Shadowguard

A single candle on the edge of a low wooden table illuminated the room. It looked to be an office of sorts. Rows of shelves, bowing beneath the weight of their books, lined the far wall. A small, handwoven rug covered the floor. In the far corner, half hidden in the shadows, stood an empty armor stand.

And there, on the other side of the table, sat the Inquisitor. It was as if their robe absorbed all light. They were a shadow, a gaping void, vaguely human, in the middle of the room.

"Sit," the disembodied voice ordered.

Everna obliged.

Every step towards the only other chair felt like a mile. Her legs were jelly, wobbly and unsteady as she crossed the room and lowered herself into the seat. The padded cushion sank beneath her, soft and inviting and not at all what she expected. If the Inquisitor meant to unnerve her with deviance from the normal procedure, they succeeded.

Everna spent three years studying their methods, and the Inquisitors preferred unpredictability. It instilled discomfort, and discomfort produced results. People were more likely to slip when rattled or miserable.

You know how this goes, she reminded herself. They ask the questions. You answer with the truth and nothing more. Don't let them get to you.

"I can see from your expression that you're confused," the Inquisitor noted, their voice flat. "Were you told nothing before you arrived?"

"No? I... was I supposed to know something?"

The sound that escaped the Inquisitor was a sigh, like a hiss, but not quite. The amulet distorted even their breathing.

"Yes, in fact, you were," the Inquisitor said. "I suppose that's what I get for allowing Shadowguard to handle the finer details."

Everna pursed her lips. This was all wrong. The Inquisitor was supposed to interrogate her, not speak to her as if she were their ignorant shadow. Where was the leading question? Why weren't they trying to run her in circles to lure her into a trap and reveal herself as the killer?

She'd come fully prepared to argue for her life. Instead, she could only sit in confused silence as the Inquisitor shook their head and plucked a stack of papers from the pile set at the end of the table. She hadn't a clue what they were talking about.

Maybe that was the point.

"Ah," the Inquisitor said, "I knew you looked familiar. You were the one who shadowed me throughout the arson case. A nasty thing, that was."

Everna remembered the case vividly. It was one of the more difficult and gruesome ones she took part in, as well as her first. It was a domestic dispute gone awry that, at first glance, seemed like a horrible accident. A recently divorced man forced his way into his former wife's home and found her in bed with her new sweetheart. While they were unaware of his presence, he doused the sitting room with lamp oil and set it alight. He escaped while the two of them perished in the fire.

The Guard suspected the hearth or a candle had caused the fire, but when Everna found one of the man's abandoned shoes in the wreckage, it became clear what happened. A week later, the Inquisitor recovered a note from his home, which detailed his true intentions. He meant for all of them to die, but panicked and fled at the last second. After a lengthy interrogation and a heated admission, the Courts hanged him for two accounts of murder and one account of arson.

"A situation that's all too common, I'm afraid," Everna said.

"As are assassinations," the Inquisitor pointed out. "Especially these days."

"I did not kill Mayor Ashburn."

The Inquisitor made an indiscernible sound one that could’ve been a snort, or something of that nature. "For me, at least, it was never a question. I read your records, and I read the reports yesterday. You're far too intelligent to make such a blunder, and the discrepancies speak for themselves. Unfortunately, that is a belief shared only by a few."

"You... read the reports?" Everna asked, dubious.

It must be a lie. If the Inquisitor read the reports, that would mean the Guard sent them ahead of her, which was impossible. It took days to process reports at a local level and many more days for them to go through the Courts' verification process. Unless the Guard sent the testimonies immediately following her arrest and straight to the Inquisitor's hand, they should still be in Pendel awaiting Sir Swiftbrook's perusal.

The Inquisitor cocked their head as they set the papers aside. "Perhaps it's for the best you weren't informed, all things considered. This is a delicate matter. If word were to spread, the complications would be... unfortunate."

"I'm not following," Everna said.

"Yes, that was quite clear from the dumbfounded look on your face. All the more reason I do not agree with this arrangement, but that is not my decision to make."

"How fortunate for me."

"Is it? You may yet wish someone more sensible was in charge of these matters."

Everna glowered at them. "Believe me, Inquisitor, I've been wishing that for a couple of days now."

"If you're referring to Captain Windmore's abysmal mishandling of the case, there is little I can do about that," the Inquisitor said. "For reasons I am not liable to explain, the Courts have elected to overlook the matter."

She scoffed. Captain Windmore's family was nobility, if she remembered correctly — low ranking nobility, but nobility nonetheless. While the Courts pretended such connections didn't matter, their leniency towards the upper classes was blatant more often than not.

"This case has split the High Court, and thus, we're at an impasse," the Inquisitor continued. "Half of the Arbiters believe your execution should come without delay. The other, more reasonable, half believe we require a deeper understanding before we make any significant decisions."

"You expect me to believe the Courts have already reviewed the evidence and deliberated on the matter when it's impossible to do so in two days?"

There was a slight pause before the Inquisitor spoke again.

"The assumption of treason is based on the circumstances; something is amiss in the southern regions, and the Courts are anxious, for lack of a better word. We believe this incident is connected to a matter we've been pursuing for this past year without fruition, but has recently reached a fever pitch."

"That, I was informed of, but it doesn't explain why I'm here."

The Inquisitor sighed again. "There are some who believe the capital's increased presence in the region has made it impossible to reach the root of the matter. An Inquisitor was not, and will not be, dispatched to Pendel for fear it may drive this unseen enemy further into hiding."

Everna pinched the bridge of her nose and released a slow, deliberate breath. The Courts' refusal to send an Inquisitor meant the investigation remained in the hands of the local authorities, and the thought of Captain Windmore having any jurisdiction over the matter left her stomach in knots.

She'd bet every coin in the tavern's safe that he caused the alleged discrepancies in the reports the Inquisitor received.

"You are going to resolve this matter."

Everna startled. "Me?!"

No. No. This was all wrong. The Courts would never allow an accused to conduct their own investigation, no matter the circumstances. It was a conflict of interest. Nothing she said would hold up in court, as the validity of her findings would be immediately called into question. Letting the fox into the henhouse, her mother would call it. An utterly asinine suggestion that was sure to come back to bite her.

"After much deliberation, and much argument, the Courts begrudgingly decided it was the best, albeit the most risky, course of action," the Inquisitor explained. "You are familiar with Pendel and its people. Your previous subject of study speaks for itself. You could do what an Inquisitor could not in this case."

"I—"

The Inquisitor held up their hand. "This is not up for debate. You have two months. If you cannot prove, without doubt, that you are not the culprit, you will be hanged. If you are intentionally impeding the investigation conducted by the local authorities, you will be arrested and executed without delay."

Everna bit the inside of her cheek. The Inquisitor's reasoning made sense; she was far less conspicuous than a hooded figure wandering through the streets. She knew the people, or, at the very least, the general temperament and attitudes of most. Many of the Guard she'd known since she was a child — they were friends of her father or former schoolmates of hers.

Two months, however, was not as much time as it seemed. Some cases took years. Others ran cold, never to be solved. She may as well have two days, for what it was worth.

Before Everna could voice that thought, the Inquisitor cut her off.

"You will do well to remember this. You were targeted for a reason and you will probably be targeted again."