Those Enduring and Those Vigilant is a story written by Tyler Santinelli as Zhann Carcerri. It includes Cameron Hare's character, Jasper Catherwood. Inquisitor Adelai, Inquisitor Isaias, and The Wraith are all creations of Tyler Santinelli.
Those Enduring and Those Vigilant[]
The silence hung thick over the pair, punctuated by the ticking of a metronome left on the corner of a desk. He appreciated the constancy amidst such tumult. The room was less tidy than he would have liked, but there was too little time for anything now, especially chores. The table had been hastily cleared, the papers stacked beside bore testament to that. Adelai took a deep breath. 'I didn't know who else to talk to. Isaias and I saw a... man.' His hands were drawn together, steepled and pointed across the guilt table at Jasper.
A pause, and the other man rolled his eyes over his gold framed glasses at the thin inquisitor. Not tall, but the kind of man who dominates whatever room he enters, Jasper had spent much of his years in service to the Legio, in the Imperial Armada, and he brought the same precision to his new, higher, calling. 'You're going to have to be more specific, brother.'
With an effort he resisted the urge to dry wash his hands, he went on.
As he spoke, the metronome ticked its cadence.
The man let out a roar of laughter and slapped a massive arm across Adelai's back, breaking his concentration. He was convinced that if he stared long enough into whatever drink he would understand. 'Come back to us, confrere! I expected you to be taken by the drink, but not before the imbibing!' Isaias' voice was a great boom even over the din of the public hall. Being in the Sanctus district, the hall was full of the young, hoping one day to become priests, acolytes of a hundred different orders, arguing the nuances of Imperial philosophy, and two members of the Eternal Eye, with the honourable rank of Inquisitor.
A mountain of a man, he was nearly twice Adelai's height, his shirt was open at the collar, and the cuff of one coat sleeve was singed black. A broad face framed by black hair to his shoulders smiled down at Adelai, 'What is this that troubles you?' That face was dominated by a black tattoo across his temples and forehead in the shape of a crown.
'You know very well... this affair with Grey Dawn. How am I supposed to feel?' His collar itched, and he wrung his hands. His coat was the twin to Isaias' in grey, save that it lacked the burned sleeve, and the armband clung precariously instead of stretching to accomodate. Opposite the Imperial band, on the left arm was embroidered the eye-and-V of their order, symbolizing their vigilance and dedication to the Five Emperors.
'You are supposed to feel human. The Five do not make mistakes. Have faith. Oh, and relax! It will not kill you! I swear to it!'
They remained that way for some time. The surface of Adelai's untouched drink reflecting a long, ragged face. He needed to shave. Once he got his quarters in order he would see to it.
Tick.
From across the hall his eyes settled on a man, clad all in black. He sat opposite two individuals, both evidently having brought their own drinks in flasks, standing out as being quite disheveled, in contrast to their companion, and… were those bricks holstered at their belts? Apparently speaking calmly, the two winced at every other word, and shied away from his gaze, though it was clear, even to the observer, that whatever transgression had brought such ire was sure to be repeated.
Adelai stared at the man, his eyes hidden by dark circular lenses, from his right dark lines spidered out, like sickly black veins. Adelai felt gripped by an icy hand as he stared at him. It was the cold of the crypt, of slick, oily things that shone in the light of the moon.
‘You see him too?’ The words shook him from his rapture. Isaias was looking straight at the same man, his face set in grim determination.
‘What… is he?’
He just smiled and said, ‘What do you say to finding out, little brother?’
Tick.
Jasper had been listening dutifully, but his eyes became focused at the description of the black-clad man. Adelai looked up at him, ‘Do you know him? Jasper, he took Isaias, I need to know-’
'You will go on,' was all he said, pointedly.
He cleared his throat and settled back into his chair. 'Let me skip ahead then. We followed him out. It was raining in the Sanctus district...'
Tick.
Adelai wrung his hands, not quite dry washing for the downpour as he looked around him. The rain was cold, the lingering heat of the day turning the rain to fog as it hit the paving stones. Awnings protected little shops that lined the streets selling incense, relics of the Five, and all manner of texts of devotion and prayer. Where the walls of the district were bare of shops were the homes of penitents, beggars, and those in fugue. The figure turned into an alley, and a group of sneering, swarthy looking men followed.
The two exchanged a look and took off running in pursuit, rushing past statues of saints in repose, heavy boots thudding on the slick paving stones. Adelai broke off, drawing his heavy revolver and ducking low. As Isaias turned the corner to see the man, his short curled hair was slick with rain, giving his features a wild caste. His first look at the scene was of the ruffians turning to flee, shouting, one propped on his elbows in the rain, inching away from the dark man, staring up with wild eyes.
Replacing his dark glasses, he called in a clear, deep voice, ‘Lord of the Flame! Do you seek our counsel as your forebears did? We are always willing to oblige,’ he spread beringed hands wide.
‘What-?’ He was taken aback, all thought of the pursuit gone.
The man began taking slow steps towards him. ‘Or do you not remember? Have they taken that from you after all else?’
‘Stay back,’ he said, inching away from the advancing figure. From one hand came smoke, and then a deep red flame, engulfing his forearm, blackening his shirt and coat now pushed to his elbow. Then, putting steel in his voice, ‘I warn you, I do not know you sir, but I do not care for your tone. What did you do to those men?’
‘You wound me, Isaias. I was such a good friend to your father, all those years.’ The softness of his voice left, the next coming as more bark than shout. ‘Remember, you fool! Lift the scales from your eyes!’ and he reached out a hand like a claw towards him.
Tick.
Adelai entered the alley at the opposite end, seeing only the man extending a hand toward Isaias, who gripped his head in both hands. The revolver, pointed now at the man’s back, flew apart as a blade flashed through it, rending the steel to chunks in a clean cut. The shadows beside him coalesced, and a shape stepped out. Tall, in tattered blacks with a hood covering its face, an inky hand clutched the hilt of an ornate silver sword, sheathed again at its hip.
It stood, silent and ready, and stared eyeless at Adelai.
Tick.
He remembered everything. His people, his world, the arrival of the Empire, the war, the crown passed from his dying father to child son, oaths sworn by a child barely able to form the words. And fire, oh, he remembered fire.
The clash of metal woke him from his thoughts, Adelai was fighting knives to sword with some shadowy thing. Zhann stepped between him and the fighting. ‘So, what now? Do you think they will take you back? Knowing what you know?’
Isaias touched his forehead, the crown’s crest at the center. ‘No. No, Zhann, I will not go back.’
Tick.
He had no idea what this creature was, and at that moment he didn’t much care. It moved faster and harder than he could countenance, its curved sword flashing in the dim light, rainwater flew down the blade with every stroke.
Something caught his eye. Adelai saw the fire go out, his friend looked at him, and shook his head with a look of sadness he never thought to see on that face. Furious, he cast with all his force one of his knives, straight at the back of the black clad man.
At the last moment an arm, thick as a tree trunk moved to intercept it, and the knife embedded itself deep into Isaias’ forearm. He never looked back, no matter how Adelai shouted.
The shadow had retreated at the same time the pair disappeared.
He was alone in the rain-slicked alley,
Tick.
‘That’s all I know, Inquisitor. He’s just gone.’ Adelai spread his hands, his voice carried a tremble.
Jasper sighed, and his tone was deadly serious, 'You had an encounter with Carcerri, Adelai, and you haven't left or gone mad. Not many in the Order can say that.'
'I don't understand, we didn't know, it was just something to get me moving again, I...' He looked up into the other man's eyes, the dark veins of Jasper’s face not quite taking the sympathy from his eyes.
'We can find out what happened, but it will not be... pleasant. Zhann works for Tobias, and we all know how difficult He can be. Tobias has these... Watchers. I'm sure you've heard more than your share of stories.'
Adelai was incredulous. Was he being mocked? 'I've torn down more than my share of recruits for spreading that nonsense!' Realization spread on his face though, as the depth of what Jasper had said came to him. ‘They can’t be real.’
'If we're going to find out what's happened to Isaias, we'll have to start at the Library.' He stood, making for the door. 'Oh, and you'll need this. I repaired it myself.' From inside his coat, he handed him a heavy revolver, the plating bright where it had been pulled together again, it felt right in his hand.
He vowed to himself in that moment to find the truth of Isaias' disappearance, and these Watchers, if it took him into Hyde's guts and back. Tobias’s Library, he supposed, would be a good place to start after all.
The metronome ticked, alone, as the two men departed.