“Move aside, boy,” the male inquisitor said. He shoved past Jack without ceremony and strode into the house like he owned it.

  The female inquisitor gave no greeting. She simply tilted her head and gestured with her dark eyes for Jack to follow her companion. He obeyed without protest as she closed the door behind them.

  Everyone knew the Inquisition operated above the law. They could enter any home, search any property, and interrogate any citizen they pleased, from beggars in the gutter to dukes in marble halls. No one was exempt; even the King could be interrogated by the Inquisition. They were judge, jury, and executioner. A law unto themselves.

  “Stop what you are doing,” the man said as he entered the kitchen. His voice was flat and commanding. “A magical disturbance was detected nearby. You will all comply with our investigation.”

  Am I the disturbance? Jack’s thoughts raced as his heartbeat quickened.

  “Yes, sir,” said his wide-eyed mom as she wiped her flour-covered hands on her apron. She glanced towards the trays of food and the bubbling pots on the stove that were destined for a local restaurant she cooked for. “May I adjust the oven? Otherwise, the food will burn.”

  “Do it quickly,” said the woman, who pulled out a chair and sat at the table without waiting for an invite. Her eyes swept the room like a hawk scanning for movement. “Are there any other residents in this household?” she asked.

  “My husband, ma’am,” Jack’s mom replied. “But, he’s at work… he works at the Royal Library as an Expert Scribe.” There was pride in her voice.

  The woman’s attention shifted to Polly. “Name and age?”

  Polly stiffened. Her eyes looked to Jack and then to her mother.

  “It’s alright, Polly,” their mom said, reaching across to turn off the oven with a soft click. “Just answer truthfully. Everything will be fine.” She automatically placed the kettle on. “Would you like a cup of tea and something to eat?” she asked the inquisitors.

  The man didn’t react.

  The woman offered a faint smile. “No, thank you.” She repeated the question to Jack’s sister. “Name and age.” Her tone was a little softer this time.

  “P-Polly,” she said with a nervous tremble. “I-I’m fourteen.”

  The male inquisitor took a seat and turned to Jack. “Name, age, and class, boy.”

  “Jack. Sixteen. Erm… app… scribe. I-I mean, I will be a scribe.” He swallowed hard; his body felt hot and clammy. “I don’t have a class yet. Sir.”

  “He turned sixteen today, sir,” said his mom; her voice was steady. “He hasn’t had time to choose his class yet. He wants to be a scribe to work alongside his father at the Library.”

  Why are they here? This didn’t happen before. Jack’s thoughts were a mess. I’m in a death dream. That’s all. Or maybe I’m not. Is this real? Is my mind messing with me?

  The inquisitor narrowed his eyes at Jack. “Sit.” He pointed to the chair in front of him.

  A wide-eyed Jack nodded and sat. His mom sat next to him, with baby Richard in her arms.

  “Hand,” the man ordered.

  Oh, fuck. He’s going to scan me. Jack’s fingers trembled as he lifted his arm. Don’t panic. I haven’t done anything wrong.

  Most people knew very little about inquisitors and their abilities. But everyone knew they could detect banned classes. If Jack had somehow been marked as a blood mage, a necromancer, or he possessed another forbidden class, the man across the table would know. And that would be the end of it; he’d be executed without a trial.

  Jack wiped the sweat from his right palm and placed his hand in the inquisitor’s grip. The man’s eyes glowed golden. Jack’s hand trembled.

  Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

  “Hmm… no class, but multiple high affinities.” His intense gaze lingered on Jack as he stroked his clean shaven-chin.

  Jack’s eyebrows furrowed in surprise. What? That’s impossible. In his past life, he had average affinities in everything except for the Time affinity, where the percentage was a respectable 38% at sixteen and 43% at death.

  “Has anything unusual occurred here in the past few hours?” the man asked.

  Jack shook his head. “No, sir. We-we just had breakfast.” He wiped sweat from his brow. And I woke up in my sixteen-year-old body after dying. Shit. It’s me. I’m the disturbance. He looked at the kitchen door and considered running. Fuck! The guards.

  “Show me the rest of the house, boy.” the man ordered while rising to his feet.

  Jack stood with shaking legs. “Y-yes, sir.”

  As they left the room, Jack heard the woman speak behind him.

  “Hand,” she ordered his mom.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Jack’s mom extended her hand without pause.

  Jack guided the man up the stairs. “This is my room, sir,” he said as he pushed the door open.

  As he entered his room with the male inquisitor, he heard the woman say.

  “Expert Cook, average affinities. Name?”

  The inquisitor stepped inside and shut the door. “What happened here?”

  “M-my sister pranked me this morning… a-and she poured water on the bed. Just water, sir.” He pointed to the mattress, propped against the wall. He felt guilty and had an instinctive need to protect his sister. “She didn’t mean any harm. It was only water.”

  The inquisitor ignored him as his eyes glowed once again as he scanned the space.

  In a panic, Jack scanned the room for anything that might be out of place.

  They moved through the rest of the house with the man remaining silent. In each room, the inquisitor’s eyes glowed golden.

  What’s he searching for? Jack’s pulse was thudding in his ears, and his back was damp with sweat.

  Ten minutes later, they returned to the kitchen.

  “…just like his father and grandfather,” his mom was saying as they walked in.

  Polly was still sitting in the same chair with her hands clenched together like she didn’t trust them to stay still. The female inquisitor was drinking a cup of tea.

  The man shook his head. “The house is clean.”

  The female inquisitor stood. “Thank you for your cooperation… and the tea. If anything unusual comes to mind, if a neighbour acts suspiciously, you must report it to the Inquisition immediately.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Jack’s mom replied with a smile as she bounced little Richard on her knee. “Thank you for all the good work you do protecting the Kingdom.”

  There would be the occasional newspaper article describing how the Inquisition had stopped some misguided fool from hurting Merciar’s populace. Jack’s mother considered the Inquisition a force for good.

  Jack’s mom looked at the man. “Are you sure you don’t want a cup of tea before you go? Won’t take me more than a minute.”

  The man shook his head, and the woman gave a small smile as the two inquisitors turned without another word and stepped out of the house.

  Jack let out a long breath and slumped into his chair as he heard the front door close. His body sagged as the fear drained away. Damn, that was too close. He wasn’t even sure what was too close, but he felt like he’d avoided an early death.

  “That was scary,” Polly said as she wiped her sweaty palms on her dress.

  Jack nodded. You have no idea.

  “Don’t be silly, Polly,” their mom said. “They’re doing good work protecting us from evil.”

  His sister nodded. “They’re still scary. Those glowing eyes.” She shivered. “When she touched my hand, it felt like she was… she was looking into my soul.”

  Jack nodded again.

  “I wonder what happened?” Polly said.

  “Probably nothing,” Jack lied. “I bet they’re just randomly knocking on doors so it looks like they are working.”

  Polly nodded in agreement, but their mom disagreed. “Don’t be disrespectful to the Inquisition, Jack,” she warned. “Only last week they stopped a group of stupid teenagers from carrying out a dangerous ritual.”

  “Sorry, Mom,” Jack replied.

  Their mom popped little Richard back in his cradle. “Well, that’s my schedule completely ruined.” She looked at the now warm food on the stove. “I can fix this.” She set about getting her kitchen back on track.

  Their mother, an Expert Cook, was preparing orders for a few local merchants and street vendors. Hand pies, spice rolls, and smoked cheese tarts that would sell out in the first hour. She used to work under a Master Chef in a high-end restaurant near the Crystal Spire district. A lavish place known for its noble-only clientele and gold-plated clockwork automaton serving staff that moved with grace between tables with silver trays balanced with mechanical precision.

  With Richard still in nappies and prone to sudden, operatic wailing, returning to that fast-paced kitchen was off the cards for now. Her side work brought in extra coin to supplement their father’s earnings as an Expert Scribe at the Royal Library.

  Polly looked at the time. “Damn it! I’m going to be late for rehearsals again!”

  “Language, Polly!” her mother snapped. “A young lady doesn’t cuss like a common sailor.”

  “Okay, Mom,” she replied while rushing out of the kitchen.

  Polly was meeting friends to work on a play. An ambitious endeavour by a dozen teens with no budget and no clue, desperate to gain experience towards the classes they hoped to accept at sixteen. As a would-be tailor, she was designing all the costumes, using a battered leather sketchbook and an inherited set of enchanted measuring tapes. It wasn’t just a hobby; it was a real-world task that could tip the scales towards her chosen path and might even open up a range of other classes.