By afternoon, word of a lead reached them. They were all summoned to a dingy room that smelled faintly of dust and confinement. A lone, young chauffeur was there, tied securely to a small wooden chair before a scarred desk. He appeared sweaty and dishevelled, his eyes vacant and his lips moving in a silent, continuous mutter as he rocked gently. The flickering flame of a single candelabra cast long, dancing shadows, offering barely enough light to see.
"What's the matter with him?" Constanza asked Lydia, her gaze fixed on the chauffeur.
"We don't quite know. It could be magic affecting him, but if so, it's unlike any I've encountered before," Lydia replied.
Hugo hobbled forward on his crutches, a polite smile fixed on his face. He settled into a chair and, with a smooth motion, produced his mother's music box. "Allow me some privacy with him," he requested of the group.
"We should try to heal him first," Constanza countered, a subtle unease prickling at her. "Perhaps he was cursed. Allow us to cleanse him."
Hugo pondered her suggestion, finding no issue with the Sisters ensuring the captive could speak clearly. Indeed, it would only simplify his task. "Very well, make it quick."
Constanza and Lydia took positions on either side of the young man. The older woman laid a hand on his shoulder, channelling divine energy into him. She detected faint traces of darkness, confirming his connection to the incident, even if he had been coerced. Such nuances, she knew, rarely factored into the Church's judgment.
"I think his memories might have been altered," Lydia murmured, her voice barely a whisper.
Hugo's eyebrow lifted. "That's seriously powerful magic. I don't believe the witch I encountered yesterday was capable of that. It seems our witch friend might have some coven allies." He offered Lydia a knowing smirk. "Can you restore his memories?"
Lydia slowly shook her head. "Unfortunately, whatever magic caused this is far beyond my abilities."
"So, you're telling me we have nothing," Hugo said, leaning back and idly spinning his music box. "Even so, we can still discover his most frequent customers and generate a lead from there. Give me some time alone with him." He made a shoo-shoo motion with his hand.
Lydia was more than familiar with his tricks. "I'm staying."
"That won't be necessary. I work best alone," Hugo smirked while adjusting his gloves. He glanced over at Voric. "Tell her to give me some space. I need to conduct my interrogation in private."
Voric nodded and said, "Let him do his job."
Lydia shook her head and sighed, "We don't need to torture him. The boy is probably going to spill everything he knows if we look at him wrong." She couldn't in good conscience leave the poor man in the hands of that monster.
Hugo suppressed a grin. "I am hired for the explicit purpose of interrogation, Sister." He looked up at Voric again. "You can leave things up to Lydia and get maybe half the information you need from him. Or you can let me do my job, and I'll be sure to extract every single piece of information he has, no matter how important. The choice is up to you, Voric."
Voric did want to see how good Hugo's interrogation skills were. He had hired him for that exact purpose after all. "Lydia, give the man some room to work," Voric said while beckoning the others to follow him out of the room with a hand gesture.
Lydia thought about protesting further, but Voric was the leader. Not following the chain of command could land an inquisitor in all sorts of trouble. Thinking better of it she followed Voric out of the room, along with the others.
Hugo was the only one left with the sweaty and pale young man. He finished cranking up the music box and sat it on the table. The haunting melody filled the silence between them. He took out his sketch book next and flipped it to the page where he had drawn Anna Seris.
He held it up for the man and asked, "Do you recognize her?"
The man, still looking dazed, squinted at the paper, trying to focus. He shook his head.
Hugo sensed no lie in his demeanour. He leaned forward, "Mr. Schaber. That's your name, isn't it? You can still remember your name?"
The young man nodded.
Hugo grinned. "Mr. Schaber. Do you realize the situation you are in? You are suspected of aiding and abetting a witch. A serious charge. And all the evidence we need is in that carriage of yours."
Cold sweat ran down the chauffeur's temple, glistening in the pale candlelight. "I don't remember anything."
"Of course you don't," Hugo smiled sympathetically. A fake smile, but it looked genuine. "But just because you don't remember doesn't mean you didn't commit the crime. We know you did. That's not why you are here." He points at the drawing of the woman again. "We need to find her, and right now, you are the only lead. What do you remember from the last few days? Who were all your clients? Give me everything."
It didn't take any torture to get all of the information Hugo needed. But he did it anyway, because he could. Conrad, Lydia, and Constanza had all heard the screams through the wall, but under Voric's silent stare, they all remained outside of the chamber. The young man was left a hollow husk, one who would soon be burned at the stake.
Hugo had gotten a list of names, the young man's usual clients. He reported everything to Voric, who soon would no doubt have all of them investigated one by one. And if they found so much as an inkling of suspicion that any of those mentioned were engaged with the supernatural or even just heretics, they would be dragged away into the dungeons.