Chapter 109
A Confession
"She spoke in a tongue I have never heard before, yet my mind understood it, somehow, some way. She told me she came from Beyond and is trying to find her way back home."
Fragments
A roaring fire of the hearth not only infused the wide room with warmth but also gave it the light it otherwise lacked. The shadows it cast bounced off of the stone walls and the floor and folded over the large bed and several bookshelves, almost like the dancing figures. The flames in the hearth crackled and sparked, providing the only other sound besides the quill pressing against the parchment, inking it.
Vorvil sat in silence, writing out a letter that he was yet uncertain of sending. He had a pensive expression, his yellowing eyes squinted, wrinkles of his face folding one over another. The last few months of his life were restless, though still somewhat productive. This letter… could cement everything and put it to the final rest. He would be free, at last, of these walls.
Just as he was about to sign the letter, he felt a quaint breeze caress the back of his neck, sending chills down his spine. Before he had a chance to turn around, however, a hand wrapped around his lips and pulled him back, yanking him from the chair and forcing him onto the floor. He grunted as he felt the pain in his back overrun his mind, causing him to cry out. The chair fell by his side, though he was too disoriented to notice.
Asandra held the old man firmly against the floor, the anger in her eyes impossible to hide. She contemplated simply pressing slightly harder and killing him but knew that if she did that, they would never get the answers.
"If you so much as let out a whimper," she leaned into his ear and whispered. "I'll snap your neck. Do you understand?"
“…”
“I asked do you understand?!”
“…!!” the old man nodded, tears streaming from his face already, fear evident in his eyes. Then, however, they calmed – he seemed to have recognized her, the fear transmuting into confusion.
“Good,” she smiled coldly as she pulled him up, removing her hand from his lips and picking up the chair, sitting him down. All the while, the old man said nothing, biting his lips as to prevent himself from grunting in pain. She knew that the toss had broken a few bones, but she could hardly care to pay attention to it. “You know who I am?”
“…” the old man shook his head fervently, still not replying.
“I told you to scare him,” another voice broke the tense atmosphere as Noah walked in, closing the doors behind him and focusing onto the seated Vorvil. The old man truly looked like he was about to piss himself. “Not cripple him.”
“It’s not my fault his body’s made of mush.” Asandra protested.
“What… what is the meaning of this, Dacent Noah?” Vorvil quickly recovered when he saw the newcomer, a trace of anger present in his eyes.
“Go and stand guard.” Noah ignored him, speaking to Asandra.
“What?!”
“Go and stand guard.”
“… you’re really throwing me out?” she asked, squinting her eyes.
“No,” Noah said. “I’m asking you to stand guard.”
“…” Asandra turned silent, glaring at him for a good while before glancing at the seated Dacent, spinning around and walking away. “I’ll be in a tavern if you need me.” She said as she ran past him, causing Noah to sigh.
He turned his intention toward Vorvil, former’s eyes suddenly turning chilly. Vorvil felt as though some sort of a beast had locked onto him, his heartbeat quickening involuntarily, sweat beginning to drip down his forehead. The pair of blue eyes stared at him icily and indifferently as the tall figure slowly approached, stopping right in front of him.
“… you and I,” Noah said, pulling another chair from the side and sitting down in front of Vorvil. “Are going to have a nice chat. The end of this night, for you, will depend entirely on how honest you are.”
“This—this is a crime, Dacent Noah! I, I will have you reported!”
“… I don’t get angry easily,” Noah ignored him, continuing to speak. “Rather, you’ll find it easier to kill a bull barehanded than it is to truly anger me. Yet, I’ve found myself angered recently. And you are going to help me understand why.”
“W-what… what are you talking about?” Vorvil stuttered out.
“Who asked you to send assassins after Olivia?” Noah asked directly, causing Vorvil’s eyes to momentarily widen in shock.
“P-presumptuous! Not only… not only do you hit me, you accuse me of such a heinous crime! Guards! Gua—” Noah quickly put his hand over the Dacent’s mouth, former’s expression cooling further.
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“It seems as though you don’t understand your situation, you dying cunt,” Noah spoke with a growl. “I am inches away from gouging your fucking eyes and feeding your corpse to the dogs. Do not, do not push me, you grave-borne shit. I will ask you again – who asked you to send assassins after Olivia? I don’t care why you did it, and I don’t care how you did – I just need a name. Who was it?”
“…” Vorvil remained silent even after Noah pulled back his hand.
“Oh, I see – you are more terrified of them than me, huh?” Noah said. “That’s fine. After all, to you, I’m just a Dacent – Outlander with no magic, an ordinary person with no power. Them? They’re probably powerful enough to bury your name so deep it would appear as though you never existed.”
“…”
“But… you misread me, old crook,” Noah continued, pressing his hand against Vorvil’s mouth again, latching hard. “They… they will just kill you. Stab you, lop off your head, burn you, what have you. Quick, efficient. Me? I won’t kill you. Not for days, or even weeks if you endure. Bit by bit, I will break you. I will remove the humanity from you, and by the time I’m done, not even the dead will want you in their troves. I will start by pulling out your nails, then by breaking each of your fingers, then I will break your toes, then I will start jabbing your nerves. All the while, I will feed you egyl leaves, preventing you from passing out due to pain. If nothing else works out, I’ll take you to a stable, feed the horses some powder, and have them fuck you until you die. So, I will ask again. Who asked you to send assassins after Olivia? You’re neither clever nor bold enough to attempt something like that of your own volition.”
“… y-you… you’re a beast…” Vorvil stuttered in terror as Noah pulled his hand back.
“Oh, you cannot even imagine how right you are,” Noah’s lips stretched into a cruel smile. “All this while, I’ve realized I’ve been too kind. Too patient with you lot. Well, I’m done with that. I need answers, now. Actual answers. And you, well, you are going to give them to me. Perhaps that is too huge of a starting question – let’s start small. How many did you hire?”
“… I did not—” Noah quickly placed his hand over Vorvil’s mouth and grabbed the old man’s hand, yanking at the index finger of his right hand and dislocating it. Dacent cried out in pain, his scream muffled by Noah's hand, tears beginning to stream again. The old body began shaking, sobs increasing in frequency for a good few minutes until he got used to the pain somewhat.
“That was just one finger,” Noah said. “And… I didn’t even break it. Now think, old crook, what will it feel like if I start snapping them, one by one. Think.”
“…”
“How many did you hire?”
“… t-t-twenty-six…” Vorvil mumbled out through the shaking lips and clacking teeth. He had never felt so much pain in his life.
“Twenty-six? See? This is good. Being honest, I’ve found, is good,” Noah nodded. “I’ve counted twenty-three altogether. Where are the remaining three?”
“… t-they were, they were killed… by Prince Evon’s men…”
“Good Prince, huh? Protecting his little sister,” Noah said with a faint smile. “See? Being honest isn’t so hard, is it? No pain, no broken joints, just a… normal conversation between two people.”
“…” Vorvil remained silent, still reeling from pain and shock.
“Why? Why send assassins after her? You’ve been with her since she was a babe.”
“… why?” the old man’s eyes lit up finally as he glanced at Noah. “Do you… do you think I wanted to become her Dacent?”
“You didn’t?”
“Of course not!” the old man exclaimed. “Don’t think for a second… for a second that your experiences are in any way similar to ours! Every, every time we want to leave the Palace, we need to report why, when, and for how long. We are not paid in Crowns, but free access to the library – because, apparently, Dacents are not humans and we feed on letters. We are not allowed to marry – no, forget that, we are barred from even visiting a whorehouse! We are their teachers? The hell we are! We are their babysitters, looking over them with pins in our feet. They don't listen to us," the old man continued, spit dripping from the corners of his lips. "And, yet, if anything happens to them, we are the ones to get blamed. Do you know… do you know how many Dacents were executed while I was here? Seventeen. Seventeen. Do you know why? One of them, and this is a good one, one of them wasn’t there with Prince Prestol when the oh-so-brilliant one accidentally killed a maid. So, instead of punishing the Prince, to ‘appease’ the maid’s family, they chopped off Dacent Augrn’s head. Ah, and then there’s Dacent Oylt – do you know what his sin was? Sin so great that it was worthy of being executed?”
“…”
“He lent a book to a maid,” Vorvil said through gnashed teeth. "Lent her… a book. It… it wasn't even an important book, for Light's sake! It was… it was a collection of fables and songs!"
“… touching,” Noah said indifferently. “Now, at least, I get why you are so… pensive when it comes to slaves. You see yourself as one.”
“… no,” Vorvil shook his head. “I am no slave. Those kids eating feces just to survive, being sold to the highest bitter, switched around like a bottle of wine… those are slaves. Me? No.”
“… you understand the system, Vorvil. You will buy no good will with me with your sob stories,” Noah said. “There’s a silent pact, and you are too old not to have learned it a long time ago. You say those guys were killed because of ridiculous reasons, but my bet is that everyone turned a blind eye to many, many of other times they’ve done terrible things. You can’t dance with the fire and expect not to get burned.”
“You—”
“Save it. Frankly, even if I’m wrong, I don’t care,” Noah said. “I can’t let the Princess die, Vorvil. You should know that the best. But, seeing as you had the choice of spreading my identity, yet didn’t, it seems you didn’t want to kill her either. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have sent a bunch of rejects after her. So… all this… was just a pretense, right? For what? To ‘buy’ your freedom? A show of faith for whoever tasked you?”
“…”
“She’s broken and terrified, Vorvil,” Noah said. “Incapable of falling asleep without a dozen candles shining on every corner in her room. She’s damaged for life.”
“… she’s strong.”
“No, she’s not. And you know that,” Noah said. “Make this right. Tell me… who asked you to send assassins after her?”
“And then what? What will you do?” Vorvil asked in a mocking tone. “You needed a random woman just to subdue me. What if I tell you? Will you go after them like you went after me?”
“… no,” Noah said. “Because I don’t need to ask them any questions. I will simply… make them disappear.”
“Ha ha ha ha,” Vorvil suddenly burst out into laughter. “You are a nobody. So what if you’re an Outlander? Were the Princess’ eyes not dyed in her dreams, she would realize that you are nothing too. And you, you will make them disappear? You can’t even make me disappear, fool.”
“… give me a name, Vorvil.”
“The name?” Vorvil continued to stare mockingly at him. “I was approached by His Lucency, Lightbearer Yeow.”