It took them over a month on foot to reach the Tower where it stood halfway between Brez and Unen. The landscape nearby had changed dramatically since they left. The dry seasons of Auf Ka and Auf Tor were over and the rains of the season of Auf Kol left them sloshing through knee deep mud.
A mile away from the tower, they found a soaked camp of two tents. There they encountered five squires who failed epically at their watch.
“What are you doing out here boys?” asked Resugent, “Why aren’t you in the tower?”
“An Inquisitor took the tower Sir Resugent. He said you were long dead and wouldn’t be coming back. Its good to see you sir!” said one squire named Ham.
“Hamfist the second, son of Lord Hamfist of Dunesphere your father would think you daft for sitting out here in the rain. And Goblins could cut your throats while you sat here you were all so distracted.”
“Sorry sir, the Goblins been avoiding us, they want the tower,” replied Ham as he chewed on his thumb.
“How many Goblins?” asked Resugent.
“One hundred from Brez,” said Ham, “They yelled something about the Inquisitor oweing them money? They have been camped outside for over a week.”
At that one of the squires sneezed, oozing greenish mucus. Resugent said a small prayer and placed his hands on the boy’s head. The sneezing stopped and the mucus first turned from green to clear and then stopped dripping completely.
“Thank you sir,” said the squire, “I feel better.”
“God will make everything better, all we have to do is believe it will become better,” said Ham.
“And act when needed,” interrupted Khalid pointing at the Tower of Resugent in the center of a teeming mass of Goblins.
At the window in the top floor of the tower stood a man dressed in an Inquisitor’s uniform. The strange Inquisitor extended his hand and suddenly the entire crowd of one hundred Olgogs grabbed their chests. Some yelped, some roared, some died quietly, but all of them died in that instance.
Sir Resugent saw the elusive Mortis Leonin for the first time. His wild white hair made him look mad. A small bushy white mustache graced his upper lip. His deep blue eyes were ringed in brown. And his expression was one of fury and madness.
“I order you to hand over the Censor of the Most Beloved Squire,” yelled Mortis Leonin, “If you don’t I will kill your entire household as quickly as I killed those Goblins. I need that Censor, and therefore I must have it. You cannot and will not keep it from me. You are thieves, you must have stolen the Censor. So close to my goal and the one piece I need you have. Give it to me NOW!”
“Not the most respectful piece of scum eh?” asked Khalid in a whisper.
“I can see why you dislike this man,” answered Resugent in a whisper.