The Unlikely Inquisitor

A Repression of Inquisitors.
A chase of papers.
An Ultimatum.

1010-AB. 10-07
1042 hours
Action: Crushing Blow I follow-up investigations and debrief.

“So, spell out for me exactly what we have now that we did not have before the arrest of the unbelievers?” Hard-Truth says calmly as he sits back in the comfortable chair in one of the Chapel of Silence's many meeting rooms. Even sat at the head of a short conference table, dressed in a comfortable business suit rather than his normal deep crimson power-armour, he dominates the room. The Lord Inquisitor radiates power and calm authority. No one would dare to question his will, certainly no one would dare twice.

Rarity glances out of the corner of her eye at the other members of the Inquisitorial conclave that have been summoned. Both of them have been working other Nightmare cults in Equestria. One has wrapped her cult up, and thus Inquisitor Vailed-Truth is here in person, a faint smile quirking at the corners of her mouth as the winged woman preens slightly. Inquisitor Ice-Horn is here by proxy however, still buried deep in the Nightmare cult of Manehattan, and thus he has sent one of his associates, a normal who goes by the moniker of Hound.

Where Vailed-Truth is stylishly dressed in a soft grey overmantle over a deep red gown that accentuates her natural curves and her flowing deep red locks that run down to the base of her neck, Hound is tall and broad with shovel-like hands and chiseled features. His ice blue eyes are cold and hard and they reveal nothing. Rarity can see why Ice-Horn picked Hound as one of his associates, the man is even more grim-faced than Ice-Horn himself, if that were possible.

Both are senior Inquisitors in their own right, or at least they are more senior to her in the oblique hierarchy of the Equestrian Inquisition. Vailed-Truth is the Ordo Xenos representative, whilst Ice-Horn is the Ordo Malleus man on the case.

“We have nineteen heretics in our custody at least, not including the ones I've wrapped up,” Vailed-Truth says calmly as she daintily pours herself a flute of amasec. Hard-Truth frowns slightly.

“Indeed, nineteen more heretics that we cannot interrogate lest their patron power denies them to us, if we were across the street in the police station, I'd be offering you a promotion and an extra doughnut at mealtimes, but we are not the police. We are the Inquisition. Extra prisoners that we cannot exploit are of no more use to me than an empty bolter, less in fact because I can still beat my enemies to death with an empty bolter. In summation, we have precisely nothing, and we have lost a rather promising lead due to premature termination.”

Rarity can feel the gaze of the other Inquisitors on her, and her mouth dries up. She feels like a naughty schoolgirl summoned before the headmaster, an impression not helped by Hard-Truth’s severe expression.
“Do you have anything to comment, Inquisitor?” he asks, and Rarity nods.

“I acted in the fashion I deemed most appropriate. Our duty must be the preservation of lives-”

“-But not at the cost of compromising ourselves or forsaking our mission!” Vailed-Truth's voice is sharper than the crack of a whip, and it bites just as deeply. Hound nods, pursing his lips slightly, and Rarity feels her cheeks flush.
“I did what I had to do, I did not-”

The creak of the chair being pushed back from the table silences both women as Hard-Truth rises heavily to his feet. “Enough.” Hard-Truth’s gravelly voice brooks no dissent, his gaze daring a challenge. “Lady Rarity has explained her reasons for doing what she did. We have discussed this matter at length. Your contributions are unasked for. Lady Rarity, if you would?”

“Thank you, Lord Inquisitor,” Rarity says, allowing the blush to fade. “Things have not been as straightforward as that. We know more than we did before we arrested these heretics, even if it is only that they are up to something serious.”

“How can you be sure?”

“The hand of their patron power reached here, into our very inner sanctum, and took great pains to stifle the words of one of her worshippers before he could let something slip. That in itself is a sign that our enemy has something serious in mind.” Rarity's voice is calm and collected and she spots a flicker of doubt pass across Vailed-Truth's face.

“The problem remains, we do not know what that is,” Hound replies sharply, and Rarity nods.

“You're right, we do not, but we will soon,” Rarity responds, smiling with a confidence she does not feel. Yet Hound and Vailed-Truth seem to buy it, though she can almost feel the scorching heat of Lord Inquisitor Hard-Truth's gaze upon her.

“Let us hope that 'soon' is not too late,” Hard-Truth says after a moment. He then reaches out for the heavy iron goblet upon his desk. “Still, the matter remains, we must decide on a course of action. We know there are heretics and we know they are being armed, for what purpose remains a mystery but I have no doubt that the collected intellects before me are more than equal to the task of finding out.” Hard-Truth's sarcasm is caustic, but then the Lord Inquisitor smiles faintly, a smile that reveals tombstone-like teeth as it pulls and twists the scars on his right cheek. He inhales for a moment, sampling the perfectly aged spirit, taking a sip from the goblet, before placing it down upon his desk with a heavy thunk. He then reaches for his red quill, and starts scrawling onto three bits of parchment. He doesn’t look up at the three Inquisitors as he starts to brief them.

“Inquisitor Vailed-Truth, I want you to shift tasks, I want you to focus your attentions upon the weapons that are somehow making it into the hands of the cultists in Manehattan. You've identified where they come from, now I want to know how they get to where they're going. Hound, pass the word to your master that his instructions are unchanged. You have your orders. The Princess Protects.”

The Inquisitors bow their heads at the ancient litany dating back from the Heresy. But as Rarity rises to leave, Hard-Truth holds up a hand. “Stay a moment, Apprentice,” he says softly, and Rarity turns back to face the Lord Inquisitor as Hound and Vailed-Truth file out of the room. She draws a deep, nervous breath and licks her lips quickly as she gazes up at the hulking secret policeman. Despite the roaring fire, as the door clicks shut behind her, she feels a nervous chill ripple up her spine.

Rarity braces herself as Hard-Truth draws his breath, bracing herself for the man to start yelling, but instead the Lord Inquisitor raises his goblet slightly, regarding her levelly over his amasec.
“Now, apprentice, what am I going to do with you?” he asks, lowering the glass without drinking. Rarity blinks nervously, but apparently the question is rhetorical because the Lord Inquisitor continues speaking.
“You have a great deal of promise, and a good future ahead of you. This is your first major incident, but this is a major incident nonetheless. Do you have anything to say?” he asks, his steely eyes narrowing. A lump forms in Rarity’s throat, but she masters her fear and finds her voice.

“Yes Lord Inquisitor, the night is not entirely wasted. We have nineteen live heretics and their belongings. These heretics are linked to the weapons being brought in from across Equestria. I'm sure Ponyville is being used for something else besides a recruiting hub. If it please you, I would examine their personal effects and their rooms to confirm this?”

“The police have exercised their right to pick over our leavings, they are already inspecting the domiciles of the heretics, but you are welcome to see if you can find anything they've missed. I know you have... experience with the cultists of Ponyville, perhaps you might be able to find something that our colleagues in the arbites have missed.”

He pulls a sheaf of parchment from his drawer, along with one of the long maroon dyed raven-feather quills that the Inquisition use to write their edicts and an ink-pot. Rarity feels a frisson of joy mixed with anxiety as she takes the quill, parchment and inkpot, the weight of the authority vested within heavy in her hands.
“Write up your edict as you need. Draw up the team you need, and bring me back results. I want to know why the Nightmare Cults are being stirred up like this, I want to know the number of cults being agitated and how we can neutralize them. Is this understood, Stern-Duty?”

“It is sir, I shall bring back results as soon as I can.”

“See that you do,” Hard-Truth says calmly. “You are dismissed, Lady Rarity. The Princess Protects”

“The Princess Protects.” With that, Rarity rises to her feet, her heart racing as the words of the Inquisitor ring in her ears. Her mouth is dry and her hands are shaking slightly. She doesn't have much time.
_____________________

Half an hour later, Rarity is sat in her offices in the Chapel of Silence, a gently steaming mug of Arak at her elbow. The sheet of parchment sits by her other elbow, the crimson quill and inkpot sat next to it. The scratching of Rarity's draft quill echoes through the stillness of the room,whilst candles gleam and a small fire crackles in the hearth, casting unnatural shadows over the looming book-cases and artefact displays. The former fashionista growls and balls up another sheet of paper, tossing it at the pile that fills the waste paper basket.

“Ugh, by the Princess' most curly of beards...” She growls as she snatches another sheet of paper and spreads it out upon the writing desk. Her eyes are alive with thought as she stares down at the blank sheet of paper before her.

In the name of the Princesses of Equestria and the Most Holy Ordo Hereticus, I Inquisitor Stern-Duty, hereby serve notice that I must inspect this domicile and anything that has been removed from within. Failure to comply with this directive is Treason of the Fourth Kind. I request require that all loyal citizens so notified assist me however directed--

Rarity leans back, tilting her head quizzically as she examines the document, pursing her lips before reading it out aloud to herself. She feels her eyes narrow. The edict sounds too demanding, too overbearing to guarantee any kind of compliance. Rarity can remember Hard-Truth's lectures ringing in her ears, remember his words about her entire strength lies in deception and subtlety.

Rarity is about to ball up this draft, and consign it to the disposal can, when the intercom buzzes insistently.
“Stern-Duty,” Rarity says, straightening up slightly, and the screen fuzzes into life to reveal none other than Vailed-Truth's smiling countenance, a bottle of amasec in one hand.

“Only me, Rarity, only me.”

Rarity sags faintly with relief and she flicks a key upon the intercom. The door locks click open and Vailed-Truth swans into the room, a smile on her face.

“Sorry about that whole performance in front of the Old Man, you know how it is,” she says, and Rarity nods as she reaches for the bookcase at her right elbow. Rarity glances up to the bookcase, and then she rises to her feet, scanning along the rows of arcane tomes with one finger stretched out. She reaches Ode to Sobriety and Strength of Will, and her hand winces back before she clicks her tongue, tutting to herself as she pulls the second thick tome back to reveal a set of tall amasec glasses and a collection of bottles of spirits in a respectably sized cooler. It’s one of those days.

“I do indeed, I do not fault you for that. It was necessary, if not pleasant,” Rarity concedes, and Vailed-Truth nods.

“Necessary, but I have no doubt you've heard it from everyone and her dog by this point, so let us sit down and talk of business. Firstly though, how are you holding up?” Vailed-Truth asks, and Rarity purses her lips slightly as she takes two of the crystal flutes off from the cabinet.

“I've been better,” she concedes after a moment, and Vailed-Truth nods.

“Mmmhm, I'll say. It's hard, making those choices. I don't envy you for having to make them so early in your career either.” Vailed-Truth collapses back into one of Rarity's leathery office chairs, scooting it over on the casters to look over Rarity's shoulder.

“So you're investigating the heretic's homes and belongings?” she asks, and Rarity nods in reply.

“It's the most logical starting point.”

“These are heretics we're talking about sister, logic may not be high on their agenda.”

“Good point, but these are entry level cultists at best, or at least most of them are. I do not think the Nightmare would have exposed them overmuch to her influence,” Rarity counters, and Vailed-Truth nods her head in reply as she slowly sips her amasec, mulling over Rarity's words.

“An excellent point, it's the entry level cultists that are so dangerous to the Nightmare's plans, yet so crucial. They are the weak link, or at least they are the ones that we can exploit,” Vailed-Truth replies. “Anyway, you working on your edicts?” she asks, peering over to Rarity's writing desk, and the junior Inquisitor nods grimly.

“Mmm, they're not quite coming as readily as I'd expect. I've read through all the primers and I've considered the words that Hard-Truth uses when he writes his edicts, but when I use similar words, they just sound inane, like I'm a beginner sorceress wearing my father's robes,” Rarity says quietly, and Vailed-Truth clicks her tongue.

“I can see why. Serving with Lord Inquisitor Hard-Truth is a real honour, and you are blessed with the Princess' favour that he considers you highly enough to give you your own rosette after only three years as his apprentice, but I can imagine it's not without certain... problems of its own.”

“He has big shoes to fill,” Rarity concedes, and Vailed-Truth smiles

“He certainly keeps you working hard. Tell you what, I'll help out with your Edicts and I'll share all I know regarding the weapons smuggling, and in return... In return, you can share the full results of your investigations with me when they reach fruition?” Vailed-Truth dangles the bait in front of Rarity, her eyebrows slightly raised. Rarity grins in reply and then she nods. The currency of choice between the various Ordos remains un-restricted information and favours after all.

“Mmm, I'd be happy to accept, now let's look at these edicts, and as we do, you can tell me what you know.”

“So impatient to get out there and start doing the Princess' will. Very well...” Vailed-Truth sucks her teeth for a moment. “We know that there are cultists in Ponyville, and that this cell has been established for a good long while, that they were formed in the aftermath of your initial purges, or else they managed to avoid detection. We know that Ponyville is important to their plans, since they have sent one of the Night Host to debrief them. That does not happen everywhere after all. They probably only have a few members left by now. We also know that cultists from Ponyville have been identified in my weapons smuggling ring, and in Ice-Horn's investigation.”

Rarity's eyes widen and her mouth drops open. “What!? Hound didn't mention that!”

“Of course he didn't. You were there,” Vailed-Truth says flatly. “Ice-Horn doesn't trust you. He considers you 'erratic' and 'fanciful' were the exact words he used, and where Ice-Horn doesn't, Hound won't either. That being said, I consider your 'fancifulness' to be one of your more useful assets.”

Rarity sighs, her shoulders slumping a little, and Vailed-Truth gives her a gentle tap on the shoulder.
“Come on, chin up. He's an old fossil at the best of times with an arrogant streak the size of a Dreadnought. He's just in a snit because your little hunch about Ponyville being the centre of operations so far appears to be correct. Your execution was a little premature, but if you think it needed to happen then I'm not going to belabour the point.” Vailed-Truth shrugs dismissively, then pulls out her own notepad and a pen. “Anyway, that's enough chit-chat, let's set to getting these edicts done, so you can get back out there and do some digging. When we’ve done that, maybe I can take you to that lovely restaurant near here, you’ve been working yourself ragged.”

“So you can brag about your hero-commissar boyfriend some more? Please spare me.”

“Now now, jealousy does not become an Inquisitor.”

Rarity picks up her quill once more, her eyes drifting to a small picture briefly illuminated by the dancing candle-light, and her expression hardens.

“I, Inquisitor Stern-Duty, in the eternal name of the God-Princess Celestia, request and require-”

____________________

Seven hours later, Rarity calmly knocks on the door of Hard-Truth’s office, the documents in her hand.
“Enter, I shall be with you momentarily.” Hard-Truth’s voice hisses from the door intercom, before she walks into his brightly lit and spacious study. The thick crimson and gold carpet rustles softly under her boots as Rarity nods calmly, reaching into the pouch at the waist of her robes and producing a single sheet of parchment that crackles drily in her hands, wrapped around with a maroon ribbon and sealed with a blob of wax adorned with Rarity’s own signet crest. As Rarity looks around Hard-Truth’s office, she’s amazed by the contrast with her own. Where her own offices are dark, dank basement cells piled high with books and reference materials, Hard-Truth’s office is almost palatial by comparison. Rich white marble gleams upon the walls, and canvas oil paintings of other Lord-Inquisitors glare down at her. His desk is a vast expanse of dark oak, neatly ordered piles of parchment and datapads stacked upon it, the fate of hundreds to be decided with a stroke of the Lord-Inquisitor’s scarlet eagle-feathered quill. Rarity glances around the room, at the organized book-cases, and the small shrine in the corner of the room, the centrepiece of which is a glorious statue of Princess Celestia, clad in golden armour with her sword raised and hair billowing behind her, the blade pointing at the desk. Rarity has to squint slightly as the light of the setting sun gleams through the window and off of the golden armour. The silk drapes blossom and flume as an evening breeze drifts through the open windows into the room.

Rarity steps over to the shrine and swiftly bows her head to pray, but as she lifts her hand to make the stations of obeisance, a voice fills the study.

“Ah, Lady Rarity.” The booming voice of Hard-Truth makes Rarity start, and Rarity begins to lift her head, but Hard-Truth clears his throat. “Do not let me stop you in your prayers, Lady Rarity. It is only by the Princess’ will that we prevail.”

Rarity nods, but cuts her prayers short with a swift The Princess Protects, and turns to regard her master. Hard-Truth is walking out of an alcove dressed in his suit, doing up his cufflinks and straightening his tie.
“Apologies, Lady. I had not expected to see you for a few hours yet, these are your edicts?” he asks as he strides up to her, holding his hand out for the document, and Rarity hands him the parchment.

Hard-Truth pops the seal and calmly looks through it, his lips moving soundlessly as Rarity feels her heart rising into her throat. Occasionally a smile breaks out upon the Lord-Inquisitor’s craggy face, but the smiles swiftly vanish as he continues reading. After a moment, he nods.
“Excellent work, Lady Rarity. I’m assuming you’re going to be going back to Ponyville with the usual team?”

“Messire Apple, Sister Heartstrings and Madam Scratch. Yessir, they know the geography.”

“Indeed… They’re also the team that assisted you with your initial purges. The ones who have a personal stake in your work,” Hard-Truth says coolly. “Lady Rarity, I cannot have a member of your staff, or you, putting your feelings ahead of your duty to the Imperium. You are on thin ice right now, and the moment I suspect you are doing your duty improperly, I will have you recalled and stripped of your rosette, is that clear?”

Rarity thinks of Sweetie Belle, of Applejack, of Twilight and Apple-Bloom, and her mouth sets into a thin line.
“Crystalline, sir. I shall gather leads and investigate them as appropriate.” Rarity replies, locking eyes with the Lord Inquisitor, who nods.

“Good, then we have nothing further to discuss. You are dismissed, Lady Rarity.”

As Rarity turns to leave, the Lord Inquisitor clears his throat and Rarity pauses half-way to the door.
“One more thing, Lady Rarity. The Inquisition will not carry those too weak to do what is required. If you fail me again, I will dispose of your services. Do I make myself clear?”

“Abundantly.” Rarity forces the word out through her tightening throat as her heart races. Her hand rises to her chest and her stride lengthens as she hurries out into the corridor. Behind her, the deep resounding slam of the doors rings down the corridor.