The Baron and The Inquisitor

Lyriel frowned, unfamiliar with the term. "Inquisitors?" she asked.

"Mad zealots," Karl replied. "It's best you don't show yourself. So, hide somewhere and wait for me" He glanced at her and her belongings. "Your looks aren't exactly common around here. And ditch the hat."

Lyriel's silver eyes narrowed as she tried to gauge his intentions. After a moment, she nodded. Before confronting the inquisitors, Karl surveyed the area, carefully hiding any evidence of Lyriel's presence. Once satisfied, he instructed her to venture deeper into the forest and stay hidden.

With everything concealed, Karl approached the advancing mob. The group was relatively large and led by a knight flanked by two retainers in inferior armor, likely the local lord and his men. Among them stood a striking figure—a man in a dark red robe adorned with a gold cross pattern, carrying an incense burner that released a pungent odor and crimson smoke.

Karl approached cautiously. The mob halted as they spotted him, weapons raised in suspicion.

"At ease, gentlemen," Karl said, raising his hands. "Isn't this a bit excessive for an unconfirmed rumor?"

The leading knight raised his torch, illuminating Karl's face. Recognizing him, the knight relaxed and sheathed his sword. "Fox," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"My lord," Karl replied with a slight bow, "I could ask you the same. But as it happens, I'm here on the same errand."

"And?"

"Negative. Not a soulless witch in sight," Karl said.

"Lies!" a voice shouted from the crowd.

"He's bewitched! Enthralled by the demon!" another cried.

Voices rose in a chorus of accusations, but the knight silenced them with a shout. He scrutinized Karl, uncertainty etched on his face.

"Lord, if I may?" the robed man interjected. The knight nodded.

Stepping forward, the robed figure introduced himself. "I am Inquisitor Boyko Damir Prchal, acolyte of the Eastern Inquisition, servant of the Lord and the Holy See."

"And I am called Fox," Karl replied dryly. "Mercenary leader of the Band of Nobodies, servant of coin and my own pleasures."

Boyko's expression soured at Karl's irreverence. "You stand accused of aiding a witch and being enthralled by dark arts," he said. "You may prove your innocence, but time is of the essence. Fail, and your body and spirit shall be cleansed by holy fire."

Karl smirked. "That's a fancy way of saying 'burn me at the stake.' Before you light me up, this should suffice, right?" He retrieved a silver crucifix from his pocket and handed it to Boyko.

Boyko examined the cross, noting the Latin inscription: "Crux Sanctae Inquisitionis"—Cross of the Holy Inquisition. "Where did you get this?" he asked.

"The bishop of Taman gave it to me when I took on this witch-hunting contract," Karl replied, presenting a parchment bearing the bishop's seal.

Boyko scrutinized the document, his confusion evident. The seal was authentic, yet it was highly unusual for a mercenary to receive such a relic. Typically, the Inquisition would handle matters of witchcraft directly.

The knight interjected. "He carries the cross of Christ," he said. "A demon would burn at its sight, much less carry it. Am I right, Inquisitor?"

Boyko hesitated before regaining his composure. "Indeed," he said. "Such is the power of God."

"Innocent as charged!" Karl declared with a grin. "Glad you see reason, Inquisitor."

"God is just," Boyko replied, returning the crucifix and parchment. "But we must confirm it ourselves."

"Be my guest," Karl said, gesturing toward the lake.

As the group followed Karl, Boyko turned to the knight. "How do you know this mercenary, my lord?"

"He helped me once," the knight replied. "My daughter was lost in the woods, and he found her. He's been a guest of my court ever since."

"So, a freeloader?" Boyko quipped.

The knight's tone turned icy. "Careful, Inquisitor. He's a benefactor and a guest. Show him due respect."

"Of course," Boyko said. "Forgive my ignorance, my lord."

When they reached the lake, its crystal-clear surface reflected the winter moonlight. There was no sign of a witch.

"Where is the witch?" someone in the mob demanded.

"Maxim, you swore you saw her!" another shouted.

"I did! I swear!" Maxim pleaded.

"I told you to stop taking too many of those poppy seeds," a friend muttered, smacking Maxim on the head. The crowd murmured in disappointment.

Not wanting their efforts wasted, the knight ordered his retainers to fetch a sheep. When they returned, Baron Parvon Voronoff addressed Boyko. "Inquisitor, we offer this sheep to God to safeguard our lands and ensure safety this winter."

Boyko nodded. "Offerings must be accompanied by prayers. I shall summon the priest." He gestured to the other sheep. "And this one?"

"For feasting," the baron replied with a grin.

A priest soon arrived, and a peculiar mass was held by the lake. By midnight, the tense mob had transformed into joyous townsfolk, their campfires bright against the winter night. Music and laughter filled the air.

Karl sat by a fire, his thoughts on Lyriel. He didn't notice the baron approach until he handed him a cup of wine.

"Simpletons, aren't they?" Parvon said, gesturing to the revelers. "Earlier, they were a mad mob; now, they're ordinary people."

"Aren't you the same, my lord?" Karl quipped. "Didn't you lead them?"

"These are my people, Fox," Parvon said. "They're my responsibility. But if I truly believed the rumors, I wouldn't have come with only two retainers." He smirked. "Still, I believe in two absolutes: good and evil."

Karl pondered aloud, "Still, the Inquisition. I thought these lands were of Orthodox faith—yours."

"The crusaders," Parvon replied. "Their influence should not be underestimated. King Vlad allowed them to operate as long as they kept the peace and helped expel foreign invaders." He chuckled, adding, "Not to mention the gold he receives annually."

"No matter who your god is, you always answer to coin," Karl said with a laugh.

"Ain't that the harsh truth," Parvon replied.

Their laughter faded as Karl's eyes caught a glimpse of silver hair at the edge of the crowd. His heart raced.

"A little strong for you, Fox?" Parvon asked, noticing his reaction.

"It's fine," Karl said quickly. "May I excuse myself? I think the wine is kicking in."

Parvon nodded. "Rest well, my friend."

Karl weaved through the crowd toward the silver-haired woman. Before her face was lit by the firelight, he grabbed her hand and led her into the shadows.

"What are you doing?" he hissed. "I told you to hide."

"And I did," Lyriel replied. "But I heard laughter and music. Isn't it over?"

"Sort of," Karl muttered. "But you can't be seen."

"Why not?"

"You don't exactly blend in. You'll scare them, simpletons are scared of things they don't know."

Lyriel tilted her head. "I don't look hideous, do I?"

Karl sighed. "Trust me woman, you don't want to say that around other women." He tugged her further into the forest. "Let's go."

Before they could escape, a voice called out. "Leaving so soon, Sir Fox?"

Karl froze. It was Boyko, the inquisitor.