Firebrand

Intimidation and Surprise

After the overwhelming events of the last days, not to mention the preceding months, it felt strange to enter a routine of administrative tasks and bureaucracy. Martel was reminded of when he had first become captain prefect back in Esmouth, having to hear complaints and resolve grievances. Strangely, despite his imperium now stretching over hundreds of miles with thousands upon thousands of inhabitants, he found himself less busy than when it had only included a small fishing town. Eleanor and Lara handled most of the work, delegating to their own subordinates as needed, and few people had the gravitas to get an audience with the captain prefect.

This gave Martel time to handle matters of personal import. With enough sleep and his mind in better shape, he turned towards the most pressing task: finding Master Alastair. This was complicated by Martel having to stay away from the Lyceum; it was the only place where his safety could not be guaranteed. While most of the teachers and students were not a threat to a battlemage of his skill, some of them would be, and they could not necessarily be distinguished from the harmless type.

Gilbert, the Master of Air, had survived the battle of the bridge, albeit with a severe headwound from when he fell. He was not a threat as such, for the time being, and the headmaster of the Lyceum had declared the school neutral in the current struggle. But it was impossible to tell who might be a loyalist with the spellcraft to strike a blow for the cause.

Instead, Martel sent his reeves, of whom he had plenty. The fifth and sixth cohort of the Tenth Legion, what remained of them, had been chosen as his personal guards and attendants. Since they owed their lives to his actions during the spring campaign in Khiva, their loyalty was considered unquestionable. They did not fail in this particular task either; they returned, informing their captain that Master Alastair and Mistress Juliana were prisoners of the Inquisition.

***

In Martel's study stood a man whose presence would make most people quake, especially mages: the high inquisitor, leader of that holy office. He was a tall and gaunt man, clad in their blue uniform. He wore all manner of golden jewellery, but it was all plain and unadorned, serving purely the practical purpose of protecting him against magic rather than any kind of vanity. With skin stretched over his cheek bones like parchment and intense eyes, he seemed as solemn and stern as a man could be.

Yet for all the power of his office and strength of character, he appeared before the captain prefect when summoned. Seated behind his desk, Martel looked at the man with a neutral expression. "You have in your possession two mages of the Lyceum as prisoners, Master Alistair and Mistress Juliana. They are to be released immediately."

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"That is not possible." The refusal was spoken in a flat, nasal tone.

"Why not? It is an exceedingly simple command."

"They were conscripted to aid in the defence of the Empire during a time of great emergency. They refused. All criminals with magical powers, regardless of whether that crime is magical in nature, are to be subjected to the justice of the Inquisition." The man stared at Martel with a self-assured expression as if he believed such laws protected him and his actions.

"They were in the right to refuse. Thus, they have committed no crime. Or if you prefer, consider them both pardoned in full. Whatever will make you comply." Martel could feel his patience running thin. Just the sight of the man's uniform made Martel despise him. He thought back at the mage hunters he had slaughtered when they pursued him for being a deserter; if only this high inquisitor knew how easy it had been.

"Regardless of the change in circumstances, their refusal was a crime when it happened. Since you lack the authority to pardon them, I will proceed with the trial. I appeared only as a courtesy and a gesture of goodwill. That has now reached its end. I bid you a fine day, 'captain'." He turned as if to leave.

"Don't you dare." Martel did not raise his voice, but his words nonetheless made the inquisitor face him once more as he rose up from his seat. "I shall be perfectly clear. It will take you one bell to return to your headquarters and another for your prisoners to appear before me here, unharmed. Therefore, if the two mages are not present in this study within the next two bells, I shall begin executing one inquisitor for every bell thereafter until it is done."

"You wouldn't dare lay your hands on servants of Sol!" the high inquisitor gasped.

Martel rose to stand. "I already killed four of your number. It was terribly simple. You are poor warriors, and all your jewellery does not protect you as well you think. Your lot has done nothing but threaten me ever since I arrived in this city. Now it is my turn. I will gladly watch this city be cleansed of your ilk."

"The people would never stand for it. You would have a revolt on your hands. Your rule of this city would end as swiftly as it began," he claimed triumphantly.

"You think the people respect you? They fear you and the power you wield. But you have no power over me. Only intimidation is left, which will not work on me. Two bells until the first of your brethren dies." Martel walked around his desk to stare straight into the zealot's eyes. "Just give me the excuse."

The high inquisitor looked away first. He turned and strode away, hurrying down the corridor to leave the fortress. Martel returned to his chair, making a note of the hour. Third bell had rung not long ago.

He wondered if it would have been better to simply command his soldiers to storm the office of the Inquisition and free the prisoners directly. It was too late now; he had surrendered the element of surprise, and those fanatical bastards would probably slit the throat of every prisoner just to spite him if he sent his men in. There was nothing Martel could do but wait and discover how well inquisitors stood up to the kind of intimidation tactic they employed on others.

***

Fifth bell rang. Martel was eating a late dinner or early supper when a guard came to his study and informed the captain that two mages of the Lyceum had appeared in the fortress, seeking to meet him.