Beneath the searing afternoon sun, hundreds of Inquisitor soldiers stood assembled before the Papal Palace. Their armor, heated by the relentless light, grew scalding against their flesh, yet not a single man stirred. They stood rigid, disciplined, their gazes fixed forward, unwavering as stone.

  Amidst the ranks, a stark contrast could be seen—a group of figures kneeling upon a crimson carpet meant to welcome the Grandmaster. These men wore the same symbolic necklace, yet their attire differed from that of the other Inquisitors. They were the Repentant—shamed inquisitors who had failed their missions or harbored beliefs deemed heretical by the Order. Each bore a task known only to themselves and the Grandmaster, a mission that, if completed, might restore them to their former station. But success was uncertain, and the path to redemption often proved long and arduous.

  Amongst the repentant there can be seen Constantia along with Marcus and Antonius. Their faces pressed to the ground in silent disgrace. They had offered no resistance when the Grandmaster cast their necklaces at their feet, nor had they spoken a single word in their own defense. Punishment was neither accepted nor rejected—it simply was.

  A carriage rolled through the palace gates, bearing the insignia of the Inquisition. Every eye, whether belonging to an inquisitor or a mere palace attendant, turned toward the approaching vehicle. The carriage stopped and the door opened, revealing one of the most formidable men of the age—the Grandmaster of the Inquisition, Theodore Angelopoulos

  For years, he had lived in the shadows, hunted by the very Church that now stood before him. But at last, he had stepped into the light once more. His silver color hair shine on the light of the sun, people say that Angelopoulos family always have that hair because of blessing from an Angel, while other just chalk it up as something that happened naturally from century of inbreeding between the family. Yet now, only one Angelopoulos remained in the world, and that was Theodore himself.

  His kin had been eradicated in the dissolution of the Inquisition decades prior, during the great war that reshaped the land. None had been spared the cold bite of steel or the finality of the guillotine. Some had fled, only to be hunted down and slain. Others, like Theodore, had vanished into the mountains, biding their time. The Longinus Order, ever relentless, had pursued the last remnants of his house, yet Theodore had eluded them.

  Despite the prosecution and active manhunt against the Inquisitor Order, they managed to grow in number by recruiting orphans or even people that seek them on their own. Their order began to regain their former power and not long after that the active manhunt against their order was redacted. Now, after years of maneuvering, bribery, and subterfuge, he had clawed his way back into the heart of diocesan politics, his excommunication lifted, his Order restored

  He stepped from the carriage alone—no guards, no attendants. His very presence was a statement of power.

  Behind shuttered windows and veiled curtains, the cardinals watched. Some smirked, pleased with his return, while others glowered in silent disdain. The Inquisition had long been a thorn in the Church’s side, for its agents claimed to serve God directly, not the Pope. They cared little for papal mandates or church doctrine, following only their own ironclad laws and the word of their Grandmaster

  If he declared white to be black, the Inquisitors would believe it without question. This unwavering loyalty, this willingness to commit any atrocity in the name of divine justice, made them both indispensable and dangerous. ‘The end justifies the means’, that’s their motto for doing their work.

  As Theodore approached the kneeling Repentant, he lifted their faces one by one with the toe of his boot. His eyes were as cold as a midwinter storm, his presence commanding absolute obedience towards his subject. At his hip hung a holy artifact of the Angelopoulos family that was rumored to be missing. Sword of Mikael, the sword that was rumored to slay the Ancient Demon, Horus. During the great purging, that sword is rumored to be buried in an unnamed forest and under an unmarked tree. The fact that Theodore managed to claim back that missing artifacts cemented his position are the heir or Angelopoulos family and the leader of Inquisitor Order.

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  As Theodore walked towards the palace door, suddenly it opened revealing Pope George himself with Demetrius on his side. The pope is smiling widely while Demetrius stares at Theodore with a piercing gaze.

  It was Pope George who declared the Inquisitor as heretic and it was Demetrius who hunted the Theodore family into near extinction. Two main reasons and perpetrator of Theodore family and legacy destruction are right in front of him. Pope George stood his ground while waiting for Theodore to walk towards him while Demetrius just stood still without saying a word.

  Theodore smile widened. "What an honor to be greeted by you, George—and by you, Demetrius. Tell me, what have I done to deserve such a warm welcome after all these years?”

  The Pope let out a soft chuckle. "I have come to greet our lost lamb, returned at last to the fold. What say you, Theodore? Do you accept this embrace of reconciliation?”

  “My family always taught me never to reject a gift given in kindness,” Theodore murmured, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword. “And I’m sure you both remember that lesson, given our history. But alas, I do not come here as a lamb returning to the flock. I come as a lion.”

  “A lion?” Demetrius scoffed.

  Demetrius was about to say something, but he swallowed his word deep inside his chest. The pope glanced towards Demetrius, eyeing his emotion and feeling right now. It's no secret that Demetrius and Theodore have fostered some kind of rivalry relationship. After so long hunting Theodore and exchanging blows with him countless times, Demetrius knew exactly who he’s dealing with right now.

  There’s nothing more that he wanted other than to duel Theodore right here right now, but he can't, since his job of hunting him is officially over. Theodore and Demetrius' eyes are locked at each other, each of them are eager to draw blood, but they knew that would be a foolish thing to do. There will be time for that battle, they know that the moment will come for them to finally finish this rivalry between them.

  “I hear there is a new Saint in these halls,” Theodore remarked. “A War Saint, they call him. One from Isildus.”

  The Pope seems surprised by that word. Why would Theodore ask for Sebastian? He knew exactly where Sebastian came from and what kind of saint he was. Despite spreading the rumor that he was the patron saint of martial arts, it seems that propaganda is useless for the Grandmaster of Inquisitor. What bothers the Pope is that despite the tense situation they’re in right now, he sets that aside and asks about Sebastian. It shows where his priority is and a part of the reason why he’s here right now. What did he want to do with Sebastian and what would he say? He doesn’t know, but one thing is sure. Theodore is planning something right now, something to do with Sebastian.

  “He has taken leave for Avignon,” the Pope replied smoothly. “He departed just yesterday.”

  Demetrius looked at the pope, wondering why he told him about the exact time they left. However the pope seems unbothered. If the main reason Theodore was here to meet Sebastian, then he would immediately send his agent to intercept the Convoy. This is a risky gamble that the Pope plays, something that he is willing to play against Theodore. He needs to make sure that Theodore is kept in check despite his power and influence right now. He knew that the majority of the Cardinal were already in his pocket and he knew that he’s planning something. Not keeping an eye on him would be foolish, but he just can't do that openly or he would risk opening another conflict.

  “Such a pity,” Theodore sighed. “I would have been most pleased to meet him. But no matter—there is still much to discuss with both of you.”

  “Shall I have the servants prepare a meeting chamber?” the Pope inquired. “Or would you prefer to rest after your long journey? I imagine the luxuries of this palace are not to your liking—you always did prefer the austere quarters of a fortress.”

  “No,” Theodore said. “Prepare the training hall. There is nothing I desire more than to stretch my limbs—and cut something with my sword.”

  Without another word, he strode past them, as though neither the Pope nor Demetrius were worthy of his notice. Yet as he passed, he murmured, just loud enough for the Pope to hear:

  “Thank you for your personal greeting. It was terrible.”

  A smile played at his lips as he entered the palace.

  He’s finally back to this place after so long being stuck on the mountain. This place had been built by the hands of his ancestors—it would always be his rightful home. But now, it was infested. Rats had burrowed into its walls, scurrying through its halls, leaving their filth and disease wherever they went.

  Exterminating vermin required patience. If he acted too soon, they would scatter into the cracks and crevices, hiding beyond his reach. He needed a plan to exterminate these pests in one single sweep and he needed to do it quickly before the past tore this palace into the ground.