187 Chapter One Hundred and Eighty-Seven – The Head Maester (1/2)
The Order of the Ruby Heart was in an uproar. Someone had dared make an assassination attempt on one of its squires, and been thwarted by the fact everyone concerned had stumbled right into the middle of an Inquisition operation.
There was nothing for it but volunteering by the brave knights to get back at the dastardly folk who had conspired against them, and as they'd properly bolloxed up the Inquisition's sting operation, well, a few extra bodies were never unwelcome in the Inquisition's untiring efforts.
It had been some time since the Ruby Hearts had had a proper amount of fun, and they did get a mite carried away digging out heretics, blasphemers, traitors, and insane idiots messing with stuff waaaaay beyond their sanity grade. Doors were kicked in, homes and business were wrecked, and fanatics were cut down in number. Buildings exploded, secret tunnels were plumbed, traps went off, ceremonies were interrupted, bases of operations were purged, and dread creatures never meant to see the light of day went rampaging about to the horror of all watching. There were sudden meteorological phenomena, unclean things brought into the world (and somewhat more slowly sent back out... or invited to stay permanently), a lot of desperate people and creatures running willy-nilly this way and that, and quiet hands in the shadows following them to exactly where such desperate people might go...
All in all, it was terribly exciting. The ministers and scribed were cheerfully describing all the events over tea and kafe, chortling to themselves about the foolishness of certain individuals:
”Did you hear about Jenks over in textile tariffs? Turns out he was worshipping some sort of intelligent slug!”
”I always did think he was a bit too radical. But that was nothing like the eighth precinct sewage control! They raided it just this morning!”
”Egads! What were they doing, worshipping some sentient pile of poo?”
”No, no, they were taken over by some kind of shapechanging slime creatures!”
”Seriously? Who would think of such a thing?”
”Well, you, for starters, sir.” Eyes rose just as a burning blade came down, and split the questioner in two at the hip. The not-blood that leaked out quickly began to burn white.
The quiet young man in leathers with silver eyes who had somehow walked up to them without being noticed gave the watching scribes a hard smile as he cut in the opposite direction, and the quarters of the reverting slime-thing that had replaced Vice Chief Tallyman Prento pulsed and writhed and began to dissolve.
”Eukayrot demons, servants of the Demon Lord of Ooze, Guixilin. Sirs,” the swordsmen informed them, turning away and striding out of the tea house.
”My word!” exclaimed the fake Prento's tea companion, bending over to look at the burning, shivering ooze, with all its many unwholesome hues. ”No wonder you had such horrible taste in tea...”
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Grand Maester Knight Baron of the Ruby Heart Daemo Lawvin looked up as the doors to his office opened smoothly. There was no warning from his secretary or his guards, which was enough to bring him to his feet as the party of men in white and black walked in.
The man in the center had a cowl with no eyeslits, covering his whole face, but the Scales of the Inquisition shown right through the silk covering. To his right was a man clad in polished silver armor who the Grand Maester knew well: Grand Maester Jon Krys, head of the Order of the Silver Sun, the pre-eminent Order of Paladins in the Empire, and considered the greatest master of the Thunder alive today.
At his left hand was the too-young, silver-eyed Heavenbound Warlock who he had admitted to the Order, holding in his hand a severed head wearing a signature lion helm.
The head inside that helm did not belong to a man.
”What is the meaning of this?” the Grand Maester asked softly, leaning forwards on his desk. ”And you, is this how you repay your fellow knights?” he asked, glaring at Errant, ignoring the head in his hand.
”I would apologize, but I am not a knight,” Errant replied calmly. ”To be a Knight, one must be knighted by a senior knight in good standing. I am afraid a fair portion of the Order are not actually Knights.”
The flat expression on the Grand Maester's face was the very picture of offense. ”You are questioning my qualifications?” he barked, and his power began to rise, the air humming with the power of Thunder.
”Ah, yes, displaying the Thunder only a true heart can show,” the Inquisitor murmured in a faceless voice. ”Please, perform for us the Call to Benediction.” The man in black with the white gloves indicated the silvered Paladin at his side. ”Sir Krys noted that he taught you the Call personally.”
”Evil Stands Before Us, Show Us Your Grace!”
The stentorian call was one hundred percent cheese wrapped up in a fine bow of Thundering belief.
Silver light descended from on high as the Paladin stepped forward, seeming to swell in size and... no-no, he actually did grow a foot taller, his armor grander, rippling with power, eyes burning with silver light as his Challenge was answered.