“Inquisitors are the hounds of the church, we inquire, hunt, exorcise, and kill in the name of our faith. We do what is needed and we do what is right. We burn the heretics and butcher the criminals to give them a chance of salvation in the next life. We submit them to unimaginable agony to save them an eternity of torment. It is because of this that we must not falter when we hunt the beasts who were once human.
Do not recoil from the screams that you hear, instead relish in the sounds of their salvation.”
-Inquisitors guidebook volume 3
Father Bechpeen had contacted the Bishop of the incident to be deliberated further by the Synod. An escaped heretic was a big issue. So he reported it to the higher ups and waited for a few days for their response. One that he would not have expected the need of.
They deemed it worthy to send an inquisitor to assist with tracking down the boy, one he suspects to have caused the recent beast tide. He could not have fathomed the chaos that would have ensued when the boy broke free. The question was, how did the boy manage to do such carnage? The forest was covered in blood and viscera that the roads that connected to a major portion of the holy lands were completely cut-off.
Ungrateful boy! After all the kindness I’ve given him, he dared to give it all back in the form of a tide of violent creatures. Truly, I should have dealt with him when the wretched creature wearing human skin was dropped in our church.
In the village of Yappis, a silver carriage stopped infront of the ruins of it’s only church. It was being excavated and repaired with mixed results, though some rooms were in stable condition, albeit covered in soot and ash. Luckily, the lower catacombs where all the more important things they possessed remained untouched from the fires.
The door opened and two individuals stepped out adorned in white silk. They wore hoods that covered their faces and had prayer beads in their necks that almost choked them.
One of the white robed individuals was a small child carrying a bell that was as big as her head. She had milky white eyes that seemed to bore into whoever it laid upon, yet she needed a stick to assist her in walking. She emanated an air of innocence and humility, a kindness that came from pain.
A man walked behind the girl. He was a man that wore a mask that hid his features. He wore a cloak of white that bore red stains from hands. He was an imposing figure that seemed to look at all before him with judgment and prejudice. He bore an air of silent perspicacity, one that seemed to notice every minute detail.
Father Bechpeen bowed low at the two individuals.
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“This humble servant of God greets the representatives of the church.”
The masked man raised a hand and called to him in a raspy voice.
“Raise your head father Bechpeen. It is good to see a loyal servant of the holy order here. Though it is.... unfortunate what happened to your church, I believe we are here on a much more important matter. I believe it would be prudent of us to discuss the matter elsewhere, preferably one hidden from the view of the unworthy.” The man stared at the entrance to the catacombs. It was an unassuming wooden door placed on a brick wall. Despite the ruins surrounding it, the door remained unaffected by the chaos around it.
Father Bechpeen got up and took out the key around his neck.
“Right away.” He hurried to the door and entered the catacombs. The two individuals followed suit.
After a few minutes traversing the underground paths, they reached a room lined with graves on every wall and prayers etched on every brick. And in the center lay the coffin of a saint. After the burning of the hand, they only had three other pieces in their possession. They had an ear, a shoulder bone, and a femur.
“I see that your priesthood has problems with the beast tide father. Along with the escape of the child, I presume that your men are stretched thin with all the guarding of the populace.”
“It is as you said sir. I feel that the boy undoubtedly had an involvement in the tide, though I have no proof of the matter.” Father Bechpeen gripped his fists till blood dripped from where he dug his nails. He thought of how his failure risked the lives of the people of the village.
“I am curious father, what is the curse of the child?” The man said as he pressed his finger on the etched prayers.
“Unfortunately we hadn’t discerned it sir, we planned on executing the boy immediately after a public trial. But we believe someone, presumably a traitor, freed the child in the dead of night. We have taken measures to interrogate the ones closest to his proximity that night, but of the three, two have bled to death. It also hadn’t helped that beasts emerged out of the forest the following week.” He lit up the lamps on the walls with his miracle of flames. He did it with such ease that his history of being a paladin showed with his display.
“Hmm, maybe a curse of communing with beasts then? No, it is as though they were stirred to a frenzy of blood. Maybe a curse of hunger? Hmm, what a problem we have on our hands father. If this child could do such a thing in only a month of it acquiring a curse, then he might become an enemy we need to neutralize soon.”
“I knew we should have killed the damned boy when he was still a child! Had I known this would happen, I would have never tried converting him into a priest. I should have starved him in the catacombs instead.” Father Bechpeen was consumed with such rage that fire spouted from him with such fervor that the darkness of the catacombs transformed into that of daylight. His flames burned with such ferocity that he almost looked like a bonfire made sentient.
In the midst of the light, the girl with milky eyes held out a hand and snuffed the flames as though it were a mere candle.
“Be at ease father, it is not our place to regret what could have happened, merely do what we can. The divine are always watching, and such beings are no fools.” She spoke.
Father Bechpeen sighed. “I suppose you are right fourth oracle, but I still could have prevented such loss had I erected more safety measures.”
“All that are meant to happen, will happen. And all that has happened are as foretold. It is no fault of yours father, you have obeyed their word and so this might be part of their plan. All we have to do is act on what is right, regret has no place in the faithful.” She spoke as she sat by the steps that led to the coffin.
“It is one of the reasons why I was put here afterall. I am to stay here for the foreseeable future.” The oracle said.
Father Bechpeen wondered what events would transpire now that the church sent an oracle here. It’s probably nothing good.
“We were sent here by the papal council. The church believes that more and more chaos shall happen in the future. The old monsters of the world are stirring and it requires the help of the loyal. One that requires your aid once more.” The man held out a hand.
“We ask that you fight another time, afterall we aged monsters still have much to fight for.” The man glowed a silver light, one that seemed to warp the very air.
The priest stared at the hand and frowned. He knew that if he accepted this, more bloodshed awaited him. Yet he knew he could not escape the life even in his advanced age. He still thirst for blood.
So he takes the hand and shakes it.
“Welcome back old friend.”