Episode 2 - Heroes of the Continent
The guard on weekend duty at the Inquisition was puffing on a cigarette, killing time. Honestly, there wasn’t much to do. Even though yesterday’s terrorist attack had increased the number of people coming and going, paradoxically, that only meant less work for him as a guard.
It made sense, really. Everyone entering and leaving was either an Inquisitor or Inquisition staff. If he started stopping those busy officials because of the terror incident—demanding ID checks or bag inspections—he’d likely get smacked with a mace and hauled straight to the nearby clinic.
Meanwhile, the reporters with access passes were holed up in the duty room, taking meals there instead of going out. They didn’t want to miss an emergency briefing just for a quick break. Because of that, there were no outsiders entering the Inquisition at all.
The place already had a bad reputation to begin with, so no one showed up unless they absolutely had to. Regular visitors mostly used private corridors reserved for high-ranking officials. So the guard just stood there, smoking and wasting time.
Even religion said as much: if you worked hard, you deserved a day off. He wasn’t particularly devout, but in moments like this, slacking off didn’t seem like such a bad idea.
*Knock knock!*
Someone rapped on the window, ruining his peaceful time. The guard irritably stubbed out his cigarette and stuck his head out.
"Aigoo, who is it?"
A soldier stood there quietly, smiling. It was an unfamiliar uniform. Rank: major. Looked like a foreigner. The startled guard hastily adjusted his cap and asked politely again.
"Wh-who might you be, sir?"
"Ah! Thanks for your hard work on the weekend. I'm Major Frederic Nostrim! From the Kingdom of Abbas. Where do I get an access pass around here?"
Frederic Nostrim, Major. Sounds familiar... The guard pondered for a moment before replying.
"Access passes are issued at the information desk, not here. I'll show you the way, so just give me a sec—"
Rushing to leave his post, the guard spotted the newspaper on his desk. A man who looked exactly like the visiting major beamed from a photo inside. He shifted his gaze to the headline.
His judgment was swift. The guard crammed his feet into his unlaced shoes and bolted outside, planting himself in front of Major Frederic Nostrim. The major extended his hand, and the guard wiped the sweat from his pants before shaking it.
"Y-you, companion of the H-Hero, what brings you h-here?"
"I'm here to report something."
"Pardon?"
"A report. Yeah, a report."
Episode 2 - Heroes of the Continent
The Inquisition. The investigative agency tasked by the Church with rooting out designated heretics and "punishing" them. In the past, it handled heresy trials and marriage-divorce rulings. These days, though, it managed public security and counterintelligence within Church territory. Think police, family court, and counter-espionage agency all rolled into one massive, supra-constitutional behemoth.
But since Church lands weren't that vast, the headquarters building was modestly sized compared to its actual workload. Heretics mostly operated abroad, so there was no need for a massive show of force right in the heart of the Papal State. In fact, the HQ was just a tad larger than the branch in the Kingdom.
I'd come here to hand over terror-related intel. Standard procedure routed that stuff to counterintelligence and investigative agencies. A bumbling guard led me inside with surprising efficiency for his demeanor—he got me an unmarked access pass and escorted me through a secret passage. I'd already shaken my tail on the way over, but I didn't want an entry record here anyway.
Honestly, it was wild using the VIP-only secret corridor. Being the Hero's companion carried weight, especially in a god-fearing place like this—divine oracle picks trumped most rank insignias. Hell, here I was, a lowly soldier, strolling a path reserved for cardinals.
The guard showed me to a room where I wet my whistle with a drink and waited. Nicer than expected—cozy setup. How long did I sit there? About half my beverage gone when someone who screamed "bigwig" entered.
"Pleased to meet you, Major Frederic Nostrim! I'm Bernard, Director of Inquisition Security."
"The honor's mine, Director Bernard."
Director, huh. In police terms, Bernard here was commissioner-level brass. No clue what Inquisition Security handled, but a high-up in that seat meant serious business—counterintelligence investigations, probably. I shook his offered hand while mulling it over.
Bernard wasn't a game character—no name-drop except for one recruitable Inquisitor. Most were mob NPCs, nameless fodder. Still, even as a no-name, Bernard was memorable. High-ranking and all.
I plastered on a smile and kicked off with pleasantries.
"Must be a busy time, Director—hope I'm not wasting your valuable hours."
"Not at all! For a companion chosen by God for the Hero, time is no object."
He poured a cold drink from the side setup, chatting me up.
"What tea would you prefer, Major?"
"I'm good—already got one here."
"Ah, right you are."
Guy handled people smoothly. Or more like, he was a pro at sucking up. Suspiciously so. What the hell does he do, anyway?
"Here to file a report, I hear?"
"Yes. Well, not just that."
"Ahh, I get it! One moment, please?"
Bernard set down his paper cup in a hurry and bolted. The door shut softly behind him. No real thoughts crossed my mind. Kinda baffling, though. How long had he been in here before dashing out? Attitude-wise, the dude was a total pushover. If the bomb victim from yesterday showed up personally, basic courtesy demanded some prep. What earth-shattering line required leaving the room to fetch? He groveled extra hard for a foreign "Hero's companion." Probably politicked or poker-ed his way to director.
I drained my cup as Bernard returned.
"Sorry for the wait!"
"No trouble, Director Bernard."
He plopped a thick stack of papers on the desk with pudgy hands.
"Take a look!"
The documents froze me solid. Wait, what the fuck? These are internal files. Security ink hadn't even dried—fresh printout.
"Uh, Director Bernard? This is clearly terror investigation material, right?"
"Yes! Sharp eye!"
Handing active investigation docs to an outsider? Suddenly nostalgic for 21st-century bureaucracy. I nudged the papers back—not playing hard to get, just didn't want arrest for leaking classified shit without a trace. Diplomatic immunity or not, this was a leak. Get tagged, lose status, blacklisted by foreign ministries everywhere. Hero's quest? Over. I'd be rotting in the Kingdom till discharge.
Not happening.
"Sorry, but I'm an outsider. Even as the oracle-chosen Hero's companion, non-Inquisition personnel have no right to internal docs."
Bernard blinked in confusion.
"B-but you're a direct terror victim and a guest of the Church."
His brazen attitude boiled my blood. No big reason—I'd handled military secrets back in intel. Reporting here, and he flashes internals to a stranger? Unbelievable. Instinct screamed he'd leak anything I shared. I jabbed the desk, ripping into him.
"Does the Inquisition leak files to VIPs? Terror probes live or die on security."
"Ah, n-no, security matters, but—"
"But what? What if I'm a spy? You flash this crap why? Planning to frame someone? That it?"
Bernard clamped his mouth shut. Facts shut people up. The room vibe was trashed. He just stared silently. I shot up and headed for the door.
"No report then. Goodbye, Director Bernard."
He didn't stop me. Figured a groveler like that would've clung to my leg. Surprising. What made Colonel Clevins think the Inquisition was competent? Doubt crept in.
I ignored the secret passage, taking the elevator. Pissed-off stairs felt risky—might slip. Cameras inside? Wipe 'em later. Or ask the colonel.
*Ding!*
Doors opened; head down, I stepped in.
"Welcome."
"Fuck! You scared me."
"Purpose of your visit?"
A priest smiled brightly, greeting me. Elevator greeter? Right, this world had those. Rubbing my startled chest, I muttered I was leaving after a report attempt. Doors shut; priest hit top floor, not ground.
"Hey? Father? I'm heading out."
"…"
No answer. Sensing weirdness, I fidgeted with my sleeve liner. Then the priest spoke.
"Please don't draw the knife in your sleeve."
"…Who the hell are you?"
No need to wait. Doors opened to a massive office. Backlit silhouette stared out the window. Priest exited, bowed at the desk.
"Chief Inquisitor, sir. I've brought Major Frederic Nostrim."
"…"
Now it clicked. Inquisition. Roots out and punishes Church-designated heretics. Duties: Church territory security and counterintelligence. Counterintelligence. Spy-catchers.
The backlit old man smiled faintly.
"Still standing there, Major?"
"…"
"Come here."
Guess it was all a surprise show till now.