NOVEL NEXT Chapter 42 - The Village of Dan-Hem
Arcarius hated this assignment. He really did. He became a Temple Dragoon to protect people and not, like he was currently doing, chase after some helpless demonborn girl around the countryside in the absolute backwater that the Viscountcy of Ror-Bhyk was. Alas, orders were orders. and his, and those of two others from his order, were to guard Inquisitor Vanek, and if there was ever a worse man for the job, Arcarius couldn't think of one. He was suffering from what Lilyth would likely describe as a terminal case of “holier than the pope”. The man was a fanatic, strict and uncompromising. Vanek was one humourless bastard too - even the most innocent of jokes would result in a stern rebuke from him, and Light help you if the joke was bawdy or religious in nature. One of these days the Inquisitor would suffer “an accident” and Arcarius just hoped he was reassigned by then. He didn't want to die protecting Vanek from the results of his idiocy.
Which is why he was less than thrilled to be looking at the sullen faces of the villagers staring back at them with murder in their eyes. The good Inquisitor apparently failed to realise that his decision to hang the village elder would not be well received by the locals.
Matis. His name is Matis.
When they first arrived in this village to take the girl into custody a few days before, they discovered that the demonborn was, to the fury of Vanek, already gone. Someone had warned her about the Inquisitor’s coming and that was that. Arcarius hoped they would set off in “pursuit”, find nothing and then go home. They weren't the fastest of travellers, thanks to Vanek’s insistence on travelling in his Darhun-drawn carriage, despite this being literally the least practical mode of transport given their current location. They were near the border of the Northern Wildlands, meaning that flat roads were very rare here. It would be much faster to travel on foot, but as “the holy vestments of the priest couldn't be sullied by dirt” this was ruled out quickly. No one dared to suggest to Vanek that maybe he should ditch the white-and-gold robes for something more practical on the road.
A quick investigation revealed that the demonborn girl was staying at the village elder’s house who took her in after her mother died, so he was deemed to be the likely culprit. The idea of someone “tainted by the Abyss” being buried in the ground horrified Vanek enough that after dealing with the poor kind old man they would be ritually burning the freshly exhumed corpse and carrying out cleansing ceremonies on the whole village.
And so the three of them stood, dressed in their dark blue scale mail armour with green tabards adorned with the twelve-pointed silver star of their order, their swords drawn, before the hastily-built gallows while Vanek prattled something about the benevolence of Light and how every sinner must be punished and that the taint of the Abyss should never be tolerated.
Based on the expressions on the villagers' faces we are the ones that are not tolerated, he thought morosely.
One of them though, a short scraggly man, looked not so much angry, but incredibly ashamed.
If I were to guess that would be the person who caused this whole mess. It won’t surprise me if the village elder is not the only person who will end up with their neck in the noose today.
The only question was whether the man would do the deed himself or would his neighbours get him first.
Vanek finally shut up. Arcarius risked a look back. The Inquisitor was currently standing next to the village elder, and the contrast between them was never more apparent. Vanek was a tall and thin man in his early twenties, wearing his ceremonial robes with lace-of-gold embroidered cuffs and collar and a golden stole. He was clean-shaven and had neck-long raven-black hair and emerald eyes, which matched the jade on his silver diadem. The village elder was maybe sixty, with a bald spot on his head and short grey hair on his temples. His face was weathered by age and wrinkled and his brown eyes were filled with sorrow. He wore, now badly damaged, a simple light blue shirt and grey trousers. He was standing barefoot on a simple stool taken from his own kitchen with a thick rope around his neck.
Why do I feel those garbs should be worn the other way around? What right does Vanek have to wear clothes likely worth more than all of the village elder’s possessions? Why should a man who served his community for years and whose only crime was taking in an orphan girl die wearing just rags?
For the first time in his life, Arcarius questioned whether he was on the right side, and as heretical as the thought was he hoped that his Aki was far away from her home.