Somewhere in the Blackwood.

Amidst the pouring rain and the threatening black clouds above, a man dressed in a heavy with rainwater cloak stomped on the puddle of water and mud. The residence to which he was heading was perhaps even more terrifying than the current state of nature. Sharp towers adorned the two wings of the large mansion nestled in the clearing of trees. They almost touched its walls and windows, only leaving space for the small courtyard in front of the main entrance.

The man stepped into the only cobbled path in that courtyard, leading to said entrance. He never understood the point of it, since the other end just led to trees; there was no road connecting the residence to any other settlement or road. Every brother and sister had to walk through the hedges and hills, and dangers lurking in the Blackwood to get there. He doubted the path was supposed to make their final stretch easy. The Herald wasn't exactly a man who valued the comfort of his subjects.

No guards stood at the entrance. There was no need for them. No one would ever get lost and find their way here. If someone knew of this place, then they knew better than to try to sneak into it.

The man pushed aside the heavy wooden doors open. He didn't worry about the dirt and smudges he was bringing in; some acolyte would take care of that. He had earned his right to forego certain annoyances. When he was a young and fresh acolyte, first months in the Herald's residence, he too had to clean and perform menial tasks for the older and higher in-rank brothers and sisters.

He made his way through the tile-laid floor of the hall; an echo of his steps spreading through the nearby rooms. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a young man — or perhaps was it a girl with short hair? Their face was more pretty than handsome, but he only caught a glimpse of them before they scattered, broom in their hands.

He knew where he was going and who he was going to meet. He didn't need to ask where that person was at the moment. They always were in one place only — their study. Everything and everyone had to get accommodated to that if they wanted to stay in that branch of the Temple. The Herald didn't come to you, you went to him. The times that he actually walks out of his modest, but sizable sanctum, he wishes to not be disturbed in any way, unless he asks first.

He made it to the stairs at the end of the hall and climbed them up to the floor on which the study was on. The insides of the residence were that of an aristocratic mansion, only if stripped of all the paintings, sculptures, and small craftings that made them usually feel much richer. It gave off an eerie feeling, like being stuck in time between renovation and actual use.

The two-story ceiling was held up by columns, which also seemed like the style that's popular among the nobility. It was the architecture that was prevalent in the old Empire, especially the first, since many things, including ideas, were borrowed and styled on them. Similarly to the walls and the general areas, the columns were removed from any unnecessary flourishes and kept simple.

Passing one of them, on his way to the end of the left-wing, the man spotted the acolyte below wiping the floor after him. He looked over the marble railing and smiled to himself. If the youth will continue to work hard and believe, then maybe we will yet see our dreams come true, he thought to himself.

The corridor on the upper floor of the left wing was slightly more busy. Portraits and various anatomical and mathematical drawings and calculations were framed and put on the walls leading to the Herald's studium.

The brightest minds of the Temple across the centuries, who made great progress in their sciences were commemorated with such an honor. He hoped that one day, his likeness would be among them, even if his talents lay in the other direction of science. After all, it's all made and done for the sake of the Temple. Scientific discovery may be a huge achievement, but unless it proves useful to the cause, it's useless, and nobody questioned his usefulness.

The rain still raged outside the windows, rattling on the glass in an almost deafening fashion. It made the dark colors of Blackwood somehow even deeper and more disturbing. The raindrops inconveniently masked the sound of his footsteps, so he made a double effort into knocking on the door of the Herald's study. Three knocks later, he heard a firm, but not loud "come in", and did as instructed.

The studium was a circular shape, located near the top of one of the four towers of the residence. On the left and right wall were bookcases, hugging the wall. They reached the ceiling and we're filled to the brim with books on various topics. Religion, mathematics, anatomy. Everything that someone striving for something great might need. Across the doors was a large window, almost fitted between the bookshelves, overlooking the Blackwood. It was hard to tell why as the view from it, even on sunny days, was just treetops. An endless sea of trees that was the largest forest on the continent. Finding anything in it would be near impossible.

In the middle of the room, on a red carpet, stood a heavy mahogany desk. It was closer to the window than to the center, with many papers and documents scattered around it. What was in the middle was a table with a body on it. It was completely naked, with some incisions present around the abdomen. It must have been dead for a dozen hours at least, judging by its color, and the fact it wasn't rotting yet.

By that table stood a tall, slender man, wearing a white, frilled shirt. He had medium-length black hair for a man, just falling on his forehead, not over the eyes. His sleeves were rolled up, and he wore gloves. He was working on something on the "patient", which in a normal situation would be just bone and organ extracting for ritual ingredients. Herald was a skilled man in these things, so the man who walked up there didn't let himself think that all those incisions were due to mistakes or incompetence.

The man entered the room and stopped a few feet away from the operation, trying not to disturb the Herald. He had to give his report, sure, but he would rather wait until potentially provoking or insulting a man who could make a living on the entire eastern side of the continent somewhat… unpleasant. Herald moved his scalpel in a graceful manner along the abdomen of the man laying on the table. After he made a big enough opening in the skin, he slid his hand into the belly of the corpse, and searched a little, with his knuckles visible through the skin. The Herald, finding what he wanted, removed his hand along with some organ that was unfamiliar to the soaked-in-rain man; he was never much of a scholar.

The Herald held the organ in his hands, and after examining it, a sickly green light started emanating from his palms, on which the organ was. The pale color started engulfing the organ and giving it more color. It was repairing it. The damaged tissue started to mend and heal, almost like Herald was breathing into it, life itself. After a few moments, he placed the seemingly healthy organ on a metal tray, on the side of the table. He took off his gloves and addressed the newcomer. "Inquisitor Ebert. I trust you have important news, otherwise, I'm sure you would be more careful with the pollution you left downstairs, wouldn't you?"

He gulped. "Yes, Lord Herald. I have news on the patient that was supposed to arrive from Avinea."

The Herald took his eyes from his tools and looked the man in the eyes. "I hope you didn't take my remark about the mud on your boots as a threat, Inquisitor. I see that there is little left of it on them, and seeing how heavy the rain is, it all must have fallen off once you entered the site. It was only meant as a joke. A slight reprimand at the most," he said, his face straight, almost devoid of emotion.

The man could never get a read on the Herald, despite knowing him for twenty years. Whenever he could spot some changes in his face it always looked forced and unnatural, even if the intention was good. He saw him cut into men, who screamed and threw their limbs around with the same face as when he congratulated young, eager acolytes on their studies. For some, their relationship could be described as "friends", given how long they have known each other and what they have been through. Perhaps even the Herald thought that, but the risk of being turned into dust because of inappropriate behavior was enough for the man to never try to get too close to the Herald.

"Of course, Lord Herald. I understand." He nodded.

"Good," said the Herald, but his face showed no acknowledgment, as usual. "The news, then. What happened to the girl."

“I examined the site where our acolyte was supposed to have his advancement trial, but what I found were only bodies and a burned carriage. The bodies included our acolyte, headless.”

“Hmm, he was more keen on pursuing the role of an Inquisitor, if I remember correctly?”

“Yes, Lord.”

“That’s why I can’t remember him very well.” Herald tried to seem thoughtful. “I recall you being quite optimistic about his future?”

“Yes. Yes, I was. Which makes it even more puzzling. He was defeated with a single strike. Clean and strong, against someone with the blessing of the wind. No mere guard did this.”

“Curious indeed. I surmise that the trail vanished after that?”

“Yes, Lord Herald. But given more time I could investigate more and find the girl.”

“Find? So you think she is still alive, even after seeing the carriage was burned?”

“I checked it. There were no bones in it, and I’m sure I was the first one there.”

“Hm, that more or less fits with what my spies in Avinea told me. The news is that someone has kidnapped the princess and is currently on the run. A strange situation, I say. The king tried to look like a loving father when I bought her off of him, but a loving father would never even consider sending his daughter into the middle of Blackwood, and into the care of some with my… reputation among the high classes of Aldunis. It definitely wasn’t him who ordered the additional protection of the princess. It must be a third party at play here. What’s mysterious about it is that no one is the suspect. No group claimed it was them, nor my spies brought forth any clues. There is the man who kidnapped her, of course, but he must have been working on someone’s orders. Someone who needs the girl alive…”

The Herald got lost in thought, and Ebert was unsure as to whether he was happy with the news, or his life will end before the Great Ascension will ever show its first signs. He waited patiently for the Herald to stop thinking to himself, and after a few minutes of uncomfortable awkwardness, the Herald spoke. “I can’t be sure who is behind this but I have some rough ideas and possible options. What I want from you, Inquisitor Ebert, is to track down the man who kidnapped the princess and find out who he works for.”

“The kidnapper? Not to kill the princess, Lord?” he asked, confused.

“No, I will send a message to other branches to look for her and kill her. She poses a threat, but it’s not something that will jeopardize our plans. At least not now.”

“I see…”

“I need you to do this quietly. Do not invoke the help of anyone. I want to know who he is working for, without them knowing that I know, do you understand?”

“Yes, Lord Herald, clearly.”

“Perfect. Then go, carry out your mission.”