The Inquisitor

As Sephiran approached, Azrael sank down into a bow, a gesture of respect and reverence as he acknowledged his cousin’s status as Sultan. Of course, this made his arrogance spark and crackle, festering within his chest and bringing a subtle smirk to his lips. The son of Saffron’s inquisitor, a male skilled in the art of manipulation, bloodshed, and torture. A male whose loyalty ran deep and pure, committing his life and preferences to Saffron. Only, there was no need for him anymore, given Saffron was quite stable and had an inquisitor of their own. So, it was no surprise that he was searching for purpose, professing his commitment to the empire and ready to serve beneath his cousin’s rule.

But Sephiran wasn’t a wolf easily convinced- there was always a tinge of suspicion, persecutory delusions running rampant in his mind even in the face of his family. Everyone was a lair. Liar. Liar. Cocking his head slightly, he stares his cousin down with an accusatory gleam in his eye, unyielding and stern. “Oh?” He says, questioning him. “And you believe I will hand the position over to you?” He raises a brow at him, searching for any changes in his body language, analyzing him for any inclination of disloyalty. Of course, there as none - Sephiran was just an insatiably paranoid creature. “If you aspire to be my inquisitor, you will earn it.” He wouldn’t take Azrael’s word for it- he needed to prove he was a master in the art, before Sephiran would consider him for the role.

Still, he would give the male a chance to prove himself- which meant, he needed a place in his ranks. “You may join my ranks, under the role of Ghazi.” He says, shifting his gaze back to the woman behind his cousin. Her name was Mireia, and she was his Sidi. He would allow her to serve his pack as a Sidi, beneath the watchful eye of Azoula and her master. “And you may bring your Sidi.” A gracious offer indeed- there wasn’t much room left in his kingdom, and while they were working on expanding, there were some loose ends to tie up. Besides, she was a rather attractive fae... Sephiran was already fantasizing of an interaction with her.

Shifting his attention back to his cousin, he’s assessing him again. “One season, Azrael.” He says, firm and resolute. “You have one season to prove you’ve excelled as an inquisitor.” A challenge for his cousin to fulfill, one he expected him to wholeheartedly commit himself to.


"Sephiran Saxe"