Three days into the future from Emma's departure...

 

The scorching sun beats down on the large caravan full of scholars, researchers, and investigators who arrived from various towns.

All bolstered by the sudden loss of communication from the capital and the slurred horror of the couriers who made the trip and back.

They had decided to journey together when they all met on the road, to make it more difficult for bandits and the like to give them trouble.

 

The journey was still fraught as the lack of communication with the capital had already driven many towns to panic and fear.

A soft sigh leaving the head investigator recalling all the chaos that the capital's loss has done to the nearby fiefdoms.

Once at the site, the group looks on in awe and horror at the remains of the city.

 

They have since been in the capital city, readying bodies for burial as one after another check for the cause of death.

Something they discovered recently and has been studying, as they have sent out runners already to inform the rest of the country of this.

They sent out their findings to the nearby towns as they cannot determine how city folk died, and the number of dead continues to grow higher.

 

Those that remained among the investigators and scholars continue trying to understand what had befallen the city.

Despite the protests from among the religious members in the group who have since quieted down for some reason.

The more staunch chose to continue regardless, seeking to find the epicenter of this city's great dying.

 

Though the sheer scale of what they were uncovering left his team unwilling to continue in the night.

As the death toll started to became far too much to bear, especially with those who had family members living here.

Mark hesitates only slightly before ordering the scholars to get ready for the night then continue.

 

 

 

Later that night in the erected camp...

 

The Head Investigator is still up in the tent, with many candles lit writing by their light.

Trying to wrap his head around what to tell his fellow countrymen just what had happened in the capital city.

How to tell them that the great king and every single one of the high nobility is dead?

 

Behind him lays a bin full of papers he had attempted to write but crumpled up mid-way through when he could not write further.

Frustrated at the difficulty of writing the impossible continues to allude to him, slamming the pen against the desk as he stands.

He sighs with resignation as he stands up and walks to the tent door, and opens it to get some air to clear his nerves.

 

What scene greets him instead of the cool night air and everyone in their tents or still pouring over letters to send was another scene entirely.

What he saw was instead an absolute bloodbath of all his close scholars now lying dead or dying across the camp.

All of this was caused by the hands of golden masked assailants, ripping his screaming companions apart with hand and blade.

 

Perhaps if he was a warrior or even just a former guard, he might have had the will to continue moving in this horrific situation.

But the Mask is what freezes him to the core, as he did not expect to ever be on the blade end of them.

The rumored goddess's Inquisition Arm of the Church has slain countless villains and tortured countless more who dared to disturb the order of the world.

 

Many thoughts traveling in his mind, with not a single one acted upon, as he quickly figures out why they're here.

One of the scholars must have betrayed them for the church, else how could they be so fast to arrive?

Did the group make a ruckus to hide their messenger among the couriers we sent ahead?

 

Unless the goddess herself ordained this such bloodshed, but why?

Before he gets to continue that horrific train of thought, he can feel his body drop.

As he can feel the blood flow, as he can see his torso still standing upright.

 

Left to his own thoughts, he could only wonder what went wrong with trying to see this place.

Seeing in his last moments the Inquisitors finishing killing the camp and settle in the bloody tents of the people they had just slain.

The last memory before his mind finally fades into tranquil peace is a genuine question of why, to the goddess above.

---

Minutes after the head scholar's death...

 

"The Scholars are dead, Arch-Inquisitor Eladri. Should we remove the evidence as well or leave it present?" Ask one of the recruits they had picked up recently.

Eladri speaks ever so softly to the young fidgeting recruit, still slightly queasy from its first hunt of heretics.

"No need to hide the evidence of our duty to the great goddess above in these trying times," Eladri says with confidence and pride.

 

"We only need to thank the goddess for giving us this chance to aid the world of its ailments."

"The feelings of disgust will pass, as what remains is the golden light of the goddess's gratitude for doing mortal work.~"

 Eladri proudly declares as the statements don't comfort the recruit but make it unwilling to bring up further issues.

 

After some time resting, the Inquisitors continue onto the next camps of scholars, repeating the process every time.

In the face of one great tragedy, many massacres are done in the name of keeping everything under wraps.

All to ensure the country quickly falls under the control of the church without panic.

 

It will have to be seen in the future whether this action served to protect the country from collapse.

Or just made its difficulty on its frontiers all the more pressing.

As unintentionally, it allows something to grow unimpeded by investigation until far down the line.~