Chapter 24 - Inquisitive natures

The word of the Inquisition's return spread like wildfire, striking fear into those who had lived through its brutal reign forty years ago. To them, it was a grim reminder of the horrors that once gripped the Kingdom. However, the Inquisition's revival was welcomed by the younger generation, those who had not witnessed the bloodshed firsthand. They viewed it as an efficient means to root out the Pentalium.

The Frostholds wasted no time leaving the capital, their unease palpable. While they understood why the majority voted for the Inquisition, they could not forget the scars it had left on their house. During the war against the Sand People, Frosthold knights had fought bravely alongside the King. But while Berg led his men to the front lines, the Inquisition waged its battle within the Kingdom's walls. When Berg returned, victorious yet broken, he found the families of his fallen comrades under suspicion. The Inquisition was convinced that Frosthold wine shipments reaching enemy hands signified treason, so an investigation was launched.

Berg stood before the Inquisitor, firmly stating that the Sand People might have intercepted their shipments. Trade routes were constantly raided, and Frosthold had no control over where stolen goods ended up. But the Inquisition refused to listen. When the Frostholds rejected the baseless accusations, they were branded traitors.

The Inquisition marched against Frosthold Castle, and only the King's intervention spared them. He testified to Berg's loyalty and the sacrifices his men had made. Ultimately, the Frostholds were left to grieve silently, forever wary of the Inquisition's unchecked power.

Skeptical of the Inquisition's methods, John decided to travel north with the Frostholds. He intended to meet his agents, uncover the truth behind the mysterious tall man William had seen, and reunite with Ingrid. Before they parted ways, William gifted John Abigail's blade, an ancient Zonian weapon with the same properties as his sword, Bane. John accepted it with a smirk, pleased to wield such a powerful weapon. "Now I can finally match your swordplay," he said. William teased him further, suggesting that John marry Ingrid and make the blade a family heirloom. John merely chuckled, though he did not dismiss the idea outright.

William, meanwhile, returned to Tarwood. His first stop was Eldric's grave, where he was surprised to find Duke Lenato already there, kneeling in prayer. Without a word, William joined him. In the quiet, they found solace in their shared grief.

After a long silence, Lenato finally spoke. "It all started with his death, didn't it?"

William nodded. "Since then, the Kingdom has been in turmoil."

Lenato sighed. "We've all been lost without him." He turned to William. "Keep him alive in your memory. That's how he truly lives on."

William left the graveyard deep in thought. He wanted to honor Eldric, but how? He has to build something lasting to keep Eldric's spirit alive.

The next day, he wandered through Tarwood, his mind restless. That was when he saw the workers extracting tar from the trees. Buckets of the dark, sticky substance were carefully collected and then mixed with animal fat to make lamp oil. Some were set aside as binding material for carts and buildings. One of the workers noticed William's curiosity and explained, "Tar strengthens wood, makes ships watertight, and keeps the elements at bay."

William ran his fingers over a newly sealed cartwheel, the scent of pine and smoke thick in the air. Tarwood is nothing more than a backwater village, yet here was something that could build, protect, and fuel progress.

He formed a plan. If he could expand Tarwood's industry, improve its trade, and strengthen its economy, he wouldn't just secure his people's future; he would honor Eldric's memory.

William used everything he had learned from the Princess and the Frostholds. He traveled across the Kingdom, establishing trade agreements with shipwrights, cart makers, and carpenters. Even soldiers and knights were interested in tar's flammable properties, remembering how William had used it against the snake near Ingrid's old mountain home. Tarwood's production shifted focus, moving away from bottled goods and toward industrial supply. The results were undeniable. Wealth flowed into Tarwood, and soon, its economy flourished.

A month later, John returned to Tarwood and was surprised by the development happening all over the town. The old walls had been repaired, and a thirty-foot-high outer wall was under construction. The sawmills had been upgraded with new machinery, allowing for increased tar production. The market had begun attracting merchants across the Kingdom, barns and storehouses overflowed with food, and Tarwood was no longer a forgotten village. It was a town on the rise.

John found William at the town center, surrounded by the townsfolk, as William gave them their daily tasks. For a brief moment, John thought he saw a ghost, for Eldric used to do this before.

John also brought news. Winter was coming early. The northern realms already saw heavy snowfall, and the Frosthold struggled to accommodate its people and Ingrid's tribe. While Berg and George had allowed them to stay within the castle walls, food was limited, and old prejudices lingered. Many still saw the tribesmen as savages, making it difficult for them to integrate.

William invited them for lunch as they spoke, eager to learn more. Over the meal, Ingrid explained that each seer had thrown the stones multiple times, and every reading foretold the same ominous future. A tribesman rolled the stones onto the table, and they revealed "ᛁ ᚺ ᚦ," a warning of an impending, brutal winter. Ingrid cast her stones, only to receive the same message. William, curious, asked if he could try. Ingrid humored him, blessing the stones before he cast them.

The result startled them all: ᚲ ᛇ ᛟ" growth, revelation, and inheritance." William stared at the stones in silence. The first time he had seen them used, they predicted Eldric's death. The second time, they foretold that William would inherit the "land of the brave," which he now realized was Tarwood. And now, they warned him that he must continue his difficult path, for Pentalium would surely follow.

Their discussion was interrupted when a local fetched William. The Inquisitor had arrived in Tarwood for an inspection.

The Inquisitor was nothing like the horror stories told about him. He was well-dressed, polite, and had a strangely warm demeanor. He seemed genuinely impressed by Tarwood's growth, shaking William's hand with tears in his eyes as he praised his leadership. Yet, something was unsettling about him.

During a town tour, he took special notice of Ingrid and John. He commented on John's sword, once Abigail's, and lingered on Ingrid's skin, subtly noting its slight red hue, a trait of mountain tribespeople. His smile remained, but his words carried weight. "I like that, William. You gave those heathens a chance to be human."

William forced a polite nod, suppressing his anger.

"But next time I visit," the Inquisitor continued, still smiling, "I expect her to recite the Lord's Prayer. Otherwise, her head will be on a spike. We've seen this before with the Sand People. They say they wish to integrate, but they bring their gods and customs, leading to division. It almost cost the Kingdom its identity to be destroyed. That will not happen again."

William clenched his fists but bowed. "Yes, sir."

The Inquisitor, satisfied, rode off, disappearing into the dense forest.

John and Ingrid joined William at the gate. "He's worse than I expected," John murmured.

"He's clever," William admitted, watching the horizon. "Too clever."

He turned back to Tarwood. The next Royal Court would be critical. He could only hope the Princess would have Abigail expose everything she knew about the Pentalium before the Inquisition tightened its grip further.

A week had passed since Ingrid and her men decided to return to Frosthold, intending to retrieve her people and guide them back to Tarwood. John chose to stay behind, preparing for the town's inevitable expansion. With the wealth flowing in, he anticipated rapid growth and wanted to ensure Tarwood was ready. Understanding the hardships Frosthold might face once the cold fully sets in, William also provides Ingrid with food provisions to aid them through the coming months.

While the next hearing for Abigail remained on hold, the Inquisition's influence had begun to spread across the Kingdom. Those once close to Margaret and Abigail, including friends, associates, and business partners, were scrutinized. The Inquisition's black banners, bearing the ominous symbol of a massive eye with a sword piercing from its gaze, became a familiar and unsettling sight. Wherever they went, fear and unrest followed. Yet, to William's frustration, the younger generation embraced them. To them, there was no reason to fear if one had nothing to hide. Compliance, they believed, was the price of safety.

William had yet to hear of the Inquisition operating near Tarwood but remained wary. Whenever he left the town for business, William sometimes witnessed their agents beating those who refused to cooperate.

William often clenched his fists, feeling an overwhelming urge to step in, but he never did. He couldn't. Defying them meant bringing their wrath upon Tarwood. His inaction disgusted him, especially when he thought of Eldric. His old mentor would have intervened without hesitation.

On the third day of his travels, while conducting trade in the eastern part of the Kingdom, William spotted Saldis Library in the distance. It was one of the largest libraries in the land, an immense structure that had withstood time, housing countless tomes and records. Walking inside felt like stepping into a vast ocean of knowledge. Towering shelves filled every corner, stacked with books so numerous that a man could drown in the sheer volume of history, alchemy, and philosophy contained within. Dust motes danced in the light of tall arched windows, and the air carried the scent of parchment, ink, and aged leather.

He went to the oldest section, where few dared to linger, and began his search. He pored over ancient scrolls and crumbling tomes, hoping to uncover something about the inscriptions he had found in the mines. Yet, his efforts yielded little. The texts only spoke of the Zonians as warriors, creatures bound to combat, wielders of unique swords, and unparalleled hunters. William smirked as they were proven correct. The descriptions still hold. The Zonians haven't changed over the decades.

He was alone in this secluded part of the library, assuming no one else would disturb him until he accidentally bumped into someone.

William quickly apologized, bending down to retrieve the scattered papers and a pair of glasses. As he returned them, the woman before him did the same, bowing her head slightly in apology.

"I wasn't looking," she admitted, pushing up her glasses. "I was too caught up in my research. I didn't think anyone else would be in this section."

William's eyes flickered to her notes. His breath hitched when he recognized the symbols. The artistic details matched the murals he had been trying to decipher.

Without hesitation, he asked, "What exactly are you researching?"

She adjusted her glasses, a curious gleam in her amber eyes. Then, with a knowing smile, she extended her hand.

"Another soul who loves his rocks and history? Such a rare thing to see! I'm Julie, a student of Waldebert University."

She assumed he was one as well, given their similar age. William shook her hand firmly, though something felt different about this encounter. He had a habit of finding trouble, stepping into conflicts, and always being at the center of something dangerous. But here, with her, he didn't feel that.

"I'm William Forrester of Tarwood," he said. "I need your help identifying a mural I found."

Julie's excitement was almost contagious. Her auburn hair swayed as she eagerly pushed her notes and books toward him. The books she had gathered covered various aspects of Zonian life, some filled with speculation, others with deep historical accounts. William didn't care about accuracy at this moment. He would take any information he could get.

Something told him he could trust her. He couldn't explain why, but he would let his guard down for once.

Unrolling a paper that held the mural sketch, he placed it between them.

"This," he said, "is where we start."