“You should be good as new now dear.”

  The medic, an older woman, took her palm off of Larsa’s temple, the gash she received from her encounter with the hydra now completely sealed.

  She found herself in the infirmary of the catacombs sitting on the ‘basic aid bench’ after they had wrapped up their debrief by the river.

  She could still recall the pained expression on Inquisitor Rebecca Gravely’s face when the report came in, eleven rookies total, including Larsa’s partner Bronson, had been killed in action. A number of others had sustained injuries both minor and serious.

  As Larsa stood, she could hear the groans from deeper in the infirmary. She considered herself lucky for getting away with a scrape that was easily treated by the healing magic the nurses could perform. Others had lost limbs and organs which required much more serious treatment.

  She left through the wide open doorway to the area back into the massive open corridor, where dozens of members of the holy order were moving back and forth.

  The underground tunnels had been carefully constructed and equipped with all the amenities one could desire throughout, paid for by the countless billions the Templars received in funding each year that would make even peak NASA blush.

  There was the infirmary she had just left, a gym and training ground, dorm rooms to rent out, swimming pool, spa, multiple lounges, offices for the more low-key divisions, storage rooms, shower rooms, library, the grand amphitheater area and a place for a partridge in a pear tree probably.

  Some would go so far as calling this place a true paradise.

  Her current destination was the cafeteria, the most popular after-shift commodity for obvious reasons. While she was somewhat famished, she also hoped to socialize and maybe start earning a reputation apart from “Archie’s daughter.”

  As she entered and got in the lineup for the food, she glanced around and noticed some of the younger folks were looking jittery.

  “If you think they’re scared or homesick, that's part of it muscles, the other part is that they’re going through social media withdrawal or mourning that there is no booze.”

  Larsa turned to see Miranda behind her in the line.

  “You have an uncanny ability to never leave me alone, you know that?”

  Larsa’s words didn’t have too much edge on them, more playful than anything, after all Miranda did come to her rescue against the hydra.

  “It’s one of my superpowers along with being incredibly attractive and sniffing Milo’s bullshit out from a mile away. Here you forgot this.”

  Miranda had two trays in her hands, one that she was posturing Larsa to take.

  Larsa realized she had embarrassingly completely forgotten to grab a food tray and would’ve had to restart her position in line if her one-eyed friend hadn’t bailed her out.

  “Thanks, where is our ‘wind mage extraordinaire’ anyways?” Larsa looked around, no sign of Milo in tow like usual.

  “He wasn’t hungry yet, went to the lounge to see if he could organize a betting pool for the baseball playoffs.”

  “Why am I not even surprised?”

  Larsa shook her head in astonishment, it was comical how predictable the reason for his absence was, almost as comical as the order drawing the line at smartphones and being shitfaced, but giving gambling a pass.

  They moved up to the counter and selected their meals, Larsa went for a balance of all the food groups while Miranda shoveled as much pasta as she could onto hers.

  “I like pasta ok?” Miranda responded to Larsa giving her a funny look.

  They glanced around the dining tables to find an open spot, there was only one with enough room for two more people. Perhaps there was a reason for that.

  Inquisitor Buster Biggs was chowing down, a small mountain of food stacked onto his tray. He was inhaling the meal, sandwiches and chicken legs going down in a single gulp. He was certainly living up to his gluttonous reputation.

  Sitting next to him was a man Larsa hadn’t seen before. He wore glasses, had messy brown hair, was quite pale and was sporting a black trench coat with a white scarf. His food had been set aside and he was writing into a notebook using a fancy pen.

  “That’s Ben Decker, he’s one of the top candidates to become an inquisitor the next time one needs to be replaced, real impressive too since he’s only 23, but a five year veteran having enlisted at 18.” Miranda explained.

  “What’s his deal then?” Larsa asked, fairly confident there was a catch of some kind. At this point it would be stranger if he WAS just a normal and well adjusted individual.

  “Alright get this…”

  Miranda leaned in conspiratorially like she was about to drop a bombshell on her. Larsa braced for a wild quirk, maybe he wrote down the names of those who wronged him so he could remember to get revenge or-

  “I heard he likes inquisitor Rebecca, like…in that way.”

  Larsa was silent in response to Miranda’s answer for a bit, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but after a few seconds she realized there was no follow up.

  “Uh…is that all?” Larsa questioned.

  Now it was Miranda’s turn to be surprised.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “Dont you think that’s a bit weird? I mean she’s five years older than him, his superior officer and her personality and style are just…blah.”

  It occurred to Larsa that this was some extreme hypocrisy on Miranda’s part when remembering that this was the same woman who thought Larsa’s father nearly three decades older than herself was a catch.

  Then again, Inquisitor Rebecca had a poor reputation and she was likely one of the few who had seen the hidden half of the red haired woman. She therefore didn’t push back against Miranda to explain to her Ms. Gravely’s good side, intending to still keep it a secret.

  Inquisitor Biggs had noticed them in between bites and gestured for the pair to come join him and Ben at the table. They obliged, not wanting to seem rude.

  “Don’t know why you ladies were just standing around, foods gonna get cold *mmph*” Buster exclaimed while eating half of an extra large burger.

  “Oh, just talking about girl stuff.” Larsa said in a very unconvincing tone, although neither of the gentlemen seemed to care enough to pry.

  Ben was still furiously scribbling, while Buster had taken to a cob of corn like a beaver to wood.

  “Oh yeah! Milo wanted me to ask you how many monsters you think you’ve killed so far, Inquisitor.” Miranda acted like this was one of the most natural conversation starters in the world.

  “Close to or a bit over a hundred maybe? I’m not counting, go ask someone in the statistics and organization department they’re the ones who keep track.”

  Buster Biggs didn’t seem to think this was particularly noteworthy, but considering Larsa had struggled with just two monsters and it was the shortest night, this was a comparatively impressive feat. There was a reason Inquisitors were paid like royalty.

  “What’s he up to then? Taxes?”

  Larsa nodded to Ben who still hadn’t acknowledged them yet, lost in whatever he was doing.

  “He’s brainstorming ideas to cheer up a girl he likes.” The inquisitor replied which finally snapped Ben out of his trance, his shoulders locking in place and his hand coming to a sudden stop.

  “What the hell Biggs?!” Ben looked upwards to his tall compatriot, clearly annoyed.

  “My brother, that you are lovesick is probably the worst kept secret in the order right now behind Rutger’s toupee, and at least half of those people in the know can point out exactly who it is…you’ve got a staring problem.”

  Buster’s summation caused Ben’s pale complexion to redden a few shades, he pushed his glasses up as an excuse to cover his face for a few seconds.

  “Fine I admit it. It hurt my heart to see how down she was when everyone started teleporting back here. The first night is always a harsh reminder of how brutal this profession we’ve chosen is.”

  Ben took a sip from his bottle of water before continuing.

  “On average fifty percent of new recruits die in their initial October working here, another twenty five don't come back the following year because of either psychological trauma or injuries, having the first reins of these young hopefuls and having them die is an incredible burden for her to bear.”

  Ben grimaced and coughed fakely upon realizing he once again practically spelled out the woman who was the object of his affection by accident. Buster, noticing his buddy was in distress, pitched in to move the conversation onwards.

  “It’s understandable and the responsibility weighs on all of us Inquisitors, for all of our strength we can’t be everywhere at once, you get desensitized but the pain never numbs when it comes to young men and women dying…well…maybe he’d disagree on that.”

  “Who’s he?” Miranda inquired, interest piqued.

  “I don’t like making a habit of talking about people behind their backs, you’ll just have to use your imagination.”

  Buster’s deflection made it obvious he was talking about a fellow Inquisitor or someone of comparable status.

  “Hey I wanted to ask, you two seem like an odd pair, how is it you know each other?”

  Larsa decided it was best to move on to a less volatile topic so that awkwardness wouldn’t completely overtake the discussion.

  “He may not look it, but Biggs is one of the most effective recruiters for the Templars. Turns out you can run into a lot of rudderless drifters at restaurants and cafes, this oaf happens to offer them a place here on the spot no questions asked. I…was one of those people once upon a time.”

  Ben reminisced, finally taking the time to eat some of his apple slices in the process.

  “Reminds me, another of your personal recruits was the most major casualty of the first night right? A man by the name Sven Docka?” Ben continued.

  “Puppet guy died?! What a fucking bummer.” Miranda burst out, being familiar with the man in question, attracting a few rogue stares in the process.

  Inquisitor Buster's face dropped a bit.

  “Yeah it’s true, I met him at a bakery in Norway six years ago, apparently his parents were abusive and he ran away from them. I think that’s where the whole puppet deal came from, deep down he still wanted some kind of substitute for them.”

  Buster paused for a few seconds during which everyone was silent, even Miranda kept quiet in a moment of respectful silence for their fallen comrade.

  “He wasn’t the most physically powerful, but he was crafty and a quick thinker, I don’t think a run of the mill beast did him in. I find out which one did this, then you can bet I’m going to hammer them straight into the earth's core.”

  While this would be an exaggeration in most cases there wasn’t much doubt that the muscular inquisitor could pull it off should he desire.

  It was starting to seem like all paths of their conversation were going to end up in a depressing direction and so the four of them sat and ate in contemplation for a while.

  While they were eating, a woman who had just gotten her meal from the counter and was wandering around looking for a seat tripped and fell forward.

  The scene seemed to move in slow motion, but in far faster fashion than a normal person could react, Ben gestured with his pen like a wand, one inky hand shot out and caught the tray of food while another caught the woman mid fall.

  A few rounds of applause could be heard from around the cafeteria as the hands hoisted the woman back on her feet while giving her back the tray, neither worse for wear.

  “Thank you so much!” The woman said gratefully with a beaming smile, finally spotting an open seat further to the side of the area and heading away.

  “At least you have options if your main squeeze doesn't work out.”

  Miranda received a side eye from Ben for the snide remark.

  Larsa was impressed, the sheer variety of magic different people could be capable of were what made humans such incredible creatures, even if most of the population would never realize their gifts.

  ————————

  Larsa was walking down the corridor in a wing that was uninhabited at the moment, apparently Milo’s betting scheme was taking off and large swathes were gathering in the lounges to crowd around the TV’s.

  She had said farewell to her comrades in the cafeteria once she had finished eating and was making her way down to the in-house pharmacy.

  The most popular medications in the Holy Templar Order were ones that allowed people to instantly get the equivalent of an entire night's sleep in a single pill without drawback. Most people took these so that they could have fun and or prepare during the day without worry of the hours they’d normally lose in bed holding them back.

  Many of these miracle pills and tonics along with the utility of magic itself would revolutionize the earth if made public knowledge, however the potential damage or drastic upheaval to both the economy and world order led to their exclusive use within the Templars for monster hunting.

  As Larsa rounded the corner she heard raised voices coming from a red door to her right, she glanced at the sign posted on it. “Inquisitor private lounge” was what it read, curiosity getting the best of her, she unthinkingly put an ear to the door.

  “What the hell did you just say?!”

  Larsa recognized the voice as belonging to Rebecca.

  “I said that you should get over it. If this is how you are after a few insignificant deaths then you’ll never last as an Inquisitor, there is no room for bleeding hearts in what we do.”

  The voice lacked any compassion, enough that Larsa actually felt a shiver down her spine.

  “You stone cold son of a bitch, you think just because you’ve become an empty shell of a human being that all of us should as well?! Newsflash Edward this is why your wife divorced you!”

  This was far more venomous then Larsa had seen from the scarlet haired Inquisitor before, when she got mad at Milo and Miranda it was more so to maintain a tough image, here she meant every word said.

  “That’s enough, both of you should know better than to trade barbs here, the High Priest expects us to show a united front whenever possible, what if this display was known? What respect would that command?”

  Larsa recognized the gravelly tone of family friend Rutger Sanders, he was trying to be the voice of reason.

  “Perhaps it’s too late for that, someone is listening in to us, I can sense it.”

  The voice of Inquisitor Edward Van Helsing caused Larsa’s heart to speed up drastically. In a panic she backed away from the door and tried to take the nearest corner out of view.

  Once she did however she came face to face with Inquisitor Claudia who was making her way to the private lounge. The stitch mouthed woman tilted her head to the side quizzically, as if not sure what to think. Her violet eyes burned holes into Larsa’s own.

  Slowly and without a word she passed by Larsa and entered the lounge. Larsa, almost instinctively, enhanced her ear to hear the exchange from her far position.

  “Ah Claudia! Was it you outside the door just then?”

  “…Yes…” the whimsically light voice caused Larsa to finally exhale, her pulse racing and heart pounding in her own ears.

  She hurriedly walked away, now taking an extended detour towards the pharmacy. Why had Claudia covered for her? What was there to be gained in doing so?

  That question along with the argument she overheard between Inquisitors Edward and Rebecca made her question whether this was truly paradise or purgatory.