An exasperated sigh echoed.
It was not coming from beyond the shut door. That direction hosted the source of tension, the voices of the two men arguing within the chamber only vaguely familiar. Celysiel expelled that breath of irritation, born by a love for punctuality and a pressing headache. If she could place faces on them, they would be of two dark-haired men, one lavish and sage, the other stern. Alas, their arguing was practiced; even if their tone would often rise with a certain sharpness, words remained hushed, incoherent. Nevermind that the Spire was already privileged to know of the two personalities clashing. What of was only theirs to know.
Perhaps half an hour had been spent in the hallway, listening to the hushed tone, yet being unable to decipher the words spoken at the other side of the wall. Patience was a virtue that the apprentice did not possess at that moment. The wait was broken as her fingers connected with the knob, pushing the door open. The brazen action was met with a sharp cut over the aggressive voices. Satisfaction did not last long.
"You were not given permission to enter, Ashfury." a voice barked from the office.
Never before had she visited the quarters of Inquisitor Morrowsun, into which she had been summoned, yet she could not help but notice that they were nothing like those of Magister Ravenfall, arcanist Trueflight, or Inquisitor Dae'elius. The room was of moderate size, bereft of the various stacks of tomes which she was used to seeing at various offices of the Spire. The walls were woefully bare, save for the pale masonry. At the one behind the Inquisitor's desk, shelves of bronze were rising with stacks of one thing alone: files. Mostly slender, yet other times thicker, they were squeezed in the space given, categorized by a system of crystals which she could not understand.
The desk itself was probably the most impressive piece of furniture in the entirety of the room. It was made of cherry wood, its corners adorned with golden metalwork. Large and oval, it covered a great part of the room, burdened with the workload of its owner. Unsurprisingly, more files were set upon it, along with unraveled scrolls, catalogues. Was it names that were etched on paper with black ink? Distance did not allow the apprentice to tell. A large chair, embroidered with crimson fabric was set behind the large piece of furniture; at the other side, two smaller ones stood, less attractive and seemingly not offering the same level of comfort.
The two men were not occupying any chairs, but they were leaning over the desk. Inquisitor Morrowsun remained almost the very same, as memory had preserved him. Ever clad in black and gold robes, he kept his glowing brooch tightly secured against his throat. Onyx locks were tightly secured, bound at the lower part of his head and passed over his shoulder, save for a long fringe. His tall figure was hunched as a hand was planted on the polished surface of the desk, turned to glare at the door.
On the other hand, Magister Syldan Runeheart, an elf whose presence had not been shorter than that of the Inquisitor in the apprentice's life, though had given less reason to be remembered, perhaps seemed different. Word had it that he possessed the reputation of a relaxed, extravagant noble, yet he failed to meet the standards. Jewels were absent, though one could still hardly call his frivolous austere. He bore no smile, though where Morrowsun possessed tension about his stern nature, the Magister held an unsettling serenity that Celysiel knew all too well. His body hinted less emotion. He stood with his back straight, evidently unphased by Morrowsun's rage.
The same could perhaps be said for the pale apprentice lingering at the threshold; she had expected it. She took no step deeper in the chamber, holding onto the door. "I received your summons." she explained.
"Excellent, you can read." he growled. "Now learn some manners. Get out and wait outside until you are told to enter."
"There is no need for that, Valitheas." the calm voice of Magister Runeheart interjected. He straightened his long sleeves, sparing Celysiel a glance. "Consider our conversation concluded. There is no reason for either of us to delay our duties."
A frown spread across the Inquisitor's features. He rose, his fingers forming a loose fist. "This discussion is not over."
"Then you are more than welcome in my office this evening in order to continue." the other man replied. "Now, you must excuse me. Miss Ashfury, feel free to enter."
As the opening of the door widened, the female took a few steps forward, while the Magister made his way to her direction, aiming for the exit behind her. Once at her level though, he paused, green eyes locked on her person.
"I see arcanist Trueflight entrusted agent Emberdale's insignia to you." he spoke.
Celysiel blinked. The promise not to forget the burden of the sigil had been made, yet after keeping it on her belt the days no cloak was worn for over a month, she had nearly ceased registering its weight. The gold was framed by slender fingers that grazed their tips against the tips of the phoenix's wings. She did not know what to say, yet thankfully the Lord's voice was heard for once more.
"Arcanist Trueflight would like that, as I trust Emberdale would as well. Make them pr-"
"For not wanting to keep us from our duties, you are most certainly doing just that, Magister." echoed the hollow voice of the Inquisitor from the depths of the room. It was not without a subtle hint of irritation.
Magister Runeheart did not react beyond offering a small smile. "We will speak another time, Ashfury." He turned to look behind his shoulder, offering a curt nod. "Inquisitor."
Beyond Celysiel's bow, the man met no other reaction to his departure. He made his way to the exit, carefully closing the door behind him. Now the frail apprentice was left alone with the Inquisitor, daring not to approach the desk, given his earlier reaction. The frown remained, tightening the eyebrows on his features.
"Take a seat, Ashfury." Morrowsun eventually spoke. There was nothing courteous about his tone.
Though she approached the two chairs at the other side of the desk numbly, the choice was made to sit on neither. That did not please the Inquisitor.
"I said sit."
She did so, slowly with a wandering gaze. The corners of the room received her attention; the slight shades flickering out of reach could not be denied. For a few days though, the largest of them, thick like a stain of ink on paper, had not made an appearance. Was it the distance that was to blame, or was it still avoiding her after their encounter? They had both been left damaged, though the extent of her opponent's condition was not known to her.
Still, the ghost of the ravaging attacks still wrecked her body. The sharp pain eagerly returned as she lowered herself on the Inquisitor's uncomfortable chair. He did not miss how Celysiel reached for the abdomen and head alike, while twitching involuntarily.
The Inquisitor was not impressed. "You had the audacity to come to me ill." he spat out.
"Is it audacity that I presented myself to you as requested?" she asked softly, forcing a cough.
"It is audacity that you consider yourself intellectually superior than your betters." His tone was sharp as a blade. With a hand planted on the desk for once more, he leaned in close, eyes of gold glowing dangerously in their glare. "Drop the act of innocence, perhaps for once in your life. I am neither the arrogant High Priestess, nor the blind re-educator. Fool them as much as you desire, you will not convince me."
She looked up at Morrowsun, blinking. "I do not unde-"
The sharp gesture of his hand towards his brooch silenced her. Instinct led her to twitch and pull back on the chair as she first thought that the Inquisitor was reaching for the stone of Light on his person. She was wrong. The black straps were tugged, releasing the tight collar of the priest. As the first gem landed freely on his chest, still bound, the soft clicking sound of something being detached from metal revealed another. Almost identical to its Light counterpart, save for its deep, dark purple colour, the object was slammed onto the desk's polished surface in front of the girl. The whisper of shadow echoed from within, a cold tune she was too familiar with.
"This, Ashfury," the Inquisitor spoke. "is the Occulus. Unlike the deniers, I need not bathe myself in shadow to access one's mind. Just enough to access this artifact and it will read the minds of those I wish for me. Every single one of them." His figure crouched further over the furniture separating the two. "You have been acquainted before."
She nodded numbly. How many hours had she spent with the man standing in front of her stripping the barriers of her mind, unlocking every memory, every emotion, venturing in the dark corners that had once only been hers? She had never seen the stone before, yet its signature was frightfully familiar.
"Do not for a single moment think that I will hesitate to use it again, at this very moment if needed." he hissed. "The authority of your own ended back when they received what they wished. No one is here to protect you now. No one will protest. No one will lift a finger for another trouble. Utter a lie to me, a single lie and your mind will be mine again. And have no doubt, I will know."
The threat was not an empty one. His glare met her green eyes, claimed by dread. "I somehow doubt that Magister Runeheart would approve." she tried.
He frowned deeply, his nose soon wrinkled. "You presume to know too much, little elf." There was nothing kind about the last words spoken. He rose and straightened his back, but his eyes never left her. "Syldan Runeheart has no interest in what you view as justice. He may broadcast his fight for Emberdale's redemption, but make no mistake." The Inquisitor tapped the stone once. Celysiel's eyes followed his gesture, as if expecting something to happen - nothing did. "He is playing the game. I am playing the game. Your protectors are playing the game. Do not attempt to engage; we have all been playing since long before your existence and each of us is better than you."
Morrowsun tapped the stone for once more, yet nothing came of it this time either. Eventually, he collected it on his palm, pushing himself on his chair, the seat hosting him perfectly.
"I know not how you have bound elves of importance to your will, or if they will satisfy your every whim, though I will not entertain it." he stated clearly.
Her brow twitched, but she ignored the accusation. "I am afraid I still do not understand why you have summoned me here."
The Occulus rested on the priest's palm, fully eveloped by his digits. "You have made a request for some of your belongings to be released to you, while your residence still remains under our own control. Is that correct?"
She nodded. "I do not see how this is related to the statements you are currently making."
"It is my job to see to the Kingdom's interests." he declared codly. "Determine possible threats."
"I thought it has already been determined that I am not counted as one." Celysiel replied wearily. For as long as she did so, he seemed to keep the intrusive stone inactive.
He arched a raven eyebrow, pushing himself against the back of his seat. "You prance around with an air of supposed innocence, vulnerability," he noted for once more. "yet the items we found in your possession-"
"As I also thought you said that you already delved within-"
"Do not interrupt me." Morrowsun barked. The Occulus was released from his grap once more, rolling on the dark desk. With his fingers released, one poked his thigh, or so Celysiel suspected - her sight was obscured. "You are unaccounted for." A deep breath was taken as his voice adopted a calmer, though not kinder tone. "That I cannot trust. Why Lady Ravenfall sought you in the past, I cannot say, why those who should dismiss you rush to your aid, I cannot say, but the Spire tasks me with assessing risks and you inspire no confidence."
She nodded slowly, seeing no point in objecting. That seemed to ease his agitation, even if slightly. He reached for one of the stacks occupying the desk, lifting two files to retrieve the third from the top. He dropped it in front of him, opening the cover.
"Dae'elius has nothing alarming to note thus far," he commented. "but I have no trust in a charlatan."
"Do you regard everyone other than yourself as a charlatan?" she asked calmly, unable to help herself.
"I regard everyone as such until they prove their competence." Morrowsun replied. "My colleague has not done so in my eyes just yet. We possess the title of Inquisitors, to ask questions is our duty. However, not all pose the correct inquiries."
Celysiel frowned despite wishing against to, for the Inquisitor's view was also her own. The Artificer's words of years ago echoed in her mind, yet the one who had spoken them was not desired among her thoughts. She protectively raised the collar of her gown around her neck, though Morrowsun did not seem to notice.
"You will therefore answer some questions of my own." he concluded.
"Yet you are not in charge of-"
"The Occulus, Ashfury." he reminded her sharply, eyes thinning.
She looked at the small gem, nodding.
The Inquisitor focused on the file one more time, discarding the first pages in favour of those below. It was a blessing, even if brief to be free from the golden glare.
"In your letter, you requested that some of your assets be released ahead of time. Yet further details are not listed." He lifted a page, the paper folding into his fingers. Through the rays of sunlight, the material appeared almost transparent, highlighting the black ink at the other side. With enough imagination, the apprentice could recognize the handwriting; it was after all hers. Morrowsun frowned, eventually setting it to the side. "A vague request will not serve. Not due to practicality alone. I know what you aim to achieve."
"I am not-"
"Insult my intelligence one more time and I will not hesitate to use the stone." he warned.
The apprentice fell silent, lips tightened. Even if the peculiar artifact was not being used, she still felt exposed to the man at the other side of the desk, as if he could identify her every thought, trick, or intention. Compliant, she let him continue.
"Provided I allow this," he spoke. "which items do you hope to recover?"
"My journals and one of my tomes." she replied.
Morrowsun did not seem surprised. His digits wandered to the edge of the table, embracing the brown quill rising over a vial of ink. He carefully clicked the tip against the glass, before dragging it over a blank parchment. "What do those contain?"
"An account of findings noted during the Sanguine Eye's excursions." came her response. Her fingers met over her abdomen, as if that would suppress the growing feeling of dread within, the spasms threatening to rise after that fateful night.
"Ever so vague still, Ashfury." the Inquisitor mumbled dryly. "Do these findings regard the order's affairs?"
"No. Not unlike the tome, they are a recording of knowledge regarding magic."
He raised his gaze, looking at her expectantly. Agitated. Her ears wilted.
"Void."
The Inquisitor leaned back. Though he adopted no particular expression, his eyes now held something almost triumphant. "The ravings of a Twilight cultist and four leatherbound books filled with scribblings. Does that sound correct?"
She nodded, if only for the sake of progression. "Have you removed them from my residence?"
"No. All your belongings remain there as abandoned, though accounted for."
"Does that mean I can-"
Celysiel was stopped by a rising hand which sought to silence her. "It really comes as no surprise," he commented blankly. "that the questionable items aforementioned are in fact those you seek."
She chose not to speak, though her shoulders grew stiff.
He learned to her briefly with the hand holding the quill. There was no spillage of ink on the polished surface of the wood. "Defend your case."
"Do you want me to-"
"Defend your case." he repeated dryly.
When Celysiel did not say anything for a few seconds, he raised his chin to look at her expectantly. To spite him was not her intention, yet as the Occulus momentarily stole her attention, she could not help but wonder if her silence would achieve that. With the corner of her eye, she noted something vaguely trembling behind Morrowsun. Not a trick of the light, for there was none upon it.
Not now.
She lifted her head and inhaled, eyes thinning. "They are my right." she stated. "Question me all you like, yet it does not change the fact that you have seen what my mind holds. You found nothing incriminating, nothing to harbour enough doubt for my innocence to be tarnished and not declared as it has. I am thus allowed to stay in the Kingdom and dedicate my very life to its service. When the call against the Black Empire comes, I obey, I gather knowledge, I fight. The items sought are crucial in the understanding of the enemy forces and their annihilation. I need them."
He surprisingly did not object, but only looked at her. "And if you were in my place, Ashfury," the Inquisitor said. "would you surrender those items to an individual who has formerly been suspected and troublesome to the-"
"That was not my f-"
"Do not interrupt." he barked again, before adopting his former stern serenity. "An individual who has been troublesome to the Spire, unwittingly or otherwise. Would you take the risk?"
She frowned. "I most definitely w-"
"The Occulus, Ashfury." Morrowsun growled.
Her shoulders sank. Any confidence earlier earned faded. Behind the Inquisitor, the shadow on the wall trembled.
"I would not." she admitted. "Yet it would be due to unprofessional reasons."
He arched an eyebrow. "How so?"
Celysiel shook her head. "I am not a trusting individual."
For once more, the Inquisitor did not seem surprised. He did however set the quill down on the paper in order to lean forward, a hand set on the desk. "An unexpected statement for someone whose fate often rests on the hands of others." When she did not reply, his expectation grew. "Well?"
The shadow shivered for once more. And then pain. She felt it sharply, rising from her stomach. It was disguised as a cough, one which only tested Morrowsun's patience.
"Some individuals are worthy of trust. Loyalty. Yet often enough and in regards to others, certain variables are required, they need to be known. You mentioned a game and accused me of trying to play it. I play no games. I am no betting woman. I see no value in not knowing and embracing a risk, in spite of what most may claim about me." She gestured forth, towards the note kept by the Inquisitor. "It is after all why I am trying to obtain my former notes and tome in time."
Morrowsun's eyes sparked, but he did not immediately speak, choosing to nod instead. His quill rose again. The former page was discarded, so words may be shaped upon a new one.
"As it happens, Ashfury, I too am not a betting man." he declared. "Men such as Magister Runeheart? They quite adore it. It affords a chance of higher stakes, greater praise. Time cultivates instinct and instinct favours gambling." A brief pause was made, so he could dip the quill into the vial of ink. "I know not exactly what he wants, but he has his eyes on an investment. Yet do not flatter yourself for a moment and think that you are it. You are but the coin. Something which matters not if is lost. He is not on your side. No one in here is. That is not our job."
If a subtle 'but' was sensed, it was decided best not to pry. Celysiel inclined her head, watching the Inquisitor turn the page to hover his quill above a new one.
"Now. Do you remember the location of the items you desire?"
The apprentice blinked in surprise. She barely noticed the shadow vanish from behind Morrowsun as she leaned forward. "You will-"
"Have you not been prancing your innocence all this time, Ashfury, claiming that I have been in your mind before, thus ought to know better? Do not question your triumph and simply accept it. I have seen all I wished to today."
A nod was offered, though it was impossible to shake that feeling of unrest now rising within her. "Today?" she asked. "Will my case not be overseen by Inquisitor Dae'elius anymore?"
Morrowsun wafted his hand. "So it will. Do not let your mind be burdened by such matters. This does not concern you. Give me the location of the journals."
"In my bedroom." she replied, her tone settling into softness. The image of the chamber was almost painted before her eyes, ventured with every word she uttered. "Set in front of the veiled mirror. They should be easy to identify, for they are stacked and upon them rests a-"
Her voice faded, lips remained hanging open. How could she have ever forgotten?
The Inquisitor glared impatiently. "Spare me the dramatic pause."
"A seashell." she added in the end, blinking. "Do forgive me, it was-... I had forgotten. A fond memory."
Ever sharp, he now did not seem to care about sentimentalism enough to see through her lies. Sheltered under the cuff of her sleeve, the apprentice's digits now trembled with anticipation. Would she dare? Could she?
"Would it perhaps be possible for that to be recovered as well?"
Morrowsun grunted, but he did not reply. He simply set himself to writing on a new page, eyebrows furrowed. Eventually, he rested the writing material and took hold of the paper in front of him. He blew it once rather sharply; the force of the wave jerked the page backwards. "Hand this to archivist Dawnbrook." he instructed. "She is to follow you in your residence and record what you may remove from it. It will be simpler this way."
Rising on her feet, Celysiel claimed the paper. It was relinquished by the author swiftly enough without a second glance paid to the young elf. Morrowsun waved his hand dismissively. "Now make yourself scarce and bother me about this no more. Your residence will be released to you within the following weeks. You will be summoned to sign and acknowledge."
She nodded, though in spite of his instructions, the choice to linger was made. "Thank you."
"Do not test my patience, Ashfury." he snarled while reaching out for the Occulus, pulling it towards his brooch. "Go."
Celysiel did not wait for him to repeat himself, for another matter was weighing upon her mind more heavily that the eccentric Inquisitor, or gratitude unpaid. Swift steps guided her towards the door and beyond, under the evasive rays of golden sunlight.
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