Paladin Theron did not rush his mission.
That was the first rule of inquisitorial diplomacy. Never charge forward where shadows ruled. In the name of the Church, you moved like mist. Slow, cold, inevitable.
The High Priest had given the order—and Theron obeyed. But obedience did not blind him.
He spent the first days observing.
With him were five trusted Paladins—two from the east sanctum, one former knight turned deacon, and two inquisitors trained in public silence. Together, they split across Caerywn's lower districts under the guise of routine divine audits.
They made no arrests. No accusations.
They simply watched.
And they listened.
Every pattern, every story, every whisper about Lord Cedric was gathered and sorted into careful scrolls. They interviewed merchants. Spoke with butchers. Paid visits to orphan caretakers. Tipped information brokers with blessed coin and spoke to smugglers disguised as traveling preachers.
