Struggle: The Path to Power - стр. 15

– I believe that the level of corruption in their ranks has reached a dangerous level. We need to act covertly.

– I suggest using an unspoken resource.

– Seconded. – Me, too.

– Seconded.

– Utilizing an unspoken resource is a good time.

– So, I'll give the High Priest a suggestion for the use of an unspoken resource. – summarized Uginoch. – And I recommend you, Metropolitan Priest Shiroh, to personally go to the troubled territories and follow the process of the Inquisition. No local official will be able to refuse you a visit.

Shiroh tried to nod understandingly and even say something in conclusion, but he didn't have the energy to do so. The only thing he was thinking about was what would help him keep his place.

***

A wide gray stone. Dust and dim light all around. And turns that don't end.

This is the way to the cells of the Inquisition, where suspects, convicts, and anyone else who had anything to do with breaking the rules of Silan Zhah await their time.

Tomorous senseless footsteps and the same face. This is Metropolitan Priest Guzoh

(120th degree) of the Sacred Seim. In his phase, the Inquisition dealt with the middle ranks of the Empire – laborers mostly. Strangely enough, heretics and sorcerers were the least among them in percentage terms. This consequence came primarily from the fact that the peculiarities of their labor did not allow for a "week of repentance".

"Penitential Week" was a period declared after the arrival of the inquisitor, for voluntary confession of heresy. During it, informers also came forward, pointing out a particular plague. The informer had two options: repentance and accusation. More often the first option was chosen, because in case the plague was acquitted (and this could happen if he had connections, including with the church, for example, if he himself had previously successfully denounced), the denouncer himself was subjected to investigation.

Guzoh had moved closer to the cameras and could now hear the moans coming from there. The large number of turns was necessary for this very reason – to drown out the sound.

A black-robed guard, impressive even for a plague, stood at the entrance. His eyes were devoid of anything that could be called emotion, and his ears no longer discriminated between painful cries and the sound of footsteps; to him, everything was the same and differed only in volume. He bowed slowly and dryly.

Behind him were two rows of cells, where they sat long and hard before what they were about to undergo. After that was the torture chamber itself.