“All of this?” Raynard asked, in awe of the amount of document stacked on his desk.

“All of this, My Lord,” Brendon replied.

“Ha!” he laughed maniacally. “How dare those imbecile!”

“My Lord, how would you like to deal with them?”

“I will see that ungrateful woman first.”

“She is in that room.”

Raynard went down, into the underground where the dungeon lies. Far at the corner was a single room where various torture device being kept. In the middle of the room was a woman tied on a chair.

Her hand and her legs were tied to the chair’s armrest and both it front legs. Her mouth was gagged with a thick rope and her eyes was blindfolded with a piece of rough fabric.

Raynard beckoned one of the knight to loosen the tie. She gasped for air. The corner of her mouth and her cheeks were chafed. When the knights took off the blindfold, she winced her eyes, slowly taking in the light.

“Put her fingers in the pilniewinks and laid her down on the planks,” Raynard said with his cold and sharp raspy voice.

There was no hint of mercy in his radiant eyes the color of ruby. He never wanted to. His eyes that was the color of blood stared down at the woman who was whimpering and pleading for mercy.

“Your Grace! Duke! Please! Please! Please forgive me! I was wrong! Please don’t do this to me!” she repeated again and again with her sore throats as the same words echoed from her mouth.

The knight grabbed her and laid her on the planks face downward and tied her legs to stop her from moving. The other knight held her hand and placed her thumb fingers into the rusty pilniewinks. He tighten the screw.

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The shrilling screams echoed all over the underground, scaring the wit out of the other servants who were locked in the wide cell not fare from the room. They trembled in fear, while regretting everything they had done. If only… Yes, they could only imagine, if only they could turned back time.

“Whip her legs 208, 050 times,” he added.

Her pale face was drained of any color. Shocked remained in her eyes. “Why? Why? Why? Why? Your Grace!” she shouted with every strength she had.

“30 whip was for the servant who dare to leave bruises on the body of the noble. I knew you had used the lashes of whip to inflict your superiority on my daughter. She had lived for nineteen years with that scar, hence you shall received nineteen years worth of punishment.”

“Wha—” she exclaimed in her weak hoarse voice.

The painful slashing noise resonated with the gut-wrenching wail. The agony had been pricking on her throat since the day she was locked in. Not a drop of water or a crumb of stale bread been going into her stomach.

“Tighten the screw.”

The knight followed the order. Neither the knight, nor the aide wince their eyes in sympathy or disgust, as if, it was something common for them to see.

‘Crack’

The pressure that was so tight that her delicate fingers was squashed like a mashed potato. Her bone was crushed that her fingers lost it frame, becoming a flat flabby meat.

“Switch the fingers,” he said, again with that cold tone of his.

They loosen the screw and took out the flabby thumb, filling the pilniewinks with forefingers next. However, before they started to tighten the screw, they took minutes of break, enough so that she would not yet die.

“Gave her the potion,” he said turning to his aide.

Brendon took out a round bottle filled with dark green liquid, and poured it into her mouth, forcing her to gulp it down. Her breathing stabilized, yet her suffering was made clear once again.

She saw a glimpsed of the potion. Her eyes widen in realization. She once used it on Yvonne when she was lashing out her anger. The potion would strengthen your body but it would not heal any wound or injuries that were inflicted. Even worse than a painkiller.

Her misery keep going. Even though the pain were only inflicted on her legs and her fingers, it was as if every part and every corner of her body was tortured.

“Please… Please just kill me… Kill me… Please…” she begged with tears streaming down and snots that were mixed with saliva all over her lips.

Her plea was ignored. The process was repeated over and over again, until her body could no longer withstood the torment and she breathe her last breath on the plank.

“My Lord, what about the body?” Brendon asked as he wiped off the dust on Raynard’s shoulder.

“Feed it to the monster.”

Brendon nodded and ordered two knights to handle the rest. He followed Raynard to the cells where the servants was locked in.