There had been no message to prepare for their arrival. They had just shown up. This could not be good. Warren strode forward, and descended the staircase, Gil on his coattails.
"Gentlemen, is there some way I might be of assistance?" He inquired in a steady voice, his baritone carried easily across the wooden floors. The men's attention turned toward the young Lord Salphus as one, as if it were a practiced action.
"Please forgive Miss Windsworth, she's not fond of unannounced guests, especially not on a day when there is so much cleaning and rearranging being done for spring."
From the gaggle of priests, one separated himself. He was average in every manner of the word. Height, weight, features. Hair and eyes all a dusty, unobtrusive brown. If asked the number of people in a crowd, a person might not even remember to count him.
"Are you Governor Salphus?" he inquired, inspecting Warren as he found his way down the stairs and to the entrance hall. Gil stayed three steps from the bottom.
“ I am his son, Acting Assistant Governor Warren Salphus," he asserted in response.
Once again, the average priest's eyes assessed the man before him. A mouse would've had an easier time intimidating a mountain. After a moment of tense silence, the man speaking on behalf of the group extended his hand and relaxed his posture.
“I do apologize for the sudden intrusion, as it is normally expected that we make ourselves known upon entering a city. We are here on behalf of the central Temple of Cors, in Kingswallow."
"Kingswallow you say," Lord Salphus repeated with what could only be described as completely and utterly lacking in amusement. He reached out, shaking the priest's hand. An absolutely forgettable handshake.
Gil watched the two from a few paces back. His heart felt as though it was going to leave his chest to rest on the outside of his vest alongside the silver chain of his watch. His palms felt sweaty and the tie of his silk cravat felt all too close to what he imagined a noose would. Yet somehow Warren hadn't flinched in the presence of the few people in the city who could have his life with no trial. One day he was going to make an absolutely magnificent Leader.
" Now if I may," Warren said with an abrupt transition. "Not that I am upset with the presence of the fine men of the Sun's Temple, but what spurs the sudden appearance of the clergy in our fair state?"
"Ahh yes, the matter at hand," the ordinary priest said, once again speaking for the group. "We were sent here on the information of what could be the forbidden arts at play."
Warren wrinkled his brow as if he had no idea what they could be insinuating.
"Forbidden arts? Forgive me sir but I must say I'm not as well versed in the vernacular of the Temple as I fear I should be.”
“We are here on the rumor that there may be those who defy the privileges of god amongst your city's people.”
“Defy holy privilege? Sir, are you trying to tell me you have cause to believe that there are witches in my city?!" His voice grew a bit, anger touching softly at the edge of the words as his act shifted his posture.
"I understand your ire Lord Salphus, but do not fret. Witches are daring creatures with the will and the gall to tread the path meant only for Cors," the priest nodded along.
“ What rumors have you heard to bring you to my city?" Warren asked, though his tone spoke more of a demand, as any leader of state would. It was the safety of his citizens at risk if there were others willfully abandoning their morals in favor of a sense of superior knowledge.
” A storm, a few weeks back. I'm sure you recall." How could he not, it was all the city spoke of for a fortnight. "An unnatural storm we are led to believe was the guile of a Coven, a gathering of witches," the priest explained.
The surprise on Lord Salphus's face was quite genuine now.
"The snow?" he asked. "How is it possible that a single human could have created such a powerful act of nature, and why? To what avail?"
“No, not a single. No single witch is strong enough to move the clouds and the wind like that. A Coven, however. A Coven, well-trained and willing enough, could wretch the reigns of such a snow storm from heaven and steer it to their will. For what reasons though, we do not know. That is why we are here," The priest explained, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.
“We will cause your people no unrest, we promise. We will conduct our investigation only to see if this coven lives within the borders of your lovely state."
Warren couldn't deny them. The Temple acted outside of the jurisdiction of any single governor and on this continent could go, quite frankly, anywhere they pleased. This introduction was for Governor Salphus's sake, not their own. They expected not only free passage to move about the city, but pleasantries and cooperation as well. Warren had to agree.
"Then I have no choice but to allow your investigation access to Kar, sir," Warren relented.
"Please, call me Rudolph," he said, extending his hand once again to the assistant Governor of the region. "I look forward to our time together, and I will pray that these smug cretins have left your city and state in peace."
Warren once again grasped Rudolph's hand for a shake. This time the unremarkableness of it brought a bit of sweat to the nape of his neck. Now Warren understood why someone so unimpressive was leading this group of inquisitors. A forgettable man of power was a dangerous one.
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