Albany, Attican Run, North Territories, Empire. Even though the thick mist the smell of smoke and death hung in the air. Here and there a figure moved, picking over the bubble, their indistinct silhouettes bulky under their cloaks. There were no cries of the wounded, even before the detachment of the Emperor's daughters, the battle nuns of the holy Inquisition were dispatched whomever had put the village to the torch had done their work with brutal efficiency. "Mother superior..." Ellian Kurt, the abbot who had raised the woman under his command like his own children spoke, his aged frame resting upon a chair, carried by servants, the lectern before him bare, the precious parchments he carried sealed against the moisture laden air. Approaching him was an older woman, her face scared but her eyes still burning with the fire of battle. "We have found nothing, my lord." "Very well. Marshal the sisters. We will return to the abbey and send our report. We have wasted enough time here." A company of elite holy warriors dispatched to investigate a peasant village's destruction, even if neither spoke it they knew this was out of the ordinary. There were only very few who could have signed the order. The Holy Inquisitors who protected the empire from enemies from without, and within. As the order to withdraw was being bellowed through the unit a squall of rain cut through the fog like a scythe through chaff and almost immediately a call came from the edge of the village, something had been found.