Chapter VI

The Inquisition had not originally been a part of the Agalmite Church, nor was it technically part of the Church even in Hadar's time. A few hundred years ago, a king by the name of Cephas established the Inquisition when there had been many reports of warlocks and witches infiltrating Arx's citizenry, and, in some cases, managing to use their black magic to work their way into positions of power. King Cephas offered rewards to any priests who could root out these warlocks, and over time he started a new order that was both part of the Church and part of the Kingdom; the Inquisition. The priests of this order were trained both as priests and as detectives, of a sort. They were trained well at sensing lies, educated in the occult so that they could recognize signs of it, and even given some basic warrior training. For a time these inquisitors were a benevolent order, one that had protected the citizenry from the influence of black magic.

Cephas' son, however, Geerrath, began to abuse the power of the Inquisition. If nobles opposed some new tax he attempted to levy he'd order the inquisitors to investigate the nobleman as a blasphemer, and take everything the nobleman possessed. Geerrath became exceedingly rich, as did the Inquisition, through this method, but the inquisitors quickly lost the ability to use holy spells. After twenty years of this the Arch-Bishop of the time had enough and declared the Inquisition no longer a part of the Church. He cut off all funding, and commanded King Geerrath to do the same. Not wanting to contend with the powers of the Church, or simply lose his power due to a Council vote, Geerrath cut off funding to the Inquisition. But by then the Inquisition had invested its money wisely. They had bought up all the lands surrounding the old monastery that was their base of operations, their fortress, and the Grand Inquisitor was now at least as powerful as any noble. The land they bought up was named “Kolob” now, and was totally under the new form of law that the Inquisition had formed. They started a new religion on their soil, one dedicated to a new version of the Sacred Scriptures, and far stricter than the mainstream Agalmite faith.

Over several generations the Kings of Arx and Arch-Bishops of the Agalmite Church ordered the Inquisition to disband, but the Inquisition, obviously, refused. Since they kept to their own lands, though, and in those lands the citizenry was more loyal to them than to the King or the Arch-Bishop, it wasn't worth forcing them out through strength of arms. In their own lands, Kolob, they had created a kind of peace that existed nowhere else, though it is said that the price of this peace was a combination of brainwashing, slavery, and a near loss of free will. In Kolob the citizens were taught the Inquisition's version of the Law, their version of the Sacred Scriptures, and taught to believe that absolute loyalty to the Inquisition was the only way to truly ensure getting into Heaven.

They sold the service of prayers on behalf of the departed, getting their citizenry to pay them for the hope that their deceased loved ones might get into Heaven, even if they were not completely faithful. What's more the Inquisition took orphans and young beggars into its ranks, and children without parents throughout Arx were heading to the Inquisition to seek refuge and being trained as inquisitors. Rumors had even spread outside of the Inquisition's lands that they had begun practicing old forms of magic, older than either the holy spells of the church or the black magic practiced in Nihilus, but there was no proof of this.

In spite of this dark history, the Inquisition had proved one thing; they were exceedingly good at rooting out witches and warlocks. After Geerrath was no longer in charge of them they had ceased all false accusations, they no longer had a king bribing them to accuse rich innocents. They had proven themselves master detectives, if horrible priests.

For this reason Hadar sent them a letter requesting their services. He was fearful of what would soon happen in his castle if the witch or warlock hiding there was not caught. How many innocent people would suffer and die? Would he? Would Milo or Sarahi? Hadar wouldn't have it.

Father Gonen read over the letter that Hadar sent, considering the situation as Hadar described it. The letter requested for no more than one inquisitor to come to his castle, which showed that in spite of his need for their assistance he still did not trust them. Ironically, this thought made Father Gonen smile. Father Gonen was a Grand Inquisitor with an illustrious reputation. The people praised him, almost as if he were a living saint, because of the number of times his new laws and investigation methods had reduced the crime rate in his lands and caught dangerous criminals.

Father Gonen called for Brother Grigori, a young inquisitor who had shown great promise and already caught as many as thirty murderers in the first five years of being an inquisitor, which, considering the low crime rate, was phenomenal.

Grigori was tall, thin-built, and had short black hair without side-burns. His expression was always stern and serious, never joyful, sorrowful, or angry, as if he'd blocked out all such emotions. Clad in the form-fitting, black cassock of the inquisitors he was a picture of discipline and authority. Over the years he had engaged in self-flagellation to purge himself of his sins so often that he had become almost numb to physical pain. Since physical pain no longer had any effect on him, Grigori had to turn to fasting whenever he committed what the Inquisition called a sin. Sometimes he would subject himself to hard physical labor as a form of both self-punishment and contrition. He was a man who every day worked to purge himself of the twelve deadly sins; sloth, hunger, desire, greed, jealousy, hubris, vanity, rage, doubt, pity, tolerance, and fear. Because of all this Father Gonen considered him the perfect man to send to King Hadar's aid.

Brother Grigori entered Father Gonen's office, as requested, his face as unmoved as a stone. “You wanted to see me, Grand Inquisitor?”

“Yes indeed, Brother Grigori,” Father Gonen's previous smile was gone, his face now also as expressionless as could be. Normally in Arx it was customary for one to offer his or her guest a seat, but the inquisitors rarely offered such courtesies, for they felt that encouraged sloth. “Have you heard news of the new King of Arx?”

“I have heard a little,” Grigori said, “that he is a paladin and inexperienced.”

“he has sent us a letter requesting our aid. It seems that they found a Blackstar Talisman in his castle and he wants the witch or warlock in his castle caught. After the previous King's assassination King Hadar is reluctant to trust even the castle guards for this investigation. This is a great opportunity, brother.”

“Opportunity?”

“Yes. For centuries now not a single King of Arx has called upon our aid. Granted, some members of noble houses have done so, usually in secret, but never has a king. Because of this our ability to spread the truth of our faith and capture blasphemers has been...limited. If you can get King Hadar to see how necessary inquisitors truly are, perhaps even to see the truth of our way of life, then perhaps we may be allowed greater influence outside of our lands once again.”

“Am I to undertake this task alone?” Grigori asked, glancing around the room to make sure he didn't miss another inquisitor nearby.

“Yes. King Hadar has been very specific in that he only wants one inquisitor at the castle, so he still does not fully trust us, but hopefully you can make him see.”

“It is your prayers I will need rather than your hopes.”

“Sandalphon has already given his blessing on this endeavor.”

Grigori was surprised that Sandalphon himself even cared about such a mission, for him to care it must be important indeed. Sandalphon was the name of the angel who, according to the Inquisition's dogma, taught them the new way, the true Agalmite path, and brought into their possession the missing Sacred Scriptures, lost from the current collection. It was said that he only ever showed himself to the Grand Inquisitor, and only when the need to do so was great. Grigori had to fight back terrible feelings of hubris just knowing that Sandalphon had revealed himself to the Grand Inquisitor specifically to bless his mission.

“Thank you, Grand Inquisitor,” Grigori said, saluting with his fist over his heart. Father Gonen nodded to Grigori and Grigori left the office.

The monastery that was the headquarters for the Inquisition was humble, cold, and uninviting. The walls were made of cold stone, and the windows were small and barred, as if it were a prison as much as a monastery, and when they caught blasphemers it often functioned as one. That was, until they had a “Show of Faith,” which was a fancy term for a public execution.

Despite how strict the inquisitors were the only crime worthy of execution was blasphemy. Murder was punished by having one's arms cut off and eyes cut out, rape was punished with castration, theft and most other crimes were punished with public floggings, punishments that were meant to be as humiliating as they were painful. The inquisitors believed that for all criminals there was a chance of redemption before they died, and they would not suffer anyone to go to the Void after death if they could help it. In the case of blasphemers, however, they were bound to the Void and led others to it as well, so their crime was to be punished with death to protect the faithful from their lies. The inquisitors never punished people merely for suspecting them of not believing in the “True Way,” but rather for speaking their disbelief, and trying to make arguments against it. As far as they were concerned leading someone to the Void was far worse than murder, for they'd suffer the effects of such a crime eternally.

The farmlands surrounding the monastery all grew wheat, barley, turnips, and kale, which was then made into food that was as tasteless, or even bitter-tasting, as possible so as not to encourage the sin of hunger. The fields were worked with the strength of the farmers' hands rather than by plows pulled by mules, for making an animal take such a burden for them would have been slothful, though the Inquisition had no problem with using horses if one was traveling a great distance, as Grigori was about to.

Grigori went to the stables, glancing around at the commoners to make sure that none were staring at him, as was forbidden, when he passed. He picked out his horse and saddled it up. He took one last look at the monastery, his home for the past twelve years, before he jumped on the horse's back and kicked its sides with his spurs. The horses of the Inquisition were subjected to just as rigorous and cruel training as the inquisitors themselves. This training had granted them far greater speed and endurance than any horses anywhere else, as well as making them beyond obedient, almost as if they didn't think. Though it was common everywhere else for horses to have names the inquisitors did not offer their horses any such sentiments, referring to them simply as “horse,” “steed,” or “beast.” On its cue the horse began a full gallop through the Inquisition's countryside, between fields of wheat, the yellow of the wheat being the only visible color beneath the sky for miles around.

Grigori had taken with him the bare minimum of food supplies required to make the journey to Arx's capital, and the only weapon he brought with him was a short sword, sharp as a razor. Granted, he also had with him the whip he used for self-flagellation, but this was hardly a real weapon.

Leaving the Inquisition lands a few hours later he was in awe of all the colors he saw; the green grass, fields of flowers, the blossoms on trees, so many colors were almost blinding to his eyes, which were so used to only seeing shades of gray. As he beheld the marvelous beauty of such a countryside Grigori couldn't help but smile, just a little, the edges of his mouth curling upward against his will. It felt so unnatural after all those years, and yet he could not easily fight it. He had to be careful, though, for vanity, the obsession with beauty, was one of the twelve deadly sins, hence the inquisitors always tried to keep things looking as plain as possible. Even the uniforms of the inquisitors were supposed to look plain.

Grigori rode for several hours, enduring the discomfort of the near-constant galloping of his horse. The wind was cold and biting at his face because of the pace he kept, and the horse was exhausted by the time night finally rolled around and Grigori stopped to make camp.

Grigori had packed in the bags on his horse's saddle a bedroll and some flint and steel, as well as a bag full of oats, which he strapped to the horse's face to allow him to feed. After setting up the bedroll Grigori left the campsite to find firewood. He had no ax, so he broke branches off of the nearby trees with his bare hands.

Once the fire was going Grigori sat in front of it and ate one of the small loaves of bread he'd brought with him. The bread was unleavened and stale, making it hard to bite into and also difficult to chew. Anyone raised anywhere else in Arx would have spread honey, jam, or butter on such bread just to make it tolerable, but Grigori was thankful for what he had, and, even though he'd never even admit it to himself, glad that it wasn't bitter.

Once he was done eating Grigori produced a small statuette from his pocket, a statuette of the angel Sandalphon, made of quartz. Angels were beings made of diamond, and the shape of their bodies closely resembled the shapes of human bodies, so it was not hard for this statuette to be a near perfect representation of Sandalphon. Grigori lowered himself to his knees, closed his eyes, and held the statuette to his forehead with both hands. “Oh, Sandalphon, I humbly thank you for your blessing on this endeavor, and ask that so I may fulfill your will that you will protect my body until morning. But if I have not found favor enough to have earned your protection, then I pray that you will carry my soul through the liquid stone, to Heaven, though I am unworthy trash. I pray furthermore for the success of the Inquisition and that you will give us all the wisdom to do what is prudent and what is right. I beg you to lead us all away from temptations of the flesh and help us to live in the spirit, taking our pleasure not from the things of this tainted surface world, but rather from the wisdom that you bring us. I thank you once again for keeping us on the true path even now that God has taken his final rest. Amen.” Once he was done praying, Grigori put the statuette in his pocket and crawled into the bedroll.

Sleeping on the hard ground wasn't too difficult for Grigori, because the beds in the monastery were almost as hard. In fact, the ground may have been softer than the cots at the monastery, though admittedly also colder. The only thing that made sleeping outside uncomfortable for Grigori was staring up into the sky, through the Firmament, into the star-filled Void above. That realm of demons that loomed over all the world always made Grigori shiver. The angels did what they could to protect humanity as a whole, but individual humans still fell prey to the cruelty of demons. Some had even been so foolish as to bring them through the Firmament. In spite of the looming reminder of the evils of the cosmos hanging over his head, Grigori managed to fall asleep quickly, and soon felt the warm sun on his face wake him up.

As soon as his eyes opened he forced himself out of the bedroll. He dared not lay there for even a few extra moments, for fear he might fall into sloth. Again he produced from his pocket the small, quartz statuette and held it to his forehead as he knelt on the cold ground, “Sandalphon, I thank you for protecting me from harm through this night, it is far more than I deserve. I humbly ask again for your protection as I continue this journey. Amen.”

After eating one more small loaf of hard bread Grigori removed the feedbag from the horse's face, packed up camp, and immediately rode off again.

Just as the sun began to set Grigori arrived at the gates of the capital city, Aius, where the guards stopped him, spears at the ready. On top of the walls of the city were archers with their arrows trained on him, and one of the guards approached Grigori. “Stranger, what business do you have in our city?”

Grigori reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He unfolded it, and showed them the royal seal. “Your king, Hadar, has sent for help from the Inquisition. Father Gonen has deemed it most wise to send me.”

The guards gasped, hearing that the stranger before them was an inquisitor. They heard rumors that King Hadar had called for an inquisitor to come to the castle, and there were many other rumors concerning what this meant. Some even going to far as to say the King had converted to the inquisitors' religion, but the guards had hoped all those rumors were totally baseless. Now here was an inquisitor right before them, who had indeed been invited by the King himself. “That's the royal seal alright,” the guard said. “You may enter, inquisitor, but you will be watched.”

“Good,” the inquisitor said and nodded to them. The guards opened the gate while they pondered the meaning of what he'd just said, if this was a threat or a statement of pride. In truth Grigori had merely said it because he thought it a good thing that the guards cared enough about their citizens to watch a suspicious, armed stranger, such as himself. It was a compliment, but a mild one so as not to lead them to hubris.