“I already told you dozens of times,” Shaya growled at the investigators sitting across from her, “if the man had an Esper, it manifested inside him and not outwardly. He didn’t use further incantations to cast his spells.”

“I’m no mage, but it sounds like this guy was a pretty powerful one, if he didn’t have to manifest his Esper or use incantations,” the short, burly man on her left said. If ‘haughty’ could be an accent, he and every other Arcadian from the core possessed it, “a little odd that you were able to best them, given that you’re a young, inexperienced amateur.”

“I didn’t ‘best’ them alone, and it cost us,” she responded, holding out her bandaged arms as proof, not that it had worked the last dozen times she told the story.

“Now, now,” the tall, wiry man on her right said with feigned kindness, “let’s not dismiss her story outright, I think most of it rings true.”

“Psht, typical Kelahkese,” His partner responded by tipping his hand into his mouth, mimicking someone drinking. Shaya’s blood boiled at the insult. Both wore the black and gold uniform of Arcadia’s law enforcing Imperial Guards, Tyvaal’s iron fist pinned over their hearts to show they represented His law.

Not the glorious return and reception I expected. Haven’t even left the damn boat yet.

“Look,” Shaya said, reigning in her frustration, “you’ll find that my story corroborates what the other witnesses said. Maybe you can save us all some time and get an expert in here to review the magical aspect.”

“An excellent suggestion,” said a smooth, feminine voice from behind her, “You two may leave us.”

Shaya was startled by the sudden appearance of someone else in the captain’s cabin and did her best to hide her embarrassment. How did I miss hearing them? Or even smelling them? Very few people have been able to sneak up on me in my life time...

The two guards launched to their feet and saluted with hand to forehead, skin paling as they rushed out of the room without another word. Shaya’s blood ran cold at their reaction, but a small part of her elated at it as well given how they’d treated her. Very few organizations had greater authority over such matters, and the young warmage-to-be was unsurprised when immaculate white robes swished into view without a sound.

The woman who seated herself across from her was short even by non-Kelahkese standards, but Shaya sensed a wiry strength from her smooth, relaxed movements. Her white robes bore gold trim and, unlike the guardsmen before her, she wore the balanced scales of Astoria, representing Her justice. The woman’s eyes were pools of silver and her trim hair platinum, suggesting she descended from the God her order represented – and not too far removed either. While the woman didn’t look too much older than Shaya, her status as a nephilim gave her a timeless quality that meant she could have been centuries old.

“My apologies for your treatment, Serra Shaya,” she said, “the guard are not trained to handle such...delicate matters.”

“It’s alright,” Shaya said, her voice more strained than she cared to admit, “they’re just doing their jobs in a thorough manner, as inconvenient as that might be to me right now.”

“Quite right,” the woman replied, a small smiling touching her lips but not her eyes, “if you would kindly tolerate one more inconvenience, I would like you to repeat your story one last time.”

“As you wish, Serra...?”

“Ah, I am afraid I am undeserving of the title,” the woman replied to Shaya’s prompting, “you may call me Inquisitor Valanar. Do you mind if I cast a spell, before you proceed?”

“Of course not, Inquisitor,” Shaya said, proud of how level she kept her voice. Her heart thundered in her chest, the countless horror stories of Inquisitors rushing through her mind. How they could make anyone disappear, how they often relied on torture or worse to extract the information they desired, and how they were sadists that weren’t loyal to justice at all.

“Dzamael,” she invoked with quiet intensity. Her Esper surfaced from the shadows around them, weaving together to form a robed, angelic figure with six feathered wings – but pale as ash compared to Shaya’s own radiant Esper. While the Inquisitor’s Esper bore the bipedal frame of a human, the similarities ended there. Where Shaya expected a human face, Dzamael only possessed a smooth surface with six cold, blue eyes in three rows of two from forehead to chin. Each wing bore six more eyes, and the palm of each hand another eye yet – all of them boring into Shaya despite the Esper’s relaxed, open stance. “Pierce through any lies.”

Azure aether poured into the Inquisitor’s silver eyes and vanished just as quickly as she completed her spell. The glow of Dzamael’s eyes intensified and azure rays shot from them and into Shaya’s forehead. The young woman felt a pressure build around her mind, like stories she heard of people diving too deep into ocean or sea.

Seven protect, she mentally whispered, feeling violated by the spell. I just need to get through this.

“Shall I begin?” Shaya asked.

The Inquisitor nodded to her and so Shaya repeated her tale again, omitting only the little details about her past and Kredig’s reliance on the blood rage during the battle. She had no desire to lie to someone that could have her disappeared, but Shaya banked on the hope that minor omissions wouldn’t trigger whatever spell her interrogator had asked.

“Very well,” the Inquisitor said when Shaya finished her tale again, “Are there any other details you would like to add that might be pertinent to our investigation?”

“No,” Shaya said honestly, “I’ve told you everything of importance. I wish I could be of more help.”

Another small smile touched the Inquisitor’s thin lips. “Indeed, I do wish you could have taken one of the men alive.”

“Me too, Inquisitor.” Shaya sighed, thinking about how much they could have learned if Kredig hadn’t killed the man. “I’m certain my training at the Academy will allow me to best such opponents non-lethally in the future.”

“Of course,” the Inquisitor replied, standing from the captain’s chair. Her Esper melted back into the shadows as she dismissed it, but Shaya still felt the pressure around her mind. “You are free to report to your duties, Serra Shaya, with my apologies again for having detained you for so long. The guards outside will provide your portion of the bounty’s reward.”

Shaya rose, surprised that the Inquisitor didn’t have more questions for her. “Thank you, Inquisitor. Astoria guide your righteous hand,” she said, drawing upon what little scripture she remembered from her mother, “I pray that you discover the intent behind this brazen attack.”

As she reached the door to the cabin, the Inquisitor spoke behind her. “Oh, just one more thing. Do not speak of the apostate’s magic to anyone.”

“As you wish, Inquisitor,” Shaya said, turning back, “I’m no braggart to go on about my achievements.”

The pressure in Shaya’s head and the Inquisitor’s smile suggested that the spell had not been dismissed at all.

+++++++++

A light rain heralded Shaya’s return to Arcadia as she walked down the ramp and onto the dock. Quill walked next to her on three legs, looking miserable in the rain, and she shouldered the pack with all of her worldly belongings. She took one last look at The Surly Serpent, wishing Kredig and the crew well, then moved on.

She spotted her initial interrogators, still pale from their interaction with the Inquisitor, and gave them a smile and a wave to show that she had been less shaken by the encounter than they had.

Yeah, she thought, what a pleasant interaction! Tea and biscuits with my good friend, the Inquisitor!

Reaching the main thoroughfare, she looked up at the daunting heights of Mount Arcadia, bristling with the buildings of Imperial City. The Academy was located on the fifth layer, which would take her several hours of walking to reach – or more, given Quill’s condition. She couldn’t imagine putting him through that discomfort and, feeling another ten gold coins scrape about the purse in her pack, concluded they could afford at least a carriage ride.

The damn interrogation also consumed most of my morning... I hope I can still be admitted to the campus instead of finding an inn to stay at for the night.

Shaya approached the largest carriage she could find and waved at its driver. The man wore yellow livery, signaling his public use, and looked her up and down, uncertain of how to take her oft-patched armour and ragged, bandaged appearance. “What can I do for you, adventurer?”

“My gryphon and I need a ride to the Academy, do you go that far?”

“Course, if you’ve got the coin.” He appraised her, looking for a coin purse or any sign of wealth, frowning when he found none. “Two gold.”

“Ah,” she said, hiding her horror at the price, “how far would a gold and a few electrum get me, kind Serra?” She pulled out the described coins from a pocket inside her brigandine.

“Fine, get in.” He grumbled, taking the coins from her but not getting down to open the door for her.

Apparently, my lower fare doesn’t include service, she thought to herself and held back a chuckle.

Shaya got the door and gestured for Quill to climb in. They looked at the small space within, then gave Shaya a displeased squawk. She gestured at them more emphatically, and Quill relented if only to escape the rain. Following them in, she tucked her pack under the simple wooden bench and sat down on it. It was still cramped, but a week at sea meant she was getting used to small spaces and could tolerate this for the few hours it would take. Quill flopped down on their side across from her, making sure they didn’t put any weight on their injured leg. They gave her an annoyed ‘wark’ as the carriage started to roll, making sure their formal complaint was noted.

The Imperial City had changed a lot in the last few years. The docks here had grown to allow more ships than ever to come in and off-load cargo and passengers, and the guard and defenses here were thicker than ever as well. Shaya spied a number of guard barracks and watch towers amid the warehouses in the area, and back out at sea she noted a number of newly formed islands with small fortifications built into them. The design was Kelahk – stoneshaped and practical – and she smirked at another example of the Imperialists looking the other way when their doctrine worked against them.

They’re not fools, at least.

As the carriage rolled along, constantly thunking over the wooden boardwalk, she looked out the other window at her old home – The Blight. The slums had expanded ever further into the Jade Sea, and she suspected her old haunt was now somewhere in the middle of the territory rather than at the edge. She wondered if Jericho or Zymish were even still alive and kicking. Shaya was surprised to see more demigol, golkah, kitahm, and even other races roaming the streets and alleys of the area, hoping that was a sign that Imperial discrimination was growing lax.

Perhaps that even means Jericho’s gang had not only survived, but grown. Wouldn’t a reunion be fun? Shaya thought back to the dangerous and experimental magic items she had given to them as a departing ‘gift’. Maybe we should never see each other again. Probably for the best.

The sound of the carriage changed as they entered the first layer of Arcadia, the wooden boardwalk replaced with packed dirt roads that made up the island’s lowest area. Shaya remembered stalking the roads and rooftops here with Rel when they were younger, stealing whatever food they could get their grubby hands on. Despite the city growing, times appeared harder here than ever. Fruit stalls were empty and unmanned, and crowds of thinning people in loose clothes lined up at whatever bakeries they rode past. She saw more than one fight break loose over what looked to be thin, burnt bread and wished that more of the grain Kredig was shipping survived.

Dirt roads were replaced entirely with stone carved into the mountainous plateau as the carriage trundled along into the second layer. It had grown denser, the buildings forced to grow up while The Blight could expand outward. Shaya remembered homes next to shops, but now every building on the road appeared to be a shop front with more floors added above. Residential areas of homes had been replaced with larger tenement blocks, with more people packed into the smaller spaces. The narrow roads switchbacked up and around Mount Arcadia in this layer, the mountain’s striations coloured a drab tan at this level.

The third layer was ever similar to the second – where the second layer offered simple shops and services, the third catered to the upper classes. Even the mountain’s colour became more exotic, with the drab tan seeing more and more deep red stripes. Smithies here offered gilded fullplate and gemmed swords rather than plain iron tools, and more esoteric shops existed here, offering potions to fix any ailment or gems the size of your head. This is where she and Rel operated the most as thieves, the wealthy merchants and their inflated egos striking the best balance for risk and reward.

Maybe I’ll patron a few of the shops we took from, to make up for it now that I’m in a position to do so. Gods, the things we did to survive... at what cost to others?

The carriage slowed as they neared a gate up to the fourth layer and Shaya noticed that the famine was less perceptible here. Many of the merchants here still looked plump under their frilly, begemmed clothes, but there was still a tension amongst the crowds she saw. She sensed an awareness that they were next to lose their privileges, if the Empire demanded it of them.

Shaya was forced to show her letter from the Academy to the guards at the gate, who looked at it and her skeptically. After long moments of scrutiny, they handed it back to her and let them pass. She saw their hands fall back to the truncheons at their waists as the guards turned their attention back to the merchants.