Sylvester stood up and looked at the man’s visor. He could sense the scent of anger and rage from the Lord Inquisitor. But, this was the case most of the time he met him, so he was unaware of what he was angry at.
“I will hand over the fully detailed report by evening. The gist of the matter is that a foreign conspiracy caused the war in Northern Gracia. Thousands died in the war before I stopped it. At the same time, the case of someone murdering noble women and cutting their breasts seems to be a widely spread occurrence.
“I sent Sir Dolorem to find a knight in Green City, as surviving female victims claimed the knight was behind the attack. But, I did not hear from Sir Dolorem until I found him on the outskirts of the Green City, naked, injured, covered in mud and faeces, fighting bare-handed against three Gracia Royal Knights. Now, Sir Dolorem is fighting for his life.”
The Lord Inquisitor nodded and glanced at Princess Isabella. “You did well bringing her. If it is found that the bucket of sins for the Gracia family is full, they shall get what’s coming–nothing shall save them from succumbing–to their fate.”
Sylvester noticed Princess Isabella shivering in fright already. The name of Inquisitor High Lord was not something people recalled in hopes of seeing him. He was famous for purging heretics even for the slightest disrespect to Solis. It was unknown what made him so religious, though.
“Lord Inquisitor, I wish to take up the investigation to find this perverted murderer while senior clergymen can take up the investigation into the Gracia family.” Sylvester suddenly asked.
“I do not assign work to Sanctum Inspectors, God’s Favoured. Nor do I meddle in the work of my associates. If you wish to investigate it, you should ask Cardinal Lovecraft.”
Sylvester nodded appreciatively. “Understood, Lord Inquisitor. I was merely stating a wish. But, of course, in the end, these matters are better left to the more experienced seniors.”
‘Do the thing, old man. Weave your words and get me on this.’ Sylvester muttered to himself.
His decision to continue with this investigation was purely self-serving. He cared not for any Princess of the Gracia Family, but he cared for his own reputation and connections. He understood that this case held high importance for the nobles around the Kingdom. If he investigates and solves it, he will not only meet many of the rich but also paint a positive image in their minds.
In the long run, this will help him when the battle for the holy throne goes into its final stages. After all, it was a known fact that most of the nobles had their stooges inside the church–some in low and some in high places.
But, whenever he glanced at Princess Isabella, her meek manner and impressionable mind, all he could think of was a tool that had fallen into his arms by the grace of whatever god was out there. She was the second child of the previous queen. Even if it was a common law that women could only become queens if all male heirs were unavailable, it still made Princess Isabella second in line since the current king had no children and just a younger brother.
‘If I play my cards right with her, I can attain influence over the Gracia Kingdom’s royal court. But… that is if they are found innocent.’ Sylvester thought, already weaving his little strings of plots and schemes. All for the final grand plan.
Knock!
The door of the surgery room opened, and a few healers walked out, talking among themselves. They all wore the same robes they did when they went in, nor were their long beards covered. Clearly, hygiene was not considered necessary yet.
But, once they walked out and noticed the tall and mighty form of Lord Inquisitor, they also fell to their knees.
“Speak! What is the status of Sir Dolorem?” Lord Inquisitor asked.
The old healer at the front spoke. “L-Lord Inquisitor… I am honoured to havea���”
“Answer the question, healer–your faith in me is being questioned by none here.”
The healer shook himself to his senses and replied professionally. “Sir Dolorem is in good health now. The looming danger over his life has vanished, but the long-term consequences of the injury will only be revealed in time. I am most concerned with the hit on his skull, as it could have done something we could not see. As for his body, most of the wounds and bones have been fixed. He shall wake up in a few hours, likely.
“But one thing concerns me. Was he poisoned in the recent past?”
All eyes other than those who didn’t know turned to Princess Isabella. She was the one who revealed this part, after all.
“Yes,” Sylvester replied. “A brain paralysing agent was delivered to him through an arrow wound.”
“Ugh… that makes things worse.” The healer grunted. “With the injury to the head combined, we may never know what caused something if we ever witness an anomaly.”
Sylvester prayed that was not the case. He reckoned that brain issues must be the hardest to heal here.
“That will be it.” Lord Inquisitor let the healers leave and strode into the surgery room. Sylvester followed behind, but he stopped others from following as that would make things too cramped. Not to mention, he was already taking the risk of spreading germs by going in. He couldn’t let others increase the chance of infection.
For the first time, Sylvester saw a surgery room in this world. The room was lit with light crystals on the ceiling. Meanwhile, the room was fully painted in a grey colour, and on the walls were various metal shelves with all kinds of bottles and ingredients resting.
In the middle of the room was a single high bed on which Sir Dolorem’s body rested–just covered with a thin white sheet. Sir Dolorem’s body was resting face up, and the head was held in place with two cushioned metal frames on the side.
The reason was that above Sir Dolorem’s head was a metal container dripping drops of some medicine right into the mouth of Sir Dolorem. Then, slowly–drop by drop–it emptied itself.
‘So they lack equipment such as syringes. Hence they can’t inject blood and fluids into the veins. Even Princess Isabella used crude means and her magic to transfer blood. Maybe I can help in that regard?’
But that was for later as he silently stood beside Sir Dolorem. Seeing him like this didn’t feel right, and a little bit of self-blame was due. It was Sylvester who sent the man to Green City, after all. He tried to stay positive all this while but seeing the odds of a perfect recovery dwindling was unsettling.
‘It’d be a shame to lose my number one follower, Sir Dolorem. Don’t you die on me before I sit on that throne!’
He held the man’s hand in silence. “I sent him to Green City to investigate that Sir Kenworth… If I had known, I would have gone with him.”
Lord Inquisitor stayed standing there like a statue. It was hard to tell most of the time if the man was even alive, if not for the rageful scents he released all the time.
“Things are not all well in Gracia, Lord Inquisitor. The cancer is spreading within, and it’s corrupting everything. The Masan Empire was behind most of what transpired in the North. But who knows what else is occurring down south.”
Lord Inquisitor’s eyes shone red behind the visor. “Do not belittle yourself, God’s Favoured. What happened to Sir Dolorem was an occupational hazard. Even I nearly lost myself in the warmth of Solis months prior. Nothing is absolute in this world–everywhere you see, there are schemes and mysteries furled. So it is our job to find the heathens and purge–for only then shall the faith emerge–above all.”
Sylvester sighed and dragged a chair to sit beside the bed of Sir Dolorem and indulged the tall overzealous man.
“I know, my lord. But, every man has a world of their own here.” He tapped on his temple. “When this is destroyed, a man is truly devoid: of life, joy, smiles, warmth and love. The faith is the sun shining bright in these little worlds, Lord Inquisitor–It’s our duty to save them from becoming their own world’s prisoner.”
Inquisitor High Lord understood that Sylvester was refuting his ideals of absolute justice in the most diplomatic way possible. “Wisely spoken–and that is why you are called the Lord’s Bard.”
“Ugh…” 𝘦𝘯𝑜𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝗇𝓔t
“He’s waking up!” Sylvester jumped to his feet and sprinted out of the room to call the healers.
In no time, the same team of healers rushed back in to look after Sir Dolorem. They noted down how much medicine had been poured into his mouth, as well as other things.
“Aaaargh!”
But soon, Sir Dolorem started to kick his feet around and scream in rage. It was pain, but not of the body, it seemed.
“He’s clutching his head! Quickly, make the potion!” The healers rushed to make some sort of potion right there with a few ingredients on the wall shelves.
They then proceeded to feed it to Sir Dolorem forcibly. Then, slowly, peace and calm took over.
Sylvester stayed beside Sir Dolorem and spoke, hoping it would calm him. “It’s me, Sylvester. I’m fine, Sir Dolorem. We’re in the Holy Land right now.”
“Archpriest Sylvester?”
Sir Dolorem’s eyes shot open as he tried to sit up. To do this, Sylvester helped. “Yes, it’s me. Lord Inquisitor is here too.”
“S-Sylvester!”
Suddenly, a loud, panic-filled call echoed from Sir Dolorem as he clenched Sylvester’s shoulder.
“S-Sylvester?! Why is everything dark? Where are we?!”
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