In the monastery of the Inquisition, many many miles away from the village where Milo and Sarahi had their honeymoon, Father Gonen, the Grand Inquisitor, summoned Enoch to meet with him in his office. Enoch was not an inquisitor, but rather he was a warrior of the Inquisition, of a special order called “The Witch-Hunters.” Now the order did more than hunt witches at this point, but that was their original intention. They were meant to be so strong, so cunning that magic was no advantage over them, and after hundreds of years of honing their skills and their brutal methods it was so.

Enoch was a strong young man, just a few years older than Grigori. Unlike Grigori, Enoch was not so scrawny and lithe. Rather he was very obviously strong, with a neck so thick it almost looked as if his head and neck were one, save for the strong, pronounced jaw and chin. Enoch's head was totally shaven bald, and every day he took a straight-edge razor to it to keep it that way. His eyes were a soft shade of brown, but at the same time there was nothing soft about them, they held a murderous intensity and an utter lack of caring. Enoch's mouth was constantly turned down in a cruel frown, and he walked everywhere he went with a quick and confident pace, as if he were always in a hurry. Enoch wore a priestly cassock, like Grigori, but it was a dark shade of red, with a hood, meant to strike fear into the hearts of any heretics, blasphemers, or sinners in the Inquisition's jurisdiction.

“You wanted to see me, Father?” Enoch asked as he knelt before the Grand Inquisitor. Such a man was not called upon idly, and Enoch knew that. If Father Gonen had summoned him there must be something of tremendous import.

“Yes, Brother Enoch,” Father Gonen said. In the Inquisition anyone in the employ of the Church was called by the title “Brother” except for the Grand Inquisitor himself. “It concerns Brother Grigori. You know of his mission in the Arxian capital city, attempting to proselytize to the King there?”

“Yes, I know of it.”

“Well, Sandalphon has been keeping track of him, and I, in turn, have been asking Sandalphon for regular updates,” Father Gonen hesitated before continuing. “Recently Brother Grigori said the prayer of the dead.”

“The one a follower of the True Way speaks before taking his own life?” Enoch said, somewhat surprised. “He's a very brave man, an example to us all and we should honor his sacrifice with a fitting funeral.”

“There's a problem, though,” Father Gonen said. “After Brother Grigori finished the prayer Sandalphon knows not what happened to him.”

“How can that be?”

“Sandalphon is not all-powerful, Brother Enoch, we all know that, neither is he all-knowing. He is only able to watch those who hold the True Way in their hearts, the truly faithful, and when the truly faithful die Sandalphon watches as they enter into Heaven. For Sandalphon to have lost track of Grigori one of two things must have happened, either his soul was too tainted by sin and the demons claimed him, or he has fallen away from the true way, become a heretic and a blasphemer.”

“No!”

“Yes, I fear that Brother Grigori may be lost to us. I want you to find out what happened. Travel to the Arxian capital in disguise, and once you're there find out what fate has befallen Brother Grigori. If he has fallen to the demons there's nothing we can do about it.”

“And if he's become a heretic?”

“We cannot allow a heretic who knows what he knows about the Inquisition to survive. If he's a heretic then he's the enemy now, and we will not suffer an enemy who knows our every secret to live. If he no longer follows the True Way then you must kill him.”