Chapter 6: The Inquisitor (Part 2)

He went to the Bramholt Cathedral. It was exactly how one would imagine a cathedral: big, gloomy, with high buttresses and plenty of spires. Inside, high vaulted ceilings stretched upward, painted mosaic windows cast colourful light across the floor, and frescoes depicted angels triumphing over fallen demons. Hugo had walked through the cathedral countless times and barely paid any attention to it. 

Today, he was here to meet with His Excellency Bishop Karl von Königsfeld. Apparently, there was another assignment—and a new Inquisitor named Conrad von Sternengipfel.

He greeted his eminence with a polite bow. The other Inquisitor was already standing by—a young man with sharp cheekbones, piercing blue eyes, and straw-blond hair. His demeanour screamed idealism. Hugo hated those. They were always so sanctimonious.

The bishop wasted no time, outlining their task in clipped tones. It was simple enough: a debtor to the Church had fallen behind on payments. Their job was to retrieve either the debtor or their money. Normally, the Church avoided such transactions—it was, after all, against God's law to charge interest against a fellow faithful—but politics often demanded sacrifices of principle.

Hugo naturally didn't mind; he was a pragmatist at heart; however, the scowl in his partner's face delighted him.

A short moment later, they were out in the rain, standing in front of an old mansion's door. The building clearly had seen better days, its cracked stone facade and sagging roof hinting at decades of neglect. Bramholt was a city where it poured constantly, the relentless rain soaking everything in sight.

After some knocks, an elderly man opened the door. He was tall and lean, with sharp features that might have been handsome in his youth but now reminded Hugo of a half-sunken fancy boat in a bog, covered in algae. Crowsfeet lined his eyes and mouth, and his luxurious but mismatched clothes spoke of a desperate attempt to cling to a more glorious past.

Hugo studied him with detached curiosity. Despite his evident struggles, the man carried himself with a quiet dignity, straight-backed and almost defiant. His calloused fingers showed that he was likely a card player, a gambling addict. No wonder he'd fallen on hard times, Hugo thought.

"Inquisitors," the man said before getting his face slammed by the door. 

Hugo kicked the door wide open and stepped inside. His artificer pepperbox was drawn. The artificer pepperbox was a semi-auto with a rotating gun-barrel. It had a magical crystal primer that would ignite the black powder charge inside the barrel every time it was struck by the hammer. Hugo's pepperbox held eight barrels in total.

He levelled the gun at the splayed out elder in front of him. "You owe us money, Lord Aldric Nachtdorn. Where is it?"

"I—I'll get the money soon," Aldric said, licking his split lip. "I have a way to make money."

Hugo cocked the hammer, "When."

"There's a tournament tonight. I have a surefire way to win," Aldric said with steady eyes.

Hugo laughed and then fired a shot. The bullet missed by a hair, sending hot powder and chunks of plaster flying into Aldric's face. The old man screamed, first in shock and then in agony as blood trickled from fresh wounds.

Hugo bent low, his gun still pointed at Aldric's face. Grasping the old man's shirt, he lifted him slightly off the ground. "Listen very carefully, You'll have one chance to recoup your money and pay us back. Fail, and you'll soon discover what the inside of a dungeon feels like."

"Inquisitor Hugo, you're going too far." Conrad stepped forward hesitantly.

Hugo waved him off without looking away from Aldric. Leaning closer, he whispered, "Understood?"

Aldric nodded frantically, blood dripping from his ear onto the floor.

"Good," Hugo said, his grin widening. "And just to ensure your cooperation, I'll be keeping a close eye on things tonight. Don't disappoint me."