CLANG!
The impact echoed through the stone courtyard.
Sir Gainard stumbled back three steps.
His boots slipped on the gravel.
The veteran knight tried to raise his shield, but his arms were trembling. Sweat soaked his tunic under the chainmail.
Across from him, Crown Prince Aerion advanced.
Aerion didn't even stop to breathe.
His training sword came down in a vertical arc.
CRACK!
The wood of Gainard's shield splintered. The knight fell to his knees, gasping, his chest heaving violently.
Aerion lowered his weapon, but his face was dry. He had barely broken a sweat.
"Get up, Gainard," Aerion ordered. His voice was calm, but firm.
The veteran spat blood onto the ground and shook his head.
"Mercy, Your Highness..." Gainard panted. "My old bones... they can't keep up with your pace anymore."
Aerion sheathed his sword with a sharp movement and looked around the courtyard.
The other squires and soldiers looked away. No one wanted to be next.
The prince extended a gloved hand and pulled Gainard up in one motion.
"Rest," Aerion said. "Tomorrow, we'll work on your lateral defense. You leave your left flank open when you get tired. A demon won't give you time to recover."
"Yes... Your Highness. Thank you."
The clatter of boots echoed on the cobblestones.
A messenger ran toward them.
The boy was pale and nearly crashed into the weapon rack before skidding to a halt in front of the Prince.
"Your Highness!" the messenger squeaked. He gave a clumsy bow, nearly falling on his face.
Aerion frowned. The boy reeked of fear.
"Speak."
"Message... an urgent message from the High Inquisitor." The boy swallowed loudly. "He demands your presence at the Cathedral. Right now."
The courtyard fell silent.
To mention the Inquisition was to invite disaster.
The nearby soldiers stopped sharpening their weapons.
Gainard discreetly made the sign of the cross.
"The Inquisition?" Aerion adjusted his gauntlet. "I'm a Paladin, not a witch hunter. What do they want?"
"He... he said it's a matter of 'National Security,' Your Highness." The messenger lowered his voice, trembling. "He mentioned corruption in the ranks. Something about the Crypt incident."
That disaster had happened days ago.
It was supposed to be a minor accident.
But if the Inquisitors were getting involved, it was something much more serious.
"I'm on my way."
Aerion strode across the courtyard. The messenger had to run to keep up.
He entered the halls of the Royal Palace. Shadows stretched between the marble columns. The air here was colder than outside.
"Aerion!"
The voice boomed down the hall.
King Aurelian emerged from his private chambers.
The monarch looked like a ghost of his former self.
He had deep, dark circles under his eyes and his skin was grayish.
He leaned heavily on an ebony cane.
Aerion stopped and bowed his head.
"Father."
The King looked at his son's silver armor with contempt.
"That costume again," Aurelian spat. "You are the heir to Phaedra, not some guard dog for the Church. You should be in the Council, not sweating with soldiers."
"The High Inquisitor has summoned me, Father."
The King's expression changed.
Contempt turned to caution. His fingers tightened on the cane's handle until his knuckles turned white.
"The Inquisitors?" The King took a step back. "Why? What have you done?"
"Nothing. They say there's a threat to the crown."
The King let out a dry, bitter laugh.
"They always see threats. It's their way of tightening our leash." Aurelian moved closer to his son. "Be careful, Aerion. Those fanatics don't respect royal blood, they only respect fear. So don't give them anything they can use against us."
"I will do my duty, Father. I will protect the kingdom."
"Protect your own neck first," the King retorted.
He turned and limped away into the darkness of the hall.
Aerion watched his father leave. He clenched his jaw and continued on his way.
The Cathedral of St. Celeste loomed over the city like a stone beast.
Aerion pushed open the massive oak doors.
The stained-glass windows filtered a red and blue light that stained the stone floor.
It was empty.
There was only one figure near the main altar.
Odessa Grand.
The Paladin stood there, rigid as a statue.
Her armor shone in the candlelight, but her posture screamed tension.
Her hand rested on the pommel of her sword, her fingers drumming against the metal.
Aerion approached.
His footsteps echoed in the empty nave.
Odessa spun around sharply.
Her green eyes were bloodshot. She looked like she hadn't slept in three days.
"You're late," she said.
"The King stopped me." Aerion stopped about six feet away from her. "What's going on, Odessa? The messenger looked like he was about to piss his pants."
Odessa glanced toward the shadows of the confessionals, making sure they were alone. Then, she locked her eyes on Aerion.
"We have a problem, Aerion. A rotten one."
"The Crypt?"
"Worse." Odessa took a step forward. "The Inquisition is investigating two of my novices."
Aerion frowned. "Novices? Why would the High Inquisitor call me for two kids?"
"One of them is the youngest of House Nyxian." Odessa paused, letting the weight of the noble name sink in. "And the other... the other is the commoner boy."
"So?" Aerion asked. "If they broke the rules, let them be punished."
Odessa shook her head slowly.
"You don't get it. The Inquisitors didn't arrest them for breaking something." Odessa lowered her voice until it was barely a whisper. "They arrested them because they found traces of magic in the Crypt. A magic that shouldn't exist."
Aerion felt his stomach drop.
"Heresy?"
"No," Odessa said, and for the first time, Aerion saw real terror in the eyes of the order's best swordswoman. "Miracles. They think one of those kids used a Saint-Level power to kill that thing in the Crypt, and they want to crack their heads open to see how they did it."