Interlude - Question Authority (1/2)

The city of Watford rested on the southern coast of the Oculus Sea. The place was in shambles, many of the buildings reduced to rubble - smoldering or otherwise - and much of the streets and ports rendered completely unusable. This devastation was only to be expected given the fact that the Demon King had been unleashed upon the city. The unique method through which Weaxohn was summoned had actually given him nearly twenty minutes of ‘alone time’ with Watford, an event that the locals had already dubbed ‘the Blackout.’

Yet despite all that, the city was in a state that could only be described as surprisingly intact. Especially when compared to the charred crater that Nagnamor left behind at the end of the recent war. Sure, the damage to the buildings and infrastructure was devastating and the casualties numbered in the thousands, but all things considered it could’ve been much worse. And the only reason it wasn’t was because the Inquisition was there.

Though the details of that day were still sketchy, the iron will, tenacity and prowess that Teresa’s faithful displayed at the time could not be denied. The Inquisition naturally had all sorts of members within its ranks, as faith was something that encompassed many different walks of life. That said, those with religious Jobs were without a doubt a majority, and it was thanks to them that the city had been spared. The abnormally high number of Priests chanted holy hymns and sacred arias to counteract the otherworldly terror’s mental influence over the populace, greatly diminishing the death toll. The Monks, though much fewer in number, did their part by fighting both rift walkers and citizens who had gone berserk.

Yet it was without a doubt the Paladins who had contributed the most, though not directly. Clad head to toe in heavy, blessed armor, with golden auras radiating from them like guiding lights in a sea of darkness, Teresa’s champions had become beacons of hope. They inspired those around them to push harder, to work together against this insurmountable foe. Not only Watford’s adventurers, but even its mercenaries and criminals found themselves all standing side by side with the holy warriors as they braved the nightmarish storm that was Weaxohn the All-Knowing.

The end result was one where the Inquisition came face to face with a Calamity-level threat and lived to tell the tale. Though the Blackout had been a terrible catastrophe without question, the loss of life would have been far greater without their efforts. It was a beautiful story, in a way. It was not often that humanity was able to set aside their petty differences and unite under a single banner like that. That went double for a place like Watford, where grudges ran as thick and deep as the ocean floor.

It was almost a shame that this spirit of camaraderie only appeared in dire life and death situations. And indeed, though it had only been two days since that event, the ugly side of humanity was already rearing its rotten head.

“What do you mean you won’t give us any more potions?! We’re still digging people out of the rubble and our Priests can’t keep up with the demand!”

“Look mate, I’m gonna be honest with you. I appreciate what you did for me and mine, but I’ve already given you lot half of my stock for free, and I think I’ve been more than generous in that regard.”

“Yes, and your nearly expired, poorly made and barely sellable goods were very much appreciated, but we need actual mana potions. Not swill you were going to throw away anyway!”

“Then pay for them like everyone else! I got mouths to feed and a bloody store to rebuild! Or did you not notice the giant fecking hole in the wall?!”

The large armored figure let out a tired sigh as he lifted his hands off the dusty counter. This was getting him nowhere, and he had better things to do than to argue with this old geezer. He’d been in this backwards town long enough to know his type, so he wasn’t sure why he even bothered. He did, however, make a mental note to come back once the dust had settled and find out whether this ‘humble Alchemist’ was making more than just crappy salves and tonics.

The man left the shop while rubbing his bald head in frustration. The tidy black handlebar moustache on his lip did little to hide his displeased frown while his brown eyes darted all over the place. He let out another sigh as his gloved fingers traced over the large cross-shaped scar on the left side of his skull - a constant reminder of why helmets were important.

As the man walked, his armor rattled with every step. His gear was nothing special at first glance, appearing as just another set of steel plates bound together by leather straps and fur padding. Frankly speaking, the only aspect of this equipment a bystander might consider exceptional was its size. The man had a rather tall and wide build, standing at an intimidating height of just under two meters, so his gear had to be fittingly large and bulky.

However, though roughly polished and buffed out, the numerous dents, scratches and blemishes on his gear hinted at how it had seen him through many battles. The fact that both the armor and its owner were still intact despite all that spoke volumes regarding its toughness, while the black tabard draped over his shoulders marked him as an agent of the Inquisition.

But the man called Sigmund Law was an Imperialist through and through. He loved his country and his Goddess in equal measure, serving them both to the utmost of his ability. That was why he did not blindly follow his fellow Paladins into that blasted war. His gut feeling told him something was not right with that conflict. Blaming the Calamity of Monotal on an entire nation just seemed… ludicrous somehow. And given that Teresa herself had revealed that claim to be a sham, his instincts had been right on the money.

It was only natural that when the opportunity presented itself, he joined the Inquisition right away. They promised to rid this Empire of the disease that had been allowed to fester in its highest echelons, yet what had they done after months of questioning and inquiries? Jack shit, that’s what. Sure, they exposed corruption in a few minor lords and nobles, but Sigmund refused to accept that was the best they could do. Teresa had given them a divine duty, yet his brothers and sisters in arms seemed considerably less driven than he had hoped. It wasn’t like he expected to see blind zealotry, but their apparent complacency and unwillingness to disturb the status quo was rather infuriating.

This festering city was a prime example of why such an attitude was insufficient. It was a place run by criminals, drug cartels, smuggling rings and other unsavory elements while the local government did little to nothing about them. It seemed like the kind of place the Inquisition would be eager to clean up, yet it was still the same cesspool of human scum it had always been despite their major presence here. This both angered and saddened Sigmund. Imperial citizens were better than this. Humanity was better than this. He honestly believed that, and setting things right was his only reason for being here, to drag his fellow man into the light, kicking and screaming if he had to.

But there was ultimately very little he could do on his own. He had hoped to find like-minded individuals within the Inquisition, but that had proven to be exceptionally difficult. Ranks, patrols and assignments were given out seemingly at random, making it nigh-impossible to form any meaningful discourse with people for extended periods of time. He had certain doubts the local Chief Inquisitor might have been bought off in some way, but bringing up such accusations without a single scrap of evidence was pointless.

“Paladin Law!”

A squeaky voice broke the bald man out of his disheartening thoughts, prompting him to look at the little brown-haired girl next to him. She must have been only four or five years old, as she didn’t even come up to his waist. He didn’t recognize the kid at first, but quickly realized she must have been one of the children he helped dig out of that basement two days ago, immediately after the Blackout faded. And unless he missed his guess, this one was-

“Suzy, right?”

“Yeah!” she exclaimed with a bright smile. “You remembered!”

Of course he remembered. Sigmund made an effort to commit the voice, face and name of every person he had helped to memory. Whenever he felt depressed, disappointed or sad, he thought back on those people to give himself the courage to push forward. It may have been a selfish act entirely for his own satisfaction, but it was also part of the reason why his conviction was so unyielding.

“So Suzy, what can the Inquis- … What can I help you with?”

“I found a pretty pebble in the rubble! I don’t know whose it is, but I figured you should be able to find who it belongs to!”

The girl was holding up a small square gem. One that was completely gray, almost lifeless in its coloration. It looked awfully unscratched and undamaged for being dug out of a trash pile, suggesting it was probably a magic item.

“Well! Aren’t you the upstanding little citizen!” he beamed while crouching down in front of her. “I’ll make sure to return this to its rightful owner, don’t you worry. And here, for you and your friends.”

He exchanged the gemstone for a small package wrapped in brown paper.

“What’s this?” Suzy asked curiously.

“Brickwheat crackers. They’re bland and dry, but will fill your belly up like nothing else. It’s not much, but it’s all I can give you right now. You make sure to come find me while this is all settled down though, I’ll make sure to make it up to you properly, okay?”

“Okay! Thanks for the food, Paladin Law!”

“Anytime Suzy. You be careful now, and may Teresa watch over you.”

The man put the gem in his pocket and parted ways with the girl with a wave before continuing back towards the barracks, smiling. He really needed that. Pure souls like hers were hard to come by these days, though that was only to be expected of a little kid. If it had been an adult that found that precious item, they would have surely pawned it off without even considering seeking out its original owner. The man understood why they would do that, especially in these dire circumstances, but that didn’t mean he condoned such behavior.

Sigmund’s good mood didn’t last long though, as he remembered he was scheduled to be interviewed by a superior of his within the Inquisition, a man called Ravenholm. The Paladin was one of the first people to set foot on that torn-up courtyard and bear witness to Weaxohn’s summoning, so it was only natural he’d be questioned. The problem was that Sigmund really didn’t want to recount the events of that day. Though he put up a strong front, the things he’d seen would stay with him for a long while.

Various thoughts of pointless self-pity swirled inside his shiny head until he found himself in his superior officer’s cramped office, saluting the man respectfully.

“Sir! Paladin Sigmund Law reporting as ordered, sir!”

Ravenholm was an older gentleman with thinning gray hair. He was a Priest in service to Teresa, though his time seemed more dedicated to paperwork and politics than worshipping the Goddess. That was fine though, he was in a position of authority so these things only came with the job. Sigmund sincerely wished they didn’t, but it was rather impossible to alter reality through happy thoughts alone.

“Ah, yes,” said the lanky captain. “Do come in and have a seat.”

The Paladin did as instructed, taking the chair in front of the captain’s desk. The crappy furniture creaked and groaned under his armor’s weight, but it somehow managed to hold it without snapping.

“Well, where to begin?” Ravenholm mused, putting his elbows on his desk. “I’ve already heard the gist of what had happened from your comrades, but I need to confirm a few things with you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“First, did you notice any sort of magical disturbance when you arrived at the courtyard? Something not caused by this Overlord, I mean.”

“Ah, yes sir. There was a weird pink portal there, with snow pouring out of it. It was unlike anything I had ever seen before.”

“Mhm, I was told as much. And did you see anything go in and out of it?”

“Sir. I saw some of those stick-things, the ones called rift walkers? A bunch of them leaped through it, but that was all I saw before I had to fall back to the keep.”

“What about after the Blackout ended?”

“Sir. I went to assist with the relief effort, sir.”

“Not that. I mean with the portal. Did you witness anyone use it afterwards?”

“Sir? I don’t follow.”

“According to my report, that… anomaly persisted for roughly an entire hour before it collapsed. We’re still trying to figure out what it was, where it led to, who opened it or why it lasted that long.”

Though some would argue that the Inquisition should have just leaped through the portal to chase after any suspicious individuals that might have used it, that was easier said than done. Their people had only just overcome a major crisis and suffered many casualties. Nobody who had lived through that waking nightmare would ever consider sending more of their fellow men and women through some unknown mystical gateway. Especially not given the extreme weather conditions and silhouettes of unidentified gigantic monsters that could be seen on the other side.

“Sorry, sir. I don’t have anything more I can give you in regards to that thing.”

The man, was of course, telling the truth, as was his boss. Their oaths made it so that they could not utter a single lie, lest they be branded by Taboo. Well, technically Sigmund’s FTH Attribute was high enough to take four or five major fallacies before it dipped into the negative, but that was besides the point. And the point was that the Paladin’s words were true, even though the source of that mysterious portal had already crossed his fingers without his knowledge.

The bauble Suzy had given him earlier was actually the exhausted Atlas of Dreams that Boxxy had to leave behind during its retreat. The shapeshifter wanted to avoid tangling with the Inquisition entirely, but it couldn’t just sit around and wait for the instant dungeon to collapse, so it just left. The Divine-ranked item would find its way back to it eventually, so it wasn’t the least bit worried in that regard. In fact, the gemstone had already slipped out of both the Paladin’s pocket and his mind, and was well on its way to being shipped north towards Republic territory.

“Very well. Then did you notice anything bizarre elsewhere in the city?” Ravenholm continued. “Anything at all?”

“Hmm… Come to think of it, I did catch a glimpse of something troubling. It looked like a pink slime that was dragging an unmoving bald man in a blue robe into the sewer. I couldn’t do anything about it though, as I had my hands full trying to beat back those demonic abominations.”

The good captain raised an eyebrow, as this story piqued his interest.

“Can you describe what you saw in greater detail?”

“I apologize, sir. I’m afraid my memory of the event is fuzzy, so I’m not sure how reliable my testimony is.”

“I do not care, just tell me whatever you can.”

That ‘I do not care’ slightly irked Sigmund. Unreliable information could lead an investigation astray like nothing else could, so he did not believe his words should be taken into account. However, a superior officer had asked him a question, and it was his duty to answer to the best of his ability.

“Yes, sir. If I were to offer anything more, it would be that I was left with the distinct impression that the monster in question was… smiling? Something resembling a face and head was poking out of the blob at the very least.”

“Forget about the slime, just focus on the victim. Did he have any scars or identifying markings? Maybe an insignia or something on his clothes?”