Mounted on horseback, Anders and Ilse trotted across the snow towards a nearby thatched village. Yergasi had elected to remain at the prison, rather than accompany the pair of them.

The awkward ambiguities that predominated in Anders and Ilse’s newly formed and ill-defined relationship were laid bare in their infrequent moments alone; awkwardness was more or less inescapable. An accompanying troupe of grim-faced Sentinels marched after them, clad in their grey uniforms. The troupe flanked an extravagant palanquin, carried dutifully by four attendants. Peeking out from behind the palanquin’s purple curtains was an enormous man, who appeared almost neckless due in part to the slumped position he assumed on his cushioned seat.

“He’s gotten fatter” Anders whispered mirthfully to Ilse

“Shush. He’ll hear!” Ilse hissed back humourlessly

“Good thing those Burgophlians were so chatty. We could’ve been giving the fat fuck a pointless tour around the prison but instead we get to kill some heretics for him. He might even reassign us if we’re lucky”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. One thing at a time”

“How a man that fucking huge can be qualified to be Arch-Sentinel I’ll never understand” Anders knew he was pushing his luck. Ilse shot him a warning glance in reply. Anders valued good relations with Ilse more than ever before, due to the newfound benefits it granted him, so he obligingly went silent.

The Arch-Sentinel’s vast entourage came to a halt just shy of the village’s rusty iron gates. A timid looking guard called down to them from an overlooking platform, her eyes fearfully surveying the small army of grey figures assembled in front of her.

“Who goes there?”

“Let me do the talking” Ilse hissed to Anders, before beginning to speak authoritatively and formally to the woman “His excellency, the illustrious Arch-Sentinel, has taken a personal interest in surveying all corners of his venerable Sentinelate. Your village is only one of many he has chosen to visit.” Ilse composed herself well, Anders noticed. To survive the rigours of his profession he’d affected an anti-authority persona early into his time as a Sentinel, whereas Ilse appeared for all intents and purposes to be genuinely committed to her role; something that Anders could not understand and so routinely mocked instead.

Hushed voices sounded on the other side of the village wall. The semi-terrified guard swivelled around to listen to the voices, her face growing paler every second. Anders thought she looked ready to vomit by the time the voices fell silent.

An audible gulp preceded the timid woman’s reply “G-Greetings your e-excellency. I’m terribly sorry t-to tell you that I cannot allow you to e-enter. The elders send their humblest apologies. You see, the v-village is in a bit of a s-sorry state I’m afraid. Hay and muck and filth everywhere. It’s hardly suitable f-for your excellency. Perhaps you’d rather visit another, nicer settlement instea-“

“Do you presume to tell his excellency, the Arch-Sentinel, what to do and where to go?” Ilse interjected, fully embodying the authority she possessed as a Sentinel

“Well…No. Wait, no! Of course n-not- I would never-”

Anders cast a glance back at the toad-like Arch-Sentinel, who watched the exchange with growing disdain, and gave him a questioning stare. The Arch-Sentinel hesitated briefly before mouthing the word ‘Heretic’ and nodding towards Anders, his flabby chain wobbling from the movement. Anders obeyed his liege and so withdrew a weighty crossbow from over his shoulder and armed it.

The guard’s eyes bulged with realisation, terror clearly visible in them. before the crossbow bolt sent her flying backwards. A deafening roar of battle cries erupted from the Arch-Sentinel’s entourage. The sound of swords being ripped exuberantly from their sheathes joined the cacophony. Amidst he ensuing chaos, Anders rolled his eyes into the back of his head, seeing only the darkness of his eye-sockets. Shortly, a flickering, dancing flame appeared in the darkness before him. Anders held on to the image of it, as if trying to make it a part of himself. His eyes rolled forward, his irises returned, and a fat ball of fire shot from his eyes; the same fire he saw in the darkness. The mass of flames surged towards the village gates before colliding explosively with them. The now blackened gates burst open and allowed a horde of Sentinels to stampede into the settlement. A gathering of half-clothed villagers scattered and sought refuge in their homes. Ilse shared an excitable glance with Anders before they charged after their fellows. The heat of battle often had a way of drawing Anders and Ilse closer. The cocktail of chemicals racing around Anders’ brain felt not too dissimilar from how he felt when he and Ilse consummated their loveless relationship during their nightly encounters.

Ilse sent a ball of fire, of her own making, plunging towards the village’s thatch roofs. Lurid yellow infernos tore into the villager’s homes as they shrieked in despair. The marauding Sentinels mimicked Ilse and set the village ablaze. Anders looked off emotionlessly at the unfolding butchery, seeing the slaughter as nothing more than a job that needed doing. The village harboured heretics. It was only right that it should burn. A spree of uninterrupted carnage befell the village. Sentinels roasted men, women and children alike. Anders surveyed the burning wreckages that had one been homes, searching for any telltale signs of heresy. Abruptly he felt a weight on his back and a sharp pain on his ear. Shimmying and stumbling this way and that, Anders sought to shake off whatever it was that tightly clung on to him. After a few tense moments of fruitless struggling, he reversed quickly into a tall pile of smouldering rubble. A thump, followed by a sharp cry sounded in Anders’ bloodied ear and the hanger-on finally detached from him. Turning to face his attacker, Anders saw a frail, old man with rage-filled tears dripping down his cheeks. Anders spat, as if revolted, before pitilessly thrusting his dagger through the old man’s throat. Once he’d finished off the man, he turned to face the nearby palanquin and opened his mouth to speak.

“No sign of a shrine or anything your excellency. Maybe those Burgophlian scum we interrogated lied to us” Anders loudly spat out the words from his beard-shrouded mouth in the direction of the Arch-Sentinel, thick globules of blood drooling from his ear as he did so.

“Impossible. Our torture methods have never failed us before. Keep looking” the Arch-Sentinel boomed, broadcasting out his immense sense of command

Anders sent a ball of fire ricocheting into one of the house’s windows, making shards of hot glass explode out from it. Ilse dragged a woman out of her home by her hair. A chaotic, fiery display played out across the village.

Some time later, Anders dragged a man with bandages over his eyes before the Arch-Sentinel.

“Fairly sure this is the one your excellency. My apologies for the time we took finding him. He’d secreted himself under the temple’s floorboards. Nearly cut me open with his knife when I uncovered him” Anders explained

“You’re sure he’s the one?” The Arch-Sentinel inquired

“See for yourself” Ilse roughly peeled the bandages away from the man’s eyes.

The Arch-Sentinel craned his head forward out of the palanquin, coming within inches of the man’s face. He studied his eyes intently. Their irises were a dark red and no pupil could be seen. The man’s face remained solemn and unperturbed as he stared.

“Only those appointed by me are permitted to commune with the demons. You have corrupted yourself only for personal gain. The demon god does not favour you it seems. Only I possess his blessing. You are but a measly pawn in his games. You are a false prophet. I am his true chosen disciple, and I sentence you to die” the Arch-Sentinel spat angrily at his face, consumed by zealous rage; the man remained silent

He then reclined into his palanquin and watched contentedly as Ilse burned him alive.