Chapter 37

Faint noises and cries of forsaken children rang in the woman’s ears. She could see them, those that had been abandoned, those who were to be sacrificed to this cruel and unforgiving world, huddled together for the last sliver of warmth. And among them was a small girl, shivering in the cold.

The child’s faded green eyes stared blankly at the devastated streets that laid in front. Her starving body reeked of trash, a reminder of the filth she had to explore for nourishment. The girl and her elder brother quivered together along with the others who had been discarded, for they were the Nameless Children.

They were called the Nameless Children not because they had forgotten their signatures but because of their refusal to share it. As one of the abandoned, they were not expected to live for long. They themselves knew that thus they refrained from speaking as to avoid growing attached. Even the siblings barely conversed with one another. Still, the girl was at least blessed with a kind brother, one that attempted his best to care for his only remaining relative.

The streets were much rowdier than usual. Buildings were set aflame and many of the settlement’s populace cowered in their homes. The children did not have such luxuries, therefore they sat next to the road and witnessed the chaos unfold.

Their ears tuned to the screams that filled the cold air as individuals were consumed by the monstrous flames. The children watched with neither care nor sympathy as the townspeople that left them to perish were reduced to nothing but ash. The people of this town were already dead in the eyes of the children, and the growing blaze only provided them with the much-needed warmth. As time passed, they simply watched the act play out, their expressions unchanging and their eyes, no different from a corpse’s.

Soldiers adorned with various robes and outfits stormed the remaining residences, the armored ones waited outside and ensured that no one dared to question their will. Most of their conquerors paid no attention to the Nameless Children, only a few gave them saddened glances.

The little girl’s eyelids grew heavy, her body no longer felt the bitterness of the cold but an alluring warmth. She understood that those who gave in usually never woke up again, but she did not care. It was at this moment that she finally felt at peace. The hunger that stabbed her stomach, the stench that stung her nose, all gone. As the girl closed her eyes to the comforting grasp of slumber, she suddenly heard footsteps approach. The jingling and clashing of metal that accompanied each and every weighted step rang in her ears until finally, it stopped right in front of her.

“Pitiful,” a deep voice lamented.

The girl opened her dulled eyes, before her was a large and imposing figure clad head to toe in thick armor. She glanced around at the other children and saw that they were staring at the man as well.

“Pitiful,” he said again. “Such potential wasted by greed and selfishness.”

She did not quite understand what the man meant, but she did not dare to speak.

“I see it was the correct decision to raze this godless cesspool to the depths of hell from whence it came. To toss away the future in such a foolish manner when they are completely capable of ensuring your care. In pursuit of momentary pleasures, they abandoned what remained of their rational humanity, just like the imprudent Ancients.” The man kneeled on one leg and removed his helmet. “I can see that some of you are broken beyond remediation. Unfortunately, I cannot offer you promises of salvation or of a burdenless life. However, what I can offer is the possibility to contest your ill-fated destiny, to fight for a future you never thought possible.” He held out his hand and offered it to the huddled children. “What I offer is a chance. Now, are you willing to take it?”

The children stared at him blankly, some had already lost their ability to comprehend the world around them while others were too afraid. But out of the crowd, the little golden-haired girl reached out with her tiny hand. The man grabbed onto her and smiled.

“Are you taking me up on the offer?”

Hesitantly, the girl nodded.

“Good,” the man declared. “My name is Decimus, and I am the lord of my chapter. What is yours?”

The girl gulped, she was not sure what to say. It had been so long since she had last spoken to anyone. She opened her cracked, dry lips and attempted to respond in her raspy voice.

“My name… my name is…”

***

Servia opened her eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. Her back was sweaty from a reoccurring dream that was so realistic, she was not sure whether she had left it. The woman attempted to move her arms but found that they had been tied together with a rope. At the corner of the room, a long-haired woman laid slouched in her chair sleeping. The orange glow of the oil-fueled lantern highlighted the green symbols painted on her face. Acknowledging her situation, Servia tried to break free from her bond, but the usage of strength brought immense pain to her injured arm, which caused her to grunt.

Upon hearing the noise, the slumbering woman was interrupted from her nap. She yawned and stretched her arms, staring at Servia with half opened eyes. After a brief moment of mutual eye contact, the woman jumped out of her seat and attempted to stand up. Unfortunately, she stepped on her plain dress and fell to the ground with a loud thud. She quickly got on her feet and dashed out of the room.

Left alone, Servia attempted to sit up, but her weak body refused. The only thing she was able to do was to scan her surroundings.

It was a fairly plain room. Besides the bed and chair, there was a small table on one side of the chamber. On top of it was a large pot and several other smaller bowls.

Knock-Knock.

Without waiting for a response, a man entered the room.

“Pardon me for the intrusion,” he said. The man casually walked over to the chair and sat down, legs crossed. He wore a grey colored business attire which surprisingly complemented his black hair. The bangs were swayed aside as to not hinder his sight, however, a few strands still fell onto his face. He was quite the sight to be seen, however, Servia was not swayed by looks.

Servia attempted to sit herself up again but faced some difficulties as portions of her body still felt numb. The blanket that covered her shifted enough for her to see the bandages that were wrapped around her arm and bare chest. It seemed that she had been stripped of clothing.

The man immediately walked over and covered her chest with the blanket.

“You should refrain from moving, your wounds may open again.” He then returned to his seat. “My name is Stephan, with whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to today?”

“I have no reason to give you my name,” the woman responded.

“You don’t need a reason, for it is common courtesy. And believe me, we have been very courteous.”

“We? As in the barbarians that assaulted my men without provocation?!” Servia bit down on her lip as she glared at Stephan with fury.

“If a band of child murderers walked into your yard, armed to the teeth, would you welcome them with open arms?”

“Child murderers?!” Servia contested. “Blasphemy, that is not who we are.”

“Oh, is that so? I guess the testimony of those whose homes have been burned down and those whose children have been kidnapped by these ‘Inquisitors’ must be liars.”

“That…” Seriva hesitated, “that was the work of the false believers. They do not represent who we are.”

“A few bad fruits that spoiled the bunch, is that what you meant to say?”

“...” The woman remained silent as Stephan continued.

“I hear that you are also an ‘Inquisitor’. How do I know that you are not also rotten?”

“Did you leave me alive just to insult me? If you wish to interrogate or torture me, then get on with it. You will gain nothing of use.”

“Interrogate, torture?” The man smirked, then subtly altered it to a deceptive smile. “We do not share your sense of morality. I simply wanted to have a friendly chat. Therefore, I apologize if it devolved into something… less appealing.”

The woman struggled a bit more with trying to move her body but failed again.

“Please be careful with your bandages, Imira worked for hours to treat you.”

“Imira? The woman that watched over me?”

“Yes, Undergrowth's herbs are not as effective as the Ancient’s medicine, but it is the best these desolate lands have to offer.”

“Such large claims from a people I’ve never heard of,” Servia scoffed.

“That’s because they were in hiding before they joined the coalition.”

“Cowards then, they should face the monsters of this world head-on. It is their pusillanimity that allowed the wretched demons to thrive unhindered.”

“I prefer to call them pacifists, as they see no reason to bring any further violence into this world.”

“Violence is the necessary sacrifice that will usher in peace-”

“And how does setting people on fire contribute to peace?” Stephan interrupted.

“I…” Servia ceased her words, the sins of a few had tinted their church’s reputation. Thus, she felt it was senseless to continue.

Seeing the woman’s discomfort, the man decided to change the subject.

“The people of Undergrowth are an interesting bunch. Did you know that once they come of age, the men journey out to discover new herbs and create new medicine? After they bear children, of course. They are only allowed to return once they’ve made a discovery. Those who do become respected sages.”

“Why are you telling me this?” she questioned.

The man let out a gentle laugh that contrasted with his previous harsh words.

“Because I thought it was interesting. Now that I’ve told you something about our coalition, how about you return the favor?”

“If you wish to question me, then be straightforward about it. I dislike pointless chatter.”

“Hmm… no admiration for conversations. Well then,” the man then leaned in closer and interlocked his fingers. “Then tell me, why are you here? I heard that your lot resides in the lands far East. What brings you to these barren wastes?”

“Why do you care?!” Servia shouted. “You’ve already devastated my men, what can you possibly gain from such information?”

“I generally prefer to know both sides of the story. Again, I’ve been very patient with you, but the Order may not have that virtue.”

“You-”

“It’s not a threat, just a simple warning.”

Servia swallowed her emotions. Capture by the hands of the Order resulted in certain death, but if it were just that, Servia would not have mind as the pain of losing her brother already made her yearn for such a fate. However, her rank brought a different set of worries. Knowing that an Inquisitor had been captured by their mortal enemy would demolish the disciples’ morale, as it would imply that they had surrendered. That absolutely could not be allowed. If necessary, Inquisitors were required to take their own life to avoid disgracing their creed. Currently, that was not an option, therefore she had no choice but to play the man’s games.

“We were here on a witch hunt.”

“Witch hunt?” Stephan scratched his chin. “You mean those things from fairytales and books?”

“No, these witches are very much real. And if left to their own vices, they will bring forth an army of demons that would consume us all.”

“Demons…? Are you referring to the Crawlers?”

“If that is what you call them.”

The man’s face twisted into an expression of disbelief.

“Forgive me if I come off as rude, but that’s absurd.”

“You were not there during their demonic plight when the minions of the first witch descended upon the last bastions of humanity. Therefore, you do not understand. Your people did not have to face the terror of these horrific beasts. The comfort you’ve grown to enjoy was paid for by our ancestors’ blood.”

“So the Cult’s expansion, is that a settlement of inherited debts?”

Anger surged within when she heard what they were being labeled.

“We are not a cult! We are a church dedicated to the greatness of Solis, the bearer of all light.”

“What you call yourselves is of no importance to me, so please, continue.”

Servia tightened her fists and attempted to calm herself.

“We are not warmongers, we take no pleasure in bloodbaths and slaughter. But our conquest is necessary as the prophecy foretold of another great battle. Humanity must be united for what is to come-”

Knock-Knock.

“Excuse me for a moment, please.” Stephan stood up from his seat and exited the room. Once outside, he found Hailey waiting for him.

“What is it?” he asked, closing the door behind him.

“Everyone’s packed, we’re ready to head home.”

“Give me a little bit to wrap up.”

“Sure,” Hailey responded as she tucked her hair behind her ear. “Just tell me when you’re ready.”

“It will be soon.” As Stephan began to turn the knob, Hailey asked another question. “So how is it… the questioning?”

The man sighed and a hint of irritation revealed itself in his voice.

“Absolutely delusional.”

***

“Is there still no news of Servia and her men?”

“My Lord, all contacts have been severed and they are overdue on their report.” A bald man lowered his face as to avoid the Bishop’s gaze. “It may be time to assume the worse.”

Decimus slouched back into his seat as the pain in his chest weakened his strength. He covered his eyes with his hand and held back his emotions. The Bishop could not shed tears, not even for those who he considered to be his own children.

Even so, the Lord’s audience felt his pain, as most of them had also lost someone to the unforgiving war.

“These are dire times…” Decimus muttered. “What news do we have on the southern front?”

One of the priests stepped forward from his row and kneeled to the Bishop.

“Your Holiness,” the man said with a trembling voice. “I fear that our troops there do not fare any better.”

“Explain yourself,” the Bishop demanded.

“The Corrupted gain ground every waking hour. Their numbers grow with each of our fallen. Without support, the settlements will fall one by one to their demonic tide. We have already lost four of our Witch Hunters and can spare no more. Our faith in Solis has kept us strong, but that is not forever… as the dead, they offer no prayer…”

“Inquisitor Marcus,” called Decimus.

“Yes, my Lord?”

“Your journey to the Holy City… Have you acquired assistance from our brother chapters?”

“The wretched stench of the first witch reaches far and wide, my Lord. Our brother chapters are busy with their own crusade against the hounds of hell. However, the Lord Bishop, Articus, agreed to offer us assistance. He said he must speak to you in person first, his Holiness will arrive in a week’s time.”

“Good, then all hope is not lost.” Decimus stood from his throne and tapped his cane against the floor. “Withdraw who you can from the Darklands and Northern Region, shift them to aid our southern front. Call those who are able back into service and strengthen the defenses of our cities. Show the heresy the might of our unwavering faith!”

“Yes, my Lord,” his audience cheered in unison.

“And be courageous, brothers! A storm surges… and I fear that we are at its eye.”