Demon Hunters

The Inquisitor II

"Sir, that appears to be our destination. The village of... Skogby, wasn't it?"

I believe calling it a village would be quite generous," Lucas huffed, staring at the bleak scenery unfolding before him.

Though his reaction was heavily coloured by the fact that he was here against his wishes, the village was, indeed, quite barren. Large fields surrounded a small gathering of weatherworn huts with thatched roofs. The sight was thoroughly uninspiring and somehow, even though it was the middle of summer, the village managed to appear hopelessly grey. The inquisitor let out a long sigh.

"If my reports are correct, the village will only have a population of 50, give or take a few souls. I doubt they will have any lodgings, so we will pitch camp here. Magnus, ride with me. We shall greet the local alderman and see if he knows anything about him," the inquisitor said to his second-in-command.

As the other members of the entourage started to set up camp, the inquisitor and his aide entered the village. The small dirt paths that served as the roads were laden with excrement from horses and the other animals being kept in the village, and the smell was certainly unpleasant. What few villagers were out and about looked at the inquisitor with fearful and reserved gazes, though this was hardly unusual. Demon hunters were often seen as a bad omen, but the people also recognized their importance. Inquisitors, however, were always a bad sign. Often their arrival was accompanied by the disappearance of one or more people from the area, and as such, they were generally avoided like the plague. Just as well, as Lucas wasn't particularly interested in conversing with anyone at the moment. Of course, this notion didn't stem from any notion of superiority, as it might have for other inquisitors, but rather, from his own frustrated state of mind.

"I think this is the house. It looks... less horrible than the others," Lucas's companion said, stopping his horse in front of a house slightly larger than the other ones.

Lucas hopped off his horse, grimacing in disgust as his boots, previously clean and shining, sunk into the mud. With his service record, he should have been acting as the grand inquisitor of one of the larger cities in the south, not wading through mud and shit in the middle of nowhere. Then again, it was precisely because of his track record that he was here now. Not that anyone would ever admit it, but Lucas was convinced that the fact that his missions had been taking him to the edges of the 'civilized world' more and more often as of late was a clear indication that the higher-ups at the church didn't approve of his absolute and unwavering approach toward his work. Grumbling to himself, Lucas knocked on the door.

"Hello?"

A young man greeted Lucas as he opened the door. He was obviously intimidated by the inquisitor, which wasn't surprising as Lucas was clad in heavy armour and armed to the teeth. All of this was by design, of course, as intimidation was always helpful in keeping the local populace compliant.

"I'm here to see the alderman. Is this the place?" Lucas asked, crossing his arms.

Though his body had been hardened by years of fieldwork, the man wasn't particularly tall. Lucas took advantage of this and strived to emphasize the size difference between the two by standing ramrod straight. The local shrunk back and nodded, somewhat apprehensively.

"He is inside. Shall I fetch him?"

"No need. I will come inside," Lucas responded, ducking in without waiting for approval from the man.

As an inquisitor, appearances were everything. Gaining the trust of the locals was not necessary and, in most cases, required far too much effort. Instead, fear could be leveraged to achieve the same result. As such, asserting dominance was the first step in ensuring compliance from the local populace.