Registration

The police station was located on the opposite side of the church, was built of concrete and painted in white and black colors.

The area around the building at a distance of 15 meters was surrounded by a stone wall one and a half meters high, so that no random carriages could get in. There must have been gates in every direction, at least the one we were passing through had gates.

There were several buildings on the site: the main building, a stable, a building with wagons and an arsenal. This is what I was able to see from my perspective.

The interior of the police station itself was quite ordinary: tiled floor, reception desk, arched detectors with magical stones inlaid in them to detect mages among those entering, barred windows.

In addition, there were also icons and portraits of some important people on the walls.

The building itself was filled with both police officers and ordinary people with their complaints and demands. What surprised me was that most of the police had no uniforms, just badges pinned to their shirts and T-shirts.

The only thing that united them apart from the badges was a single color scheme: white outerwear, black pants, shoes and hats. They looked more like militias than an organized government structure.

Now, given the information I received from the absorbed soul that recruitment for both the police force and the Defenders program is handled by the Church, it was clear to me that the local aristocrat had little influence in the city, given the full accountability of the force to the Church.

It wasn't long before we reached a room whose door read: 'office of Sam Repsod, Assistant Chief Inspector Ollie Suger'.

The priest knocked first, waited for an answer, and only then went in.

"Sam, hello, how are you?" The priest asked, but without waiting for an answer, he immediately got down to business. "We need to register a new mage, can you do it right now?"

"Good afternoon, Father," the man replied. "Please have a seat first."

He was wearing a brown leather doublet with the buttons undone and a white shirt, his badge was attached to the doublet. He looked to be in his 40s, he had a thick brown and well-groomed mustache from cheek to cheek, his skin looked tanned, a slightly large nose coupled with plump lips and cheeks gave him the appearance of a kind man. His eyes were cloudy blue, his hair brown.

The room was brightly lit by a small chandelier, inside of which was a luminescent magic stone. There is a barred window on the side wall, covered with a curtain. In the middle of the room was Sam's table, standing horizontally, with a table placed vertically against it, and 4 chairs, two on each side, facing it. The priest and I headed towards them.

In the far left corner, like the nun's, was an altar, and in the far right was an iron bidon with 'water' taped on it.

"My son was just leaving to get the appropriate registration forms," Sam said, pulling two mugs out from under the table, "so we can have a little chat. Anyway, what would you like? Tea, coffee?"

"Sam, we both know that you only drink water," the priest smiled.

"That's right," the policeman replied, pouring water and handing out mugs to us, already sitting back in his chair. I wasn't thirsty yet.

"So, do we have a new mage?" Sam looked at me, holding out his hand to me. "Nice to meet you, my name is Sam Repsod, and you, boy?"

"Yakov," I replied simply, accepting the handshake.

In this world, ordinary people didn't have a surname, instead they used the name of the feud and the surname of the nobleman who owned the feud. These lands were called the Barony of Reizin, and the baroness' name was Tura Karendrit, so it was 'Yakov Reizin-Karendrit'. Since I didn't give my surname, it was immediately clear that I was an ordinary person.

At that moment, a young man entered the room without knocking, the son of Repsod, apparently. He could be called the same age as Alec or my current body, it was also young.

The guy looked about 19-20 years old, his hair and eye color were the same as his father's. His skin was light-colored, his face was a little thin, and his lips were full. He was dressed according to the dress code. In his two hands he held several medium-sized folders with three vials of ink on top.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Inspector," he nodded towards his father, maintaining maximum formality, "good afternoon, Holy Father and, uh..." the young man stammered.

"Yakov," I replied.

"Yes, hello," he nodded, walking up to his father's table and laying out the papers.

"Thank you, son," the father thanked his son, opening the inkwell, taking out a quill and the required form.

He held his gaze on me for a moment.

"Can you write, boy?" he asked.

"Yes," I nodded. Ordinary people were taught writing and numeracy in church schools.

Having got all the necessary supplies in my hands, I began to fill out the document.

Full name: Yakov Reizin-Karendrit.

Place of birth: Karo village.

Age and date of birth: 20 years old; August 15, 1500 from the Song of the Sun.

Marital status: single.

Offenses: none.

Religion: The Great Ones.

Presence of church certification: present.

I took the name of the village from the knowledge of a lumberjack, it is located at a distance from this city. The local chronology originates from the catastrophe that happened, after which the world fell into a state of ice age for a long time. There is also a church calendar, which dates back to the Creation of the World.

I simply left my name in the space provided, and then handed the document to Sam. He put his signature on the form and gave it to the priest to sign.

"Normally a criminal record and a written affirmation of faith from a church or chapel would be required to fill out the form completely, but since our mutual friend," Sam glanced toward the priest, "asked me to handle this quickly, we won't need them. Well, registration is over, you may go."

"Now I will escort you to your team, after which we will say goodbye, my son," the priest addressed me, rising from his seat.

***

We got to the designated place in 20 minutes. It turned out to be a tavern, but it looked good: it was three stories high, built as if from logs, the windows of the tavern were open, but some buildings in the district had only window frames with shutters instead of full-fledged windows with glass.

As the priest explained to me, this is one of the places where special teams of mages of Defenders are located. Those that do not belong to the mages are just a militia that is engaged in patrolling the streets.

On the way here, we came across several detachments greeting the priest. They had only one distinctive sign in the form of an iron badge on their chest, and there was no dress code, like the police.

"Go ahead, my son," the priest said, stopping at the door of the establishment. "If you have any problems, you can always contact me at the church. My name is Vrash."

I looked at the priest. He was middle-aged, with a broad forehead, blue eyes, and light-colored hair with a barely visible parting. He can be called handsome.

With these words, he left me, and I went inside and, as it turned out, it was much cleaner and better place than I had expected: on the right side there are large tables with leather sofas instead of chairs. There were chairs as well, but they had soft upholstery.

I approached the owner of the establishment, a bartender with a bouffant mustache. His counter was on the left side of the door, and the range cabinet was screwed into the wall.

"Good afternoon, I'm looking for the Deathbringers. I was directed here," I said.

"Yes, they are here, what do you need them for? Do you want to hire?" he asked, after which he leaned in my direction. "If anything, there's another team here, the 'Red Roses'."

"Hire?"

I was a little surprised that mages affiliated with the Church could be hired for some job unrelated to the Church's order. I clearly didn't look like a priest.

"Not for hire?" sighed the innkeeper. "If the Church doesn't have a job, the police always have one. They often send people from the station, and they're often short on mages themselves."

Short on mages? If the Church is directly in charge of distributing them, the police force should probably have a fair number of mages, but even so the station is looking to the Defenders for help. How bad is it in this city?

Also, if there are mages in the police force, why create Defenders? The innkeeper already mentioned that the Church gives assignments to them directly, does that mean they are more narrowly focused mages? Something like a rapid reaction force?

"Her Holiness Sister Isabella sent me here," I clarified. "She invited me to join them."

"Well, new blood will never hurt Defenders," the interlocutor smiled. "Go to the second floor, to the fourth room. The three of them live there."

I nodded to him, then went up the stairs to the second floor.

I went to the right room and knocked, after which I began to wait for an answer, but no one was in a hurry to open it. I knocked again, and there was no one there.

I was about to start knocking for the third time, but the door opened and a short figure dressed in a black robe came out, which was why the rest of their clothes were not visible. A deep hood was pulled over their head, and a black iron mask with slits for eyes hid their face.

"Good afternoon, is this the Deathbringers team?"

"Yes, who's asking?" the voice was clearly male, a bit tired and rumbling, but that was because of the mask, not the condition.

"My name is Yakov, I was sent to you by Sister Isabella."

"I have enough of my own idiots, what are those priests out there thinking?" he seemed to frown, because it was clear from the intonation that he was angry. Is he the leader of the group?

I didn't answer, assessing the situation.

"Vector, who's there?" came a hoarse male voice from the room.

"We've got a newbie here," the guy - Vector - immediately turned to the interlocutor, whom I couldn't see because of the door and Vector himself, who was preventing me from seeing the interior of the room.

"Ah, the newbie. Let him in, we have a serious mission coming up soon – any hands will come in handy. He's a mage, isn't he?" the voice asked.

"Looks like it," Vector stepped inside the room, but left the door open. I considered it an invitation to come inside.