“Humanity is a fragile beast, easily torn apart by its own incompetences and greed in equal measure. Many of its best find themselves hamstrung by its worst. The myriad of challenges one must face in a feeble attempt to ensure cooperation against forces that threaten us all appear more like some bad joke than a cohesive path to success. Yet, in our darkest hours, we shall prevail. For the Goddess grants us here strength, and our words become our banner as the might of ingenuity come full circle to grant us one last reprieve. For on our last legs, that is when we will find the strength to do the unthinkable, to unite.”

- Memoires of Fallen Soldier, Author Unknown

Viktor von Krantz furrowed his brows, the stock of paper ahead of him representing hundreds of unmade judgements. Reports of heresy, traitors, demons, and a myriad of others all waiting for his approval. He was a diligent, patient man, unwilling to delegate the solemn task of signing one’s death warrants to his subordinates, knowing that many of those below him still maintained a faint semblance of compassion. Nor would he be willing to let the pleas of the accused go unread, though most of the time, the rest of a report’s contents were damning enough that little argument needed to be heard beyond one’s last words.

In this very moment, he found himself in a vexing conundrum. Their assigned tasks in the north were nearly completed. Of the fifty odd cults originally having been discovered in the Meltonian and northern Carradorian territories, they had successfully eliminated sixty four, with only four more known enclaves of cultists and heretics still remaining. A few agents of the Dark Tide still remained active but at this point, there was little he could do besides order the other inquisitors to keep searching.

He leaned back, his hand moving for his pen as he finished reading through the last sheet of paper. All but one was to be marked guilty, condemned to death for the crimes of heresy and treason. The north was both more secure and resolute than its ever been, but also teetering on the brink of disaster at the same time. For internally, many of the cults and outlandish groups within the region had been pacified, and for all intents and purposes, only the Astralian and druidic faiths remain dominant amongst the ruins of the others. Yet, just beyond the Frostwind Ranges, the Dark Tide was slowly but surely advancing.

Alongside the reports of heretics, more and more demon sightings have been reported. He had already ordered the collapsing of several entry points between the mountains either by causing avalanches or destroying what infrastructure was present. But it was not enough. For in conjunction with that, more reports came to him that were ever closer to the ‘Line of Imminent Threat’. He estimated that should there be no other way to slow or force back the demonic advance, within a year or two’s time, the Dark Tide would wash over the civilised world once more. If it breached the Frostwind threshold now, he had no illusion that the current state of war and disunity would lead to untold casualties all throughout the realms.

Yet there was little joy to be found today, for to his disappointment, the situation was much the same with his counterpart Inquisitor Lionel who had currently stationed himself in Volksgrad. The other Inquisitor worked hand in hand with King Wulfgar the Wise in an attempt to stabilise the chaotic Frostwind border regions, while at the same time screening and taking in as many Ingramarian refugees as they could. But the situation there was growing dire, with the influx of refugees taxing supplies and also heralding an increased amount of monster sightings and the occasional cult uprising. Only through the great efforts of the Volksgradian winged knights and Astralian witch hunters has the situation remained controlled for now.

But all was not bad, there was some good news, at least. His templars had managed a sortie across the mountains using a secret pass, ranging into Ingramar to get a better grasp of the situation within the Principalities. Though the land of the north was awash in the blood of innocents, the very air tainted by the foul corruption of the Dark Tide, a few bastions still held. Marsun, Granstok, Borsgrad, and a few other key cities still held strong, the dogged defenders refusing to surrender and actually pushing back the Dark Tide enough to establish tenuous trade routes between the cities.

Clinging onto whatever hope they could, the two Inquisitors had then promptly liaised with who they could, charter two risk taking merchant companies under heavy templar guard to send convoys of supplies up north to aid the resistance. It was a damnable tactic but the only one that would buy them time as the Orator and others within the Astral church continued to try and mobilize the civilised world in secret. So far, the convoys helped, and the followers of the Dragonlord Kargarthax in the north still stood. But for how much longer? Their people are already a shattered remnant and our resources are stretched thin.

That was the question that was abominable but necessary to solve. Hundreds of thousands if not millions had already perished in the snowy lands of Ingramar. Thousands more fall week by week, as an innumerable horde of demons continued their southward advance. Their current measures were stop gaps at best, untenable. They needed a solution. They needed saints to lead a push back. But they weren’t ready. The people of the snow lands would need to bleed so that the rest of the world could prepare. In this, there were a multitude of concerns as well.

Viktor had sent spies south to observe outlanders that the church had managed to convert to their cause. The report he received was less than positive. Though training was going well and their competencies were well beyond human, they had yet to find the unifying figure. For to thwart the Dark Tides, there would usually be one or two well known saints, peerless even in comparison to the other outlanders. They would be the ones to lead the charge, to strike fear into the heart of darkness. Yet, so far, his spies report no such luck, though his inquiries to the Orator proved just as fruitless.

He wondered if fate indeed flowed alongside the lines of the old prophecies. That the child of light and the child of chaos were the harbingers of things to come. Both of which were now known quantities, but both of whom remained outside the church’s immediate supervision. One of his compatriots, Inquisitor Janos, at least, reported that although the child of light had not embraced the church, she was still mostly cooperative and in fact, training the other saints and saintesses in Arteria. It’s something, at least.

The other one was more concerning, the chaos child. Or who they thought was the chaos child was also present. In stark contrast to the church’s embrace, she was mostly allowed to act according to her own devices, achieving a considerable amount of success. She had also been kind if timid, in the few moments that Viktor managed to chat with her after his brief foray into Eichafen during the disaster and Melisgrad afterwards. There’s something odd going on with her for certain. To have survived such fatal wounds without healing magic and still recovering to perform no differently now than before is signs of unnatural works.

Signing the last of the papers, he put them to his left, making sure to make a mental note of passing them to his assistant in an hour's time. For now, he had a more intriguing proposal to consider. He had sent a messenger a few weeks ago into the mountainous regions of the Frostwind. Under armed guard the man had reached the newly labelled ‘Zone of Silence’, the area where demons and monsters of the Dark Tide dared not venture. The messenger had left a box with several letters written in a multitude of languages asking for nothing more than a peaceful meeting. After all, they were using magicks capable of repelling demons and that was more than enough reason to consider them a potential ally, however damnable they might turn out to be.

It was thus, to his great surprise, that they received a reply.

“Bring a green banner of peace and tribute in food supplies.”

The response was crude, handwriting was horrible, but it was to the point. There was hope, and given the worsening situation beyond the Frostwinds, hope was in short supply. He had therefore spent the last two days mulling over what to do when he committed to the plan and arranged for five crates of foodstuffs and a templar escort. He would be accompanied by Inquisitors Arvioah and Burgess, two veteran inquisitors assigned by the Orator to support his operations in the northern territories. With Senior Inquisitor Serilda dispatched southwards to Gratia, his workload will now be split between two of his most trusted aides; Templar Sergeant Wilde, a master at logistics and low intensity operational planning; and Veteran Inquisitor Calli-an, a Maujurrin who tended to work behind the scenes as the unseen executioner for those he had marked as targets of his hunts.

Looking at a clock and knowing that neither Inquisitor Calli-an nor Sergeant Wilde were due to arrive until an hour later, he opened his desk drawer. In a bad habit picked up from his time spent assisting the Stellar Observatory’s Orator, he had found himself occasionally imbibing a drink. To what end, he had no idea. For his body handled it fairly well and he didn’t like it enough to ever drink more than a few sips. But he supposed that with a potentially life threatening trip up the Frostwind in a few days time, now was a good time as any to break protocol a little.

Taking a long sip, it reaffirmed his opinion that this behaviour was distasteful, though the warmth it brought during these cold winter days were appreciated. Astralis bless us all and may the stars watch over us. For only darkness awaits us beyond the threshold. He pulled out a small map sketched out by his scouts. The point he was to meet the strange folk he could repel demons was almost a week of hiking up the mountain. It would be an arduous journey, but with the potential fate of the world behind what we might be able to glean from this, a little hike is more than worth it. Though in theory, the main concern we should be grappling with is are they friendly or not? Doesn't matter much now, only meeting them will determine that. With a sigh, he leaned back in his chair. No going back now.