“

The world has ended.

The Fungus, even after decades have passed, is still ravaging its dying and decaying corpse. Where no hope was left, Hope was born. The floating Islands of Hope, one of the very few refuges for the peoples of the world. Despite being the saving grace to many, the Islands were nothing less than a floating heap of distorted and vile feelings, ambitions powered by others’ downfall and rampant corruption. 

That was how it felt until I ventured deeper into the Islands with them.

”

She was looking down on me, there was no way she wasn’t. I could feel her fiery gaze upon the tip of my head, as if she was only a fraction of a second away from tearing it off my shoulders. While I can’t really say that I wouldn’t understand her position, that would be a bit of an awkward way to meet one’s end.

“So, who were you again?” - she said, no, demanded. With my face facing the floor and my back bent in a bow, I could hear a soft rustling sound. Inhale, exhale. A simple movement, a drag on a thin, cheap cigarette, an air of nonchalant indifference oozing into her immediate surroundings and her icy tone of speech, that’s how she was.

“Lady, I mean, Miss Head Inquisitor. Francis Gavro, at your service.”

The woman in front of me was indeed the Head Inquisitor. Despite her small frame and a modest build, she has been a part of the Inquisition for centuries. Must be nice to be a descendant of the Elvish race, you live way longer than most other races, only dragons and other mythical races can rival the elves’ longevity, and are granted both physical dexterity and great magical prowess. 

During her time in the Inquisition, she earned her way into Ordi Heretica, a special unit which responded directly to the Emperor. That unit, despite how its name sounds, was not only proficient in hunting down demon-cults and religious fanatics, but was also used for espionage and is rumored to be responsible for the assassinations of those who the Emperor deemed to be a danger of peace. It is true that the Empire was able to remain relatively peaceful for a century or two before its downfall, but that was mostly possible due to the forces behind the curtains. Now that the Empire fell into the abyss of purple mutagen, the Fungus, and dragged the world with it, what little remained of the Inquisition on the Islands became the main investigative and special forces unit. Seeing them anywhere meant some trouble was going to happen for sure. Yet here I am, brazenly trying to get her attention for personal matters.

“At my service, you say. And yet you’re the one calling me here for reasons unknown. Makes me wonder what the reasoning might have been.”

“I assure you, Miss Head Inquisitor, it’ll be worth your time.”

“Is it so? Maybe if you got to the point already I wouldn’t have to be missing out on a sale of fish.”

My troubles were compared to fish…

Well, fish are very rare on the Islands, that’s true. After all, the amount of bodies of water here was quite limited and only few were suited for fish to live in, hence why most sea and river products came from the very occasional trading with the settlements on the surface. A sale of fish surely sounds nice, however, please don’t make an actual person look less worthy than a discounted rare meal! 

“Let’s get to the point while walking towards where the sale is then, won’t that be a good compromise?”

I said that as I finally straightened my back out. Having done that, I took the time to get a better look at the woman I’ve been talking to. She was about one or two head-heights shorter than me, had short and slightly spiky hair. Her eyes were adorned with unusual, in both color and form, pupils. She wore a long coat in combination with a seemingly plain outfit of shirt and pants. On top of the coat, she had a long scarf which was decorated with various insignia of the Inquisition. If not for her overall attitude, she could have been mistaken for a perfect beauty, but when one is displaying their affiliation to the Inquisition this openly, people would know better than to try and hit on them.

I decided to be the first to move and started walking towards the main plaza of the Upper Layer. The Head Inquisitor followed suit. That’s when I started my tale of who I was and why I called her.

Francis Gavro, a name given to me by my, probably perished, parents who stayed behind on the surface. Due to certain circumstances, of which I have no clear recollection anymore, I was the only one from the entire family who was able to get into the Islands by direct migration. 

Here I was taken as an apprentice of one of the Islands’ ministers, an elf named Hoo Finley. Nobody knows why he picked out a street urchin like me to be his apprentice as there were candidates far more suited than I, yet he just dismissed the protests and carried on. Being a minister of Economics and Environment, he was the one who taught me how to write, read and be somewhat proficient in handling economical and ecological questions. He was also the one who forced me to get into fencing even though it wasn’t my best skill at all and I showed little to no interest in the matter. He used to tell me that there will be times when I’ll have no other choice than to fight, but so far I have been able to get by without getting into fights that involved weapons other than whatever could be used in a bar fight. Still, the training engraved certain things into my daily routine which I can’t discard anymore, like daily morning exercise and extensive running sprees.

One day, however, I found out that Master Hoo was brutally murdered by anti-elf extremists. It’s not weird for people to not like that they are being ruled over by almost exclusively elves, but only few of them were willing to go as far as to dirty their hands with murder. A common inhabitant of the Islands of Hope knows that what they have right now is most likely the best they’ll get out of the current situation in the world. Death of Master Hoo was unexpected news to everyone, though the reactions when receiving the news ranged from indifference to rage to total breakdown. He had strained relationships with some of the ministers, but none of them wished for his death, at least not now. 

As for myself, I didn’t feel the same shock as some of Hoo’s closer acquaintances did. Master was a special person in my life and I owed him a lot, but I didn’t particularly feel like I should harbor strong emotions right now. Not because I didn’t feel anything, but because it may make my judgment falter when it mattered.

Several days after the murder, when the mourning period had ended and the body had been interred on the Lower Layers of Decay at the Minister’s Graveyard, I found a mysterious letter in my desk. It seemed to be from Master Hoo himself, saying that I should go and study for a week at the Moonlit Library and, once I got my answers, seek out help from the Head Inquisitor, for she will be the one to guide me to the reason why death was cast upon Master Hoo. I heeded the message and did as instructed.

“And that’s somewhat why I’m here, asking your help”, I finished up with a half-smile as we went through a busy central street which was bursting with activity. Stalls stood on both sides of the street, some of them made from cheap materials, definitely run by folks from lower Layers who made their way here to trade the spoils of their labor, while others looked sturdy and well decorated. The vendors calling out to people hoping to pique their interest with their goods, the sounds of bartering and haggling, a single coin dropping from someone’s hands and rolling over the cobblestone street, all of that was the Main Street of the Upper Layer. One could find almost anything they wanted here. Food, traveling supplies, carpets, furniture and way more laid bare for customers to look at and purchase. There were also specialized shops, run from the various small houses built from cut stone, brick or, in the case of the Merchant’s Guild building that doubled as a Great Bazaar, very expensive wood. 

Several seconds have passed since I finished my tale, but no reaction came from my companion. That was until we passed a certain unremarkable place that gave off a fishy smell.

“Stop, we’ll get in line”

It was a fish shop. Well, less of a shop and more of a small shabby stall, something similar to the tents adventurers would take on expeditions to the surface, looking like it was barely being held together by one singular piece of rope. On top of its counter lay the promised flesh of the water-dwelling creatures, grilled above an open flame in dangerously close proximity to the wooden carcass of the stall and served with a hearty piece of molten butter on top.

“Even after all the storytelling I did, you’ll just go and buy a single grilled fish? Like, you

aren’t even going to get a fresh one?”

“You think I will drag a fresh fish around town like that? Do I have my shopping basket with me or do I look like a housewife on a shopping trip?”

“Well, no, but…”

“Hey there, fellas. My name is Zogro, what can I get you?”, the shopkeeper cut into our conversation just as I was about to deliver some excuses. Well, it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

“Get us one of those grilled ones with butter, please”, I answered.

“Hmmmm, young lad, don’t you have a fine companion there? Why take only one? You know what, I’ll offer you a wondrous deal. You get two of the finest fishes I’ve got for just a small price of fifty ilando.”

It was a scam. I could feel it. Never trust a man selling fish, that was common sense that was drilled into me from a very young age. “Fish vendors are up to fishy business” were the exact words my drill master told me after fencing practice. If you dismissed the pun, you’d actually get some sound advice. Because fish was so rare, both vendors and customers would do a lot to get their hands on some. Fifty ilando was not a price one would pay for what was offered, it was a suspiciously small amount. Could the vendor have seen the Inquisition insignia and decided to make their product extra cheap? Well, in that case, don’t mind if I do, however, I was worried about his comment on my “companion”.

“Come on, certainly a minister’s apprentice like yourself can find fifty ilando…”

She was smirking and was completely enjoying the situation! I thought she’d get angry or not react at all, but she decided to play the shopkeeper’s game. Now I couldn’t refuse. I paid with a heavy heart and received our meals on small single use plates. The fish weren’t plumpier or finer in any way an eye could conceive. Definitely a scam with perfect execution. 

We decided to eat on one of the benches in the nearby park. Looking back at it, it almost felt like I was on a jolly little date instead of me actively trying to ask for help from one of the most known people in the politics of the Empire’s backstage. By the way, the fish was way too greasy and you had to spend more time plucking out the bones than actually enjoying what you ate. Just as we were done and I pretty much gave up on ever getting anything out of her, the Head Inquisitor turned her face towards me.

“I’ve decided, I’ll try to help you.”

“Huh? So you actually will…?”, I was filled with both frustration and relief when I said that. She decided to help me, which was a slither of positive change, but did I really have to do this entire eat-out thing?

“Don’t get the wrong idea, sir Gavro, the way how rowdy you get when telling a story for longer than five minutes almost made me just send you away, but since Master Hoo is involved, I’m willing to distrust my first impression of you.”

She delivered these lines in a tone colder than ice, then hopped off the bench we were sitting on with the gracefulness of a butterfly.

“With that being said, I’ll be expecting you tomorrow in front of the main barracks at seven in the morning. Don’t be late. Bye.”

And just like that, she side-stepped out of my field of vision. I turned around but she was nowhere to be seen. And I still had to take care of the trash that remained after our outdoor meal. I listlessly made my way to the nearby trash can while thinking about how I had to put up with that person if I wanted to know what Master Hoo was talking about in the letter. There was little to no choice.

This night at an undisclosed location:

“It’s unlikely she bought your story, there’s no way she did with how she was staring at you while you were groveling like a worm.”

“Why didn’t you say something then? Maybe a little advice would have helped, you know?”

“I’m already getting you through this mess because you’re so damn helpless and you want even more from me? That’s not what the contract says.”

“You know you can make another one if you want and you can just ask for more than you currently get, right?”

“Maybe you should stop relying on me for little things and actually get your act together. We need to see this through, as per contract.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure, dear sister of mine.”

“Haaaa… Why is my brother such a good-for-nothing?”