The man that Arin had directed to call for the officials had clearly taken his job seriously. It wasn't long before they showed up.
The sky was just beginning to lighten to the east when Arin noticed a small commotion at the village gates.
He had been standing with a group of volunteers, who were taking stock of the supplies that had been consumed by the handful of villagers who had awoken, and preparing for what was to come. Some of them were making careful notes against the village records, marking down the identities and all relations of the decease.
He'd noticed that the owners of some of the louder voices of dissent were now nowhere to be seen, and was glad for that.
The remaining individuals all looked only half-awake after the long night, with a slight resignation in their expressions; whether or not they wanted to be, they knew they'd have to be ready to face the coming day.
Arin's attention had drifted, when he noticed voices arise near the entrance. Whoever had arrived clearly had no intention of being subtle about it.
He lifted his gaze.
A small detachment of people had just passed through the gates, their presence unmistakable even at a distance. Dark green robes, with some kind of silver insignia flashing at their chests, and a manner of walking that suggested they expected the ground to part for them if they wished it.
Arin blinked. For some reason, he'd been expecting these 'officials' to be stuffy rule-stickler, pencil-pusher types, much like the ones from his own world, albeit with a little more stomach for allowing for mass deaths and arbitrary executions along the way.
Clearly, he'd been wrong.
All of them appeared smart and well-built, approaching their group with the gait of soldiers. At their head was an older woman, with steel-grey hair tied tightly into a bun, her posture rigid and alert despite the early hour. Somehow, her gaze had already picked him out from amongst the others.
Showtime.
...That was lame.
Arin exhaled quietly.
He was as prepared as he'd ever be. Still, there was something uniquely unpleasant about watching them walk in like they owned the place.
'Looks like they didn't waste any time,' murmured one of the volunteers to his friend.
'No,' the man agreed. 'Nor effort. That man to the back is the magistrate. The one's he's following must be higher-ups.'
'Good. Good.'
Oh?
Arin stepped away from the group, and made his way toward the officials. He noticed that Siel was falling into step at his side without needing to be called.
The boy was quiet, his expression serious in a way that felt practiced. He had the faint impression that Siel had already replayed their story in his head, checking it for inconsistencies, and was now calm too.
Good. Better that than anxiety.
Definitely much better than that intern he'd once had to bring along to a presentation, who'd thrown up all over himself, and their documents, from the nerves of it all.
...
Not the time to remember that guy...
By the time they reached the group, a couple of the officials had already begun speaking with some scattered volunteers they'd passed along the way. Their voices were calm, controlled, and deliberate, carrying easily in the morning air.
One more had broken away from the group, leaving to go off somewhere by himself.
A few other volunteers had been hovering at some distance, drawn by curiosity. When the man passed by them, they slowly followed after him.
Arin waited until the lady at the front spoke.
'You are sir Rin, and sir Siel, who answered to this assignment,' she said, her tone neutral.
'I am,' Arin replied, inclining his head slightly. Siel repeated the same.
The magistrate acknowledged him with a brief nod before turning her attention to Arin.
'I am the High Adjudicator of Anomalies,' she said. 'Lady Ilyra. I trust you understand why we are here.'
'I do,' Arin said. 'I am prepared to give a full account.'
'Good.'
The woman didn't ask about the source of the distortion. Her actions were unhurried, as she gestured to one of the officials behind her. The man immediately began preparing some kind of parchment and ink.
The faint glow along the edges of the paper told Arin it wasn't the regular kind.
Figures.
'Begin at the point you first became involved with Silvershade,' lady Ilyra said.
Arin was slightly taken aback.
What, they were doing this right there? In the middle of the village square?
Just as he'd had the thought, he noticed the world shift around them. All of a sudden, they were in a small, empty, stone room. Empty, except for a single, tall-backed chair, that the older lady took imperiously. The other officials remained standing in a semi-circle around her.
Both Arin and Siel had to do the same while facing them.
…oh, well. At least they'd have better privacy?
Arin didn't know whether this was an illusion, like the white-haired tower master's work, or if they'd been transported to some other location through some teleportation-type magic.
He didn't worry about it. There was other, more important stuff to deal with at the moment.