Chương 5: New Beginnings (retroactively added chapter)

A week after Jonny's "assassination," Archibald found himself banging his head on his desk in frustration.

"I don't think that's helping," said a voice from the door.

"Shut up, Harry."

"If you're worried about Jonny, don't be. Helen is amazing. There's no better place he could be."

"No, it's not that," said Archibald, forehead resting on the desk.

"Well, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried, but it's just… I don't know. Did I do the right thing? Was sending him away really the best choice?"

"I really can't say."

"Would you have done that for Clarissa? If someone was after her, and you couldn't stop them from coming after her, and you weren't sure you could keep her safe, would you send her away too?"

"I think I would make the same choices you did, but I still don't know if those are the right ones." Archibald sighed, and slowly raised his head. Harry—Harrison Ellis—was currently his personal guard, but he was also the closest thing Archibald had to a true brother. They had trained under the same teacher, and now Harrison served as his personal guard, a position of great status that was a reward for his magical achievements. He was also one of only three people that Archibald trusted unquestionably.

"What I don't understand…" Archibald started.

"Is how the hell Raymond is so spotless."

"I don't get it either."

"Not a single piece of evidence of wrongdoing. Hell, even I skip official procedures sometimes, but Raymond somehow files everything perfectly every time. I know he was behind this. I know he's involved in questionable businesses. But how is there not a single shred of evidence?!"

"It's–""I should just capture him."

"I don't–""Or maybe his wife. Or his son…"

"You wouldn't do that."

"You're right… But I could still interrogate him directly. I could get the warden involved. I know he has ways of making people talk."

"And when the king and church find out and send the royal guard and the inquisitors to arrest you?"

"I'll have a confession, and my actions will be justified."

"And if you don't?"

"I will."

"But what if you don't? You'll be stripped of your title and likely imprisoned. You'll lose everything." Archibald leaned forward, banging his head on the desk again.

"Why can't he just slip up? Just one mistake. One crime so I can have him arrested and open a proper investigation."

"He will," said Harrison.

"Eventually. Nobody can be perfect for that long. You just have to be ready."

"Oh, I will," said Archibald.

"The second he does anything wrong, I will make sure he never sees the light of day again. And then I'll bring Jonny back and he'll be able to inherit and everything will be right again!"

"That's the spirit."

"Frederick Schmidt!" Frederick did his best to school his expression and keep his gait steady as he walked onto the stage. The pope himself was waiting at the podium. Frederick had only ever seen the man from afar, and could hardly contain his excitement and nervousness. Pope Metrus, first of his name, was one of the two greatest living humans. This was not only Frederick's opinion, but the opinion of nearly the entire world.

Before he was Pope Metrus, he was Peter, and while his position in the church was that of a mere priest, he was already known throughout the country as much more. In the Demon War, he served alongside the Hero himself, earning a number of epithets, but in the end, the most widespread and well-known was simply "the Healer." At age 30, he was already a sixth layer healing mage, and fought on the front lines of nearly every major battle.

When the war ended and he returned to his life in priesthood, he rapidly rose through the ranks, and at the age of 37, just after the previous pope died, he was elected unanimously as the successor. Now, he was the world's only eighth layer healing mage, capable of veritable miracles. It was said he could even bring back the dead, so long as he reached them in time.

He had accomplished many great deeds in his life, both as a healer and as a pope, and now he had personally come down to officiate a ceremony because of Frederick. Pope Metrus was an old man by now, but Frederick was somewhat shocked when he approached the podium and saw exactly how old. The portraits always made him appear hale and hearty, and the statue in the square showed his youthful form, where his shoulders were as broad as the Hero's.

Frederick had known that the portraits were often exaggerated, and that the statues weren't accurate, but even so, the pope looked too different. He had the same green eyes, the same bushy white beard, and the same robes, but he was so frail. His hands and arms were thin, and Frederick could tell that beneath the robes, his body was nothing like the statue. Beneath his beard, his cheeks were slightly sunken, and there were dark shadows under his eyes.

He still appeared kind and intelligent, but also glassy-eyed and exhausted. Frederick had heard that being in a position of so much power was stressful, but he never imagined that the pope would be suffering so much from it. The difference between his expectations and the man before him almost made him forget his purpose of coming to the stage. He stopped in front of the pope, standing upright for just a moment too long before remembering he was supposed to kneel.

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"Frederick Schmidt," said the pope again, his voice deep and sonorous in contrast to his appearance.

"Why have you come before us on this blessed day?"

"I seek to devote my life to the path of the righteous warrior, Father."

"Do you come to the Lord of your own free will?"

"Yes, Father."

"Do you come to seek glory or wealth?"

"No, Father. I renounce my claim on worldly possessions, save those which are necessary to carry out my purpose."

"Do you come to seek to earn eternal life through service?"

"No, Father. I know that no amount of works can earn salvation, but I wish to protect the people of the Lord from the forces of the Devil."

"Do you come to seek the fervor of bloodshed and elation of slaughter?"

"No, Father. I believe all life is created by the Lord and its loss should never be rejoiced. I vow to draw my blade only when I have no other choice."

"And if you have no other choice?"

"Then I will fight to my dying breath for the sake of my creed, Father."

"Do you vow to fight for the Lord with all your heart, mind, and body for the remainder of your life?"

"Yes, Father."

"Do you vow to uphold the values of the church and the Lord whom we serve, regardless of circumstance?"

"Yes, Father."

"Rise, Frederick Schmidt." Frederick rose to his feet, and once again looked into the pope's sunken eyes.

"Henceforth, your life is no longer your own," said the pope.

"Your life and death are in the hands of God and God alone. If He wills that you live, you shall live. If He wills that you die, you shall die.

"But do not fear death. Death in service of God is the highest form of worship, whether that be in peace or battle. Walk strong in the Lord and your heart will be without fear, even in the face of the Devil himself." The pope bowed his head toward Frederick, and Frederick did the same in response, and then the two turned to face the congregation seated in the chapel. It was a small group, no more than a few dozen strong, but everyone present was an important member of the church.

There were cardinals and bishops, and high ranked inquisitors, and right in the front row was the man who had started it all for Frederick. Frederick was so shocked that he failed to control his expression, eyes widening and mouth hanging open. He corrected himself a moment later, but not before the man in the front row's smile turned into one of amusement. He said he wouldn't make it.

The pope began a sermon, speaking of the duties of the church and the inquisitors, and the importance of their resolve in the face of the various evils of the world. Frederick heard the words, but they barely registered in his mind. Between his excitement and anxiety and surprise, there was too much else going on in his mind to be able to process the pope's sermon. It was all he could to do keep from staring. I can't believe he's here!

High Inquisitor Ivan Kosic had only been an ordinary inquisitor back when Frederick first met him, and Frederick had only been a boy. He lived in a small village on the outskirts of Feria with his mother and sister. It was a peaceful life, until one day when their mother went missing. Frederick remembered feeling panicked. He searched the entire town, asking everyone he knew if they had seen her, but even after two days, she was nowhere to be found.

It was then that Ivan arrived, riding in on a black horse with armor that seemed to absorb light. The arrival of an inquisitor was often a terrifying time, but to Frederick, it meant salvation. The moment he heard about the man, he ran across town, arriving just in time to watch the front door of the mayor's house explode. A monstrosity emerged, vaguely humanoid, but with the head and neck of a serpent and fangs dripping venom that sizzled against the ground.

Frederick was struck with terror, certain he was about to die, but before the demon even had time to notice him, Ivan followed the demon out, sword drawn and covered in blood. The demon tried to flee, but it had only made it a dozen feet when Ivan cut it down. Frederick never got to see his mother again. Her corpse was in a state that the other townsfolk didn't want to traumatize him. He heard later that she had been largely devoured.

The demon possessing the mayor had managed to keep its appetite under wraps for nearly a year, but after one disappearance too many, the inquisitors were called, and Ivan answered. Frederick and his sister were taken to the capital, where they lived in an orphanage near the central cathedral. As a junior inquisitory, Ivan was often busy hunting demons, but he always made time to visit Frederick and his sister whenever he could.

He became like a father to them, and when he was promoted to High Inquisitor, he served as Frederick's mentor. He had said he would miss the induction, because he was out on an emergency mission in the far north. Frederick thought it would be another week before they could see each other. Seeing Ivan smiling at him from the front row was so shocking it was almost overwhelming, and he had to clench his fists from fidgeting in anticipation.

After what felt like an eternity, the pope's sermon finally came to a close, and the congregation stood and sang a hymn, and at the end, the pope turned back to Frederick with a smile.

"Welcome, Frederick Schmidt," he said.

"Today, you are an inquisitor!" Frederick smiled and bowed his head as the congregation gave him a round of applause. The pope bowed back, then turned toward the door behind the stage, as two armored knights seemed to appear out of thin air to flank him. The ceremony was now over, and after respectfully waiting for the pope to depart, he immediately turned around and rushed to greet Ivan.

"High Inquisitor Ivan, sir!" he said, stopping just a foot away and placing his right fist over his heart in salute.

"Inquisitor Frederick," said Ivan, mirroring the salute. Then, the two of them leaned forward and embraced. Ivan was an old man now, nearly eighty years old, he was far from frail. Even at his age, he still dwarfed Frederick, standing half a head taller with impossibly broad shoulders and arms as thick as Frederick's legs. In Ivan's embrace, Frederick almost felt like a child again.

"Congratulations!" said Ivan as they pulled apart.

"I'm glad I was here to see it."

"I thought you would be gone another week!" exclaimed Frederick.

"The incident resolved more quickly than expected, and I rode for three days and nights without rest to return in time."

"You didn't have to do that," said Frederick, suddenly feeling guilty.

"Of course I did," said Ivan.

"How could I possibly miss this? The pope himself inducting my protegé? I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"I– But–" Frederick struggled for words for a few seconds, but he was getting choked up. In the end, he only managed two more.

"Thank you." He leaned in to hug Ivan one more time, and Ivan pulled him in close, gently patting him on the back.

"You've done well, my boy," he said.

"You've done well. I'm proud of you." The two stayed like that for a minute or so, until Frederick finally pulled away, wiping tears of joy from his eyes.

"I won't let you down," said Frederick.

"As long as you try your best, you never will," said Ivan.

"Now, I believe I've hogged the man of the hour for long enough, so I had best get going. The Lord knows I could use some sleep." Frederick glanced around, seeing some of the other inquisitors and clergymen waiting politely nearby. He looked back at Ivan and smiled and nodded.

"Thank you for coming," he said.

"Of course. Come see me again tomorrow evening and we can have a proper chat."

"I will!" Ivan gave him one final smile, then turned toward the door. Frederick watched him leave, then spent the next two hours being introduced to various important members of the church, and receiving offers for tea and joint training alike. The whole experience was surreal. He was speaking to people that, until that day, would have been nearly unreachable for him, and now they all wanted his attention. It was like a dream, but even when he pinched himself, it never came to an end.

I'm an inquisitor now, he thought. I did it.