Chapter 112: The Inspection
The Town of Orlando, High Noon.
Danica emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray of freshly baked bread, a light dusting of flour still clinging to her cheek.
"Sister Cecilia, lunch is served."
Cecilia was currently sprawled across a stone bench, gnawing on an apple while she poured over a trashy romance novel with intense focus. She didn't even lift her head at Danica's voice.
"Just leave it on the table. I'll get to it in a minute."
"Where is Father Anchi?"
"Who knows where that bastard crawled off to this time," Cecilia muttered, taking a massive bite of the apple. "Probably back at the tavern wasting our coppers."
The words had barely left her mouth when the chapel doors were slammed open with a violent crash.
Anchi burst inside, his face pale and his expression grimmer than a funeral shroud.
"Cecilia! Danica!"
Cecilia jumped, her apple rolling across the floor. "What is wrong with you?! Why are you screaming?!"
"The Inquisition from the Holy Capital... they're here!"
Anchi sprinted toward them, his breath coming in ragged hitches.
"Eleven Templars! Fully armed! They're already at the town square!"
The tray in Danica's hands tilted precariously. Cecilia bolted upright, her novel falling into the dirt with a soft thud.
"What?!"
"I just got word from my contact," Anchi said, beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. "Apparently, too many clergy and residents have been defecting to the Evernight Empire. The Holy Council is livid. They've dispatched 'Purge Inquiries' to every border town to root out heresy."
Cecilia whipped her head toward Danica. The young succubus stood rooted to the spot, her entire frame shivering.
"What do we do...?"
"The basement!" Anchi barked, his voice sharp with decision. "Danica, get to the basement. Hide. Now!"
"But—"
"There is no time!" Anchi seized Danica by the wrist and dragged her toward the rear of the chapel. Cecilia scrambled after them.
The entrance to the chapel's cellar was hidden in a shadowed corner of the prayer hall, beneath a nondescript rug. Anchi heaved a heavy stone slab upward, revealing a set of lightless, narrow stairs.
"Go! Get down there!"
Danica bit her lip, gathered her skirts, and vanished into the darkness of the cellar.
"Wait, food—"
"I'll find a way to get it to you!" Anchi hissed. "Now, stay silent. Do not move. Do not make a sound until I come for you after they leave!"
SLAM.
The stone slab dropped back into place. Danica was entombed in the dark. She heard the frantic patter of Anchi and Cecilia's footsteps receding, followed by the heavy creak of the prayer hall door closing.
Silence reclaimed the dark. Danica leaned against the cold stone wall and slid to a crouch, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
Don't be afraid. It will be alright. It has to be alright.
The Chapel Main Hall.
Anchi and Cecilia stood by the entrance, waiting for the storm to break. Cecilia's palms were slick with sweat.
"Anchi... what if they find the cellar?"
"They won't," Anchi said, straightening his priestly robes with trembling fingers. "The Inquisition is looking for ghouls and bone-men. They won't tear apart a prayer hall without cause."
"Are you certain?"
"I'm not certain of anything," Anchi whispered, taking a deep breath. "But we have to gamble our souls on this."
Footsteps approached from the street.
Steady. Heavy. Rhythmic.
Cecilia's body went rigid. The chapel doors were shoved open once more. The sunlight was blotted out as eleven towering silhouettes cast long, oppressive shadows across the floor.
A squad of fully armed Templars marched inside. Leading them was a man of imposing stature, clad in silver-white plate armor engraved with the Holy Sun emblem of Gusteko.
A Tier 4 Paladin.
Behind him, ten Tier 3 Templars stood in two disciplined rows, their hands resting habitually on the hilts of their claymores.
Anchi stepped forward immediately, offering a standard sign of blessing. "Welcome, messengers of the Holy Capital. May the light of the Great Spirit forever guide your path."
The Paladin scanned Anchi with a cold, analytical gaze. He did not return the blessing.
"Are you the Father in charge of this parish?"
"I am. I am Anchi, the Presiding Father of the Orlando Chapel."
"Cecilia. Sister," Cecilia added, curtsying quickly.
The Paladin gave a curt nod. "I am Sir Ross. By the decree of the Council of Cardinals, I am conducting a Purge Inquiry of the town of Orlando for traces of heresy and necrotic influence."
His voice was a flat, clinical drone. "You will cooperate with our investigation."
"Of course, of course," Anchi said, his voice a mask of oily obedience. "How may we assist you, Sir Knight?"
Ross didn't answer. He simply waved a gauntleted hand to the knights behind him.
"Search the chapel. Every corner."
The ten Templars fanned out instantly, their boots echoing like thunder through the stone halls. Anchi and Cecilia stood like statues, daring not to move. Cecilia felt her heart in her throat as she stole a glance toward the prayer hall.
The door was shut tight. Please. Do not go in there.
The search lasted for what felt like an eternity. Eventually, the Templars regrouped in the hall, reporting to Ross.
"Commander, no traces of heresy found."
"No necrotic Od detected."
"The interior meets liturgical standards."
Hearing the report, Ross's demeanor softened by a microscopic degree. He turned to Anchi, offering a perfunctory sign of blessing.
"Has anyone in this town recently journeyed to the Evernight Empire?"
Anchi shook his head. "No, Sir Knight. Orlando is a quiet town. Our people are pious and simple; they would never venture into such a blighted land."
"Is that so?" Ross narrowed his eyes. "Then why have I received reports that this chapel hosted a wandering minstrel from the East?"
Anchi's heart gave a violent lurch. He forced his face to remain a mask of calm.
"Ah, there was such a man. But he was merely passing through. He spun a few tall tales and departed shortly after. We did not entertain his blasphemy; in fact, we offered him a stern rebuke before he left."
Ross remained silent for several seconds, weighing the lie. "Very well."
He turned back to his men. "We shall billete here for the night to rest."
"As you command, sir."
Ross looked back at Anchi. "Ensure our quarters are prepared, Father."
"Naturally, naturally," Anchi nodded frantically. "We shall arrange the finest rooms for you and your subordinates."
The Templars began to unburden themselves. They stacked their gear in the corner of the hall; some began to polish their blades, while others inspected their armor for rust. Cecilia leaned into Anchi, her voice a terrified whisper.
"They're staying the night?!"
"It seems so," Anchi whispered back.
"But... she's down there! No food, no water..."
"I'll handle it. You go prepare dinner. Act natural. Do not let your hands shake."
Cecilia gritted her teeth and turned toward the kitchen.
Night fell. The chapel hall was illuminated by the flickering glow of dozens of candles. The Templars sat in a circle, eating the stew Cecilia had prepared. Sir Ross sat in the center, a bowl of hot broth and several crusts of bread before him. He ate slowly, his every movement disciplined.
Anchi sat opposite him, acting as the host.
"Sir Ross, if I may ask... how many Inquiry squads have been dispatched?"
"Twelve," Ross replied, setting his spoon down. "We are covering every inch of the border provinces."
"Such a massive undertaking..."
"The threat of the Evernight Empire is more severe than you can comprehend," Ross said, looking Anchi in the eye. "Many have been blinded by the sweet lies of the dead, betraying their faith and the Spirits. Our duty is to find these heretics and purify their souls."
Anchi felt his palms go damp again. "And... if a heretic is found? What is the protocol?"
Ross's expression didn't change. "The Stake."
Anchi swallowed hard. "I see."
Once the meal was finished and the knights began their watch rotation, Ross retired to his room. Anchi waited until the hall was quiet before slipping toward the prayer hall. He ensured no one was watching before nudging the stone slab open.
He didn't speak. He simply reached into his robes, pulled out a cloth-wrapped loaf of bread and a waterskin, and shoved them into the darkness.
In the shadows, a small hand reached up, silently accepting the supplies. Anchi slid the slab back into place and exited the room.
In the corridor, a Templar was passing by. "Father Anchi? Not resting yet?"
"Ah, I was just finishing my evening devotions," Anchi said with a natural smile. "A habit of mine before sleep. To pray for the Spirits' protection."
"A pious man," the knight nodded. "I won't disturb you. Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
Anchi watched the knight walk away before finally returning to his own room. He shut the door, leaned his back against the wood, and let out a breath that sounded like a sob.
Close. Too close.
In the Basement.
Danica sat in the absolute dark, taking tiny, desperate bites of the dry bread. The Templars were directly above her head. If even one of them grew suspicious, if even one of them decided to check the hall again...
Danica squeezed her eyes shut, curling into a tight ball.
Just survive the night. Just survive until dawn.
☆☆☆
-> 20 Advanced chapters Now Available on Patreon!!
-> https://www.pat-reon.co-m/c/Hollowborn
(Just remove the hyphen (-) to access patreon normally)
If you like this novel please consider leaving a review that's help the story a lot Thank you