Felix Crissinger, Part 3

The heavy oak door of the library slammed open, breaking the quiet, musty silence of the place. The room was usually almost sacredly quiet, as if it were a shrine, but this had now been broken by the arrival of the Inquisitor.

He had the attitude of a man used to having to get what he wanted by force and being satisfied with it. And, of course, no weak apprentice magician was going to stand in his way.

The man was over six feet tall, wore leather riding boots, and although he appeared to have reached middle age, this made him look even stronger rather than detract from his vigor. Viktor saw thick, rope-like muscles taut on the man's neck as he laid eyes on him.