CASE I - THE PIED PIPER, CONCLUSION
[x] The Gods are ever-merciful, sometimes even to the undeserving. Take him to the monastery.
You take a deep breath, close your eyes, and offer a brief prayer to the Gods, hoping your decision would please them, at least. You had joined the Inquisition, yes, and you knew it meant that you would have to take life. But in the end, you were not like the others, who had each joined the Inquisition after an encounter with an Isekai shattered their lives. You were not motivated by a need for revenge. You understand that this body, while alive, was now without a soul, and harmless. Some might see your “mercy” as meaningless, foolish and naive, even, but you liked to think it was not about mercy, but simple humanity.
You wanted to prove to yourself that you were motivated by more than bloodlust or the need to destroy the enemy. You were proving to yourself the purity of your goals. You want to help people, and protect the innocent. And so far? That was it.
“We take him to the monastery and leave him to the mercy of the Gods.”
Everyone nodded. Lyeneru looked relieved; Baudelaire's face was unreadable as always, an expression of passive neutrality. You could see the colours of their auras flickering and shifting – pale yellow for Lyeneru and Braam; a more neutral grey-blue for Baudelaire. The Guard, completely unreadable, for there was no aura to read.
“As you wish, Adjutant-Inquisitor,” Braam replied, and kneeled down to pick up what was once the Pied Piper.
[Lyeneru Asara Okaavailnases approved of your decision.]
[Griffin Braam approved of your decision.]
[Enguerrand Baudelaire slightly disapproved of your decision.]
[The Guard slightly disapproved of your decision, you think]
“Now, we deal with the villagers.” It was not something you looked forward to.
~~~
The arrest, all in all, had been easy.
“Hear ye, hear ye, in the name of the Gods!” you had announced, reading from the traditional scroll. One glance at The Guard brandishing an unsheathed greatsword nearly as long as a grown man was tall, and that was it. The conspiring villagers surrendered quickly – particularly since you already knew full well who they were. “In the name of the Church and the Holy Order of the Inquisition, you are hereby charged with the crime of High Weebery!”
~~~
You were packing up now, moving your gear and supplies into your carriage. As you heaved your bags under the seat, the village militia were in the process of moving the arrested villagers to the centre of the village – you could see Mrs Hazelkamp the apprentice carpenter’s wife crying, as she watched her husband taken away in chains. You felt guilty when looking at her, so you quickly looked away. Another of the women had fallen to her knees and clutched at your skirts before the militiaman dragged her off, tears streaming down her face and some snot running from her nose. “Have mercy, Lady Inquisitor!” she’d cried.
“He took my child!”
Again, you’d turned away.
Other villagers jeered at the arrestees. Condemnation as a weeb would be a social stain that would follow these men, and the few discovered women who also aided them, for the rest of their lives.
Those who consort with the forces of darkness will know no relief. Those words would not be easily forgotten, not by you and certainly not by these villagers now. But they were fortunate – they would survive their punishment, and have their children returned to them. Peasants were not afforded the legal protections that aristocrats, yeomen, or priests protected by feudal obligations and binding oaths were. None of these men and women would see a courtroom or trial. Normally, they would be judged by their liege lord and his or her councillors, but in these circumstances, jurisdiction lay with the presiding Inquisitor – namely, you.
It was a heavy responsibility. If you gave too light a sentence and reported as such, or worse, falsely reported a sentence and were discovered later, you may very well be reprimanded. Even now, a more senior inquisitor, Mechtelt even, may later decide that your judgement was insufficient or in error.
However, you hoped that your elaborating on the exonerating circumstances of the case would be enough, enough to justify the comparatively lenient punishment. The one the village militia were carrying it out now.
“Weeaboo!” shouted someone in the crowd of gathered villagers. You sigh. So it begins.
“Weeabooooo!!” Another shouts. And another.
You boarded the carriage, the last to do so. Lyeneru was inside watching the Pied Piper, slumped over against the window; Braam and Baudelaire at the front driving the horses, and The Guard, who could not mount, simply walking beside the carriage.
Once inside, you dared to look back at the village square for the last time. You could see the guilty villagers tied to the poles by their hands, stripped below their waists, their trousers and skirts round their ankles. As the village militia paddled their bottoms, the growing crowd threw rotten vegetables at them. This was normally a punishment for Low Weebery, but in light of the mitigating circumstances, you had ordered this. Twenty lashes with the Weeb’s Paddle.
The jeering voices of the crowd rang in your ears. That taunt, again and again.
“Weeaboo! Weeaboo! Weeaboo!”
As the cries and taunts of the villagers, and the smacks of the Weeb’s Paddle against flesh, followed you out of the village, you realised that this case was done. These were to be your shouts of victory.
The sight of that crying mother would lay heavily on your mind long after it, however.
~~~
The carriage ride had been mostly peaceful, thankfully. Mostly being the word of importance, as on the way a low level monster, a Goblin, had attempted an attack on the carriage. It died almost immediately after it appeared from the bushes, as Baudelaire casually shot it in the head with his pistol, without even looking, let alone stopping the carriage. He did not bother to collect proof of the kill, for he was an Inquisitorial agent, and your mutual jobs were to hunt down Isekais, not common monsters like parties from the Adventurer’s Guild.
You had heard that monster attacks were becoming more common in recent years, but this was the first attack you had actually witnessed. It was, honestly, a surprisingly mundane let down. You could only suppose that after having just lived through the horrors of fighting an Isekai, monsters like Goblins, Gnolls, and Bugbears were simply not to be feared anymore. The most dangerous monsters took human shape.
After a few more minutes, you arrived at the Iyutan Monastery and dropped off the purged Pied Piper with little fanfare. The Nuns who greeted you were quick to understand the circumstances of your arrival. They asked for no payment, and even had another Empath amongst their number use her own powers to confirm that you had indeed purged the Isekai you were giving to them, before sending for two more nuns with a stretcher to take him away. As you walked through the gardens surrounding the monastery, you saw other individuals in plain clothing or bed-wear, some of them walking around aimlessly, fidgeting or trying to aid the nuns tending the flowers.
You saw their auras too. Some of them possessed no aura just as the Pied Piper now did, while others had very pale, dull auras of emotion, like a trailing ghost of an aura you sometimes saw in animals and lower monsters. They were also purged Isekais, but unlike the Pied Piper, they still possessed mobility and perception to some extent. They were almost like slower, shambling versions of The Guard.
With your detour to the monastery done, it was now just a short journey back to the capital, Astoria, and the Inquisition Headquarters. Braam had left the front of the carriage and the task of driving the horses to just Baudelaire, climbing in the back to finally sleep after the previous night and morning. You stayed awake, switching back and forth between writing your report and occasionally just staring out at the passing scenic fields, meadows, grassy hills, tulips and windmills of the Kingdom of Astem.
You had the carriage stop briefly at a number of towns, so you could inform the guards there that their own town’s missing children would soon be returned to them, with the Pied Piper defeated. With that news, one of the towns was so relieved that the owner of the town’s best inn provided you and your team boarding and generous meals for free. Whenever you stopped in these towns, The Guard would suddenly reappear beside the carriage, as if he was always there rather than many miles walking behind it. The next day, after you and the others woke and left the inn, you found The Guard simply standing there out in the open by the carriage.
“Crime never sleeps,” he’d say.
As the carriage neared closer to Astoria, the towns became larger and more urban, verging on cities. Grassy hills became lowlands, farms and orchards faded to houses of stone and brick near bubbling streams and rivers. You passed the ruins of an old Yankeevine aqueduct, the stones stained and crumbling with time, as their empire receded away from these lands. With your carriage’s approach to Astoria’s outskirts, you even saw some airships in the sky, two great Sky Galleons, magically sailing through the clouds towards the capital to join their many brethren. When you first came to the capital, years ago, you had stood in wonder at all the airships in the sky – though you have yet to ever fly in one, you still dream of getting the chance to do so someday.
Before entering the city proper, the carriage passed through the urban sprawl that had grown so much that it passed beyond the walls. Here you saw a strange collection of simple huts and hovels mixed with warehouses and workshops. Gnomes huddled around, their skin barky and covered in flowers and mushrooms, just like their houses, as many buildings in these outskirts were dotted with outgrowths of flowers and oversized glowing mushrooms.
Astem was a kingdom of humans, predominantly, but not only humans. Gnomes lived here, in their mushroom houses. You saw a winged centaur courier passing your carriage, no doubt on his way to deliver his load of packages. An elven tutor or nanny ran to admonish a group of human and elven children who had been playing a game of tag with a padoru. The creature had fallen to the ground, flailing and bobbing its oversized head as it failed to right itself. It was always unfortunate to see a padoru, for they were once humans, girls afflicted with one of the Saberface Plagues that had passed through Astem a decade ago, and too poor to afford the healing needed to resist the affliction’s final stage.
The children complained and cried to the elf woman until she helped the padoru to stand up again, at which point the dwarf-sized creature returned to running into walls and people’s shins, singing a happy tune of
“♫ padoru, padoru! ~♪”
Beyond the city gate and walls, was the capital of the Kingdom of Astem, Astoria. A mixture of old and new, ancient stone castles stood proudly amongst manors, markets, libraries, schools, churches, and even a zoo. Numerous airships dotted the sky as carriages, wagons and carts moved through cobbled streets. Mixed into the markets were bazaars of exotic traders, mostly Demons showing off massive monsters in equally massive cages, much to the amusement of well-to-do city-folk, merchant wives, and aristocrats.
Passing statues of past heroes and deities that stood proudly over plazas and bridges, the carriage had reached the central city square of Astoria, with its large pool and fountain decorated with numerous large statues representing various heroes who had fought for Astem’s independence from the Yankeevine Empire. Some of those statues had been beheaded and their names carved out – they were Isekais of Astem’s past. Some of their names you knew of from your education, even if the statues were now nameless: Yoshikawa, Ageda, and even Johnny the Rebel, the famous arch-nemesis of The Yankee; they'd fought each other for the last time at the Asterion Fields over four hundred years ago, before the former’s eventual flight to the Demon Empire.
Behind the shadows of these once legendary figures stood a row of towering buildings – offices of governance, bureaucracies, and faith. Here, among these buildings, stood the Inquisitorial Headquarters. A large and looming building, it looked half stately office and half cathedral, where even from here you could see the various forms of demons carved around it. Jittering imps, snarling Chortians, and the half-naked humanoid statue of a horned and winged Cambion, all in various poses of defeat. It was a leftover from the past, when the Inquisition was more concerned with demonslaying, and Isekais could still be strange but friendly allies.
Baudelaire slowed the carriage as patrolling human guards of the City Watch armed with muskets and halberds, alongside several NPC Guards armed with greatswords, approached and surrounded them. The Guard, able to keep pace with the carriage in the bustle of the capital, did not need to suddenly teleport beside it and instead had moved ahead, confidently placing himself in front of the guards.
The Guard and his fellows faced each other, and suddenly a burst of metallic sound emitted from the dark space behind his helmet.
“01010100 01101000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01100011 01100001 01110010 01110010 01101001 01100001 01100111 01100101 00100000 0̶̳̟̟̼̠͇̩̮̮͆̌̌̋̉͛́1̷̪̭̼̜̰͈̟̖͕͗͒̎̿̆͐̂͛̿̎͘̕͠0̴̛̪͖̰̱̂̈́1̵̡̛̠͆̃́̈̾͆̆͆̓͜0̷̢̨̯̳̫̼̰̒͊̽̄1̷̾̓̑̄͜0̶̨̡͕̼͚̲̯͈͍̫̬̣̿́͐0̴̢͙͙͕̻͓̺͔̫̼̗͋͐̃̏͘̕ ̶̮̺̬͙̣͒̇͐̈́̌͆ͅ0̸̢̭̃̊͋̆̌̕1̴͓̘̙̣͎̝̖̪͂̄̽͂͜1̵̢̢̫͈̣̘̻̞̮̪̼̒͌͆͆̕̕ͅ0̶̛̱̫̬̻͊̔́̏͆͛̇͆̽1̸͉̩̉͌̍̑͠0̵̡̢̢̘̦̻̲͖̠̪̖̒͛̓́̒̈́̾̀͑͘͝0̴̨͇͇̘͓̭̓͗̀̇͐̊͋́͠0̴̫̠͕͚̭̘͒̃̇͑̕͜ ̶̨̱̯̻͛̆̒̏͑̾́̆͛͝0̷̡̝̳̹̮̟̰̩̰̮̓̄1̵͉̺̫̪͐̏1̶̢̰̥̹̰͑̋̎͐̀̿̈͛̅0̵̬̣̒1̷̛̳̝͇̖̩̣͇͈͓͇̩͕̱̆̉͋̋̀̈́̀̀̏̕0̷͔͙̼̣͍̦̦̞͇̣̹͚̖̂́̒͐́̒͒̓̄̓͝0̴̢̞̭̽͜1̵̢͍̣̠̲̙͈̯̣͉̭̒ ̸̧̧̬̜͓͕̦̞͚͓͍̩̋̈́̊̚͝͠0̸̨̡̡̠̱̭̞̭̝̯͑̈́̃́̃̌́͑̚̕͠͝͝1̸̨̨̨͕͈̭̆͗̃͐̆́̈͒̓́̎1̵͔͕̲͖̘̦̊̔̎͊̅1̵͉̙̮̝̯̑͋̃́̃̔͌̔͜0̶̨̛̛̛̥̦̗̖̰̬̥͍̪̯̗͂̓̎̊̌́́̿͝0̸͔͙̝̔̋̅̇͑̓̚͠ͅ1̸̥͉̝̣͎̞̐̒̈́͗͑͗̀͠͝1̷̛̯͎̥̾̈́́̍̈́̅͐͝ͅ ̷̨̭͍̼͎̤͈̾͝0̶̧̫͍̗̤̖̹͍͒̄͛̈́̕͝0̷̛̛͍͓̻̖̫̺̳͇͐̾͑̐̂̇̕̚͠1̷̡̯̝̳̹̙͚͕͚̭̓͐0̴͚̲̉̊̍̔̆̄̆̀̓̋͗̕0̷͙̹̞̟̼̮̮̰̓̋͂͗̐̄̑̌͋̈́̚͠͝0̸͓̤̮̳͗͂̂͒̾̏̈́ͅ0̴̨̧̢̙͇̰̼͎̻̽͛̃̃͂̕͜͝0̵̛͍̥̼͓̺͙͕̓͋͗͐́͒̆͛̚͜ ̸̡̢̖̖̘͔̦̉͐̀̈́̄̄̏̃͘ͅ0̶̢̨̜̺̼͎͛͘1̷̲̜͕̙̦̥̗͚̈́͐̅̾̍͌͆̃̔̀̚1̷͚͒́0̶̨̲͎̮̣̺̘̘͉͉̭̩̈́̒̓͋̆̌͌̃̽͒̌̄̇͜0̸̨̧̨̭̳̝̦̬̰̝̾̑̈́͂̒̃̀͒̆0̶̢̧̝̞̦͓̱̘̼̣́̐̅͆̐͛͊̍̈́̋̀̚͠1̸̢̝̼̥͈̳̟̈̍̄͊͌̀̈́͛̎͑1̴̛̳̯͖̗͓͊̃̉̎̌̍̄ ̷͍̘̩̯̗̱͎͎̗̙̘͎͊̓̄̋̆̍̂̐0̴̲̣̟̗̲̬̲̥̜̈͗̋͛̽͑̚1̶̢̠̥̘̣̭̺͖̘̣̬̬̃̾̀͜͝͝͠1̶̢͍͓̠͓͉̗̣̐̍̔̈́͛̈́0̸̛̛͇̞̰̞̈́̍͗̀͐͆0̷̗̺̳̠̘̍ͅ0̵̧̡̺̞̦̩͉̹̈́̆ͅ0̶̱̻͕̤̭͖̘͈͎̤͛1̶̛̗̙͈͓̣̞̳̤̂̌̄̏̅̉̈́̽͘͝ͅ ̸̧̢̪̣̣̹̝̠̖̩̣̱̯̌̇0̵̡͈̗̑̈́͆̆̐̍͆͝͠͝͠1̴͙̈́̈́͑͆̽̂̕̕1̴̧̢̹͇̟͓̱̥͚̪̯̀̄1̴̣̿̈́̅̐͗͒̕͜0̴̻̠̖̣̯̱̟͐͂͂́̒͑̀͐̊͠0̵̡̢̰̱͈̟̪͕̹̫̄̀̃̈͌̿͆͆́͆̊͗̚1̸̨͓̲̺͍̻͇͆0̷̭̳̳͔̙̙̠̤̥̻̂̉͝ ̴̨͕̠̠̀̍̈́́͘0̵̢͓̳̖̝̬̮̼̬̙̠̻̑̐́1̷͔̅̾̃͒̃̃̀̈̈̔͘1̵̡̻͋1̸͈̮͙͚̦͚̖̻̍͜0̶̨̢̳̩̺̞̣̙̺̹̗͛̌͊̂͐̉͛͋̆̃͗̕͜͝0̷̠̍́̀̓1̴̡̨̛̞̜̯̝̱̗̜͕̘̥̿͊̌́̐̌̿͊̔̈́͂͌0̷̗̪̙̤̱́̒̕͘͝ ̸̛̥̱̱̖̤͎̗̀̂̇̏̈̔̐͊͛̚̕͠0̵̢̺̰̗̗͍̘͎̱͈͍̌͗1̴̢̨̪̲͓̜̼̙̞̮͍͎̑͌̽̐̃͒͊1̴̟̺̞͚͕̪̦̇̊̆̽̒́̃͆̀̈́͝0̵̱̺͂̀̕1̵̡̫̟̠̫͎̗̪͈͖̥̇͒̑̒̚0̷̥̯̲̬̞̱͔̈́̍͛́͌̈0̴̛͚̎̿̾̊͋̔̀̃̐̋̕͘1̵̢̡̤͍̩͔̻̗̻̰̝̲̄̀̍̊̓̑̋̕ ̵̧̤̦͚͍̹̝͉͍͍̫̒́̅͌̂͌͜0̸̗͕̉̓1̵̣̟̟̥̬̘̗̗̘̂͜1̸̗͚̈̑̉̒̓̃̆͐̀́̕͝0̷̪̰͈̜̳̥̻͎̃̄̓͑͘0̶̥͈͓͌́̏̓̾̈̈͝0̷̡͓̩̜͍̭͓͈̽̍͑̆͝0̷̫̺̠͔̻͚̰̳͈͚́́̅̒̃͒̀̋̅̿́͗͝1̷̛̛̗̼̉͐̔̆́̐̾͛ ̸͈̾̇͑͆͠0̶̧͓̫̣̩̲̥͒̀̂̈͆͆̃͌̏ͅ1̶̧̩̮̠͂̔̽͗̊͘̚̚ͅ1̴̤͚̝̗̯̖͉̆́0̷̜͖͎̗͑̄͜͜0̴̹͉̣̾̇̂̃̐͝1̶̨̩̖̲͍̖̘͐̈́̕1̷̧̱̬̤̦͖̺̘͇̻̠͂͋̊̌̄̇̉̊́́̍̿̅1̵̧̛̣̘̣̥͕͎͇̼̞̳͕̝͑͂ ̵̧̢̯̬̟͖̝͙̤͓̾͋̇͜ͅ0̴͈̺̝̰͎̪͕͚̂̚͝ͅ1̴̠͇̮̘̰̗̱͎̥́1̸̟̀͗͘͝0̸̯̎͛̆̈́̈́͆̑̕̕̕0̷̧̨͓̱̜̣̩̯̱̇̍1̸̨̬̺̫̳̻̹̤͓̩̍̽̏͜0̵̤͈̏͋̃͛̾͐̚͝1̸̤̺̲̟͙̮͓̝̥̩̫̬̦̍̑ ̷̖̰͓̳̞͔̦̪̬͎͂0̸̡̧̤̥̲̙͎̌̒̌͛͑ͅ0̸̢̗̳͓̤̬̼̲͔͉̭̃̄̔͆̎̀͘͝͝1̸̼̩̹̤̮̻̳̺̀̑̿̈́̚0̷͍̫̰͇̣̺̿͂̀̈́̿̑̒0̸͓̳̺̥̩͓̜̦͎̟͕̩̯̊̆0̷̢͈̟̮͓̞͇̠̣̪̭̯̰̈͊̂̉̊̊͒̍̾0̵̧͉̹̫̘̠̋̑̐̚0̸̹̘̖̩̭̻̯͚̳̝̯̦͌̌̈́̏͆̑̓̓̒͛̀͜ ̶̛͉̼̬̪̦̝̽͂̀̋̈̚͠0̶̢̛͚̘̰͈̇͌̇1̶̢̛̳͈̦̣̮̘̪̪̹̽̊̓̈́̕1̷̛̥̀͑̾͗̕1̵̣͈̝͕̙̮̮̈̊̾0̶̧̥̙̻̤̙̲̪̹̞̺̓̀͜1̸̡̧̪̫͉͕̦͌̿͛̔̀͂̆̀̊̇̆͘̕0̷̘̘̹͎̠̾̈̑̀͆0̴̨̢̧̫͖̭̰̻̮̯̖̈́̎̾̽̌̀̽ͅ ̶̝̮̯̻̟̇̓̽͌̆́̒͐͘0̵͉͉̭̈̀̀̀͐̓͘͠1̵̧̮̏͋͑͂̐̔͂̌͆̏̌̃͜1̶̞̙͕̼̹̼͋̂̑̈́͂́͂̕1̶̨̙̬̩̠͙̪̃́̆́̿͂̾̾͗͊̈́ͅ0̸̨̛̠̥͎͉͚͎̪͈̰͈̥̅͑̽̎̌̊͂̎̚͝0̵̨̨̱̲̪̘̫̰͚̻̟̬͒̽͊̅͂̔̍̈́1̴͎̳̓̓̈̿̈́̉̈̓̋͂͘͠0̴̖̬̅ ̸̡̞̣̙̫͓͉̏͋̐̀́̌̎̿0̵̪̼̰͗͗̕1̷͍͙̭̮͖̫͐̔̈́̉̌͐̀͐̇̅̚͠1̷̡̢̹͈͓̰̬̜̞͕̊̆̈́̈́̈́́̅̚1̴̛̳̻̜̦̠̹̼̈́͒̅͒̏́̂͛͝0̸̧̹̠̦̖͛̉1̷͇̩͐̿͐̈́ͅ0̴̯͖̠̲̥̫͈̄̈́̊̒͆͊̒́̋̓̍͑ͅ1̶͙̘̘͚̥̙̺̗̃̏̏̑̐̚ͅ ̵̧̺͎̜̩̬͈͒́̍̈́̑̅́̀̿͊̚͘͝ͅͅ0̶̨̧̧̢̦͈̭̭̜̋1̸̞̻̭͈͙̑͊̌̔̄͊̽̀̈́͊̌̄1̸̈́͆̀̓̔̓̈̈ͅ1̵̢̙̞̺̪̣̣̟̀̊̆̔̔́͆͗͑̈́̚͘ͅ0̷͖̖͇̖̱͙͇̻̼̅̒́̐͊͂̊̽̀̉̔͠1̵͖̼̖͕̓̈̔̐͛̒ͅ0̶̢̰̞̩̔̎̓̓̍̿͌̍0̶̬̻͇͔̖̋̀̍̾̏̌͛̏̋ͅ ̸̙̞͖̗͓̬́͋̽̒̿̿̋̕͜͝0̶̜͉̗͙̙̣̠͍̘̽̈́̅͌̿̆̅̍1̸̨̭̲͖̪̤͒̋͒͋̑͆́̋1̷̳̬̼͈͓͑̽̔̃̀̀̅͐͊͛͑̕͝0̷̮͇̝̈́̾̔̐̿́̿1̶̡̭̫̩̲̣̱̭̞̥̗͍̗̐̂̾́͐͋̓̅̽̕̕0̷̜͕̙̘̲̰͓̎̂̂͊̏̈́̄͌̉͋̚͝0̴̠̬̠̤͖̟͙̰̳̮̐̓0̵̗̝̬̬͓͇̫͍̲̬̞͓̌̒̒̏͘ ̸̢̤̘̭͚̯̟̼͊̇̽̉̌̏͠0̸̢̮̦̬̞̟̞̩͉̄̈́̀̾̈̀͜͠͝1̷̢̖̤̊̓̌̓͒1̴̤̫̆̀̈́̽̌̉̊͠0̴͚̣̳͕̅̄͒̄0̶̧̼̼͑͒̽̋̓̔̊̓͐̚̚͜1̸̡̲͔̳͖̉̊̒̈́̃̐͊̇̋̔͘͝͝1̴̮̦̭̼̯͈̭͕͌̓̃̆̐͒̄̃̌̕͝ͅ0̵̯̠̓͂ ̷̡͖̳͙̖̹͕̙̭̮͕͓̻̃͑̆͐0̵̧̡̢̧̛̱̺̣̫̻̬̳̰̜̊͋̇͌̅̐͊̈̿̚͠͝1̶͔͈̖̝̩̘͕̦͓͋̀́̏̕ͅ1̵̲̙͉̾̍̄̐́̈́̂̀̕̕͜1̵̡̜̩͍̜̙̬̭̮̏0̴̨̳̩͆̈́̄͐̓͊̐̓̅̾̕͠1̴̜̬͚̳̟̬̣̖̰́̇͋0̵̱̹̘͉̫͈͔̘̖̹̯͎͔̍͑1̸̰̼̈́̈́̓̆͂̋̃́̀͘͝ ̷̡̋͘0̶̨̛̥̋̃͆͐́̒͊1̵̠̩͇̓̈̋͐̄́͠ͅ1̴̨̡̲̜̯̹͙̭̹̃̈̐̏̈́̆̀̑͑̀͝0̶̨̤̤̬̟̳̱̫̟̤̟͕̈́̀̂́1̵̛̫͔͚̲̪͕̤̣̼̌̉̐̌̋̊̀̀̀̚1̴̡̬̜͔̻͎̯͉̂̋̓͘͝0̶̡͗ͅ0̷̢̳̯̙̞̫̋̒͊̓͌̿ͅ ̴̡̬̘̞̦̐̑̊̔̿̿̐́̂͜͝0̸̡̺̖̦͖̻̠̞̠̰͐1̷̨͕̳̟̜͔͖̦̤̪̞̻̃͆̑̉̚1̵̢̮̻̖͕̻̰͈͉͍͕́͑́̑̊͂̆́̿͐͜͜0̸̡̻̰͙̗̘͚̣͇̩̳͔̬̒̒̄̔͂̕1̵̡̨̘̭̰̖̙̫̅͆̈́̆̂͗̍͊̑̕1̵̟̈́́̎̍0̴̢̮̼̳̪͈͇̦̮̺̩̳̜̇͌͛͒̓0̵̛̛͗̈́̊̊̄͐͆͌͜ ̵̛͓̙͕̩͛̅̃̿̃̓0̷̡̨̗̤͈̼̓͑̃̿̆͘͘͝͝͝1̶̨̬̟̜͠ͅ1̵̨̤̭͔̟̜̗̘̪͔̦̙̃̋͋̇̊͂̈́̇͘͜͠1̶͖͙̭̺̰͕͓̞͖̝̖̐̿̓͐͐̕1̵̨̻̅ͅ0̸̡͈̠̦̥̈́̐̾̾͐̽̓̂̚0̵̨̛̛̪̺̥͙͚͗̈́̍̉̊1̶̫̼̭̩̩͕̜̥̍̑ ̴̢̤̻͖̳̼͒͌͒̔͛͝0̸̫̹͎̈́̾̐̀̇͐͘0̷̢̫̟̬̰̆̉̾͆͗̎̿͌͘1̷̫͙̜͎͖͍̼̓̊̈́͑̔̍͜0̶͕̺̱̪̣͑͂͌̒͑̂̀̕ͅͅ0̷̧̛̜̗͕̘̼̤̹͔̃́̐̿͆̿̃͠0̸̻̪̯̩̟̎͑̈ͅ0̶͖̟̭̄͜͜͝0̴͈̣͖̯̤͖͔͕̭͚̃͜͠ ̶̛̭͔͐̈́̀̏̀̈́̐̑͠0̶͎̖̰̻͚̎̎͒̆̿̌̑̾͐́̉̚1̷̨̛̥̻͕͓̘́̀͒́̈́̍͐͠͠͝͠1̵̛͍̯͉̤́͑̑̀͑̾̔̚̚̕0̵̛͓̝̖͕͚̞̹̟͑̂̋̇̈́̌́͋̾̉͛̾0̷̡͍̻͖̱̜͈̯͙̤̼̟͇͋̓0̵͈̪̿̆̽̊͗̒̓1̶̢͍̖͔̏̈́̽̈́͛͝1̷̨̨̦͍͓̜͍̥̱̀̉͑͆ͅ ̸̼̯̖̺̤̭͉̜̈́̀̕͘͜͝0̵̧͕̲̊̍́͆1̴̧̤̻͎͇̱͇̘͖̌̒̎̀̒̅̃̕͠1̴̢̱̺̦̪̣͚͑̈́̀͌́0̵̘̪̮͈̭̙̽́̀͐0̶̨̮̟͔̜̝̣͝0̷̧̭̪̲̥̲͚͓̫͂͋͋̓̾̍͐̉0̷̨͎̬͉̫̯̍̒̈͂͝1̵̤̤̲̋̽͝ ̴̡̻̮͕͉͙̪̼̠̮̱̀͌̎̐̈́̋͝͝0̷̛͎̮̤̌̔͛1̶̨͓̳̬̟̫̙̥̫̈́̑͌̉̾͆̈́̋͒̓̏̓1̶̞͚̙̥̥͇̜͖̼̒̿̈́̇̀1̷̦͖͈̗͉͓̲̗̘̍̊̏̀͑̄͌͛̆̎̐͘0̵̨̢͓̲̪̭̂͌0̶̛̤͚͎̖̹̦̮̈̎̓͛̈́̅̐́͊͠1̷̧̫͔̣̠̠͖̒̌́̎͘͜0̷̲̰̝͎̜̫̤̻̎͑͗̓ ̸̧͓͔͖͓͖̪̥̞̮͖́̎̽͌̅͒̀͐͝0̵͇̱̼̲͕̙̼͙͖̞̬̟̓͑̅̍̈́̑̋͘̕͝1̵̨̥̱̰̬̠̤̮̊̅̑̽̑̎̐̓͜͝1̷͎̪͔̋̓́̐̀̋͊́͝1̴̧̨͚̯̫͍̟͖̬̙̝͑̎̅͝0̷͎͍̬͔̼͚̯͍̫̫̲̔͊̍̍͐͂̄͂̉͗̈́̚0̴̢̹̻̞̪̘̭̝̮̀̀͋̉̄̇̍̾̐̋͋͘1̷̘͎͉͕̤͔̉̓̆̊̏̂̋̂0̶̑̍̽͑́̄͑͆̔̾̕͝͝ͅ ̴͕̮͙̱͈̻̬̱̳̱͍̘́̈́͆̾́̀̈̅͒͆̃̚0̸̢̢̜͔̹̤̞̼̱̖̫͝1̷̢̧̧̱̞͔͓͔̠͓͒̐̀1̵̛̛͇́̈́̈̐͑͛̋̓̚0̷̧̬͉͇̣̫̥͇̉͒̑̚͠͠ͅ1̴̧̣͕̟̘̘̟̭̹̬̝́ͅ0̸̟̹͐̄͗͋́̌0̵̣͇̄̔͝ͅ1̷̝̲̰̮͉̽̀̎̀̆͋ ̶̛̳͎͕̦͖͇̝̗̋̈́0̵̛̭̹̗̳̣́̈́͑̑̀̓̆́̒1̵̡͈̰̞̦͔̍̀̉̈́̐̉̑͑̑͂̏͑1̵̡̨̡̺̻̖̲͇̟͙̩̯͑͊̋͐͂0̴͍̲͙̝̬̳̼̦̬͇̠͗̀̚͘͜0̶̢͙͎̳̠̹̭͈͇̖̺̲̓̈́́̓̆̑͒̍̇͌̕͝͠1̸̯̼͓̔̀̒͆̈́0̵̻͊̎̓͑̚1̵̼͚̟͇̭̻͖̜͇̲̦̫̓̈́̆͊̄̃̔̓̔̾ ̷̧̢͚͔̲͓͉̤̫̄͂͜0̴̟͍͚̱̝̏́̂͊1̶̛̛̜̟̦̪̦͈̟͕͎͍̪̗̄͌̇͛͆̓̾͝1̵̖͎̼͖͒͝1̴̩͕͆̄̐̂͛0̴̳̭͈̀͆̌͐̃̽͘0̵͕̘̟̱̩̥͓͔͆͐͛̾̈́̅̄1̴̨̖͙̩̖̤̠̩͔̺̜̰̊̄͆͒͂͂̚1̵̱͖̻̲͖̒̃͆̇̿̓̉̾̀́̒
said The Guard.
One of the other NPC Guards, with a rapid blurt of similar noise, replied. The human guards and the non-Guard members of your team watched patiently, pretending to understand what was being said. In mere moments, it felt like a long and drawn out conversation had been exchanged. The Guard then walked back towards your carriage.
“We may enter,” The Guard said, speaking through the window in the carriage to you.
“Thank you,” you reply, and with that your carriage is waved through. You park the carriage at a holding area, your more humble carriage beside black coaches, some with armoured sheets of metal and enchanted symbols on them, others with snarling faces, the latter of which you were sure belonged to the Demon Empire, not a member of your order.
The Inquisitorial Headquarters was vast. Its main lobby featured the genuine skeleton of a Nephilim in its true form, also known as a Greater Demon or Dragon, curled around another statue of an ancient demonslaying Paladin, a predecessor of your order. A new stained glass ceiling, commissioned by the King-Consort of Astem, allowed light to shine brightly on them, reflecting the colours of the rainbow in beams of light across the marble floor. Various members of your order could be seen lingering around, conversing in soft yet echoing voices, while others walking to other places within the building – a mix of full-rank Inquisitors, Adjutants like yourself, priests and other clerics, or just assembling groups of agents and scribes. Some of the Inquisitors wore simple travelling gear like yourself, while others were in full regalia, with dark capes and cloaks, veils and stoles embroidered with holy symbols, and large hats announcing their station.
There even stood some Templars in full plate, their white and golden armour shining so brightly that some winced when it reflected into their eyes. The Holy Templars were another militant order of The Church that worked closely with the Inquisition; they were aristocratic knights that assisted Inquisitors in cases that revolved around Isekais that commanded bands of mercenaries or even actual armies, that is to say, a threat well beyond the capabilities of five Isekai-hunting agents.
The approach of a clerical page cuts off your look around the Headquarters lobby. He was a man in humble brown robes, and despite having a young and friendly face and smile, he appeared to already be balding.
“You are Adjutant-Inquisitor Visser, correct?” he said.
“Yes. I presume I am needed?” you reply.
The page simply nods, and gestures for you to follow him. You turn, and quickly whisper to the others to stay behind.
Following the page, he leads you up a series of different stairs leading up various levels of the building. You pass bureaucrats signing forms in triplicate, a chapel, even a room that was empty except for rows of Guards standing motionlessly, one of them only awakening briefly upon your passing to ask you if you had “heard of the high elves,” until eventually you approached a set of two large, lacquered wooden doors.
You could hear raised voices through the wood. You hesitate before the door, hearing snippets of the argument happening behind it. One of those voices you know to be that of Mechtelt Vrooman, your superior, friend, and former classmate. The other was unfamiliar.
“ – de Lucretius will not approve the funds – ”
You open the doors slowly, and in a few more steps, you are standing before Mechtelt’s desk. You glanced over to Mechtelt, with her soft brown hair and delicate features that would have belied her steel will, if not for those cold, grey eyes. One glance into them, and one could see a small glimpse of why her title was The Iron Maiden. The other standing in the room is a young man who looked no older than yourself, with black hair that shone blue under the sunlight and porcelain-pale skin. He wore a long coat that was so dark a blue it looked black at first glance, and a sapphire-blue scarf of cashmere, and he carried a staff with a silver head. They both stop their argument to look at you. You could sense there was something very off about this young man. The way his aura moved around him, distorting and bending – it was as though his aura was being contained, meant for something far larger or greater. You could not actually be certain, of course – but you just knew that the man had some form of Glamour skill wrapping around him.
Mechtelt sighs and waves the man away. “Talk to de Lucretius yourself. I trust you know where the Department of Accounts is by now.”
“Tch,” the man replies, and walks off, sneaking a sideways glance to you as he passes. Mechtelt, looking down at more papers, gestures with a raised arm for you to come forward.
“I am glad to see you have returned in one piece, Lijsbet.”
“I am… certainly glad to still be alive,” you reply, placing your report on the desk before her. Mechtelt nods solemnly, and gestures for you to sit.
Awkward silence followed, as Mechtelt read your report. She hummed and harred a few times, but otherwise said nothing. You are reminded once more of your days in the Academy, waiting for Father Cosmo to grade your latest paper and offer corrections, peering over at you from above his round glasses.
“You should indeed be glad to still be alive,” Mechtelt said. “This is not easy work, but I would hope for better performance from you in future.” You didn’t need telepathy to discern Mechtelt’s disappointment. You start to speak, to defend yourself, but Mechtelt interrupts. “Frankly, I expected more from you. The Isekais will only get stronger, more dangerous from here on in, Lis. There are few and far between Isekais that cannot kill scores of us.” Her face, and voice, softened. “I don’t want to see you die.”
“I understand, Lady Inquisitor,” is all you say. Mechtelt was clearly in no mood for informality from you.
Mechtelt placed your report down, atop a pile of similar papers. “You were right to destroy the hat, you know,” she said quietly. “Though some of our order will certainly condemn you for it.
‘Shortsighted, unreasonable, a waste,’ they will say. But your resolve against that evil thing should be commended. Evil like that has no right to exist, not even in our custody.”
“
Especially in our custody,” she added after a pause, a haunting warning.
The Inquisition was not without its own factions and politics. Not even amongst your own team would everyone be in agreement – it was never as simple as that.
[Inquisitor Mechtelt Vrooman approves of your handing of the Charisma Hat.]
“What of the villagers?” you ask cautiously.
“It was expected of you. Perhaps not what I would have done, but expected. I would not worry too much; the Weeb’s Paddle should suffice to set an example.”
[Inquisitor Mechtelt Vrooman was neutral to your handling of the Villagers.]
“I suppose Sherrian will be done with Lucretius by now. Go to Accounts, collect your bonus. We’ll talk about your next case later.”
You move to leave, only for Mechtelt to speak up one last time.
“Oh, and congratulations on your promotion,
Adjutant-Inquisitor Visser.”
~~~
You walk down a long hall, turning left a few times. Every few feet, you could see a pedestal with the marble bust of one of the greatest scholars, field agents, and knights of your Holy Order – many of whom, you note, had been killed in battle. You take a few deep breaths to collect yourself before opening another heavy wooden door, marked with a golden sign reading
“Accounts” in elegant script.
“And that’s when she tripped over and it all spilled out!” a voice could be heard saying, followed by numerous sniggers and raucous laughter.
Luucia de Lucretius, the Head of Accounts and Payroll, from whence all your requisition and resources ultimately come, was holding court at her desk, surrounded by several admiring male Knights and Templars. She had evidently been in the middle of telling some sort of ribald story, something about her old days as a Templar, but now the eyes of the Knights were all upon you – which Luucia evidently didn’t like one bit, if her faintly red aura was any indication. The knights filed out of the office past you. It was easy to see why they all loved her: her hair was a smooth sheet of white gold that fell past her waist, and she insisted upon wearing gold-clasped white silken robes that exposed a great deal of her generous cleavage.
“How may I help you, Adjutant-Inquisitor?” She smiled, her eyes closed and tone sweet. She stood to reach across the desk to clasp your hand softly with familiarity and grace. In all honesty, you might have been completely fooled if not for your Empathy; the red aura of de Lucretius’ anger grew brighter as she spoke. Whatever this Sherrian had done earlier must have left her in a foul mood indeed.
At any rate, you want no part of it. You hold up your invoice.
Luucia takes the paper from your hand, examines the signatures, then opens one of the massive ledgers on her desk to record the payment with a very fluffy white feather quill before taking a key from a delicate golden chain around her neck. You never before thought it was possible for someone to unlock a drawer or count coins angrily. Still smiling brightly, she hands you a cloth sack containing two hundred gold shields.
“I hope you have a
wonderful day, Adjutant-Inquisitor!”
[Reward for completing the Pied Piper Case with bonus completed, 2200 gold shield coins gained. Total balance is now 12,200)
~~~
A corkwood board filled half the wall of the Investigations Bureau. Countless parchments were pinned to it, layers upon layers, each with the portrait of a wanted or suspected Isekai drawn by a Telepath artist, a description of their crimes, if any, their “cheat powers,” if known, and the reward in gold shields for their capture and exorcism – or death. The layers of paper grew thicker every time you came into the office to look at it. There were so many Isekai coming to the world now – more than the Inquisition could successfully capture, or even pursue. And to think, the Isekai Storms had not even started yet. The land was well overdue for one, if the familiar patterns held.
You approach the Bulletin, but before you could take a look at the cases, the young man you’d seen earlier at Mechtelt’s desk – Sherrian, was it not? had walked up to you, stepping closer until you were almost shoulder-to-shoulder. He tilts his head, smirking and looking up at you from under long dark lashes. Even without your Empathy, the flirtation was obvious.
“Is this your first day?”
The question startled you. “Not my first day, but it is my first case. Why do you ask?”
“I have catalogued what every beautiful girl in this building looks like, and I've observed them closely, in great detail, but I've never seen you before. Astonishing.” He leaned over, intensely staring into your eyes. “I'll have to memorise your face for the catalogue.”
Oh no, you think.
Not this again.
“I can see your cheeks are turning pink. Your heart rate is faster than normal, too, I'm sure. Normally, Inquisitors aren't this bashful. It's a shame you're so innocent – I'm having thoughts that certainly aren't.”
As the bearer of an Otome Attractor Trait, this behaviour from random young men was no surprise to you, but his attempt at showing interest was even more awkward than any you've heard before – and your point of comparison was sheltered teenage aristocrats at the Academy of Light. You wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor as he informed you that he'd spent the past two days looking at corpses, and that compared to them you were much more interesting.
Fortunately, you could hear someone's footsteps coming toward you, giving you a reason to politely excuse yourself.
~~~
“I hope you didn’t fall for his charms,” you could hear Mechtelt say from behind as she walked up to join you at the bulletin board. “You wouldn't be the first he’s tried that on.”
“I don’t think my work will give me much time for romance,” you say. “Even if he is pretty.”
“Yes, he certainly is pretty without the horns and wings… or when he isn’t talking,” Mechtelt added.
Your eyes widen in shock. Mechtelt looked pleased, as if she had succeeded in playing a great prank upon you.
“Who is he? And what?” you ask, finally.
“I thought you had observed it in his aura. His name is Sherrian och Crowleii. He’s a demon – a Nephilim, as they call themselves, one of their high aristocracy. He says he gets bored living the life of the idle rich, so he offers his services as a private investigator. Imagine that, a private investigator in this line of work. Even goes by the title of
‘The Consulting Detective.’”
“Are all the demons like that?” you ask. You haven’t met very many demons in your life, even if they are becoming a much more common sight in the Kingdom of Astem in recent days, since The Thaw.
“If you mean flirting with everyone, from my experience, that is a very demon thing. Sherrian’s… ‘unique’ style of it, I assure you is very much only him.”
You quietly thank the gods, your Otome Attractor hadn't been making men even more incapable of stringing together words and thoughts in your presence.
“So he was there for a case?”
Mechtelt nodded. “The Snatcher Isekai. It was one of the cases I gave you, if you recall. You are very lucky that you did not accept it, it seems. This morning, we found the team that ended up with it…" She shuddered. "Well, let's just say that I will not be sending you after that particular Isekai any time soon.”
“So you are sending this demon, Sherrian, instead?” you ask, not wanting to dwell upon how close a call you had missed without even knowing.
“Wanted to. Sherrian and his apprentice – count yourself fortunate you’ve never met her – have never failed to track down a suspect, but he’s a demon, so naturally he’s charging a ridiculous sum of money for the case. Thinks he can charge us a king's ransom just because of what happened to the last inquisitor.”
“And Arch-Deaconess de Lucretius had something to say about that, I am guessing? I could feel her anger as I handed in my invoice.”
“The greedy tend to dislike each other more than anyone else, I find,” Mechtelt said, shaking her head. “I would suggest forgetting about the Snatcher Isekai case for now. Between the Isekai being far more dangerous than we thought, and all the money and time that our office is going to sink into it…”
“It's not worth it,” you finish.
“Indeed.”
“What about Lambrecht, though?” you ask, remembering that one of the agents you’d considered was actually the father of the Snatcher Isekai, who had specifically joined the Inquisition for the chance to hunt the Isekai possessing his daughter.
“Ah, so you have not forgotten him. Unfortunately with the case being pushed to higher levels, he will certainly leave us, either to join the agents of whatever Senior Inquisitor gets the case, or to join some other Bounty Hunter or Witch Hunter group to do it himself.”
[Lambrecht de Jong has left your dossier list, and can no longer be selected for cases]
“Do not worry, though,” Mechtelt continued. “If you feel you need more agents, I can send you more dossiers. Please do remember, I am not going to be paying for your agents now, so pick wisely.”
“I’ll try my best.”
“Good. Then let’s have a look at finding a new case, shall we?” Mechelt says, while pointing to the Bulletin board.
~~~
You return to looking at the Bulletin. You wanted to challenge yourself, to prove that you were capable of your job… but at the same time, Mechtelt would probably not want you to take a case too difficult after you had come so close to losing the Pied Piper.
One bulletin catches your eye, as it offers an exceptionally high reward for such a seemingly simple mission.
“What about this one?” you ask, reaching for it.
Title: The Tomboy Isekai (Unconfirmed)
Name: Eleonoria von Krüger
Hair: Chestnut, curly. May be cut short.
Eyes: Blue
Appearance: Tall and slim of body, pale-skinned. May be wearing men's clothing.
Last Sighting: Castle Aynstadt
Mission: Find and retrieve the suspect, the Lady Eleonoria von Krüger, unharmed. If possessed, perform exorcism.
Upfront Requisition: 1000 (Expected costs, wages, travel, boarding, risk premiums, bribe/incentives, etc) for 15 days
Reward for Completion: 20,000 gold shields paid by the Count of Aynstadt, + 1000 gold shields from the Inquisition as bonus for successful exorcism and return of subject.
Expected Isekai Threat: Low (Inu - Kazuma)
Jurisdiction: Union of Wachstaat. The Spymaster of the Kaiser-Marshal, Otto von Kaltendrich, has privately given permission to operate freely within the Kaiser’s borders. However, Wachstaat is allied with the Yankeevine Empire, and its officials are forbidden from harming Isekais or assisting in their capture, by the terms of the Treaty of Nürnhaven. Great caution, stealth and discretion is advised.
Mechtelt leans over to examine it, and slowly shakes her head. “That one reached the Yankeevine Empire long ago, I’m afraid.” You knew from your education that Wachstaat was northwest of Astem and just south of Yankeevine lands, and that its ruler, the Kaiser-Marshal Frederick, had signed a treaty with them in return for their more advanced weaponry – a decision which would surely result in his excommunication from the Church, if the bits of news you'd overheard were true. It would have been easy for this girl to seek refuge in the great Isekai empire, and pursuing a case there would be a suicide mission. “It should have been taken down, but it seems her father’s old Wachstaatan nobility – he gave the head of the regional bureau a ‘generous donation’ to keep the case open.”
You nod. You’d certainly seen for yourself the extraordinary lengths a parent would go to have their child returned to them safe and unharmed. But at the same time, you couldn’t help but feel a bit disheartened – you’d looked upon the work of the Inquisition with the idealistic eyes of a youth, as an ancient institution pure and untainted by sin, only to find the Holy Order was a bureaucracy as fallible, and as susceptible to common nepotism and bribery, as any other.
Not wanting to think about it too much, you turn to the other bulletins. You looked through portraits of missing people, suspicious strangers who appeared in villages unannounced, “explorers” from self-declared “far away lands.” One portrait was a crude drawing of a bearded man with exaggerated features depicting him as some kind of monstrous horror, with three horns, five eyes, two fanged mouths, and no nose. You highly doubted this was an accurate depiction of an Isekai.
You saw the bulletin poster for the most wanted man, and Isekai, in the world: the Holdout Isekai. His reward was for 500,000 gold shields, supplied from numerous nations' coffers and the largest bounty in the world. That amount of gold for a single person… it was so much gold, you could not even imagine that much in one place. It was probably enough to buy the entirety of the Luttefmont-Furholjan Duchy your hometown was in and then some. Predictably, the Holdout Isekai’s threat level was
Shirou – a national threat. It would mean certain death for you, or even Mechtelt, to face this Isekai, no matter who you brought with you.
“I should probably tell you – I have been informed that the Seers believe that an Isekai Storm is coming soon, within a month's time.”
“That soon!?” you blurt out.
“We cannot know with absolute certainty, but yes. That soon.” Mechtelt quickly looked around, but no one else seemed to have overheard. “But if you could please keep this secret…”
“Of course, the Inquisition doesn’t want to provoke Witch Hunters, right?”
“And others, but yes. We would rather not repeat the mistakes of the last storms.”
Isekai Storms were events of great and terrible power and fear, where eldritch storms ripped holes through reality, where Black Mirrors formed to turn dark places and surfaces into portals for Isekais to slip through, where even fireballs and burning pieces of metal fell from the sky. It was unsurprising then, that some would panic or resort to superstitious violence and hatred. Some turned on neighbours, or elderly women, or those rumoured as immoral as the “most likely” to have been infested.
“Do you want me to prepare for the storm, then?” you ask.
“Continue your work as usual, but just keep it in mind. Also remember to bring Storm gear with you. If it hits before expected… I don’t need to tell you what it means to be stuck in the wilderness without the proper protection.”
Inquisitors must never become victims of Isekai Possession. Above all else, this was the essential requirement of your order. There were so many tests, exams, regulations and methods to prevent it, but one could never be completely sure. You would have to make sure you had the Storm gear with you at all times. If a Storm hit, you wouldn’t have the time to rush back to town to put on the beaked mask, fill it with the smell-overriding herbs, and put on the reflective glasses designed to allow you to see indirectly, or the treated clothing designed to reduce your skin’s touch to as little as possible. A Possessing Isekai would use whatever avenue it could to infect a host.
“Ah, here is an interesting case,” Mechtelt says, as she pointed towards another case on the bulletin.
Appraisal of the Academy of Light
“Pieter van Averink – the head of Isekai Studies – is conducting a research project at the Academy of Light, and was approved – if I had to guess, probably because of the Storm. It’ll be easy, it’s in Astoria, and it’ll take two days at most,” Mechtelt says. “Officially it’s for preparation for the coming Isekai Storm, so you’ll just have to conduct a routine appraisal and record of affinities, classes, titles, and levels, then they’ll ask for a second appraisal after the storm to check for possession, you know how it goes.”
“But I don’t have the Appraisal skill,” you point out, reading through the Bulletin yourself. “I mean, I suppose my empath powers would be of use… but is it really required for something so routine?”
“That is where the research project comes in, if I’d wager.”
You look closely at the Bulletin, and this van Averink individual refers to his research into “Novel Isekai,” the research of new categories of Isekais not yet officially documented in the
Malleus Isekaificarum. The Bulletin does not actually elaborate on what category he is researching, only that it requires an Inquisitor who is a recent graduate of the Academy of Light with skills useful for the appraisal and testing process, like your empath and telepathy powers.
Upfront Requisition: 100 (Expected costs, wages, travel, boarding, risk premiums, bribe/incentives, etc) for 2 days
Reward for Completion: 1500 Gold shield coins
Expected Isekai Threat: Low (Inu - Kazuma)
Jurisdiction: Kingdom of Astem, Permission granted by The Queen's Spymaster, Roelof Meulenbelt, to operate freely within Her Majesty's borders. Permission granted by the Headmaster Gerardus Barlaeus of the Academy of Light for routine inspection.
But two other bulletins had also caught your eye. You reach for one of them.
Philanthropist Duke Case
“This one also requires a Telepath or an Appraiser,” Mechtelt says, looking the parchment over. “The family of Martijn van Hoorn has accused him of being Possessed after he, as they claim, suddenly changed in all demeanour following a feast, and is now giving away much of the van Hoorns’ wealth. They’re offering a bonus of ten thousand gold shields, in addition to the standard rate of two thousand gold shields for completion, for anyone who can prove beyond doubt his possession by an Isekai. Van Hoorn is the hereditary Duke of Oosterwechel – no wonder they’re being careful with his reputation.”
Upfront Requisition: 1000 (Expected costs, wages, travel, boarding, risk premiums, bribe/incentives, etc) for 15 days
Reward for Completion: 2000 Gold shield coins on completion, + 10,000 Gold shield coins donation from the van Hoorn's on condition of successful proof of Isekai Possession.
Expected Isekai Threat: Moderate (Kazuma - Toshizo)
Jurisdiction: Kingdom of Astem, Permission granted by The Queen's Spymaster, Roelof Meulenbelt, to operate freely within Her Majesty's borders. Permission granted by the Duke-in-Waiting, Andries van Hoorn to operate within the van Hoorn Estates. Duke van Hoorn is uncooperative.
You set it aside to look at the other.
A Case for the So-Called ‘Underground Railroad,’ it read.
“We’ve suspected for some time that there was a smuggling network, organised by either Weeb traitors or Isekais themselves – an ‘Underground Railroad,’ as some call it, who take Isekai from the Central Alliance Kingdoms into safe havens in Yankeevine territory,” Mechtelt explains. “The recent debacle with the Snatcher Isekai has renewed quite a bit of interest in this organisation, as we believe the Snatcher is using them to escape us. We had a plan to send several Inquisitors with their teams to investigate the suspected routes, but we’d have to secure additional funding from the King-Consort and the Church – and with an Isekai Storm coming, it might be considered a lower priority, at least until after the storm has passed and the newer Isekai rounded up.”
This definitely piqued some curiosity. “Who are the other Inquisitors who have taken on the case?” you ask.
“Inquisitor Dante will certainly be involved, possibly Inquisitors Veldkamp and Aufderhaar. Others will probably join at a later date. We may have to contact the Tourine, Neu-Alaynian, and Sarutish bureaus, if the route is found to pass through their lands. Oh, and yours truly will be involved, of course.”
“You are taking on this case too?”
“What, did you think all I did was paperwork? I will be taking the agents you don’t take with you. I will not have all these people on the payroll doing nothing.”
You hesitate, wondering if you should accept this case then, because Mechtelt already was taking part.
Mechtelt huffed. “You do not have to accept or decline a case just because I am taking it too. This Underground Railroad hunt will likely be long and gruelling, with Inquisitors hunting the organisation from different angles, all trying to tighten the noose around some phantom ringleader. The pay may not be particularly handsome, since it will certainly be a collective reward pot of some kind, and we don’t actually know how many Isekais are being smuggled – it's actually why some of the Inquisitors are waiting until after the Storm, as they want more Isekais to catch, I suspect.”
“So they would wait just for greater pay?”
“Unfortunately, some would. We aren’t all idealists here.”
“What is the reward pot now?” you inquire.
“Now? It's close to nothing at 10,000 shields. If the number of needed Inquisitors join and the case goes for the expected length, we’ll likely be running in the red by the time we’re done, hence the waiting on funding.” Mechtelt grimaces, and you nearly do too. You could only imagine what de Lucretius would say.
Upfront Requisition: 2000 (Expected costs, wages, travel, boarding, risk premiums, bribe/incentives, etc) for 32-64 days
Reward for Completion: 10,000 Gold Shield Coins (Warning: This is a collective reward pot for all inquisitors, the more involved the more it is divided. The actual reward may be negative!) Subject to change due to payment concerns of the case raised by other Inquisitors.
Expected Isekai Threat: Moderate-High (Toshizo-Iwatani)
Jurisdiction: Kingdom of Astem, Permission granted by The Queen's Spymaster, Roelof Meulenbelt, to operate freely within Her Majesty's borders. Permission to operate in neighbouring countries of the Kingdom of Tourine, Commonwealth Kingdom of Neu-Alaynia, Kingdom of Getaiannia, Kingdom of South Perdegehm and the Demonic Empire of the Sarutishkin all pending.
~~~
Honestly, each of the cases had their appeal. The Academy of Light was familiar to you; it was easy pay for a short case, a chance to reunite with old friends, and it would contribute to the Inquisition’s body of knowledge on Isekai, for the benefit of all. The Underground Railroad case promised adventure, the chance to explore the hidden secrets of the city’s past, but there was little pay in it, and you wonder if you’d be biting off more than you could chew. And the Philanthropist Duke case promised a rich reward in gold.
You would likely have time to do some training, recruiting and preparation before the thick of the next case started, but for now you needed to figure out where you were heading.
Your Next Case Was To Be...:
[ ] Appraisal at the Academy of Light
[ ] The Underground Railroad Case
[ ] The Philanthropist Duke Case 
