The woman's arm dropped, her composure fading as her lips quirked into a small, playful smirk. One of her daggers appeared in her hand, and she flipped it, balancing the tip against the pad of her index finger.
A tingle ran down my spine, my tail tensing. I didn't distinctly remember the curved blade, but something in my body did.
"Of course not, my Lord. But, it pains me to say the entire village apostatized. I was left with no choice but to allow another chance in the cycle. I pray whatever world they're reborn in grants them a chance to atone."
The high inquisitor sighed, needing his temple with his hands. "Why is it every single village you investigate has nothing but traitors in it? Do you really enjoy wetting your dagger so much?"
"What? I would never!" she cried in mock outrage. "Everything I do is in service to the Divine, right?"
