should. He’s a homosexual in an interracial relationship with an elf. Or are we hiding truths we find inconvenient here too?”

  “Are you being serious, Annabelle?”

  “Am I, Lord Skye? You did ask me to be your [Spy], and I already was working Internal Affairs for the Inquisition. Who watches the favoured son?”

  “Father does.”

  “Mhmm. I ain’ a fan of the whole Judgement Chamber deal you Divine types have to go through. Even less with how few [Paladin]-aspirants manage to actually succeed. But, The Great Whisper does belong to the Church, so, while I disagree with your interpretation of the law, your daddy hasn’t smited you.”

  Lord Skye stared Annabelle down. “Anna, do you genuinely believe that Noel should be killed for that?”

  She didn’t pause to even consider. “No. But your divine mandate that sees Ophelia as a threat would have to apply to Noel for a similar crime. And you’re aware of that one since I told you. I don’t know if Ophelia is a vampire, but I’m more concerned that you, a [Paladin], is picking and choosing which laws he gets to enforce, and your Daddy doesn’t seem to care.”

  “Because those laws aren’t meant to be kept!” he rebuked.

  Annabelle’s face remained stoic, and as unmoving like the walls she often waited at, or the tables she worked. “...I agree, Addy. I wanted to know if you agreed. I am happy that you are not indicting them for a nonsense law, but I am worried that this kindness you have from understanding the New Covenant is preventing you from spotting the obvious.”

  “Don’t say it.”

  “Lady Hart is likely a criminal, and she may have a [Veil].” Annabelle bluntly pointed out. She finally opened the envelope and let the gold coins fall out. “Here I was expecting silver, [Farm Boy].”

  “...I ain’t no traitor, Annabelle. Besides, it’s Ashy! She ain’t no criminal!”

  “...And the boy across from me went to be [Squire] and got selected to be a [Paladin], and I was just waiting tables and got recruited to The Great Game, and.. 4 years later, we met during a Chorister meeting. People change. Does Melissa even know you and I were assigned here together?”

  “Kind of? I told her we met in the Capital and we’re good friends, but I was under the impression you didn’t want anyone to know what you actually do.”

  “I don’t, no.” Annabelle agreed, falling completely out of her Oakheart tone to the dry one from the capital. The same one he was using. “Ashley is an Academic, who, as far as I gathered, didn’t actually pass her exams. I was under the impression that being a [Scholar] was one of the key requirements for being a [Wizard].”

  Lord Skye shrugged. “And I thought the requirements for being a [Paladin] was already being a [Priest]. I was marked when..”

  “Shut it, boy. I know all about your act of sacrifice. Only reason I ain’ turning you in to be investigated yourself.”

  “Oh hush now, you’re not turning me in because you like me, Anna.”

  She shook her head. “I do, yes. But you do bring up a valid point. No one really knows how a class selection works, just notice the trends. Thank you for catching me on my Bias, The Great Whisper will be pleased.”

  “Have I told you you’re creepy?”

  “Today or this week? Since, you have this week, but this is your first time today.”

  “Yeah, even for being a capital girl, creepy.”

  “I can’t afford for you to misunderstand me. It’s hard enough keeping all the secrets, truths, and lies mixed – miscommunication is just another hurdle. But, besides that – you still need to get Melly to be my friend so I can come to the wedding.”

  “I’m tryin’!” Adrian protested. “She’s been happy so far, and I wanna broach the topic without startin’ another fight.”

  “For Amaril’s Sake, Addy. I ain’ Ashley. Melly and I had been friends. Just tell her to reconnect!”

  “Why don’t you do that?”

  Annabelle said nothing, but her face turned pink and looked away. Adrian rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’ll ask. Who’dda thunk a [Spy] had trouble makin’ friends?”

  Annabelle’s head snapped to Adrian’s eyes. “I have plenty of friends. I don’t have many real friends, Addy. Y’know that. It’s a lonely life when everyone can only see a version of you that you have to curate?”

  “Huh, really? You’ve always been the same girl to me.” he absent-mindedly admitted.

  “...Just tell her.” Anna chided, before extending her hand across the table. Adrian placed his hand atop hers. “An’... I know I don’ say it much, but thanks. Never woulda guessed that one of the few remaining [Paladin] would be one of my closest friends.”

  “Don’ gotta thank me for that, Anna. I’ve enjoyed every moment with you, working and off. What’s on your docket for the day?”

  “Ugh, gotta go clean that stupid bathhouse with Lady Hart’s entourage. Thankfully, I can fake a role, since otherwise, they’d realize I already mastered [Maid].”

  “Need any help?”

  “No. You’d screw it up. But I will be honest, I am investigating Lady Hart, not Ophelia. If Ophelia turns out to be a vampire, I will inform you, but I must remind you that being a Vampire is not a crime under the Queen’s Law, just the Church. Lady Hart, however, seems to be doing something, but outside of having criminal friends, being a [Doctor] and a [Farmer] is not illegal.”

  “Ashy don’ strike me as the type to be that.”

  Annabelle sighed again, getting up from her booth. “You’re the sword and shield, Inquisitor-Prefect. I’m the Candle.”

  Lord Skye nodded and stood up too. “You too, Justiciar-Prefect.”

  “Ugh. Don’t call me by official rank.”

  “What, [Justiciar]? “

  “Yeah, it sounds too religious. Verity would hate it. Wish I could meet my Goddess myself, but who would have guessed the Goddess of Secrets doesn’t reveal herself. I’ve yet to even meet a cleric! Or, I might have, and didn’t realize it. Do you think that’s why I’m stuck working with you?”

  “Yeah, you’re a terrible [Spy],” he teased.

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  “Shut it, [Farm Boy]. What are you up to?”

  “Have to meet a [Witch-Hunter] from Flowers-By-The-River. The Inquisitorial Scroll I sent with Noel’s question was answered by a Lady Belten. She’s coming over to the Chapel. You want me to wait for you?”

  “No guarantee I’ll be ready in time. If she’s nice, introduce me. I could use more actual friends.”

  “Come over for dinner tonight. Want me to tell Melly about the real you, or just say I invited you.”

  “Can you do the latter? I’ll decide if I trust Melly, despite what you'd insist.”

  “Will do, Justiciar-Prefect.”

  “Keep that up, and the whole town is going to learn about you running your horse head-first into a wall.”

  “Yeah, and then they’d ask how you know about that.”

  “Oooh, my [Farm Boy] is learning. I’ll have to up my game. See you soon, Inquisitor-Prefect.”

  The Church of Dawn was out of the way by regional standards, but that was solely for the fact the land it was on was consecrated. Normally, it was only Father Farrow’s horse lodged at the stable, seeing as his knights had no reason to be here other than to waste their time, regardless of official policy.

  His own horse, Mirchie, was a [Divine Steed], and had no interest in loitering about the mortal world when the Plains called her name.

  Except there was a second horse as well, which was not unexpected.

  What was unexpected was the pale woman smoking a pipe, wearing a capotain with Amaril’s Gaze as the buckle. The capotain hid smooth, black hair and when she lifted her head up, revealed her vibrant green eyes.

  To Adrian, it was trying too hard. A black heavy duster coat draped off her shoulders, and for actual clothing, she was wearing a black-and-gold corset romper. Two leather belts hung diagonally off her waist, and… some metal tube was attached to each? Her legs were clad with stockings with an unholy abomination of boots and heels. To finish the look, she sported fingerless gloves.

  She gave Adrian a playful smile and did something with her finger and thumb, pointing at him, jerking upwards, and blowing the index.

  “What in Amaril’s name are you wearing?” Lord Skye asked.

  “Uniform?” Lady Belten responded, walking towards him and helping him off Mirchie. Mirchie snorted, inspecting Lady Belten’s horse, before disappearing into divine light.

  Like every other person he knew, Lady Belten was taller than he was, taller than both Melissa, Annabelle, and Jasmine, but noticeably shorter than Ashley. He estimated she was around 5’8.

  “That is absolutely not uniform,” Lord Skye stated, and forced himself to stare at her eyes.

  “I’m not Sacrum-Inquisitis, Inquisitor-Prefect, I’m a Hound,” She playfully said, biting the air at him. “Sacrum-Venator, Lady Belten. I look forward to servicing you.”

  “Knock that off,” Lord Skye’s face scrunched into disgust. “I don’t care about the Hound’s lack of discipline, but at least act with some sense of decency.”

  Lady Belten’s smile didn’t falter, nor did her voice. “Good. Glad to see a proper [Paladin] and not someone playing pretend. You would be surprised at how easy it is to find corruption in the clergy.”

  “I would not,” Lord Skye muttered. “So, what, is this entire getup a game?”

  “Why don’t you tell me?” she teased, bringing the pipe to her lips to inhale.

  “I am already done with this conversation,” Lord Skye finished, and beckoned Lady Belten to follow.

  He glanced downwards, trying to find a path through the dirt and mud that wouldn’t ruin her stockings or boots or just get stuck. Yet, while his feet sunk into the dirt, Lady Belten was unbothered; leaving no tracks or even footprints, gliding over the mud and water as if it weren’t there.

  Lord Skye led Lady Belten inside, and waved at Father Farrow. The disapproving look on his face spoke volumes, though Lady Belten found it amusing. Lord Skye quickly guided her to the back, and then to the office.

  As soon as Lady Belten stepped inside, she began to stride forward to Adrian’s chair. He rolled his eyes, and let her walk. He turned around to go to his stash of alcohol, and pulled out a new bottle of whiskey since another woman had already stolen his first. He took out two glass cups, and created ice for himself.

  Adrian didn't even look back as he pried the cork from the whiskey. “If you would, please get your boots off my table, Lady Belten.”

  There was a beat of silence. Behind him, the sound of leather hitting wood stopped mid-motion.

  “That obvious?” she asked.

  “Mhmm. Neat or with ice?”

  “With ice. So, you’re an actual [Paladin]?”

  “...Compared to what? It’s in my Biography.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I figure. You don’t want to see mine?”

  “You’re a Hound. It’s either all a lie, it’s blank, or it’s so mundanely stupid I would have wasted my time. My impression of you is you’re from the Capital, you hunt monsters, and this entire thing is both self expression and a way to taste the clergy for corruption. Likewise, I’m going to assume you’re both a Commissioned Noble and a Landed Noble to be wearing clothing like that that isn’t from our allotment.”

  “...Very astute. My name's Edda. Yours?”

  “Adrian, friends call me Addy.” He handed her a cup of whiskey with ice. They brought it together and clinked. “To your health.”

  “To our Father, Addy. Good to meet someone I don’t want to shoot in the nothings.”

  “Shoot? I didn’t see a cross-” Adrian began, but Edda pulled out the metal tube from her holster and spun it around her finger.

  “Flintlock. Dwarven made. Catch,” she said, throwing the thing at him. Adrian caught the barrel and looked at it.

  It was a weird object. The metal tube had arcane carvings against it, but the actual opening was wide. The back had a lever that could be pressed, and then a trigger similar to a crossbow underneath. From the way it looked, whatever it shot was placed into the opening, but with no tension or rope, it didn’t exactly seem like it’d fire.

  His hand slid to the hilt, and the sigils began to glow.

  “...Fuck me, kid. You ARE a [Paladin]. Yeah, give it back before you actually blow your nothings off.” Edda remarked, staring at the glowing sigils.

  “What is a flintlock?” Adrian responded. His hand shifted it backwards, catching the barrel against his palm and then politely handing it to Edda. “And, I would appreciate you not swearing here of all places.”

  “Sorry, ‘Father’, I’ve been a bad gi–” Adrian glared at Edda before she could finish, and she gave a shrug.

  “It’s all a masquerade, Addy. You know the script. One is born into the suffocating weight of luxury—waking every morning to a chorus of maids fussing over your stays and painting a face on you that isn't your own. It's enough to turn the stomach. So, you tell ‘Dear Papa’ that you’ve no interest in being bartered off like a pedigreed mare to the neighboring county, and you find a life with more… teeth. The Sacrum-Venators were recruiting, and it’s a riotous bit of fun, really. All the people one could ever want to shoot, fuck, or meet. Seldom in that order.”

  “Amaril, I hate Hounds…” Adrian muttered, shaking his head. “Why are you here, Edda?”

  “You sent a letter to Flowers-By-The-River asking what was happening there, did you not, Inquisitor-Prefect?”

  “Yes. What of it?”

  “Yeah, so I shot him in the face, and came here to see if I had to shoot you in the face.”

  Adrian didn’t react, but just rubbed his eyes with his fingers. “How deep is the corruption?”

  “...Seriously unfazed, huh? I’m liking you, boy,” Edda picked up the flintlock from the table and spun it against her fingers. She sheathed it back into a holster, but at the same time, revealed five more, for a total of six. “All I know is the last [Inquisitor] I dealt with wasn’t a [Paladin], and was taking money from…” she paused, for what Adrian figured was dramatic effect. “Elizabeth Bazerie!”

  “That name again.” Adrian muttered, taking the cup of whiskey and downing a finger.

  “You’re familiar? Interesting… Proactive, I like it! Great, I came here figuring I was going to be in a shootout with another corrupt official, and now, I got an ally.”

  “You got two. I was doing it on behalf of a [Druid] who claimed she was a [Vampyre] of all things.”

  Edda’s face stopped smiling. “Boy, please tell me this is your idea of a jest?”

  “Wish I was, that look on your face is priceless,” Adrian said, motioning to Edda’s cup. She obliged, taking it and swirling the liquid against the glass and downing it one go. Her eyes raised in both surprise and appreciation. “She’s about to be a [Blood Witch], according to my friend.”

  “Good stuff you have. Great taste, I approve,” Edda said, reaching across the table and picking up the decanter of whiskey. She poured herself another cup, and then leaned it over to Adrian. He shook his head, but produced more ice for her. “Am I going to meet your co-conspirator?”

  “One of them. Other one’s busy. But, you’re a Hound, and he has…” Adrian started, but Edda raised a finger and drained the second cup too.

  “Personal or Heretical? I imagine it's personal, since you seem on the up and up.”

  “Personal,” Adrian confirmed.

  “Then my mandate doesn’t matter. I’ve been to my share of whorehouses and sampled both the meat and fruits. If a [Noble] can do it, don’t see why I care. Do you?”

  Adrian shook his head, but pursed his lips. “I don’t, no. But…”

  “Then not my business. Unless you, my Inquisitor-Prefect, want to order me to carry it out. Haven’t killed a [Druid] yet,” Edda boredly said.

  “Are you going to tell me what a Flintlock is yet?” Adrian responded, trying to get out of this conversation.

  “Eh. Tube made by dwarves using dragonpowder. For a non-symphonic gal like me, I have to reload it, which takes a hot moment, so I carry many. However, for someone channeling the Symphony, you can charge it on your own. Safeguards in place though; only accepts Divine Symphony, and specifically Inner Circle Symphony. So, a [Paladin] of Amaril, for example. Though, Elora, Flora, Azadin, Minadin and the others work too. Danu won’t, sorry [Druid].”

  “I’m surprised you’re not insisting that we kill a Wild God Worshipper.”

  “I ain’t starting a war with the elves. Unless you’re ordering me too. Then it’s you starting it.”

  Adrian shook his head. “A Hound not hunting. Everyone’s compromised, huh?”

  Edda poured herself a third drink from the Decanter, and then shook her head. “No. Everyone’s a hypocrite, boy. Laws are good and all, and I like knowing Amaril and Azadin set up a city like the next girl, but I’m not going to report a [Druid] for praying to Danu, and I’m definitely not hunting one if they’re not causing issues. Otherwise, we’d all live in the Panopticon. Oh, hey! Is Amaril’s Judge–”

  “It is not the Panopticon.” Adrian intercepted, bored and robotic.

  “Damn, guess I owe that fuc– fuschia person 1000 gold,” Edda muttered, and swirled the whiskey. “But I am going to kill Bazerie now. I thought it was just a corruption thing, but if we have Rhyvesta’s cult here, I’m going to finish the job.”

  “Noel and I will be departing to Flowers-By-The-River in a few days. We’ll meet you there?”

  “What, am I offending you, [Inquisitor]? Won’t let a gal like me –”

  “Wear people clothes, and you can stay. That is an order.”

  “I was hoping you were a [Paladin], and now I’m not. Fine. Know a good place to stay the night?”

  “The Gryphon. But I can also ask my wife if you can stay the night. You want to meet the Justiciar-Prefect and have dinner with us?”

  “Amaril, I missed small towns. I would love too. And don’t worry, this was for show. I am going to wear it while working, unless you’re orde–”

  “Can you stop trying to feel me out? I think you have a good idea where the lines are.”

  “Boy, if I wanted to feel you –”

  Adrian glared at her again, and downed his drink. “Keep that up, and I will order you to mop this place clean.”

  “Jokes on you, I’m a surprisingly good [Maid].”

  Adrian looked her up and down. “Not surprised at all.”

  Edda playfully glared at him. “Rude. So, Dinner?”

  Adrian nodded.

  Annabelle arrived at exactly 7:05 PM, five minutes late to be polite. She wore a simple green flock with a brown skirt, and her brown hair was neat and straight. Her glasses kept her mousey face hidden, and overall, she looked a bit too modest.

  Nothing wrong with that, especially for a woman who preferred being in the background.

  Edda had arrived at 6:30 PM and was forbidden from drinking more till Annabelle showed up. She wore tight dress pants and a rather low-cut bodice, exposing her arms and plenty of skin. Her heels had a lift to them, and her hair had gone from smooth and straight into… Melissa had referred to it as a ‘braided halo’. And the jewelry she wore was extravagant – actual diamonds and jewels shaped into holy symbols and esoteric patterns.

  Adrian figured he was wearing normal clothes, and when he told Melissa two people from the Capital were coming over, she had gone to dress to the nines. Thankfully, his mother-in-law elected not to remain, and visit an old friend.

  Maybe Ashley would be interested in hosting him so he could escape this madness. Or even Noel.

  “Oh for Amaril’s sake, it’s you.” Annabelle dryly mused, looking at Edda as she entered.

  Melissa ran out wearing a light blue gown embroidered with silver thread. Her blue heels clacked, but suddenly came to a halt when she spotted Annabelle. “You’re the other Capital Girl?”

  Annabelle turned to Adrian, “What, you didn’t tell her?”

  “...I’ve been dealing with tha–” Adrian began, but Edda already stepped up to Annabelle.

  “DARLING! It’s been too long. Charged any other good Hound yet?” Edda’s arms wrapped around Annabelle who flinched, before pushing her straight off.

  “Depends. Have you committed any other war crimes yet?”

  “Today or this week?”

  “Just Today, preferably. I don’t think my book is big enough if we started from this week.”

  Melissa turned to Adrian. “What is going on here?”

  Adrian let out a deep exhale and stood up. “Melissa, this is Lady Edda Belten. She’s part of the Sacrum-Venator. We refer to them as ‘Hounds’. Edda, this is my wife, Lady Melissa Skye. Oh, Edda is both type of noble, commissioned and landed.”

  Melissa offered her hand to Edda, but Edda didn’t take it. Instead, she leaned in. “The weavework here is exemplary. Are you a [Weaver], Lady Skye?”

  “Wow, the war criminal has manners,” Annabelle deadpanned, approaching Melissa too. “I don’t think I need to introduce myself, but uh… I’m Adrian’s work partner. The town’s [Justiciar]. Same oath as Adrian now, you can’t tell anyone.”

  Melissa’s head bobbed between the two. She blinked rapidly, before focusing on Annabelle. “Since when! And you didn’t tell me?! Wait, I saw you at the Bathhouse with Jasmine and Ashley.” Melissa stopped, before turning to Adrian. “Wait, don’t tell me. You’re spying on Ophelia!”

  “Yes,” Adrian tiredly admitted. “I don’t trust her.”

  Annabelle shook her head. “Wrong person not to trust. I am pretty sure it’s Ashley that’s the problem.”

  However, before that conversation line could continue, Edda’s fingers pushed onto Melissa’s back. “You did weave this! I haven’t met another one in a long time!” she proudly stated, pushing herself forward. “What do you think of mine?”

  Melissa inspected it, then grimaced. “Whoever wove this didn’t practise their art. It looks like the System made it.”

  “...I mean, yes, that is what happened, but damn, you can tell? I thought I did a pretty good job…”

  “Wait, you weaved this?” Melissa cautiously asked.

  “Yeah? Weaving and embroidery is a hobby of mine. I make all my clothes and uniforms.”

  “You should be making no uniforms, Hound,” Annabelle corrected, and shook her head. “Why are we working with a Hound, Adrian?”

  “Can I tell you over dinner? I’m starving.” Adrian stood up, leading the three into the dining room.

  Melissa, having, for some reason, assumed that Noel and Aywin were coming, had already prepared a proper meal.

  The centerpiece was a venison loin, thick and heavy, seared in a cast-iron skillet until the crust of cracked peppercorns and mountain rosemary was dark and fragrant. Melissa had finished it with a glaze of wild blackberries and a heavy splash of the same oak-aged whiskey Adrian had been nursing in his office. The deep purple reduction pooled around the sliced medallions, looking more like a specialized alchemical ink than a sauce.

  To the side sat a cornbread pudding, weighted with enough custard and sharp white cheddar to make a man forget about the mud outside. It was spiked with caramelized leeks and a dusting of smoked paprika that gave the steam rising from it a savory, orange tint. Beside it, a medley of heirloom carrots and golden beets—roasted in rendered duck fat until the edges were charred and sweet—shimmered under a glaze of local Wildflower Honey.

  For balance, there was a salad of bitter dandelion greens and arugula, tossed in a sharp cider vinaigrette. It was topped with thin, translucent slices of preserved pear and walnuts that had been toasted until they smelled like the hearth.

  The bread was a massive braided brioche loaf, egg-washed to a shimmering gold that caught the candlelight, mirroring the golden locks of Melissa’s hair. It sat next to a stone crock of hand-churned butter, topped with a pinch of coarse grey salt and dried lavender blossoms.

  To wash it down, a heavy-bodied red wine had been decanted into a glass pitcher. It was dark, smelling of cherries and damp earth—a vintage that belonged in a Capital manor, but felt right at home in the quiet warmth of the kitchen.

  “I have to admit, I have missed home cooked meals,” Edda said, taking a seat beside Melissa. Melissa looked at her, and just let it slide. Adrian figured this was her way of rubbing shoulders with the noble woman she so wished to be.

  Annabelle and Adrian sat together on the other side, and Melissa carved out the food to serve. Adrian looked uncomfortably at Melissa, who finally caught his eye. She stared at him for a few seconds, before lowering her shoulders in mock defeat. “Fine, you can talk about work around the table.”

  Adrian was about to open his mouth, but Annabelle intercepted. “Edda, what are you doing here? And don’t tell me it’s about the letter. You aren’t in compliance, and we don’t do state-sanctioned executions.”

  “Uh huh, keep telling yourself that Anne.”

  “For the love of... It’s Annabelle.” Annabelle groaned. “But what is a [Witch-Hunter] doing here?”

  “Hunting Marigold.”

  “The.. tax–collector?” Melissa questioned. “I… thought the Sacrum didn’t deal with the Queen’s Arm?”

  “Who?” Edda responded and then clicked it together. “No, I’m not after some stupid Tax Agent. I’m after Sister Benzine Marigold, the Darkmire Coven Witch. She’s been selling poisons and drugs to the enemy and our own populace, and she’s around this area.”

  “...See, that makes sense. How the hell did that lead you to Flowers-By-The-River?” Annabelle continued.

  “...Just following the scent,” she responded, tapping her nose, and then held her fork with her non-dominant hand, and the knife with her dominant hand. Her fingers didn’t shake or move, as they hovered carefully in place. She pushed a small amount of carrots and beat atop the fork with her knife, and brought it up to her head to eat.

  Melissa did the opposite, fork in the dominant, knife beside it. She put the fork down or swapped hands when needed to cut and stab at things with the tines.

  Annabelle shook her head and looked at Adrian. “I told you about the Darkmire Coven right?”

  He nodded, and glanced at Melissa. She shook her head, but her face also screamed disinterest.

  “What I don’t get, Anne, is what some Martivian witches are doing he–”

  “There’s a revolution in Martivia right now, Hound. I swear, the only reason the Venator is anywhere decent is because someone holds your leash.”

  “Are you offering to hold my leash, Anne? I can get some rope too if you’d li–”

  Melissa elbowed Edda in the hip, and went back to eating. Adrian smiled, far too happy with his wife's actions.

  “Anna, you’re a [Justiciar]? That means you’re basically a [Barrister]!” Melissa tried, and Anna happily nodded.

  “I know, Melly! Sorry I couldn’t tell ya. I was tryin’ to get your husband over there to introduce me, but he’s been busy.”

  Adrian just looked down and began to cut his meat, but Edda spoke up again.

  “Excuse me, I don’t think you understand. Benzine has been creating potions that send people to the Fae Realms. She’s been kidnapping them to subject them to the Unseelie Maze, but I don’t know why. Either way, I have to kill her. It led to Flowers-By-The-River, and that turned out great.”

  Adrian looked at the meat. “Have either of you heard about Death’s Daughter, yet? Melissa, I would recommend you leave the room.”

  Melissa stared at him, but shook her head. Anna as well stared with confusion, and Edda stopped talking.

  Adrian frowned, unsure of where he was going with this. “A while ago, a hut in Lyric Bay was attacked by the Death Cult, with a mixture of goblins and some bat-like thing…”

  “Was it a vampire?” Edda asked.

  “I don’t know,” Adrian responded, then looked at Edda. “Be quiet.” She nodded, and let him continue.

  “A Hut in Lyric Bay was attacked by goblins and a bat-like thing, by something referred to as Death’s Daughter. It was there performing an audit, and killed 4 children - and wanted one adult. Something happened, and it only killed the four kids and allowed the remaining adults to leave. It then sent a message looking for ‘The arbiter’ and ‘Mother Comes’. We suppressed as much as we could - last thing we need is a Death Cult.”

  Edda stared at her meat. “All Roads Lead to Azadin…” She muttered, and Adrian nodded. “You’re implying all of this is connected, aren’t you. A witch capturing people, Elizabeth Bazerie - The [Blood Witch], and Death’s Daughter.”

  Annabelle turned to Adrian, “Why haven’t I heard about this?”

  “Because it’s external, you backstabber?” Edda immediately snarked, but Adrian shook his head.

  “Sorry, Anna. I hadn’t had time to tell you. You were investigating the goblins in Lyrelle, weren’t you?”

  “...That I was. They seem to have a smart chieftain, which makes them a threat. But Goblins are Adventure Guild business, so I couldn’t sign the script to order a culling.”

  Adrian again nodded. “I think we’re going to figure out what’s going on In Flowers-By-The-River. Anna, do you want to join? I believe Edda is coming with Noel and I.”

  “No, sorry. I’m firmly planted here, and I want to investigate Ashley.”

  “This is the third time you mentioned that name. Who is she?” Edda said.

  “The Town’s [Cryotheurge], Priestess of Nyla, and [Chirurgeon].” Annabelle responded, not giving Adrian the chance. “She’s friends with Ophelia Hawthorne, whose father, Elias Hawthorne, is a vampire. Except Ophelia is not one, since she walks in the Amaril’s Gaze.”

  “She might be using a [Dark Veil].”

  “A what?” Adrian and Annabelle said together.

  “[Dark Veil]? It’s an ability some [Night-Things] have to prevent their weaknesses. I’m not entirely sure how it works. I guess that is Sacrum-Venator secrets, but we’re all Sacrum here. Even you, Ms. [Weaver]. You need to teach me how to weave.”

  Melissa grimly smiled, trying to ignore the work talk.

  “How would I get rid of it?” Adrian asked.

  “You burn her with flames.” Edda cheerfully responded.

  “So… you kill her, or kill her.” Annabelle muttered. “And you wonder why I hate your department.”

  “I didn’t suggest you actually do it. But I don’t know how a [Dark Veil] works. I just know it’s disabled if you kill someone who has it. You open to killing Ophelia? Can I kill Ophelia?”

  “No.” Adrian firmly, flatly said. He turned to Annabelle, who was already nodding.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll investigate.”

  With the work conversation out of the way, the rest of the dinner party fell into conversations about clothes, dresses and food. Edda spent the night over, since tomorrow, The Cockatrice was opening.

  One on end, you have a necromancer, a druid, a witch, a vampire, and a legion of undead flanked by an army of goblins.

  On the other, a paladin, a witch-hunter, a juticiar, a druid, and four holy knights.