Joredan was dragged by Snark into the room. Joredan couldn't help but laugh boisterously because the pain he felt at where his hand was was too funny.

“Look, Snark, my hand is just lying there on the floor outside, isn't this amusing?”, he managed to say inbetween long laughs.

“Name?”, Snark asked gruffly.

“J-J-Jacobson…”, Joredan managed to say through his pain-riddled laughs.

Snark tied him to a chair and then peeked out of the door. He looked at the hall where a party was now taking place and shouted, “Where is his hand, bring it here!”

Someone heard and turned to look at him, then waved. That persom begun looking for the hand on the floor, waving between dancing soldiers. Snark stared at them in jealousy.

“Why must I handle all the dirty stuff while they always have all the fun?”, he asked Joredan. The prisoner gave no reply, too busy trembling, shaking, laughing and sipping out tomato juice from his injured wrist.

Snark sighed. “Jacob, Jacob,” he shook his head as he walked towards him. He grabbed a saw-like item from a table nearby and put it near Joredan's uninjured left hand's wrist. Joredan screamed just before Snark pressed the saw and cutting the hand off.

“That will teach you… Something.”, quipped Snark cleverly.

The door fully opened as a guard came in, holding what was apparently Joredan's right hand in a plastic bag. Snark snatched it.

“Go away, Bart”, he grumbled.

The guard nodded with a smile and closed the door.

Snark turned to look at the prisoner. “So, why they capture you, anyway, dude?”

Joredan laughed louder and scream shriller.

“Fine, you love your hands too much, I can tell”, Snark said and grabbed a bottle. He took some balm out of it, applied it to both detached arms and placed one to Joredan's left wrist. Smoke emanated as the flesh connected. It was apparently rather painful to Joredan, given his reaction.

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Snark ignored this and healed the right hand.

He looked down at the hands, feeling something was amiss.

“Seems I messed up the sides, my bad”, he said apologetically when he saw that he connected Joredan's hands to opposite wrists.

It seemed the preparation for interrogating Joredan would take longer. Snark sighed and picked the saw up again.

It was some time later that Snark managed to correctly re-heal Joredan's, or Jacob's — as Joredan introduced himself to Snark — hands.

He looked down at the young boy. The boy was clearly unhinged, mumbling to himself, laughing, cackling, looking around crazily. Snark had no way of knowing if it was the pain of getting his hands cut off and re-healed nine times in a row (can you really blame Snark for being so inattentive when he was so unappreciated by his fellow guards and also it was a full moon today, which messed with his mood and made him more grumpy) or if Joredan was unhinged to begin with.

“So, why were you… captured by my fellows over there?”, Snark asked.

Joredan gave no reply, maybe he didn't even hear him. Snark sighed again. “Okay, maybe a little pain will help make you more talkative. I heard fire puts fire out.”

He took an innovative magical artifact that arrived last month from a chest. Joredan seemed to react to this as his face morphed from laughter to despair and his eyes widened as he tried to get away from the tool inching closer to his face.

Snark smiled to himself in kind satisfaction.

‘See, I am so good at being an interrogator’, he thought, ‘if only those bastards appreciated me more, then I could be truly happy.’

Just as the tool was about to press against Joredan's eyes, the door to the room opened. Snark paused and looked back. He straightened. A group of soldiers, the guards from before, walked in.

“Aye, done partying, I take it?”, Snark said with a stink-eye aimed at them.

Among them was the blond captain, who was named Etraphina, the redheaded Suro, the observant Jasper and two others, Alleid and Stensa.

Etraphina asked as she observed the now-whimpering Joredan, “Any results with him?”

“Listen, you brought him in here and left me with no explanation, m'am, and his mental state is unstable.”

Etraphina looked dissatisfied. She walked to their captive and leaned forward, cupping the young man's face in her hand. She looked on as he trembled, his face morphed expression rapidly, sweat dropped down his flushed face profusely and his eyes had no idea where to settle looking or at what focus as his pupils rapidly dilated and contracted. Snark and the others silently stood, looking in attention. After a few seconds of observation, Etraphina stepped back.

“Got a towel?”

Snark obediently handed her one, which she used to wipe her hand. She then turned around and said in a careless tone of the voice, “This guy is clearly unstable, just kill him and be done with it.”.

The soldiers left just quickly, leaving Snark the only guard alone with Joredan. Snark shrugged and took a vial from a shelf and forcefully fed it to Joredan. The boy died after about a minute. Finally, the room was silent.

“Some peace at last”, Snark huffed. He sat on his bed, opened a book and read at his leisure.