“The deep can be considered almost like a world beneath the world. Its own biodiversity and wildlife matches or even outshines the ones on the surface. From vast fungal forests, to expansive deep oceans, to slices of the surface world once thought lost to time. Ardent explorers of the deep are likely to stumble upon all manner of things. That being said, the monsters and dangers that lurk within the shadows are far more vicious than their above ground counterparts. Subterranean monstrosities might greet you just around a corner as regularly as the vicious but mostly curious deepcrest rodent. ”

- Harald Oskir, Explorer’s Guild Scribe, “The Deep Land: A World Beneath”

“Lochagos Alastor Bellius, at your service!” The captain saluted her, his sword placed in front of his shield in the Potomian fashion.

“Inquisitor Lyudmilla, I thank you for your aid, Lochagos.” She returned his salute with a more common templar acknowledgment, tapping the hilt of her weapon twice before bowing. “This is the field commander of all local curia operations Lieutenant Kraster. He serves as my right hand and my main tactical and strategic advisor.” She gestured at the templar.

“The church welcomes your aid, Lochagos.” Kraster saluted in much the same fashion.

“This is war rider Brushkol, he serves as my honorguard and is a representative of his tribe assisting the Inquisition in its hunt.” She looked at the orc who simply looked more amused than anything.

“Human.” Brushkol grunted, which was perhaps all she would get out of him.

The Lochagos seemed startled by the orc’s importance more than anything, but still offered both the templar and the war rider his salute. He then turned to look at Mila, “What can we do for you, mam? We may be few, but Potomia is ready to assist in quelling this chaos.”

“I offer thanks on behalf of the church once more.” Mila nodded, “Kraster, speak to the administrator and help arrange quarters for the men. Lochagos Bellius, when everything’s settled, bring whatever officers you have and I’ll explain to you the current plan of action. My office is in that building over the harbor district.”

“At once, Inquisitor.” Kraster snappily affirmed.

“Of course, milady.” The Lochagos acknowledged, turning around and issuing orders to the gathered Potomians.

Like a well oiled clockwork machine, they armoured spearmen turned and marched in almost perfect formation. Their incredible coordination and precision in which they moved demonstrated a rumour that had sometimes echoed in military circles. Of the discipline that Potomians fought with. Perhaps to a fault, but we’ll see about that. Still, she begrudgingly scratched the thought out of her mind, choosing instead to admire the dedication they showed to their professions. Impressive, at least.

She wasn’t alone either. A decent crowd of Gratians had also come to watch the well drilled troops make their way across the town. What little whispers she could pick up spoke mostly positively of the troopers. Noting their style and coordination much the same as she had. Brushkol seemed even more amused than before and Mila nudged the orc when the last of the Potomians were out of ear shot.

“Fancy human soldiers with their fancy steps. Might die together if they aren’t careful.” Brushkol snorted, shooting a familiar and almost reassuringly judgemental glance at the troops, “But if they fight as well as they can walk, then we have an unbreakable core.”

Mila nodded her agreement, “Only a hundred, so not much tactical flexibility here. Find them a choke point though? Then you might just be right.”

“Heh, sadly your spy man says the area where the death spreads is mostly plains. Easily outflanked. Is that true of this land? Mostly grassy fields?”

“From what I’ve heard about it? Yeah. A few strands of forests cutting things up but considering it’s an oversized island after all. There is a mountain formed around the Republic’s capital, but I somehow doubt we’ll be meeting the horde there.” Mila answered.

“Shame, should see war riders riding down the mountainside.” Brushkol grinned, “That is power.”

“Even with only you three?”

“Even with one.” He smirked.

Mila shot him a look of skepticism but did not question it. Before the two could banter some more, Marduk signalled to them, one of Orion’s spies standing beside the orc, looking slightly more wary than usual. Mila suppressed a chuckle, the orcs having unintentionally added to her own mystique, with most not in her immediate circle being intimidated by the young Inquisitor and her retinue. At least it keeps people in line. She nodded at them before walking over, Brushkol flanking her as the orc cast more curious glances at the town around them. She could see how his eyes seemed to be both assessing for weaknesses within the city, while at the same time still interested in human culture despite their weeks already being stationed here.

“Agent.” Mila acknowledged the spy.

“Inquisitor. Sir.” The man tepidly dipped his head.

Brushkol merely grunted and looked at Mila.

“Does Lord Orion have news?” She asked.

“Yes mam. Orion reports that almost all assets have rallied in Val Eleftheria and have fallen under the command of Templar Bloomfield. Our other agents have also intercepted messages that Inquisitors Confroy and Aalis have dispatched an expeditionary force to Monte de Trisse in lieu of your warnings.” The man kneeled to deliver his report.

“Stand, I don’t care much for formalities outside of the office.” Mila said.

“As you say, mam.” The man stood back up.

“Anything else?”

“One more matter mam.” The man seemed to pause, nervously looking for some form of approval before continuing. Okay, a little worrying.

“Go ahead.”

‘Lord Orion also suspects that Senior Inquisitor Aalis and Duke Valmond have been conspiring to have you recalled from your post due to your inexperience. They blame that on your youth and inexperience. The latter having been influenced by Baron Orlias.” The spy bowed.

“Blasted shit.” Mila snarled, “Fucker invited us here too. I even proposed crossing the border too. Not my fault no one else is making any concrete moves at the moment.”

The spy nodded, offering her a sympathetic glance before gesturing to himself, “Is there anything I should relay back to Lord Orion or should he continue with his current station?”

“Inform Orion that he may choose to hold his post or return here as the situation dictates. But tell him that with the Potomian force bolstering us, I plan on sending an expedition to confirm the capabilities of the Purple Death. From a safe distance of course. That is all, you are dismissed. May you be blessed by the stars.” Mila grunted.

“Thank you. Blessed by the stars.” The spy bowed once more before shuffling away, disappearing into the backstreets in but a moment.

Mila held her breath, her mind calming itself by running through a handful of contingency plans in the very event things take a turn for the worse. She turned to find the two orcs looking at her thoughtfully, getting the sense that they were both having a silent conversation without her. In typical orcish fashion, the two simply grunted at each other once they reached an understanding, the lack of words offering Mila little context to the transaction that had occurred. Already annoyed, her scowl deepened as she coughed to get their attention.

“Thoughts?” Mila asked.

Marduk looked to Brushkol for guidance, the normally chatting senior rider taking a moment of silence to think. It was unusual enough that Mila didn’t press for an answer, letting the orc finish his musings. When he finally finished, Mila felt almost a tinge of anxiety, somehow worried about the judgement of the warrior.

“I believe the humans are mistaken. They were the ones who stayed your hand and now they are the ones blaming your inaction. Pah. In the end, it matters little to us.” He lifted his head at Marduk who returned the gesture, “We are your honorguard, where you go, we follow. Heh.” He chuckled darkly, “I can also tell there is a fire within you when you hunt. Even if they remove you, the hunt will continue, simply at a disadvantage, but it is precisely that which makes this more fun.”

Marduk clapped his battle brother’s shoulder in affirmation, “Indeed. We see within you the spirit of the hunt. Even if we are alone, we will stop the death-bringer.”

“And how do you know I won’t just pack up and leave? I’ve been pretty obedient so far.” Mila snickered, her face still twisted into a scowl.

“Because the death-bringer was your comrade. That sense of responsibility, the drive to end or save them. That drive is what makes us true warriors, unlike those of more feeble hearts. My tribe fights to right the wrongs of my people, even if the world stands against us.” Brushkol beat his chest, “While you are but a lapdog to your church, in this matter we are certain. That you will rise to the occasion even without them. Even now, I can see your mind work, little warrior. Even now, you are thinking of how to best the foe against all odds. ” His teeth twisted into a much more sadistic smile, his fury slowly bubbling up within him.

After a few seconds of digesting his words, Mila scowled some more and turned to move towards her office. “I find it disconcerting how easy I am to understand.”

The orc laughed, “Hah! Or perhaps you are more similar to a hunter like us than you’d like to admit.”

“Tch, perhaps. Marduk, find Karzuld, Goddess knows where he ran off too but I trust you can find him. Bring him to my office. Brushkol, see if you can scrounge up suitable travel bags for us… just in case it might be necessary.” Mila ordered.

“Of course, little warrior. I take it you’d like me to liberate some supplies too?” Brushkol smirked.

“Gently, if at all possible. I’ll meet you both back at the meeting room.”

The two orcs tapped their chests in acknowledgement and wandered off into the city, their very presence making more than a few passer-bys simply move out of the way. Hilarious as that might be for her, she had the growing doubt that something bad was about to happen. Goddess guide my hands, may you bless your servant with startlit radiance. She growled to herself, for this servant is fast running out of patience.

The war council was supposed to be brief, or so Mila had thought. The usual gaggle of councillors and local representatives were there, alongside Karzuld who gave a prompt retelling of what he had learned so far. A few days ago the orc had set out to recon the nearby afflicted areas of the purple death, finding desolate places but no active signs of a contaigion. It had at least set some of the councillors at ease. Though their biggest shake up came from Mila’s own announcement after going over a few plans.

“I have received word that there is a potential scenario in which I will be recalled from service. In lieu of that, I urge all of you to liaise with Lieutenant Kraster to coordinate efforts should I become unavailable.” Mila declared.

That spurred on a heated series of comments from the more concerned of councillors; particularly those of the town itself. The other representatives remained mostly impassive, seeing this as administrative shifting if anything. But her intrigue was piqued by Baron Orlias’s presence or lack thereof. For the man had simply not shown up today, despite usually taking every chance to mock or express his dissatisfaction with her. That alone made her curious, for she was almost certain he would’ve been here to gloat. No matter, my orders have been distributed regardless.

Only Magister Noverik seemed somewhat saddened by her possible departure. The mage had come to appreciate Mila’s earnest desire to learn and study all possible tomes of magic with relation to the purple death. It was a small little bit of camaraderie, one that Mila too appreciated. On the otherhand, Master Daimon’s lack of reaction only confirmed to her that it likely wasn’t just Baron Orlias who had issues against her. Damned clergy just annoyed I’m not his lap dog. Old Fool. She didn’t know what the list in her head really meant or what purpose it would serve. All she knew was that there was a fast growing list of names who she would very much like to avoid interacting with in the future, the Lightmaster included. He's going to be a problem.

By the time the meeting adjourned and the room had emptied out, she found herself looking down at the map of Gratia with a scowl, her eyes running their way up to Monte de Trisse. For all intents and purposes it was a castle town that stood more symbolic than anything. The supposed origin grounds for House Montroi, the current rulers of the Kingdom of Gratia. So why there? To deviate so suddenly from their current path seems ill advised. The terrain isn’t even advantageous to follow it towards the castle. So there has to be a purpose.

She furrowed her brows, pulling open a drawer to rifle through a stack of intelligence reports on the region. Strategically, the area around Monte de Trisse offered no real value in launching operations against the kingdom or the republic. Tactically, attacking a castle town was just a bad idea, at least if they didn’t have whatever the purple death was with them. But going so far out of the way didn’t explain how they could simply take over another fortress or town closer to them. Therefore, she concluded that the place held symbolic value to the heretics as well, in particular her friend Annalise or whoever she served. Mila bit her lip, clicking her tongue in annoyance as she browsed the reports. But all of it mentions no real interest. It’s a crownland sure, but no true value there beyond an iron mine nearby. So if they are after anything, then it’s likely to be related to it being the monarchy’s origin point, or there’s artifacts hidden nearby.

She sighed, leaning back in her chair and closing her eyes. But it’s also not my problem anymore, the senior Inquisitors are taking over anyway. With a groan she tried to ignore the stress but found herself wallowing with doubt and concerned at the lack of understanding she had. Annalise wanted the castle town, all Mila wanted to know was why. It irked her greatly that she couldn’t solve this puzzle, couldn’t figure out true goal. Could it be a royal contracted them to seize control? It seems unlikely but so far they've mostly ravaged the Republic’s side of Gratia.

Unwilling to give up, she browsed through the list of claimants until she landed on one particular one. Ashlin Montroi, prince-mayor of Sturmbreaker. He’s a Montroi, though I don’t think he ever met with any of us or even Anna. She paused, the cogs in her mind slowly spinning up as she explored new avenues, what would Anna gain from all this? But… what if… her hand froze, a flicker of doubt flashing across her mind. Could she…? No… but… I don’t think anyone knew her last name. What if-

Her thoughts were interrupted when the three orcs reentered the room, their heavy footsteps making her jolt in fear for a brief moment. Maintaining what composure she had, she nodded a quiet greeting at the three, the orcs returning it in kind. Exhausted but with the day still not done, she pushed herself off the chair and strode over to the map table, collecting a few spare pencils and placing them onto the table. The orcs looked at her, somewhat surprised and amused at the display, but made no move to interrupt.

“Talk me out of this.” Mila scowled as she put the pencils along where the purple death was. “Kraster told me that if we rode at full tilt, we could reach the edge of the purple zone within two days. I intend for us to do that in a day and a half considering the speed of your wargs.”

“And how would you keep up?” Marduk asked the obvious.

“I suppose it’s time I add warg riding to my repertoire of skills.” Mila answered.

The orcs chuckled, not entirely believing her, but definitely approving of the sentiment.

“But the edge isn’t exactly where I want to go, rather…” She moved the pencils up to the most recent reported advance, spreading them out in military formation, “assuming that they have some cohesion, this could be one of the ways that are pushing towards Monte de Trisse. Which also happens to be exactly where I want to go. Another two day’s ride if we follow the Gratian highway.”

This surprised the warriors, and they all looked at each other before volunteering Brushkol up to question her.

“And this is where we will fight her? Not even at the castle?” Brushkol snorted.

“Not exactly. Remember how I said the key to stopping this is understanding the purple death?”

“Perhaps.”

“So we’ll find out what it is and what it does in as much detail as we can. Because fun as dying gloriously might be, if we fail, I suspect the kingdom will need any advantage it can get if they are to survive this onslaught.”

“Huh, risky. But none of your human allies have managed to successfully entry the purple proper. So far we rely on speculation and ranged examinations, how can we change that?”

Mila was almost annoyed that the orc was asking pertinent questions. Though at the same time she felt quite pleased that they sounded like they actually cared enough to consider her plan.

“That’s where the part you talk me out of this comes in. We ask.”

“Ask? Huh?” Brushkol scratched his head in confusion, the other two sharing a similar expression. “What do you mean?

“We ask… Anna. We pray that some part of her recognizes me and allows us entry into their immediate zone of control. Then I ask her what the fuck is going on.”

The three orcs stared at her completely dumbfounded. She felt a small burst of pride swell up inside of herself, a plan so bold even they can’t believe it. Hah, probably because it’s stupid as hells.

“And… then we kill her?” Brushkol tried to clarify.

Mila shook her head, “No, because I suspect something greater is playing its hand here. Anna is just a puppet, and loathe as I am to let her remain as this villain. Until we learn who exactly is spreading this and truly leading the campaign, I do not wish to lose what little lead we have in recognising her as the current figurehead. At least with her... I can try to figure her out.”

“Wow.” Marduk like a soft whistle, “Suicidal.”

“With no decapitating strike or even the promise of battle. To see their war leader so close and talking instead of fighting. Pah.” Brushkol snorted in dissatisfaction.

Mila sighed and felt her shoulders drop slightly, what little bravado gone as clinical reality set back in. It was an asinine, stupid and risky plan for no particular reason other than information gathering. A task meant for scouts, not inquisitors. A fucking suicide mission, just to talk. Great thinking, idiot.

“So I make it clear. I understand you are assigned as my honorguard in order to eliminate this menace. But what I ask now stands on borderline absurdity, so if you think this is not a course of action that should happen or that you would not throw your lives away for a simple chat, I do not blame any of you should you refuse to join me. All I ask is that you loan me a warg and train me in its operation.” Mila spoke, her expression more grim as her scowl disappeared.

There was a calculating silence as the orcs looked amongst themselves once more. Then she spotted Karzuld nodding at Brushkol, Marduk following soon after.

“Heh, what a stupid plan. Never said I wouldn't do it though. We’re in.” Brushkol grinned, “Besides, there’ll be enough fighting just getting to that stage, let alone whatever happens afterwards. And if your Anna is like the purple death’s shaman, then you are correct, we must also find the war leader and dispose of them. So, we’re in.” He confirmed, the other two orcs also giving Mila their approval.

With a relieved sigh, Mila leaned back and ran her hand through her hair. Feeling a little better in knowing that she’d have some support, at the very least. She then grinned at the orcs, her sudden jovial expression catching all three of them off guard as they stared at her like something was wrong. “Well then!” She slapped the table enthusiastically, “Let’s properly plan out how we all die trying to have a talk with a ranger in the middle of death fog, shall we? After all, we might not get another chance before I’m removed from my post.” She snickered, stars, I’m going mad.