Kindling Pt. 2

Gil's eyes shot to Warren as he felt his breath quicken in a coming panic. He tried to calm himself but no matter how hard he tried the air refused to refresh his lungs. He found the young Lord's arm, squeezing harder than he had intended too. Warren, how ever, did not seem to blink. He held his head high with the dignity of an official of his stature. "Calm yourself, This is not unusual. Members of the Temple visit from time to time. This is routine," He affirmed. Gil's nerves were not quelled. The Housekeeper, who was generally a pleasant if not mildly over attentive woman, seemed flustered by the sudden appearance of the mismatched group. They had not announced themselves, they had just shown up. This could not be good.

Warren strode forward, and descended the staircase, Gil on his coattails.

"Gentlemen, is there some way I might be of assistance," He inquired in a steady voice that's baratons carried themselves easily across the wooden floors. As if someone had given them a countdown, all the men's attention turned up to the young Lord Salphus in what almost seemed a practiced pace.

"Please forgive Miss Windsworth, she's not fond of unannounced guests, especially not on a day when there is so much cleaning and rearranging being done for the spring." Warren was letting them know that he was aware they were uninvited. An unfortunate slight on what was otherwise a relatively good natured young man.

From the gaggle of priests one separated himself. He was average in every manner of the word. Heigh, weight, features. Hair and eyes all a dusty, unintrusive brown. If asked the number of people in a crowd, a person might not even remember to count him. "Are you Governor Salphus?" he inquired, inspecting Warren as he found his way down the stairs and to the entrance hall. Gil stayed three steps from the bottom.

"I am his son, activating assistant Governor, Warren Salphus," he asserted in response. Once again the average priests eyes assessed the man before him. A mouse would've had an easier time intimidating a mountain.

After a moment of locked presences the man who seemed to be speaking on behalf of the group extended his hand and relaxed his posture. "I do apologize for the sudden intrusion, but it is normally expected that we make ourselves known upon entering a city. We are the here on behalf of the central Temple of Cors, In Kingswallow."

"Kingswallow you say," Lord Salphus repeated with what could only be described as completely and utterly lacking in amusement. He reached out, shaking the priests hand. An absolutely forgettable handshake.

Gil watched the two from a few paces back. His heart felt as though it was going to leave his chest to rest on the outside of his coat along side the silver chain of his watch. His palms felt sweaty and the tie of his silk cravat felt all to0 close to what he imagined a noose would. Yet somehow Warren hadn't flinched in the presence of the few people in the city how could have his life with no trial. One day he was going to make an absolutely magnificent governor.

"Now if I may," Warren said with an abrupt transition. "Not that I am upset with the presence of the fine men of Cors flock, but what spurs the sudden appearance of the clergy in our fair state?" He asked.

"Ahh yes, the matter at hand," the ordinary priest said, once again speaking for the group. "We are sent here on the information of what could possibly be the forbidden arts at play."

Warren wrinkled his brow as if he had no idea what they could have possibly been insinuating. "Forbidden arts? Forgive me Sir but I must say I'm not as well versed in the vernacular of the Temple as I fear I should be."

"We are here on the rumor that there may be those who defy the privileges of the gods amongst your cities people."

"Defy holy privilege? Sir, are you trying to tell me you have cause to believe that there are witches in my city?!" His voice grew a bit, anger touching softly at the edge of the words as his act shifted his posture.

"I understand your Ire Lord Salphus, but do not fret. Witches are daring creatures with the will and the gall to tread the path meant only for god," he nodded along.

"What rumors have you heard then? What brings you to the city?" Warren asked, though his tone spoke more of a demand, as any leader of state would. It was the safety of his citizens at risk if there were others willfully abandoning their morals in favor of a sense of superior knowledge.

"A storm, a few weeks back. Im sure you recall." How could you not, it was all the city spoke of for a fortnight. "An unnatural storm we are lead to believe was the guile of a Coven, a gathering of witches," the priest explained.

The surprise on Lord Salphus's face was quite genuine now. "The storm?" he asked. "How is it possible that a single human could have created such a powerful act of nature, and why? To what avail?" he asked.

"No, not a single. No single witch is strong enough to move the clouds and the wind like that. A coven, however. A Coven, well trained and willing enough, could wretch the reigns of such a storm from heaven and steer it to their will. For what reasons though, we do not know. That is why we are here," The priest explained. "We will cause your people no unrest, we promise, we will just conduct our investigation to see if this coven lives within the borders of your lovely state."

Warren couldn't deny them. The Temple acted outside of jurisdiction of any single governor and on this continent could go, quite frankly, anywhere they pleased. This introduction was for Governor Salphus's sake, not their own. They expected not only free passage to move about the city, but pleasantries and cooperation as well. Warren had to agree.

"Then I have no choice but to allow your investigation access to Kar, Sir," Warren relented.

"Please, call me Rudolph," he said, extending his hand once again to the assistant Governor of the region. "I look forward to our time together, and I will pray that these smug cretins have left your city and state in peace."

Warren once again grasped his hand for a shake. This time the unremarkable of it brought a bit of sweat to the nape of his neck. Now Warren understood why someone so unimpressive was leading this group of inquisitors. A man this forgettable was dangerous when he was forgotten.