“We need to leave the city. A.S.A.P!” Carlos protested to Sebastian and Dalia.

  The Reformist had told them everything that had been going on in the Middle and Outer city. The situation was far more dire than they realized. The only thing separating them from a total city riot was the inner-city wall, and they weren’t sure if it would hold. The only way out of the city was through the port, and Faust held complete control over who or what entered and left the city.

  “You really want to leave these people behind, Carlos? Do you even listen to yourself?” Sebastian said, wiping blood from his armor.

  “Why do you want to stay so badly?!” Carlos retorted in anger. “This whole problem is not our concern. We came here to preach as a diplomatic envoy, not as a fighting force!”

  “You say that after we killed that grotesque thing in the forest?” Sebastian scoffed. “We’re capable and strong enough to lend aid to the people of this city.”

  “Oh, suddenly you love helping that old slimy fox,” Carlos spat on the ground.

  “We’re helping the people of this city!” Sebastian exclaimed. “Not that disgusting old man! Why can’t you see that?!”

  Sebastian and Carlos kept arguing while the guards around them kept an eye on their surroundings. There was no guarantee that these Reformists would be the last. As far as they knew, the whole city was filled with infiltrators hiding in the shadows.

  Dalia, on the other hand, felt severely exhausted. She hadn’t gotten any rest since leaving Latinum. Problem after problem kept finding them wherever they went. The Legion in the forest, the Avignon riot, and now these two, who kept arguing every time they opened their mouths.

  Dalia believed Sebastian's idea was the morally correct one. They were saints and supposed to help people in need. But Carlos' argument wasn’t wrong either. They didn’t have any troops or even proper gear for this fight. Besides Sebastian and the guarding soldiers, Dalia and Carlos had only brought their banquet and daily clothes. Faust might give them standard armor if they decided to help, but they were still low on manpower.

  This whole riot was different from their previous problems. The revenant was a monster, and luckily, there were three anathemas to its power. But now they were fighting real people with unique powers. This ‘Prophet’ could be a powerful mage. While it was true that Sebastian and Carlos could fight, they didn’t know the extent of the enemy’s power. There were too many variables. They couldn’t make snap decisions and run with them—but this situation demanded otherwise.

  “Let’s just talk to Cardinal Faust and see what our options are first,” Dalia said, positioning herself between Sebastian and Carlos. “We’re wasting time by arguing like this.”

  Carlos looked annoyed. He had hoped Dalia would take his side. But from the way she spoke now, he thought she leaned more toward Sebastian. He wondered when those two had started getting along so well. He could feel his heart burning up, and a ringing echoed inside his skull. He blamed Sebastian for all of this. Dalia and he had been doing fine before Sebastian came along. Now, with him around, Carlos felt like he was losing a dear friend. He needed to get her back, but he didn’t know how.

  “Do you want power?”

  Carlos’s attention snapped back to reality. He looked around and found nothing besides broken furniture and glass.

  “I guess you’re right. We need to pay a visit to Faust first,” Sebastian said as he walked toward one of the guards. “Now you—tell us where Faust is, right now.”

  The guard panicked and traded glances with the others, but no one wanted to help. Sebastian was scary—but Faust was far worse. They didn’t want to risk further punishment by revealing where Faust was.

  “Do you want to get slapped?” Sebastian threatened, brushing the back of his hand across the guard’s face.

  “N-NO!” the guard replied.

  “So, tell me. Where. He. Is. Right. Now.”

  “H-he...” The guard gulped down spit, tears rolling down his face. “He is in the war room!”

  “Good. Now tell me again—where is this war room?”

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  “I-I can’t!” the guard begged. “He’ll kill me! He’ll punish my whole family!”

  Sebastian grabbed the guard’s mouth and squeezed it tightly, his eyes cold, the muscles in his body tense.

  “You should be afraid for your own life right now,” Sebastian said, his fingers digging in. “Where is this war room?”

  “AT THE GATES! NEAR THE MAIN GATES!” cried another guard.

  Sebastian shifted his eyes toward the one who spoke. “Take us there, and I’ll let you all live.”

  “YE-YES! WE’LL TAKE YOU THERE!”

  All the guards immediately bowed to beg for mercy. Sebastian closed his eyes and inhaled deeply to calm his anger. He needed to manage his emotions better—especially his rage. He didn’t want another relapse like a few days ago. He let go of the guard, then glanced at Carlos and Dalia. They were both looking at him, but with different emotions. While he could sense pity from Dalia... Carlos’ emotion felt far more familiar.

  *

  Faust stared at the map of the city in front of him. With the riot raging, he already had a plan for what to do afterward. The middle city was far too small, and the outer city was far too protected. With the false sense of security the wall gave these poor people, they thought they could take over his city—even after all he’d done for them.

  He would push the outer city beyond the wall, into the wilderness. With mountain bandits raiding them constantly and no protection, they’d realize how good their lives used to be. He’d make an example of them. How dare these filthy peasants rise up after the luxury he had provided?

  The door to the war room burst open. A guard stood there with panic in his eyes.

  “Your—your majesty,” the guard heaved. “You have a visitor!”

  Faust raised an eyebrow. “Guest? Who are they?”

  “They said they’re the… the Inquisitor.”

  Faust jolted upright and rushed from the room. He didn’t even punish the guard for interrupting—too preoccupied by what he’d just heard. Outside, he saw three Inquisitor agents waiting for him. They looked rugged and didn’t wear standard uniforms—but Faust could tell from their demeanor that they were the real thing.

  Constantia held up their order insignia. “Are you Cardinal Faust?”

  Faust looked baffled. What were Inquisitors doing in his city? They had a reputation for being covert instigators. Were they behind the riot? He couldn’t arrest them—couldn’t even interrogate them. The church had forgiven the Inquisitor Order. He needed to tread carefully. Maybe it was a coincidence... but he didn’t believe in those.

  “Good afternoon, Inquisitors,” Faust greeted them. “What brings the three of you here today?”

  Constantia put back the insignia back into her pocket. “We’re here because we saw the riot while passing by after completing a mission.”

  Constantia tucked the insignia away. “We’re here because we saw the riot while passing through after completing a mission.”

  “And?” Faust raised an eyebrow.

  “As agents of the Church, we offer you our help in this matter,” Constantia said, bowing.

  Faust knew instantly that they’re lying. They’re here for something. Judging from their look, they’ve been here for a while. As to what and why they’re paying him a visit is another question. These people rarely offer their help towards anyone, but now they’re being charitable and helping. Faust let out a faint smile.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t need your help.” Faust replied as he smiled. “The situation is under control. We will take back the city within a month.”

  Constantia looked at Faust with anger. This old fox is far sharper than she anticipated. No wonder he’s been holding this city by its throat for twenty years.

  “We heard that someone’s been calling himself a ‘Prophet’,” Constantia said. “Following the tenets of our Order, we can’t just let a heresiarch like that go unpunished.”

  “Oh? You heard of him already? Despite just arriving?” Faust chuckled. “Word travels fast these days.”

  “Indeed. And we noticed the situation in the Middle and Outer city is far from ‘controlled’.” Constantia smiled. “We offer our aid in rooting out this arc-heretic.”

  “So what do you desire from this charitable act?” Faust asked, studying them.

  “We only ask for the Prophet’s head. Nothing more.”

  Faust looked at Constantia sharply. He wonders if they’re here because of the ‘Prophet’. But the news about that person is a closely contained secret. He makes sure that the news won’t spread after that guy appeared a week or more ago. Is it true that they’re here just because of a coincidence? He doesn’t know for certain, but his guts are telling him that there’s more that these Inquisitors didn’t tell.

  Suddenly another group arrived. They're the Sebastian, Carlos and Dalia group. Faust looked at the guards around them and he noticed that they’re all the guards that were supposed to be guarding the palace gate today. He sighed and shook his head. He can’t believe that the information has already been leaked. He wonders what he should do to these guards who can’t do their job properly. But now it’s not the time for that, he needs to get rid of this riot first before he starts handing out punishment.

  Sebastian walks past the group and heads towards where Constantia is. His eyes almost burned with hatred and he didn't know if he could contain the anger any further. Sebastian stood in front of Constantia and her group. Hand gripping hammer shield tightly. He just knew that these people are involved somehow, but seeing these familiar faces is another thing entirely.

  “Good afternoon, Saints,” Faust said with forced cheer. “I suppose you know each other? What a strange coincidence!”

  “Oh, I know these people,” Sebastian replied coldly. “Really, really well.”

  Constantia doesn’t say a single word. She knew that this would happen. But she once again underestimated the situation. The fear she felt when she met Sebastian a couple of weeks ago resurfaced. That piercing and boiling fury are so thick in the air, she felt like she could cut it with a knife. She gathered her courage to speak, he mustn’t show any weakness now, the whole mission is resting on her shoulder.

  “Good afternoon, Saints,” Constantia finally said, forcing composure. “I’m glad to see a familiar face in this faraway city.”