Chapter 2

Magister Gideon and Magister Barail quickly greeted the present officers, ignoring the younger cadets that immediately snapped to attention as they saw them approach. Their commanding presence, combined with the aura of power and respect they constantly emitted, made everyone tense and wary of their behaviour.

That was going to complicate matters.

 "Inquisitor. Captain." said Magister Gideon, a man with a robust build and emerald-green eyes that seemed to sparkle under the light. "I trust you have taken every possible precaution to prevent a leak of information? With the situation tense as it is, if the populace learn of this, the consequences could be disastrous."

 "Yeah. I have made sure to block the entrance. Nobody was allowed to-"

 "What do we have here?" asked Magister Barail, looking at the corpse with a deep worry painted on his face. His rough features contrasted with the general idea people had of the Elvish race, tall and incredibly beautiful. A stereotypical idea, certainly, but one that represented a large part of the population. 

If the captain hadn't liked the sudden interruption, he hadn't shown it on his face, which remained completely impassable. "The name's Nyvor Grellyn. Aged 13-"

 "I'm not asking you that."

 "…Sorry?"

 "The cause of death, Captain. What did he die of?"

 "Well…we're not sure."

This time Magister Gideon didn't manage to maintain his mask of stoicism. "What is the meaning of that? How can you not be sure of what this man had died of? Captain, we cannot-"

 "It means that the body isn't showing any particular wound that could have caused death." thundered Nyle suddenly. His head was already exploding, even if the annoying spinning had finally gone away, from a giant headache. If they thought the he was going to let them rant forever, they were sorely wrong.

 "What?"

Nyle sighed in the most subtle way possible, before launching himself on brief explanation. "If the lord Magisters would be so kind to look at the body…"

Both Magisters lowered their gazes, realizing for the first time the severity of the crime. "Holy…" blurted out Magister Gideon, only stopping after realizing where they were standing. "What kind of sick individual would do this? This is way worse than I had thought. We must immediately launch a search!"

Magister Barail remained silent instead, looking intensely at the carved flesh that was in front of him.

 "Leaving aside the obvious, if you inspect the vital zones, there aren't any punctures, or slash wounds, that have perforated the organs. So we're fairly certain death by stabbing could be excluded."

 "What about bleeding? Were those incisions…?"

 "No. Captain Villamor has noted that the incisions aren't deep enough to cause an exsanguination."

 "…What about suffocation?"

 "…I don't think it's possible." said the captain, who didn't exactly like how Nyle had stopped over his authority. They were in an amicable relationship that allowed them to freely converse without minding their positions. It was different, however, when they faced superiors; especially Magisters. "If the culprit had suffocated the victim, the body would have shown it. We still need the Medical Team to examine the body, of course; but I'm fairly certain we can exclude it."

 "So how did he die? It's not like he dropped dead, didn't he?"

 "I…cannot answer that."

As the situation was quickly getting out of hand, Nyle opted to divert their attention with a skilful question. "Sorry to interrupt, but could I have a moment with Magister Barail? There's something personal that I would like to ask him?"

 "…Alright." said Magister Gideon with a blatant smile plastered on his face. "But be brief. We must clean the church before sunrise."

The two walked over a dark corner, right under the statue of Saint Orwen, the hero who defeated the first invasion many centuries before. Under it, away from prying ears and eyes, the Magister quickly dropped his façade.

 "What the fuck is going on, Nyle? Is it something related to my people?" whispered the Magister, looking directly inside the inquisitor's eyes. One of his many talents that had made him rise through the ranks was, in fact, detecting lies.

 "I don't know! You tell me! Have there been incidents in your jurisdiction? Anything strange that you might tell me?"

 "No. But only a human could act like that. Look at body, Nyle. That's a monstrous thing to do. Us elves would never do that."

This time Nyle almost let the anger get the better of him. How could him, a man with that sort of power and renewed wisdom, insinuate something so foolish and utterly baseless. "What? Are you really going to go there? You? How long have known each other?"

 "Look, I'm sorry alright?" said Magister Barail frustrated. "But what the fuck am I supposed to think? There's no way an elf would have done that."

 "You have no way of knowing that. And it's not like the elves have never had madmen. Or have you forgotten about three years ago?."

Nyle saw Magister Barail look away as a sudden scowl developed on his face. The case that he was referring to had been nothing that had a major impact on the society, but that proved that anyone could kill horribly.

 "That man was a madman. But he didn't mutilate the corpses. You can't make comparisons with this murder. Those are completely different things."

 "It may be so. But it has been proved that it was an elven man to slaughter an entire family just to fuel-"

His headache gave him a strong jolt, causing him to close his eyes.

 "Are you alright?"

 "…Yeah. Just had a rough night."

 "…Want to talk about it?"

 "No. It's alright." said Nyle. Slowly he reopened his eyes, as the headache was giving him some break. It sure wasn't the worst day in his life, but he was sure to remember this day for a long time.

 "Fine. Just tell me if there's something I can do. If you go back to the way you were at that time I will not-"

 "I won't. Trust me."

For a quick moment Nyle dropped dead silent. No matter how many times he tried to suppress, or even ignore, his turbulent past; it would always come back to haunt him. Like a burden that would never lift from his lean shoulders. But he would never go back to that. Not now. Not ever.

After regaining his composure, Nyle assured the sort of friend he saw in Barail that he would try to find a resolution before the case reached popularity. He wasn't confident. Not in the least. But he sure was determined to give it is all.

 "Are you done?" asked Magister Gideon, looking as if he was waiting for them to join him once again. 

 "Yes. We're coming."

 "Good."

They didn't even close the distance that separated them that Magister Gideon launched himself in a lengthy explanation of what Captain Villamor had recounted since they had detached themselves. He told them about the witnesses' statement, focusing in particular on that of the priest of the Flame that found the body. "That right there…" he pointed with his index finger at a young man around thirties who was sitting alone. His robes, which were completely blood red, gave him immediately away from the rest of the priests present. "Is our fire maniac. He reportedly found the body in exactly that position during a shift. He claims he didn't touch the victim in any way, merely alerted his superior, who alerted us immediately. He also states that he tried to light the braziers again, but failed."

Everyone sighed. The scene was, as they had suspected, been altered. That…wasn't good.

 "Did he use fire arcanism? Or did he-" asked Nyle

 "He didn't say. When I pressed him for further information, he just didn't answer." replied the captain, sparing the priest a quick glance.

 "Then I'll ask him now."

 "Why?"

 "Who knows? Maybe I could make him speak."

Captain Villamor raised his hands in apparent defeat. Or perhaps he was just so sleepy that he didn't want to deal with any of that. After all, even if he didn't have the night that Nyle had, he sure was tired. Everyone was, for that matter. "Be my guest."

Nyle excused himself from their presence with a quick apology, muttering something about possible leads that needed to be investigated. In reality, he just wanted to distance himself from the debate that was sure going to happen in a matter of seconds. He wasn't in any condition, nor he wished, to participate in any of that.

After walking for twenty, or maybe twenty-five paces, he reached the man who had discovered the body. His head was covered by the giant hood that every member of the order of the flame had on their robes, while his face was buried behind the hands intertwined in prayer.

Nyle stopped and stared at him for a few seconds, refining his hearing.

But the words that man was whispering as a mantra where impossible for him to understand, let alone decipher. Only now and then he was able to pick up some random letter that for whatever reason resonated more than the others. 

He frowned. Wouldn't have been better to help them by recounting how he had found the body instead of diving immediately into prayer? Would have not been more respectful towards the victim and his family? But maybe he wasn't even praying for the dead to begin with. The fire maniacs were renewed to be…peculiar.

 "Are you the witness?" asked Nyle, who was already grimacing at the thought of what was going to happen.

The witness however didn't even bother to reply. He just kept on going with his routine, as if he hadn't heard him.

Nyle repeated himself. This time with more forcefulness.

 "…Yes. Who's asking?" asked the man without even moving an inch from his bent over position.

 "Inquisitor Nyle. I must question you about the victim."

 "I have already said everything that I remember to that man" said the priest pointing at the captain. Just as Nyle had foresaw, they had begun debating among themselves. "…There's no point in me repeating myself."

 "Then let me ask you: did you use fire arcanism when you tried to restart the braziers? Did try without?"

 "Yes. Both ways. But nothing worked. I have disappointed everyone with this."

Now that remark made Nyle rise his right eyebrow in confusion. What did he mean by that? Who did he disappoint?

 "Who did you-"

 "My fellow members." he answered as he stood up, allowing Nyle to look at his face for the first time.

Now that he could see him, his eyes were walnut-brown, with a deep scar running from his temple down to his jaw. A thick well-groomed beard, also brown as was his hairs, concealed the end point of the wound.

There was something about him that clearly was wrong. He wasn't old. He just looked old. Nyle immediately understood that the moment his eyes met with his.

 "I have let the flames die. It was my responsibility to nurse them until the end of my shift. It was my duty to keep watch on the sacred flames that must always burn. And I have failed. I'll be punished accordingly. As it should be…"

 "Fires could be restarted. I can't see how that's so grave." Nyle retorted in annoyance. He never understood, and never will, the blind adherence to rules that those maniacs had.

The man smirked in a sardonic way that didn't do him any favours in appeasing Nyle's annoyance. "Of course you don't. That's why you're a lawman and I'm an adept. Those kind of thigs cannot be explained to people who don't adhere to the Order's teachings. There's no middle ground."

This time Nyle lost it.

 "I can't believe I have to deal with this shit." said Nyle, who looked like he could kill him instantly if his frustrations could take material form. "There's a victim right there that's screaming for justice, and the fires are your priorities. Are you for real?"

 "…Everyone dies. I know the brutality that people are capable of, Inquisitor. I saw that first hand when I fought in the Costal wars."

Ah. Now that's why he looked older. He was a veteran.

 "I too have killed many fathers, sons, and maybe even grandsons, who's only guilt was fighting for the other side. My hands are forever tainted with blood that will never wash away, no matter how much I wash them under the clear water.."

Then he paused, averting his gaze to look at the nearest brazier. "The braziers are always burning to commemorate the dead, you see, regardless of how they died. Failing to keep them burning is the greatest offence I could have ever committed. There's nothing more important than that to a member of the Order of the Flame."

 "Listen, I don't care about any of that. I only want to bring closure to his family and stop the nutcase who did that. So, if you want to atone for whatever guilt you're feeling, help me."

 "…Why is this so important to you? There's a scrying arcanist that's processing what he saw right behind that door." he said as he pointed at a door right behind the altar. "He can tell you everything you want to know."

 "Scrying is useless. It's only thanks to the emperor's fascination that they're even allowed to practice their arcanism on such a large scale. How the hell did he get caught up with that, I have no clue."

 "Oh!" he exclaimed surprised. "Talking ill about the emperor? Now, that's brave. Don't you fear to be punished for lèse-majesté? I hear they're not lenient on those kinds of things."

 "At this point, I couldn't care less. Besides, I asked you a question. Will you help me or I'm only losing my time with you?"

For the first time since they met, the adept smiled. Not a full toothy smile, but a smile nonetheless. "Alright. You're persistent. I can respect that. What do you wish to know?"

Nyle sighed. Finally he was going to get some answers out of that fire maniac. "So, you're the one who found the body, right? Did you notice anything strange?"

 "Apart from murder and sacrilege? No."

 "…"

 "Alright. Let me think for a second…" the man squinted his eyes for a brief moment. Then, as he answered seriously this time, he reopened them completely. "No. The scene appeared to me as it appeared to you. Aside from the braziers, I have not touched anything in the church."

 "So the body wasn't touched before our forces arrived? Not even a little bit?"

 "No."

 "Why didn't you check for vital signs? I mean, if the fires had been put out, the light inside the church would have been minimal, to say the least."

 "Because I immediately understood the he was dead."

Nyle looked confused. Still, he maintained a perfectly calm façade. "How?"

 "The smell, Inquisitor…?"

 "Nyle, as I have told you before. But just call me Nyle."

 "Arden." said as he pointed at himself. "Anyway, the smell."

 "What smell? The man hasn't been murder for such a long time that the body would emit a strong odo-"

 "I'm talking about blood, Nyle. You saw the body, didn't you?"

Nyle nodded. And in fact the body seemed to have lost a lot of blood.

 "Good. So you know what I'm talking about."

 "I admit that the body has been subjected to a heavy loss of blood. But for you to recognize that he was dead from the smell of it? Don't you find it strange?"

 "No. You see, back when I was a soldier, I have seen a lot of blood. There were days when red was the only colour my eyes could see and iron the only scent my nose could pick up. And let me tell you, blood has a very distinct aroma that I would never mistake for anything in the world. Especially in closed quarters. The gust that hit me as soon as I entered made me immediately think that something had happened. The body was immersed in a pool of blood, as you have surely seen yourself. There was no way he was alive."

 "…And you didn't interfere with the scene in any way, did you?"

 "As I have told you, the braziers were the only thing that I have touched."

Nyle paused for a moment. Even if fire arcanism was widely the most common art practiced between the others that existed, mainly for the wide variety of its application, it wasn't that common to find a soldier, even an ex one, who dubbed in it. It seemed like Arden wasn't t as simple as he appeared to the eyes.

 "Why do you know fire arcanism? I know it's not a rare trait, but…"

Arden chuckled. "It's an old story. One for which we have neither the time not the place to tell. Let's just say that I picked it up in the war."

 "In the war?"

 "Yeah."

 "So I guess you're not that well versed in it, are you? War doesn't make for a great learning place for arcanism after all."

This time the fire maniac briefly laughed. "No. It doesn't. But I'm not the same person I was back then. The Order has taught me many things about fire, helping me better understand its arcanism."

 "So all of the Order's members know how-"

 "Unfortunely no. While all of us are capable of inscribing the most basic form of diagrams, for some that's as far as they'll go. At best, their power is no different than the one practiced in common households."

 "If that's the case, then you're the best option I got."

 "What do you mean?" he asked confused.

 "The central fire. The one dedicated to the All Mother. How could one extinguish that? As far as I know, it should be almost impossible for something like this to happen?"

 "That's correct."

 "Then how-"

 "I don't know."

Nyle looked perplexed. How could him, a man with some expertise in fire arcanism, not have even an idea. Surely he must have thought about it. He looked at Arden in a silent question.

Arden sighed.

 "…The central brazier is way different than the ones we are tasked to tend daily. By chance I overheard the ones tasked with its maintenance that the arcanism used inside it is one, if not the most, complex in all the Imperium. To interfere with something of that level you'll need people with enormous expertise in arcanism and a looooot of time. Not to mention the tools. It's not something that should be possible."

 "That's what the fuck I don't understand. How-"

Before he could finish his sudden rant, the door behind the altar opened, drawing everyone attention. An elf, of medium height and short blonde hair, wearing the ornate uniform of the All-seeing Eye, the most renowned and relied upon guild dedicated to the scrying arcanism, slowly walked out. From the direction he was facing, it was clear where he was headed.

 "Sorry. I need to go." said Nyle, before asking Arden where he could find him, in case he needed further testimony. Probably a good move, given how smoky and complex the case was prospecting to be. But that was in the future. Now he had to listen to the scrying arcanist, and whatever nonsense would spit out of his mouth. A thing that he clearly despised.