Chương 34: Chapter 33: Benefits of War

Micheal was led deep within the constables, into a small room at the very back. There were two chairs, separated by a long table, and to the right was a large square machine adorned with numerous levers and buttons. A large roll of paper wrapped around a metal cylinder stretched horizontally across the top. A metal arm with a needle point hovered inches above the parchment. He sat down, while the silver-masked Inquisitor pulled out a small notebook from his coat and lowered himself onto the other seat.

The silver-masked Inquisitor looked at his open notebook, then back up at Micheal.

"Staten. Micheal Staten, is that correct?" Micheal simply nodded. The Inquisitor grabbed a pen from his pocket, placing the notebook on the table.

"Could you tell me what happened?"

"I… I was visiting. The door was locked and no one was answering. I heard strange noises coming from inside, so I broke the door down. I saw Evelyn, eating away at her mother's corpse. She had succumbed, maybe… maybe not even a few hours before I arrived." Micheal clenched his fist.

"And what did you do?"

"I tried to make her remember. But it didn't work." Micheal took a deep breath.

"Make her remember?" The Inquisitor tapped his pen.

"I am a Watcher. I have the ability to manifest and revive memories. I know Watchers can save the succumbed… I tried, but… it wasn't enough. I had to give her mercy." The Inquisitor rasped his pen against the notebook, writing something down.

"What is your relation to the Baruchs?" No reaction? Well, I suppose that's good enough.

"I am a family friend," Micheal said. I'm not lying.

"Do you know the source of the succumbing?" The Inquisitor looked right at him, his green eyes cold and unblinking beneath his mask.

"No. I don't." Micheal shook his head. The Inquisitor put down his notebook.

"Before we let you free, we will have to test you for any forms of corruption and contaminants. This will be painful to a degree. Do you understand?" Micheal glanced at the Soul Tester. It's a newer model. It's probably nothing.

"I understand."

"Good." The Inquisitor stood up and went over to the machine. The Inquisitor flicked some switches and pulled a few levers. The machine hummed, the brass cogs on its belly churning with life. Then he opened the side panel, pulling out a brass disk attached to a metal coil. The coil stretched out as the Inquisitor walked back to Micheal.

"Let's get this over with, Inquisitor." Micheal unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his bandaged chest. The Inquisitor pressed the brass plate right above the bandages and flicked a button on the handle. Micheal gritted his teeth as tiny needles carved into his skin, latching the disk completely.

"Then we begin." The Inquisitor went behind Micheal, placing his palms over the detective's nape. Then the Inquisitor unleashed a spiritual pulse into Micheal's back. Micheal gritted his teeth as his limbs stiffened up. A sharp pain surged in his chest, sprawling out to his arms and legs. Well, at least it isn't as painful as the old model. I can bear with this. The metal arm on the machine oscillated, writing red waves on the parchment. After thirty seconds, the Inquisitor removed his hand and the pain stopped.

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"You've been tested before?" The Inquisitor yanked out the disk.

"Aye. With the old model." The Inquisitor paused for a second.

"Must have been hell." Then he walked back to the machine and unclasped the parchment. He pulled it off the metal cylinder, grabbed it on both ends like a scroll, and read it.

"What's the verdict?"

"It doesn't look good. I'm not authorized to tell you anything more. Wait here a moment; I'll have our scholar confirm it." The Inquisitor walked out of the chamber and locked the door behind him. Micheal shook his head and murmured to himself, "Take all the time you need." Goddess… if only I didn't take up his offer. What's wrong with me? I'm not usually like this… I could have saved them, for God's sake. If I was there earlier, I could have done something… I was foolish to dream about the future. Our future…

The door opened and the Inquisitor returned, the scroll nowhere to be seen.

"Our scholar has confirmed medium levels of instability. You are to be confined in a separate chamber here for seven days and seven nights, until your state recovers."

"Seven days? Is there anything that I can do?"

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Staten. This is for your own good—" A loud knock rasped on the iron door. The Inquisitor grumbled something beneath his breath and went to open the door.

"What is it?"

"You would like to see this, sir." A gloved hand passed a page of freshly printed paper over to the Inquisitor. The Inquisitor glanced at the paper, then back at Micheal.

"This is certain?" Micheal frowned and found himself clenching his fists. What did they find out?

"Yes, I double-checked myself."

"Very well." The Inquisitor stepped back and approached Micheal.

"Apologies. We weren't aware you were a veteran. You are free to go." Micheal blinked twice, unsure if he heard the right words.

"Pardon?"

"Your papers mention your service in the Valencian War. We use a different standard for testing with veterans." The Inquisitor placed the piece of paper on the table, turning it toward Micheal. Micheal looked down at it, his frown growing deeper. It had everything from his date of birth, blood type, age, and even his time in the army. It was accurate down to the squadrons he served in and what fronts he fought at.

There was even a blurry drawing of him in the top right corner, albeit a much younger version of himself. He placed his hand over the paper, and it was warm to the touch. This looks like my dossier, but… this has more information. How? Why do they have this? And how did they get it so quickly?

"What is this? Where did you get this?" Micheal looked up at the Inquisitor in both fear and confusion.

"This is your profile from the National Database. We simply accessed your name and printed your information."

"National… Database? What are you talking about?"

"Haven't you heard the news? Duke Arlington approved our connection to the capital. We can access the information they have there with just the click of a few buttons here. Wonders of technology."

"Can you see everyone in there?"

"No. Mostly just registered demihumans, and by that extension, soldiers, current and former alike. We don't have everyone, not yet at least. If you have nothing else to ask, you're free to go," the Inquisitor said.

"Why do you use a different standard for veterans?"

"All veterans of the Valencian War have shown medium levels of instability. It is because of the training and your time on the battlefield that it has permanently altered your soul. Veterans have a better resistance to succumbing and corruption than any other demihuman. We'd only consider rehabilitation if your instability reached extreme levels." Makes sense. The last time I got tested, the results were abnormal too. You never really leave the war, do you?

If they'd known this when I got out, I'd have saved myself a lot of trouble.

"It's the first time I've heard anything good from that war. I'm really free to go, then?"

"Indeed so. And if ever the time comes you are involved with any Inquisition business, it would be wise to state your history. It would make things a lot easier for both parties involved, Sir Staten." Micheal's eyes widened slightly.

"I'll keep that in mind, then." He sprang to his feet.

"I'll be on my way, if you don't mind."

"Carry yourself well, brother." The Inquisitor opened the iron door, escorting Micheal outside, to the constable doors. Brother? That means he's also… like me. I guess that explains his change of attitude. Without looking back, Micheal walked out into the cold streets of the city, feeling the wind blow against his face. The sun was already starting to fall, a mere sliver of it peeking above the city walls. His eyes wandered the roads for a moment, searching for something, for someone. Did he go home already?

Then he spotted it, a mop of brown hair popping out from a nearby alleyway. There he is. I knew that bastard would follow me here. Micheal crossed the street and went into the alley. Just as he thought, Marco was leaning against the wall, waiting for him.

"Goddess, it really is you. How did you get out so quickly?"

"I'm not… quite sure." Micheal rubbed the back of his head. National Database… I don't like whatever that is.

"Are you alright?" Marco looked up at him, his voice free from sarcasm and venom.

"I'll be fine, boy. Let's go home." Micheal swiped something off his shoulder and continued down the alleyway.