A new mission

Office of the High Inquisition - Kupen

One year ago during Hoi's Festival

Margrave Otho looked at the men and women seated in the long half moon, curved wooden table, in the centre of the room. Memories of the first time he had been called into the presence of The Conclave came flooding back. The day he was to become an Arbiter but instead was chosen to take on the ancient title of Purger.

His eyes fell on the leadership of the Inquisition suppressing a grin as many avoided his gaze, not wanting to come under his scrutiny.

Large braziers encompassing each of the twelve sandstone columns lighted up most of the hall, coating everything in an low orange glimmer. A huge chandelier hanged from the sloped ceiling dancing in the flickering breeze while memorials and statues of the Pillars looked down upon the maple floor of the once regal hall.

To him this room and the old men and women in it represented the decaying of the once proud institution he had served all his life. The Inquisition although feared and still considerably powerful was on the wane. They had achieved their goals decades ago and had eradicated most magik from the lands. Now they were simply hunting stragglers and the few remnants of their ancient foe. Without a powerful enemy to stand against the Inquisition would eventually fade away as the weavers became myth and legend among the population after almost 200 years of war.

A cold breeze drafted through the narrow windows, neighbored by draperies colored the same hues as the many banners that filled the hall.

His eyes drifted to Kupen's Pontiff at the head of the table in his sky blue robes embroided with glyphs of gold and silver. Margrave despised the man and his weakness. He had often considered having the man murdered. The Conclave needed stronger leadership but such a move could bring about a civil war in Mizar and many of his staunchest supporters wanted to avoid that. Especially when the man looked like he was not long for this world.

Next in line to take the head of the Conclave was the grey haired, High Priestess of Cambena. He felt her gaze on him longer than anyone. Something was about to transpire here, he could tell. Something momentous.

"What have you heard of Arcadia?" The Pontiff asked.