The Inquisitor's Judgement

AUTHOR'S NOTE AND A WARNING TO READERS: Please make sure that you are comfortable with the tags before proceeding. Additionally, this story is set in a dark and dystopian fantasy world, and many elements of the story could make sensitive readers uncomfortable. That being said, there is also elements of love - and I certainly put a lot of hours into this one, attempting to balance the darkness with moments of brightness. Be aware that the sexual content revolves around two females together.

All of the characters in the story are eighteen or older.

All of my stories are copyrighted, including this one.

--- THE INQUISITOR'S JUDGEMENT ---

It was a bitter morning, the wind whipping through the barren trees and rattling the dew-speckled branches. Spring was in bloom, though still occasionally besieged by an icy chill that lingered from the previous season. The dank earth smelled of rotting leaves, which covered the roads and filled the air with a heavy pungent aroma. The villagers of Everstock were draped in their cloaks as the morning mist cleared, wearing frowning expressions as they set off for the castle. A bastion of age-old wealth and glory no more it had become little more than a shell - and to the villagers, it represented just another source of oppression and suffering.

The inquisitors had arrived in the dead of night, rolling their enormous carts down the empty dirt roads, disturbing the broken sleep of the inhabitants in the village. The metal poles they carried were cold to the touch, and their shadowy figures prowled around the cart like ravenous predators. Bells, attached to their armour, rung with the rhythmic clanking of steel and iron as they stalked through the village, up towards the castle courtyard. But the villagers never slept much on the night before the monthly Judgement either way. Their minds were far from easy, the harrowing anticipation and worry gripping every heart and twisting them into knots of anxiety.

Most nervous of all, perhaps, was Matilde. On wobbly legs, she walked in the procession together with her mother and older sister, Elissa. Their father's footsteps were long gone, along with his heavy presence in the house. His fate had always been sealed the moment the sword was drawn, his life discarded over a simple dispute. Matilde couldn't shake the fear that crept up her spine, crawling from her tailbone to her neck like a ghoulish shiver. But she couldn't shirk her duty, no matter how much it frightened her. No one from Everstock could, besides the mayor and those considered too young or too old to participate. The Lady would not abide any disobedience.

As hundreds of villagers crowded together outside the gates, Matilde spotted the daughter of the tavern owner walking beside her. They met eyes and exchanged looks. Both understood each other well enough, at least to a degree, as they were the same age. Having recently turned eighteen, this would be their first Judgement. She couldn't help but wonder if the dread she saw in the other girl's eyes were mirrored in her own. The two shared a nod, as if to express condolences to one another for the approaching horror.

Matilde felt her feet hit cobblestones as the assembly entered through the courtyard gates. The Inquisitor's carts were already waiting in the castle courtyard when the gigantic wooden gates swung open, reinforced with steel plating and carrying the fading mark of a double-winged sun. With a hiss and a clank of metal on metal, the latch disengaged, and the gates swung back as one. Matilde and the other villagers flooded through them. The high stone walls, reaching towards the heavens, should have offered protection and comfort. Instead, they felt like a prison. A place where a new wave of torment and suffering was always just beyond the horizon. No villager set foot here willingly, though hunger could be a fierce motivator for some.

The whole village lined up in front of the large wooden platform, which rose three steps from the courtyard ground. Upon the platform was a small table, behind which a solitary man sat atop a throne-like chair, adorned with silken fabrics dyed indigo and scarlet red. There were two small pillars to either side of him, bearing statuettes of black stone. The black stone was unnaturally smooth and polished to a high shine, leaving no imperfection. Matilde recognized the mayor in his chair immediately. Although, at that moment, he did not look so proud and powerful. Not with the inquisitors looming over his shoulders and with the parchment in his trembling hands. His bald head was wet with perspiration, and his robes clung to him like a shroud. He swallowed visibly and looked down at the crowd of frightened peasants gathered before him. His eyes were heavy and droopy, his long grey beard unkempt and flowing down towards his chest. It looked like it hadn't been washed in years, and his skin was almost transparently pale.

But although the mayor was seated in the centre of it all, he was merely a puppet, and everyone was well aware of that fact. The inquisitors wore large metallic shoulder pads, bejewelled with the freesia crest of their order, with golden fringes and glittering gems. They wore flowing cloaks woven out of thick materials, in beautiful colours depending on rank, and their heads were adorned with large tiaras covered in spikes, gleaming in the early morning light - designed to look like haloes of radiant sunshine. They looked far more striking than the mayor's attire - a different class entirely. Most of them were second sons and daughters of powerful noble houses from the capitol. The expressions they wore varied from smug to indifferent, and their armour and garments sparkled as if to draw attention to themselves. The weapons on their belts were not just for show - each one sharp and lethal. Matilde could feel their gazes wandering around, lingering on the crowd with scrutinizing glances, as if they were all animals at market.

The villagers murmured to each other in hushed voices and gazed up at the inquisitors with wide, fearful eyes. Only a handful had a sort of hopeful desperation clinging to their expressions - perhaps thinking that today would be the day that the Lady would smile upon them, and their Judgement would be relatively quick and painless. Once the entire procession had entered the castle square, the mayor rose to his feet and cleared his throat.

"Citizens of Everstock!" He cried out in his old and shaky voice. "Welcome to the Judgement of the month of April. It is our most solemn duty to dispense judgement upon all citizens of our humble village, and by doing so, we shall receive the mercy of the Lady. The carts that the proud and honourable inquisitors have brought us are filled with food and provisions, to compensate you for your participation."

"Participation.." Elissa repeated quietly, her voice dripping with disapproval. "It's not as if we have any choice.."

Their mother sighed. "This is how things are.. And we need the food.." She had a sullen look on her face. Certainly no fan of the inquisitors or the Judgement, Matilde knew that well enough. But it reached deeper than that. As if this ritual of sorts had broken her spirit long ago, and she simply hadn't been able to find a way to heal herself. Matilde took her hand and gave it a squeeze, sensing that perhaps this was a day when everyone could use a bit of comfort.

Inside, however, Matilde's heart beat frantically in her chest. She desperately hoped that luck would be on her side this day. That the punishment would be lenient and the reward bountiful. Her stomach growled, and it had been over a fortnight since she had tasted meat. Since she had tasted anything but stale bread. And this despite the fact that she was meant to be taken care of until she had come of age. But now that she was eighteen, nothing at all would be given out for free. Every morsel had to be earned.

The mayor continued. "Your names are written in no particular order, and the sentences will be carried out as quickly as possible, for the Lady is impatiently awaiting the harvest." He adjusted his robe around his shoulders and glanced nervously towards the inquisitors, some of whom had begun to descend from the platform. A chill went down Matilde's back as their dark, cold eyes set upon the crowd. She noted how they seemed to guard the exits in particular, in case someone would dare attempt to flee their fate - though such things were uncommon as it meant certain death. Although human, the inquisitors had an aura of predatory grace and ferocity that put a pack of wolves to shame.

One by one the names of the townsfolk were read out by the mayor. First up was Jessyka Clearsong, the miller's daughter. The girl who always wore a kind expression and a fresh smile for everyone in Everstock. Her bright eyes shone like two jewels in her little head, but they were dimmed today. Her mother cried into her father's shoulder as Jessyka walked up on the platform. Then, a blonde female inquisitor not much older than Matilde herself spun the first of the giant wheels attached to the carts. The wheel of recompense. It spun around with a loud, metallic rattle, and all the villagers collectively held their breath. The noise was incredibly eerie. Jessyka's family began praying to the Lady in silent hopes for graciousness and mercy. The wheel began to slow down - and then, finally, came to a halt. A sigh of relief loud enough to be heard even through the crowd escaped Jessyka's lips.

"Your recompense shall be bread, salt, meat and fish." The blonde inquisitor spoke with a hint of impatience in her tone, and the crowd was buzzing with questions and noticeable jealousy. It was one of the better outcomes, and Jessyka would be eating well that month. But first, she would have to earn it. The wheel of sacrifice was next to be turned, and the one intended for the women was handled by a male inquisitor whose oak-coloured hair matched his dusky skin. His pale eyes were so strikingly blue they could almost pierce your very soul, and his expression showed no mercy whatsoever.

The second wheel was turned, and spun around for what felt like ages before the clanking of the metal came to an end. "Your sacrifice.. will be fellatio." The inquisitors declared. Matilde's eyes remained on Jessyka up on stage, and she looked strangely relieved with this Judgement. It made Matilde feel queasy, knowing that such an outcome was considered one of the better options. The soldier, whom apparently was going to receive her tongue on his manhood, only stared back with a hint of arrogance as he walked forward and grabbed Jessyka by the arm, escorting her into the castle's interior halls. No less than three scribes, all in inquisitor's armour and regalia, wrote down every deed in detail - so that Jessyka would get her properly assigned reward upon completion of her sacrifice. That is, if the soldier was satisfied with her performance - for otherwise, she'd walk home with nothing but hunger and tears.

One after another, the names of the villagers were being read out by the mayor. The whole ordeal took hours, each person needing about a minute or two to be processed. Each time the sound of the wheels as they started turning pierced through the courtyard, Matilde found herself recoiling involuntarily, shying away from the thought of the fate in store for herself. It didn't matter what kind of Judgement she'd be receiving, for she'd get one all the same. One that would be on her record forevermore, along with a never ending trail of shame. That was simply the way the world was. No exceptions were made for the poor. As such, it was necessary to do your duty - for yourself and your family.

A lot of tears and wails had been shed throughout the morning. Both men and women forced to do sexual acts, or to perform hard physical labour. And yet it wasn't until Matilde's own name was read out, and she heard her mother sob, that she felt true and unfiltered horror well up inside of her chest. She realized the fate she faced, and she wanted to throw up. Froze for a moment, her mother pushed her forward, despite her tears.

"Don't keep them waiting! They'll punish you!" she hissed. "I will pray to the Lady." Her voice was thick with sorrow. But there was nothing any of them could do. Matilde stumbled forward on legs like jellified goo as she took the stage, the eyes of the crowd falling upon her. There was only about fifty of them left now, the rest of the villagers having already been Judged. Some had gotten truly terrible outcomes, and others who had loudly celebrated after having had their wheels stop on great boons and mild sacrifices. Indeed, some had not gotten punished at all, because one small square space on the wheel of potential outcomes read "mercy". That's what Matilde now prayed hers would land on, her hands clasped together in front of her chest as she waited for her sentence to be passed.

The blonde, female inquisitor spun the wheel meanwhile staring intently at Matilde. She had a hunger in her eyes that made Matilde feel naked under the woman's gaze. The two of them shared a look - something resembling a silent conversation of sorts, where Matilde begged and pleaded silently, and the inquisitor in kind looked at her as if she wanted to devour her whole, the lust in her expression undeniable. Surprisingly, she then opened her mouth and spoke with a soothing voice.

"Whatever this young girl's outcome may be, I shall personally deliver her sacrifice. Let my claim be known."

"Let her claim be known!" the other inquisitors repeated in unison, standing taller and raising their arms to the sky.

It was not unusual for an inquisitor to do this; to personally step in and execute the Judgement. It had already happened a few times whilst Matilde awaited her turn. However, it was incredibly uncommon for a female inquisitor to lay claim to another woman. The male soldier who was supposed to be her pairing scoffed, but an icy look from the blonde inquisitor made him immediately hang his head in shame, as she outranked him by far, and could likely have him executed for his insolence.

As the wheel spun and spun, Matilde felt the gaze of the blonde inquisitor undress her with her eyes. She swallowed audibly. Undoubtedly, the inquisitor was a very attractive young lady, but Matilde had no desire to be intimate with anyone - especially not a woman. She had no romantic interest in her own sex. And the fact that she was an inquisitor was horrifying. The dread she felt must have been visible on her face, but the blonde didn't seem to take offence. Instead, she was smiling like a devilish cat who had found its way into a basket full of mice.

It seemed like the wheel of recompense took forever to turn this time around, but it finally stopped. The outcome was.. moderate. She would receive food and oil. No meat or fish. Compared to the worst outcomes available to the villagers, it was a blessing. At least she wouldn't starve. In fact, she could look forward to both vegetable soups and buttered bread. Matilde was happy with it, knowing things could be far worse. But the second wheel still had to be spun, and her reward was still out of her grasp. As one condition to receiving anything at all was that the person you serviced were pleased with your performance, Matilde felt her fate might be grim. She had no idea how strictly the inquisitor would hold her to this, but she feared that a pious woman such as herself would not offer an ounce of leniency and demand much more from any given task than a common soldier would.

So spun the second wheel. Matilde's eyes darted to her mother and sister, both still awaiting their own turn to be Judged, but they did not look back at her. Instead, they were fixated on the turning wheel, praying desperately to the Lady that Matilde would not have to succumb to some horrible fate. The clanking noise was oddly hypnotic and rhythmic as the wheel spun round and round, and it felt unnatural in more ways than one. A discomfort spread inside Matilde, settling deep down into her bones like frost upon the earth after winter has passed. It made her anxious. She closed her eyes, and felt the soft breeze of the open courtyard on her face as she awaited whatever sentence was to be delivered unto her.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, it stopped. It landed on a pairing of words that made Matilde's stomach want to turn inside out. The blonde inquisitor did her best to hide her smile, by pursing her lips, but her eyes gave her true feelings away - utter delight. The outcome was "anal sex". The blonde inquisitor strode towards Matilde with a confident gait, taking a gentle grip around the young villager's forearm, and the soldiers cleared a path for them.

"Do not fear, little blossom." Her voice was honey-sweet. "The Lady always knows best.." Her golden locks fell down her shoulders like strands of silk, and she pressed a small kiss to Matilde's cheek. Then she led her by the hand into the castle's interior halls. Matilde cast a look back towards her mother and sister, each of them expressing sympathy with their eyes. Tears were beginning to form in her own, but she knew better than to cry in front of the woman who now held her fate in her hands.

Once inside the castle corridors, they were greeted with the sounds of sex and moaning, coming from people in the processes of completing their sacrifices. Elissa had told her younger sister once that it was not uncommon to have to carry out the deed in some jail cell in the dungeons or other uncomfortable spot. Sometimes even on the cold stone ground if there wasn't much room. Other than that, they didn't much talk about what occurred during the Judgements. It was an awkward topic of conversation, to say the least, and not something one wanted to keep in the forefront of one's mind.

But the blonde inquisitor led her up some stairs into a much fancier part of the castle, and Matilde noticed the inquisitor seemed rather at home within these dark stone walls. The floor was carpeted here, and the walls had been decorated with beautiful tapestries - some depicting scenes from the old stories. The blonde inquisitor glanced over at her from time to time, seemingly eager for what lay ahead, but spoke no words. They walked down a narrow hall, lined with pillars on either side that seemed to meld in with the wall itself, until they finally came upon a large wooden door - ebony stained oak. The wood was weathered, yet still it looked as strong as when first made. A warm and slightly floral scent wafted from the cracks between the doors. It smelled like incense. A gaping keyhole almost at eye-height greeted them, in which the inquisitor carefully placed an oversized key before twisting it in place.

Beyond, a luxurious bedroom waited, far more beautiful than any room Matilde - a simple peasant girl from a small village - had ever laid her eyes upon. A four-poster bed sat in the centre, with dark red curtains, embroidered in golden thread, and two cushioned chairs near the only window, looking out over the canopies of the forest below. An elaborate dresser was placed near a giant mirror, with numerous bottles of perfume and other valuable items scattered around. In one corner of the room was a bookshelf that stretched from floor to ceiling, filled with hundreds of volumes and tomes of all kinds. The bed had silken sheets and velvet pillows. The floor was covered in a sanguine carpet. Matilde's dread was temporarily subsided by awe.

"Your name's Matilde?" The inquisitor asked in a husky tone, and Matilde swiftly nodded, her neck stiff. "You can call me Miss Sadie. Please, try to relax. I shall be gentle with you." She practically whispered the words as she unclasped the cloak of her armour, letting it fall on the ground behind her. "Help me remove my armour.." she commanded, and Matilde found herself moving as if automated to comply. There wasn't really any reason for it other than fear. She tried to assist as best as she could, but knew nothing of armour, and even with Sadie's instructions it was more difficult and time-consuming than she had imagined. The pauldrons, marked by the freesia, were a good size and weight. Yet, when the armour was removed, they revealed to Matilde an attractive, young woman that appeared to be no older than twenty years of age - if not even younger - half a head taller than herself.