#> aedos in particular imagines a plane somewhat like norse valhalla

[bourgeoisfury]

Supreme and Sacred, The First Step

A middle-aged elezen woman was seated at a large, heavy wooden desk. She drummed her languid fingers against the mahogany surface of the table whilst inspecting a number of documents. She held the sheets up at just the right angle for her crystal blue eyes to look down past her nose, through the thin, rectangular lenses of her spectacles, to the pages.

Once Aedos was past the threshold of the open door, the woman spoke in a flat tone, “Aedos de Valleritignon? You’re late, take a seat.” Aedos glanced at the chronometer on the wall. Yep, she was here four minutes early. Her brow knitted in confusion, and she took a breath, steadying herself.

With that, the younger woman strode over and seated herself in the only vacant seat in the room: a short, almost too narrow wooden armchair. As she sat, the cushion seemed to deflate under the faintest pressure, greeting her bottom with flat, prickly wood. The chair was uncomfortably low to the ground, and she found herself folding her legs under the seat and around one of the legs in order to not look ridiculous. Seeking to adjust herself into a state of comfort, Aedos leaned on the armrests, but the loud creak they released informed her that they would be of no help. Her chest rose, and she pursed her lips, jailing an exasperated sigh. She brought a hand up to adjust the glasses on the bridge of her nose, turning her head to look up at the woman opposite her. A quick scan of the desk revealed a short, lengthy, brass placard positioned at its edge, emblazoned with ‘Margarei Feremont’.

Aedos considered the most appropriate form of address, given the situation. She cleared her throat, chiming in her most practiced, polite tone, “Madame Inquisitor Feremont, thank you for your invitation. Please excuse my tardiness.” Not a hint of contempt could be heard in her apology, and the young woman began to smile, impressed with herself. “It’s lovely to--”

The young knight’s pleasantries were interrupted by Margarei’s cold, blue gaze peeling away from the documents she had in-hand and meeting Aedos’s fiery, amber eyes, “Yes, thank you for coming.” She stated with complete apathy, and slid her thin glasses down to the tip of her nose. A stray lock of snow white hair bobbed as her hand brushed by her ear, the rest of her hair held up in a loose, high bun.

The initial salvo of questions from Inquisitor Feremont were menial, and the process was painfully slow. Aedos answered a deluge of mundane questions, questions she was certain the Tribunal already knew her answers to. Where had she been schooled? What was her current occupation? Had she ever been convicted of a crime? Would she consider herself a follower of the Orthodox Halonic Faith? Aedos kept her back straight and her eyes forward, barreling through the questions, voice firm and confident. She only shifted her legs twice when they grew numb from their awkward position tucked around the leg of her chair.

Then, without any prior indication or warning, she was confronted with the far more trying half of the interview.

“Have you any prior experience being the subject of, or subjecting a party to, harmful questioning? Either mental or physical pain will suffice.” Inquisitor Margarei lifted her glasses from her nose, dropping them to her chest. A silver chain attaching the collar of her blouse to the spectacles jingled as the glasses came to rest in front of the woman’s sternum.

Aedos eyed the older woman, seeing no hesitation in Margarei’s clear, icey eyes. And after but a moment’s pause, the knight responded in kind, “No.” Her reply came in a softer voice than she had intended. The “Hmm.” that this answer elicited from the inquisitor caused Aedos to speak before she had time to trim her words, “But I’m not adverse to the eventuality. I’ve some experience with knives - skinning creatures for pelts,” she explained.

Whilst the entirety of the interview so far had seen the older woman touch pen to paper with each answer Aedos had given, the last answer had not received that same response. Margarei brought her arms up, the long, dark blue sleeves of her outfit covering her pale skin. She folded her hands tidily together, leaning her weight on her elbows, voice steady, unyielding.“Have you ever made contact with a dragon?”

This caused a decent pause from Aedos. She looked around the room, eyes flicking over the desk and bookshelves briefly. “I’ve slain several-score scalekin or more.” She lowered her head slightly, looking at Lady Feremont, “But I’ve a mind to only call one of those a true dragon…”

The white-haired elezen seemed satisfied with that, not that her face revealed her thoughts, but seeing as she launched into her next question, “And have you ever made contact with someone who was, at the time, or later found to be, a heretic?”

Aedos held eye contact, one brow creasing, she raised her chin and brought her hands together in her lap. “There was a girl in my year when I attended Perpetual Grace,” she stated, referring to her years at a Halonic girls school. She pursed her lips, letting out a small, unbidden sigh, “Marion was her name. I-- We, fell out of touch after primary school. And later, when I was in my first year of worship at St. Endalim’s, I heard she had been sent to Witchdrop.” Her voice held a measure of confusion, and strained to hide any emotions that she was keeping below the surface.

“And what of your relationship with this girl, when you were attending school together?”

“We had been friends for a couple of summers, but…” Aedos pondered, “I realised she wasn’t truly my friend. And I don’t recall speaking with her from before my ninth nameday.” The tanned Ishgardian unfurrowed her brow, moving to sit further back in her chair.

Aedos nodded, beginning her next anecdote, “There was the night of insurgency as well. When Ishgard was threatened from within, heretics storming the streets and torching houses. I believe that was the first night I struck at someone with vicious intent.” She stated, lips pressing together momentarily after she finished. She held the other woman’s gaze, “She was a heretic, of course.”

“As well, I encountered a group of heretics within The Vault,” the young knight continued. She shouldn’t have been surprised that this produced a reaction from Margarei.

The older woman’s nostrils flared ever so slightly, and her eyes seemed to shimmer with renewed interest, but she didn’t say anything, letting Aedos proceed.

“A terrorist organisation of heretics had somehow smuggled an amphiptere in to the lower levels of The Vault, along with a number of alchemical instruments. The Temple Knights had suspected an altercation and requested House Fortemps for aid, hence my involvement as heightened security.” Aedos spoke steadily, keeping her eyes level, “I killed one of the four heretics as well as their creature. Of course I had aid from several others; they executed another of the traitors, and captured the other two.”

With her narrow spectacles now perched once more on her nose, the inquisitor scrawled several lines of writing on a sheet, “And you didn’t ascertain the purpose of their ‘alchemical instruments’?”

Aedos moistened her lips, “I did my duty as a knight and servant of The Fury. The Inquisitors were to handle the investigation of such tools.” She refused to mention the emotions she had felt during the ordeal, and her departure from the underground labyrinth in a fit of frustration at the politicians who seemed more interested in prattling on about the morals of killing a scalekin.

“Those are the only instances of your interaction with heretical persons?” The unnervingly cold blue eyes peered over.

“Yes.” Aedos insisted firmly. Out of sight, her toes curled at the knowledge that she was lying to the inquisitor. Images of a draconic hyuran woman shifted around the corners of her vision, the sacrilegious echo of that woman’s dragonspeak resonating in her ears.

Margarei once again removed her glasses, letting them hang from her neck, her eyes still traced Aedos’s every movement, but their frigid burrowing seemed to abate. “How often do you attend prayer?”

“Four times with each sun. If I’m in the city, then within the halls of Saint Reymanaud’s. If I’m afield, then the location is not crucial, but communion is still just as, if not more, important.” The young woman smoothed a hand over her hair, checking that the hairclip she was wearing hadn’t budged.

“How do you view Ser Aymeric de Borel?”

Aedos blinked slowly, trying not to smile, “I am not a knight of the Congregation, but I still respect his authority. Personally, I feel he is awarded too much credit, and paid dividends for his mistakes.” She swallowed. “A patricide, not to mention, the assassin of the archbishop - blessed be his memory - should not be worshipped, regardless of his military accolades.”

Inquisitor Feremont paused, watching Aedos, hoping for a further reaction probably. When none came, she continued, “What is your opinion of His Eminence, Archbishop Thordan VII?”

The younger woman instinctively ushered, “Exalted in Her palace, be he,” followed by: “I know not of what his personal values or motives might have been. But he undeniably helped shepherd the Holy See through the climax of the Dragonsong War. I respect his memory, and the pinnacle of sanctity that he stood for.” She clicks her tongue, shifting to one side of her chair, “The allegations of his corruption are not mine to deny, though I do personally believe them baseless. However, I believe the presence of such concerns from the populace do justify the progression of the Holy See to move away from its days as a monarchy. The moment a nation cannot fully trust its leader is doubtless a cry for change.”

“What should happen to the Halonic Church, now that it is without a titular head?”

Aedos entwining her fingers in her lap, watching her digits, feeling the smooth velvet of her gloves slide over each other. “The cardinals and bishops,” she looked back to Margarei, “need to elect a man or woman of the cloth from within their echelons, to rise to the position of archbishop.” She nods, adding, “The Church will be a far stronger force of faith and righteousness with an anointed figurehead, than without one. The position’s role is an important symbol of inspiration and divinity for the people, guiding them toward Halone’s will.”

Margarei exhaled, moving on to her next question, “What are your thoughts on the House of Lords and House of Commons?”

“I believe it is the logical answer to the dissatisfaction of the masses. Or, in any case, there should be a forum for the concerns of both noble and lowborn citizens.” Aedos gives a firm nod, her eyebrows flickering in a resolved scowl. “With wildly varying opinions between the two forces of parliament, it makes it imperative that Ishgardians of the future will have a strong, and capable force to resolve hostile disputes.”

“What faction is this force you speak of?”

“Justice.” She replied, almost instantaneously. Tilting her chin up, the young knight elaborated, “I imagine the Temple Knights will be more available to police the streets, since the Dragonsong War is ended. But they do lack subtlety - a capacity that the Tribunal could provide agents to assist with - given the nature of, say an assassination plot for example. If evidence is not immediately forthcoming to provide solid conviction, an investigative search could be carried out by the Inquisition, whilst protection of the target is likely tasked to the Congregation.” Aedos took a breath, “Another, of many aspects I’m sure, that the Tribunal can outmaneuver the Temple Knights in, is its dedication to faith in The Fury. For She is the true forerunner of our nation, and our people’s saviour, lest they forget. Ishgard and its people must recognise, and put their faith in, both the Congregation and the Tribunal, in order to foster the sacred values we uphold whilst moving forward within a frighteningly new world.”

Inquisitor Margarei dipped her head, leaning back in her chair, the leather creaking. “Should the Inquisition be liable to judgment at the hands of the new parliament?”

The bronzed elezen fluttered her eyelashes closed. This was a question she had thought of the answer to countless times in the past moon. Just two summers prior, the Inquisition had been dictated by the hand of the archbishop himself, but the institution would now have to make room for the Republic of Ishgard to govern its people. Reopening her eyes, her voice rang clear, “It would be suicide for the Tribunal to refuse judgment upon itself.” She blinked, “It would breed fear and suspicion of not only their future rulings, but every agent, and every judgement that they have long since passed.” She motioned a hand up from her lap in gesture, “And placing the Tribunal under the scrutiny of the Houses of Lords and Commons could likely result in the same inevitable dissolution. However, given the opportunity and the necessity, I believe the Inquisition can learn to reach an accord under the ruling of the Republic, granting protection and guidance to the people of the Holy See, whilst the people themselves can flex their grievances and misgivings with its actions or agents.”

Margarei leaned back forward to her desk, wielding her pen in hand, she touched pen to paper and commanded, “Tell me about why you would make an acceptable inquisitor.”

A trickle of sweat ran down Aedos’s neck, as it traveled down her spine she couldn’t help but shudder. The young knight studied her elder, noting the expectant tilt of her eyebrows and the stillness of the elegant pen. “I--” she croaked, shaking her head she began again, “I’m an intelligent, strong, devoted woman.”

Margarei pursed her lips and crooned a questioning “Hmmmmm,” in response to the young woman’s answer, Aedos had to restrain herself from rising to her feet. “You are woefully underqualified, and far too young, to be a successful member of the Tribunal,” said Margarei.

Aedos remained seated, but rose herself up to her full height, flexing her back and neck. She looked to the parchment the inquisitor had been about to write on, noting her pen was no longer on paper, a small dark blot of ink marring the otherwise pristine surface. “Respectfully,” the youthful elezen spat, “I am more than capable of any task that is asked of me, despite my lack of greying hairs and my inability to operate a sixth Umbral Era loom. All of your questions have only touched on the insecurities of Ishgard, and its recent -- wretched -- past.” Margarei just stared at her, not seemingly surprised by the outburst. Aedos breathed, calming her temper somewhat, “Of course these issues are important, particularly for an institution concerning the security of this holy city. But there is no capacity in which I could have shown you that I would be an acceptable inquisitor purely by the answers I might have given to the questions that you have asked.”

In her exasperation, Aedos rose slowly, a wash of relief coming over her as she stretched her legs, her chair letting out an immense groan as she stood. She continued with her berating, waving a hand pointedly “You’d already made up your mind on whether I should be given an opportunity to become an inquisitor before you even began this interview.”

“Yes,” was the response from the solemn, white-haired woman, now looking up at Aedos.

“Why did you give me this interview?’

“The Tribunal is looking for,” the older woman placed her quill down and clasped her hands together, “exceptional, able-bodied individuals. I could find no reason on paper to reject your application, for you have seemingly proven yourself a capable huntress, and your role as an acolyte to the Church suggests your devotion to Halone. However, young men and women are often swayed by the trends of the time, not to mention romantic flights of fancy. Your,” she raised her eyebrows rather severely, “age makes you unreliable.” A soft pause settles over the room, nestled in the halls of the Supreme Sacred Tribunal. “My questions evoked your temperament, with which I can now judge your case.”

Aedos gulped, feeling the contractions of her throat drily tighten. Inquisitor Feremont flexed her fingers around her pen once more, and began inscribing a note. The older elezen continued her presiding, “No inquisitor is the same, and despite their differences, all inquisitors share a single, crucial facet.” She nodded up at Aedos, “Their conviction. This trait is the tool they use to overcome hardship and enact the will of the Tribunal.” She continued writing, “I needed reason to deny your application. You did not give it to me.”

The young woman stood there, stunned. Concerned that if she said something, the evaluation might be altered.

“Close the door,” Margarei insisted.

Aedos looked outside briefly at the empty hall, then shut the door and reseated herself. This time she did not take note of how uncomfortable the bristly wooden chair was, smoothing her palms over her knees in anticipation.

Inquisitor Feremont finished her note, withdrawing a stick of wax from a shelf beneath the table and using an oil lamp to melt the midnight blue wax onto the parchment. She began to explain, “You would do well to take a lesson in humility, Aedos. And so it is that your first trial is presented. Prove your faith, and your dedication to the cause.” She stamped a wooden seal decisively into the wax, leaving the initials “M.F.” branded to the page.

Aedos took the paper when it was passed to her, eyes scanning the words. It charged her, the adjudged, to stand vigil atop The Vault for two suns. The adjudged was to be refused shelter, sustenance or any measure of succor, their equipment and clothes to be removed for the length of the trial, and their only garment a plain, hoodless robe. Any persons aiding the adjudged were to be prosecuted and imprisoned indefinitely.

Whilst she was reading the instructions, Margarei informed Aedos, “The vigil is to last two pendulums of the sun. On the third sunrise, if you are still healthy of mind and body, and should you choose it, you will be given a six-moon probationary placement under one of the Tribunal’s inquisitors as an apprentice. After this period of time your performance will be assessed, and should your superiors be satisfied, you will be given leave to begin enacting the will of Halone and the Supreme Sacred Tribunal of Halonic Inquisitory Doctrine. Alternatively, you may choose to decline this offer,” Margarei added, reasonably. “In that case, I will void this document, and you will forever be barred from returning to these halls. You will be free to live a life of relative ease.” She spreads her palms, “The choice is yours.”

A wide, beaming grin grew across Aedos’s face as Inquisitor Feremont outlined the decision she was now offering the initiate. The knight lifted her glasses off of her face with one hand, pressing at her cheeks with her other, attempting to hide her delight as she felt them flush hot. She exhaled, blinking away the overwhelming emotions. “Yes! I accept! Thank you Madame Inquisitor,” she said with a stiff bow.