The Blood Moon Sets

The doors of the Inquisition opened deep beneath the Holy City's inner district, in the dead of night.

Ordinary Heretics never made it this far. Most of those brought into the Inquisition's depths were senior figures within the Church.

Severin Lorne, Seventh Seat Inquisitor, stood before a long table and turned the final page of the case file.

The case involved the fall of a frontline defense, the loss of several fiefs, and heavy casualties.

The Inquisition's High Inquisitor had ordered a thorough investigation. The Holy War Hall and Holy Silver Treasury had surrendered their records, and the Border Affairs Council had also come under investigation.

Severin closed the file and looked at the evidence on the table. "They were clever. Many of their decisions followed procedure."

He paused. "But the result was that an entire defense line nearly fell."

The interrogation door opened, and two inquisitorial knights brought Oweinn Mold inside.

He had served as deputy adjudicator of the Border Affairs Council, responsible for reviewing threat levels. The Mold Lineage had spent years building its influence in the Holy City, with members scattered throughout border affairs, finance, and the records offices.

So although Oweinn had never visited the Eternal Night Wall, many recommendations bore his signature.

When he first entered the corridor, he could still barely keep up appearances. But the farther he walked, the paler he grew. By the time he reached the interrogation room, cold sweat had soaked his back.

From the moment the inquisitorial knights entered the Mold Lineage's residence, he had known his chances were grim.

All the way here, he had told himself that if he held firm, if he kept the blame confined to himself, he might at least save his Lineage.

But when the door shut behind him, its dull thud made