Champions Vol. 02

"Who are they, Priest Astinus?"

Smiling at his youthful exuberance, Astinus replied, "Inquisitors."

* * *

As Themistokles finished off the last of his evening meal, he reviewed what he had discovered so far during his investigation. After he had separated Phoebe and Varus, he had learned little more from them. The feeling that they were withholding was true, but it was nothing about the incident. The pair planned to marry, and Phoebe had not informed Pelagios before his death. While not a violation of any rule, it was still customary for any priest or priestess who planned to wed to notify others in the clergy of the fact. This was to ensure that the Great Temple had adequate time to find a replacement. Given the circumstances the inquisitor could not blame her for not doing so, but she had still been embarrassed by her failure.

Themistokles had spent his second day in Exitibus speaking to all of the witnesses, whose names he had received from Varus. The man was organized, and seemed committed to ensuring the safety of the city. The inquisitor had spent long hours speaking with both him and Priestess Phoebe, helping them to deal with their many responsibilities. The priestess was far too young to be the only clergy member in a city the size of Exitibus, and her fiancé was not much older. However, they worked hard and generally made sound -- if inexperienced -- decisions. Themistokles' counsel was gratefully received, and once he finished his investigation he was considering recommending that the clergy allow Varus to remain in his position of sheriff. The city certainly seemed better for the man's efforts. Themistokles just wished that he had had as much success in the city.

After interviewing all of the witnesses, the inquisitor knew little more regarding the events of that night than he had after his first day here. Each of them had made themselves readily available to an Inquisitor of Eros, but each one that he spoke with confirmed what Varus had told him already. No one had actually seen the fights, but in their aftermath none of the weapons described by Sapphire and David to him, and by Laurena to Phoebe, had been present. It seemed the only armaments carried by the men were common belt knives, aside from the two guards' swords.

Today he had chosen to speak with the shop owners and innkeepers, hoping that perhaps Ófis/Galen was in fact in Exitibus, but was simply doing a better job of covering his tracks. Unfortunately it had been a dismal failure. No one that he had talked to today had been threatened or stolen from, nor did they know of anyone who had. A few of the people he spoke to had mentioned a number of unfortunate accidents that had befallen some of the shopkeepers in the city in the last two months, but they immediately followed up with the assertion that they had just been accidents. When asked they had described unfortunate home fires, falls from roofs, broken necks after riding accidents, and an assortment of other odd but not uncommon fatalities.

Themistokles was beginning to worry that there was nothing going on in this city after all, and that implied ill fortune for whatever town his quarry was currently hiding.

He was currently sitting in the dining area of the Traders' Rest Tavern, waiting for the owner, Cassius, to return so that he could speak with him. Themistokles had stopped in twice already, and both times was told that he had just missed the man. The second time had been frustrating, and he had decided to have dinner at the tavern and wait there until Cassius came back. When the barmaid had served him his dinner he had told her that he would not leave until her boss returned. The woman had assured the inquisitor that Cassius often had to run home to help his wife with their children, but that he always returned. That had been an hour ago.

Hearing a disturbance by the door, Themistokles was pulled from his musings in time to hear the gasping words of a man clearly out of breath.

"The Inquisitor...I was told...the Inquisitor...was here."

Standing from his chair, Themistokles moved towards the man. He was doubled over, gasping for breath, and clutching the tunic of another man standing by the front door.

"I am here," Themistokles announced as he walked up. "What do you need of me?"

"I come...from the temple...riders...came to it...Priestess Phoebe..." the man said between gasps for breath.

"Compose yourself man," the inquisitor snapped in annoyance. "Take a few breaths and speak."

Pausing to gather his wind, the man tried to straighten up but immediately bent over again, clutching a stitch in his side.

Rolling his eyes in annoyance, Themistokles cast a quick spell of healing on him. The man stood up in surprise, and took a deep breath with a look of relief.

"Now tell me what you want," the inquisitor demanded.

"Two riders came to the temple in the middle of the service," the man said excitedly. "They were from the Great Temple. One spoke with Priestess Phoebe and handed her a scroll. As soon as she read it she asked for as many volunteers as were willing to search the city and bring you back to the temple at once. You must come quickly, Inquisitor. I do not know what was in that message, but the priestess needs you immediately."

Themistokles felt a mixture of annoyance and worry. He still wanted to speak with Cassius; but it appeared as though that conversation would have to wait until tomorrow. Turning back to the tavern, he noticed everyone was watching their conversation. He searched the crowd, and finding the barmaid he called out loudly, "It seems I will have to speak with Cassius tomorrow. Please let him know that I expect him here waiting for me in the morning."

The barmaid nodded at his words and replied, "I'll tell him myself as soon as he returns, Inquisitor."

Turning back to the runner that found him, Themistokles addressed the man, "I will return to the temple at once, and tell Priestess Phoebe that it was you who found me. What is your name, sir?"

"Kosmas. Thank you, Inquisitor!" the man exclaimed happily, hoping that the lovely priestess might 'reward' him for his efforts.

Exiting the tavern, Themistokles walked quickly towards the temple. It was on the other side of the city from him, but he knew the way well. He just hoped that whatever this rider brought was good news.

He doubted it. Good news never traveled fast.

* * *

King Amenemhet IV sat eating dinner in the most luxurious house in Lafria, the largest port city on the island of Orilfas. It annoyed him that he was forced to endure the peasant accommodations, but after nearly a week at sea, even his opulent flagship was becoming tedious. His armada had been unprepared to set sail from his kingdom seven days ago, and they were already struggling with the logistics of the voyage.

When Sekhmet's Champion had first told him that he had one week to prepare his army to sail he had assumed it was a mistake. One week was a ridiculously short amount of time. A third of his army was more than two weeks ride to the south, fighting to conquer the forest kingdom of Galfaing. Another third of his army was still a week's walk to the north, committed to the occupation of the desert kingdom formerly known as Alssah`ra' Aljameela. Since its conquest and addition to his United Kingdom of Amandure his troops had faced constant rebellion and resistance. No matter how brutal or merciless he commanded his troops in that land to be, they seemed incapable of pacifying the nomadic desert tribes. Finally, the final third of his army was in his own kingdom, training, resting, and defending its borders. One week was not enough time to assemble an invading army, and attempting to send any less would likely end in failure, like the last attempt twenty winters before.

The Champion had calmly told Amenemhet that whatever forces he could muster would set sail in eight days, or he would not live to see the ninth. Frustrated and fearful, the king sent riders to recall all of his troops from the south, ordering them to return immediately and with great haste. He also recalled half his troops from the north, ordering them to buy, borrow, or steal however many mounts they needed in order to arrive in time to sail, which they did. Thankfully, his navy was better positioned. Half his fleet was either in port along his kingdom's coast, or within a day's sail. The other half was along his current route, and his armada grew each day they traveled toward Erosius. Unfortunately, gathering sufficient supplies had been impossible.

On the morning of the eighth day, the king sailed with a third of his navy, and nearly half of his 13,000 troops aboard. He had left a few hundred of his troops to defend the kingdom, with orders for the returning southern general to gather half his men and all the supplies they could find along their return route and sail the moment they reached his capital city's port. The other half would remain in Amandure and defend the kingdom. His armada did not have enough supplies to make the journey to Erosius, but they could add to their stores from the conquered islands along the way (as they were currently doing here in Lafria). However, once they landed in Erosius they would be in a foreign land with minimal food, supply lines that stretched across an ocean which took months to sail, and likely facing a defending army. His army would be lucky to even survive this endeavor, and he would likely be left without enough food or trained soldiers to keep the land if he did win.

Lost in his worries, Amenemhet did not notice the entry of Sekhmet's Champion until the bear of a man spoke.

"Still chafing at your goddess's schedule, Amenemhet?"

The king started at the unwelcome voice, and his anger immediately flared at the casual address. He was a king; no man could use such familiarity with him! But this was not a normal man, and the king had no intention of trying to correct the Champion of his goddess.

"We are all servants of Sekhmet," King Amenemhet replied cautiously. "I am proud to do as my goddess commands."

"But?" the Champion prodded in his annoyingly calm voice.

Deciding there was no harm in sharing his worry, the king explained, "But I am concerned about supplying my army in a distant land. We did not have enough time to lay in sufficient stores for this campaign, and I fear we will arrive in Erosius only to starve during our march of conquest across it."

The giant Champion turned from the king and pulled a padded chair from in front of the fireplace and sat it at the table. Lowering his bulk into it, he demanded, "Why should that be a problem, simply take from those you kill."

Growling in frustration, King Amenemhet stared at his goddess's chosen Champion as he struggled against the anger that flared within him. Did this fool know nothing of war!?

"First, if our men are gathering food then they are not fighting," the king explained in annoyance. "Second, our goddess commands us to execute those who do not convert, and those who do will barely be enough to maintain the lands once we finish destroying their defenders. Third, of those who convert, the strongest and most able will be used to replace our own losses on the field, thus they will be busy training how to fight, not gathering crops. Lastly, we will be arriving after the harvest, at the beginning of winter. What stores the Erosians have set aside for the winter will already be dwindling before we even arrive."

His tirade complete, King Amenemhet IV now looked closely at the Champion seated beside him. It was the first time that he had ever seen the man with an expression other than boredom or disdain. The giant was furious.

"Damn you, Andraste! Can you never be bothered to teach these fools how to think for themselves," the Champion cursed.

The king had no clue what the man was talking about, but considering his anger he had no desire to risk asking.

After a few moments of cursing the giant calmed, and then looked the king directly in the eye. "You have done as the goddess commands, but that ends now. Henceforth, do not kill those who refuse to convert. Enslave them, and use their labor to support your efforts. With a minimal number of guards the slaves can gather the food you need to supply your army, and their labor can also ease the burden of travel. How the hell did you ever conquer so much territory without slaves?!"

Amenemhet was both surprised and annoyed by his words. His army was the most powerful in this world, yet this Champion dared to question his methods.

"I have been quite successful making war this way for over twenty winters," the king bristled. "I have not kept slaves since the day my goddess commanded me to kill or convert all who opposed me, and it has worked!"

"It is time to change," the Champion countered evenly.

Growling in annoyance, Amenemhet decided to argue one final point. "And what if these slaves would rather die than serve my army?"

"You have wizards and their magic," the giant replied with a malicious chuckle. "I am certain that you can find a way to 'convince' your new slaves to follow orders."

King Amenemhet considered this statement. His people's magic had dwindled greatly since they cast aside Min for Sekhmet, but there were still a few among his army that could harness the power. Additionally, his own court wizard, Iahmesu, was constantly experimenting with magical novelties. Perhaps he could come up with some solution in the remaining months of their voyage.

Seeing that his point was made, the Champion rose from his chair and made to leave the room. However, he stopped at the door and turned back to the musing king. "One exception though," he said. "The priests and priestesses of Eros must continue to die horrible, painful, and public deaths. Examples must still be made."

*** Chapter 17: Recalled ***

301810APR13 DW

Exitibus, Erosius

It took Themistokles more than half an hour to reach the temple, but by the time he had arrived the evening service had already been cancelled. All of the faithful had departed, and seeing no one else present in the main hall he proceeded to the priests' quarters, assuming he would find Phoebe there. Knocking on her office door, he had only to wait a few heartbeats before the door was opened by a harried looking priestess.

"Thank Eros they found you so quickly," Phoebe exclaimed in relief, beckoning him to enter. "This rider arrived from the Great Temple an hour ago."

Inside the office, two men were rising from comfortable looking chairs before the fire. Both were dressed in the livery of Great Temple message riders, and they looked travel weary.

"Inquisitor," the older of the pair greeted him politely.

"Messengers," Themistokles replied with equal courtesy. "You have traveled a long way; I hope the roads were not difficult."

"Not difficult sir, just long, with many stops and troubled discussions along the way," the rider replied.

"They carried a message from the Great Temple for Pelagios, and another for you," Phoebe interjected impatiently.

At her words the younger rider drew forth a scroll from his satchel and handed it to Themistokles. It bore the seal of the High Inquisitor Nikanor, but the seal had been broken. The priest's eyes widened in surprise. He had never received a message from the High Inquisitor himself, and he could not imagine anyone foolish or courageous enough to break his seal without good reason.

Checking the scroll he saw that it was not addressed to him directly, but instead addressed to any and all Inquisitors that these riders should encounter. Reading the message, he learned of the return of Eros and the selection of a new Champion (not news to him after Laurena's visit to Calavius). The High Inquisitor also wrote of their god's command to raise an army, and ordered all Inquisitors to cease any and all activities they were engaged in and report immediately to the Great Temple to assist in training and leading the army.

After reading the message a second time he looked to Phoebe and asked, "What did your message say?"

"It was from the High Priest himself!" she exclaimed. "It spoke of Eros' return and the new Champion. Then it said that invaders were coming, and that I should gather as many volunteers as possible and send them south to be trained by Priest Astinus."

"May I read it?" Themistokles requested.

Nodding, Phoebe walked quickly to her desk and grabbed the scroll off of it, handing it to Themistokles. The inquisitor read through it quickly, noting that Phoebe's summary had covered the major points succinctly. He also noted that the training in Wolfsvale was to go on until the rest of the army from Sanctuary Port arrived, and then the forces gathered would finish their training together, after which half of them would return to defend their homes and villages while the rest remained to meet the invaders, whom were likely to make landfall somewhere in the west.

After finishing the message, he handed it back to Phoebe and addressed her, "There are a number of disconcerting elements to that message, beyond the prospect of war."

"How so?" she replied.

"Notice that this scroll was dated the 22^nd of Boedromion, fifteen days ago, yet it was addressed to Pelagios," Themistokles explained patiently. "You told me you have sent riders twice, and there is no simple reason why they would not have arrived with that news by now. Thus we are forced to assume that your messengers have been intercepted, which indicates that someone does not want word reaching the Great Temple about Pelagios."

Realization dawned on Phoebe's face. She had been so surprised and concerned by the message that she had not thought to consider the deeper meaning behind manner of its address. The nagging suspicions that had plagued her since Pelagios' death appeared to be true. Someone, or more likely a group, was trying to isolate Exitibus from the support of the clergy.

Themistokles felt vindicated. Obviously Ófis/Galen was here, he was simply doing a much better job of hiding than he had in Calavius. He desperately wished that he could remain to track down the man, but he had his orders, from High Inquisitor Nikanor himself. He had to leave immediately.

"Priestess Phoebe, send for Varus," he commanded her. "I need to speak with both of you regarding my investigation. It is imperative that you continue my work here."

"He should already be on his way, Inquisitor Themistokles," she replied. "I sent word for him right after sending runners to find you."

"Excellent," Themistokles said in satisfaction. "I will gather my equipment and prepare my horse until he arrives. As soon as he gets here come find me so that I can fully brief both of you."

"You plan to leave tonight?" Phoebe exclaimed in surprise. "It is already after dark. You could not possibly travel far tonight, and would it not be better to set out in the morning well rested and prepared?"

"It is certainly unusual," he agreed, "but were I to leave during the day -- when everyone in Exitibus can witness my departure -- I suspect whoever is responsible for your missing messengers may try to intercept me on the road. If I leave tonight, then I have the element of surprise to aid me."

"But you are an Inquisitor," she argued. "Who would dare to risk facing you?"

"There are many more foolish criminals in Erosius than you realize, Priestess," he stated grimly, "and some of them would prefer death at my hands than a lifetime of servitude."

* * *

An hour later Themistokles rode quickly out of Exitibus. He had hurriedly told Phoebe and Varus about his investigation, as well as everything he had learned from Sapphire and David. He gave them a description of Galen, and warned them that the man was extremely dangerous and was likely hiding in or near the city. He now suspected the first attack on the trio was likely intentional, which meant that Galen had allies in the city at least. He urged the pair to use extreme caution, and considering the look of surprise and concern that Phoebe kept shooting at Varus, she took his warning seriously. Varus promised to alert his guards to the threat at once, and to increase the number of night patrols in the city. He had left the temple in a hurry before Themistokles could even wish him well.