Chapter 119: Epilogue [Book 2 End]

Chapter 119: Epilogue [Book 2 End]

“Thank you for sitting down with us again, Royal Inquisitor. For the record, my name is Inquisitor Levi and this is Inquisitor Cassia, Legacy of the Wolf and Legacy of the Wand respectively. Can you state your name and rank in accordance with your role in the Inquisitors? For the record, of course.”

The duo waited expectantly at that, both holding pens and resting their wrists on paper. Thick bags were under both of their eyes, working this case was a headache to be sure. Inquisitor Cassia had it the worst, mana exhaustion and multiple days of sleepless travel did that to a mage.

“Royal Inquisitor Isobel, no family name.”

“Code name?”

“The Huntress.”

“Thank you, Isobel,” Levi said, scribbling down a few words. “Let’s start this interview off with some background. Where are we currently?”

Isobel subtly smiled. “In a private room in an inn.”

“And what is the name of this town where this inn is?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

She gave a shrug.

Levi scribbled something again. “How long have you been in this town?”

“Only a few hours.”

Cassia grunted, breaking her pen’s tip against the paper. She cursed under her breath, summoning forth a bout of mana. The pen fixed and the Inquisitor forced herself to regain her composure.

“Royal Inquisitor Isobel,” she said, straining. “Please do not waste our time. It has been a long last few days and, frankly, we have better things to do than follow you as you get into trouble.”

Isobel held her hands up in surrender. “I have only been in this town a few hours cumulatively. I have stayed in the town’s nearby forest for three days.”

“So three days,” Levi said, writing more. “And you were present for the event?”

“I was.”

“Describe it, starting with why you were here.”

And the Huntress did, although she augmented some facts and twisted some truths. She did not speak of the boys, nor Leland’s direct influence over the deaths. She took credit for all of them, stating that the civilians were under the influence of the Toy Maker.

“The Toy Maker? A vile Lord was in this small, nameless town?”

Isobel leaned forward, putting her elbows on the table. “I think this town has a name.”

Cassia snapped the tip of her pen again. “That is not the point, Royal Inquisitor.”

The Huntress leaned back. “Yes, it was the Toy Maker. I was following a Harbinger from Frostford after a rogue magical blizzard ruined their winter festival.”

Levi raised an eyebrow at that. “And why were you at Frostford?”

“Vacation. The festival was quite stellar until it abruptly ended.”

“Vacation, seriously? That’s what—”

“Inquisitor Cassia,” Levi warned, his nose flaring like an animal’s. “We are not to comment on the Huntress’ choice of vacation.” He turned back to the interviewee. “We are only here for answers.”

“And I seek to provide them,” Isobel said, causing Cassia to mutter something under her breath.

“Please, Huntress. We are tired and wish to get back to our station.”

“Shoutwell, right?”

“Yes, you remember.”

“Of course I remember. I fought and killed a Monarch Avatar. A feat only equal to fighting and killing a Harbinger and a Lord image.”

Levi’s eyes drifted to his pad of paper. “Yes, a Lord image.”

“You believe I lie?” the Huntress asked.

“Frankly, yes. A Lord image should not die to a single Royal Inquisitor, even one with the reputation you hold. Unless, that is, the image’s host burned-out.”

Cassia nodded at that, continuing where her partner left off, “The host body was rather burnt.” She turned to Isobel. “You have fire-aspect attacks, right? Or was that damage not done by you?”

“What are you getting at?”

“That you didn’t actually kill the Harbinger.”

Isobel snorted.

“We have witnesses that say you were outside the ring of darkness the Harbinger created,” Levi added. “And only fought once the fog dissipated.”

The Huntress shrugged. “It was a stressful time. You know how civilians are.”

“Royal Inquisitor Isobel, the Huntress,” Cassia abruptly stated. “Just so you know, the event that happened in this town is going to be investigated by the High Inquisitor personally. All details will be found out, and punishments will be enacted for those found to be in direct opposition to humanity and the Crown.”

“What the Inquisitor means,” Levi continued, “is that this conversation is being transcribed. The High Inquisitor will be reviewing the information you provided. An attack by a Harbinger and image don’t just happen. Something is incredibly wrong here, just like in Shoutwell a few months ago. I am inclined to recommend that the High Inquisitor also investigate those events as well.”

“Nothing Lucia!” Sybil said, fluttering her vowels.

The princess had known Lucia nearly all of her life, but it was only recently that the Royal Inquisitor had become her bodyguard. One small accidental kidnapping was enough for her mother to call in the Inquisitors Silver, one of the empire’s strongest duos.

Sybil sighed. “When do we leave?”

“In a few hours. Spencer has to coordinate with the transport. We’ll be naked on the road. The castle’s—”

“Protections are set in stone. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ve heard it all before.”

Lucia frowned somberly at the lonesome girl.

Sybil reacted right away by reddening. “I-I should t-tell mother to throw you in the dungeon for that look!”

“What look?” Lucia’s gaze turned even more pitiful.

“That one! Stop that!”

“I know you want to leave the castle, and we will be in a few hours. So just relax. The road might seem like fun during preparations, but once we get moving, you’ll see how boring it will be.”

Sybil pouted. “I just want to see my friends.”

“Aww sugar... those weren’t your friends, they were just people who were trying to use your position as princess.”

“As brutal as ever, Lucia,” the teenager said. “I know you’re right, it just hurts being alone. I see you, Spencer, and the maid that brings me meals. And he doesn’t even speak to me! He just silently cuts my steaks and pours my drinks! Trust me, I’ve tried everything to get him to talk to me!”

Lucia’s eyes went soft before a thought occurred. “You know... Leland is going to—”

“Shut up!”

“You can’t—”

“I said no more!”

“Princess Sybil you are coming of age—”

A pillow hit Lucia in the face.

She continued anyway, “My son is a proper—”

A second pillow hit, this time far stronger than the last. Lucia stopped her teasing instantly, instead scooting to the edge of her seat and straightening her back.

“Sybil, it's happening again. Calm yourself.”

The last in line for the throne ended her thrashing about and went stark still. She held up her hands, eyeing her palms like a shady reader in the corner of a tavern. Through her skin, her bones glowed with a vibrant sheen. Sybil focused on maintaining the light, forcing her birthright to submission.

The glow fizzled away, just like the countless attempts before.

“Good attempt. You lasted another few seconds longer than last,” Lucia said, leaning back in relaxation.

Sybil gave her an unamused look. “Do I really need—”

“Yes.”

“But—”

“Don’t care.”

“How did you even—”

“Know what you were going to say?” Lucia shrugged. “I’m a mother. I know things.”

Sybil eyed her cautiously. “Why do I need my birthright as a Palemarrow when in a few days I’ll have a Lord and Legacy?”

“You can never have enough weapons.”

“Says you! You are a mage! You don’t even use weapons!”

“Mana is my weapon.”

Sybil made a sound of annoyance.

Lucia eased back, giving the princess some space. Since the kidnapping, it had been tough on everyone. But for some reason, the victim’s feelings were often left out of the plans to make sure another never happened.

“I know it’s rough.” Lucia said calmly before shifting to a smile. “You know what? Why don’t we head down to Spencer and see if we can bug him. I’m sure he’ll love that.”

Sybil snorted. “I think you mean hate.”

“I know what I said.”

The two made for the door before the Inquisitor suddenly stopped. “Forgetting something?”

Groaning, Sybil went to her nightstand and pulled out an ivory mask. It was rounded and blank, except for two eye holes that gave the mask a perpetual expression of contempt. It was honestly a perfect match for the princess, as she felt only contempt when she was forced to wear it. Which was whenever she left her room.

She held the piece of the nameless Lord’s bone up to her face, allowing the magic within to snap to her smooth brown skin. It hid the scar across her lip and right eye that her captors inflicted, covering every detail of what made her, her. To an onlooker, the mask was glued to her face without strap or tie, obscuring any detail of who she was while urging their mind to focus elsewhere.

“Ready?” Lucia asked, taking the princess by her hand before leading her through the prison like walls.