Yo, people who read this fiction! It's been a while. I've been very busy and didn't really get much done in terms of writing over Christmas. It's pretty tough to pump out chapters and get through my daily schedule, so chapters will be far less frequent than they were in the past. No set plan; I'll just do them when I have a bit of free time here and there.
Also, it's a pain to go over them as I've done in the past and fiddle around to make the flow better or fix mistakes, so chapters from here on out may be bit a scruffy compared to earlier chapters.
Well here's the chapter.
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“And so you see, then chuckles started laughing his head off! Good times.” I said.
I’d been taking a break from proper interrogation by playing with the old fellow down in the barrack prisons. For some reason, once I’d started cutting him up without any reason, he’d lost his composure. The pained cries of the old man were quite loud; in fact the prison guards came by a little while ago when they heard it, wondering what the ruckus was about; well granted, for the past few hours the fellow hadn’t done much except for painful groaning and yelps, but he’d actually managed to successfully rip his vocal chords in the last 2 or so hours (I lost track of time, but who can blame you when you’re having a great time!)
The guard also left very quickly after seeing that everything was alright. Although, I wonder if he’s ill; I heard quite a bit of vomiting once he’d left the room. Whatever. I went back to carefully pulling out the old fellow’s intestines, making sure not to cause too much damage, and applying enough healing magic to keep him conscious and alive. I’d begun by carefully slicing open his stomach, which if I had to say, I don’t think he found especially pleasant, hehehe. When I first started cutting him open, the pain didn’t actually hit immediately. He just stared at me with a confused expression, which turned rather quickly to hopelessness and pain after the initial incision.
He started squirming with all his might after that, in a feeble attempt to flee. The rude fellow! I mean, I’ll put him back together when I’m done, so it’s all fine right? His expression was something that I couldn’t help but savour at that moment. He wasn’t a veteran warrior anymore, but a terrified old man desperately trying to crawl away. Of course the squirming had to stop, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to have my fun. I’d knelt down and gone about debilitating his arms and legs with a pair of surgical scissors: a few tendons cut there, just a bit of mangling of the muscle here, and there you have it; the most well behaved prisoner you could ever ask for. Of course during the process the old man had done his best to fend me off despite being chained. He even tried to attack me, I mean, how despicable. All that earned him was back handed strike across the face. He lost quite a few teeth, but he deserved it in the end. What did I do to deserve such retaliation? In the end this heretic was in the wrong, and the majority of the kingdom of Sol would agree with me there.
Anyway, back to what happened. Well, after making him easier to deal with, I got a good grip on both sides of the incision I’d made and gave a strong tug in opposite directions. Unfortunately in these cases, even I can’t keep my clothes completely clean with all the blood that seeps out of the wound. So, as the skin began to slowly stretch and tear as I made a nice opening to his intestinal region, and that was when the fellow began to scream his head off. I admit, it mustn’t be a pleasant experience to have your belly torn open, but in the end the wounds will heal better when I patch him back up at a later date.
And, well here I am. My white gloves and the sleeves of my overcoat were drenched in blood, unsurprisingly, and there were a few speckles here and there on the torso area due to some spurts when I was opening the heretic up. It was getting a bit annoying to hold open the tear while scooping out his intestines, so I reached over to my tools to sort out the problem. I took out a needle and thread, and began to suture the sides of the tear to his arms, so that it would hold open. Once I’d finished, I couldn’t help but look in admiration at that quality suture, and the effectiveness with which it worked. I was actually just improvising a bit, but it really did wonders. The old man, was also admiring my work… well, probably. He was certainly stunned as he saw the quick fix I’d made. It’s a good thing he can’t move his arms, otherwise he’d probably end up splitting a lot more skin, or just tearing it off. He can thank me later once he’s converted to Sol.
In the end, he didn’t really have anything against Sol the god, from his speech earlier, but with us hard working individuals at the church. As long as he fixes his attitude, he’ll be able to re-enter society, a happier man. Of course, if like the elf lady, he’d worshipped some other god, then he would be burned alive. Personally, I was still unhappy that the fellow had interrupted my grand event, but in the end he was likely just misguided. The ring leader of this band of heretics needs to be brought to justice! And burned! The rest of his merry band of heretics can just have a short chat with me, where I can help them correct their attitudes and behaviour.
I started to decorate the room with his intestines, circling them around on the floor and hanging them on the ledges that acted as shelves for the prisoner. In the end the display was beautiful! A single broken, old man lying motionlessly whilst silently screaming with all his might. His abdomen torn open and sutures to his arms holding it nice in place, whilst his guts were sprawled all around him, creating a lovely background image. It looked like an explosion of passion (guts). As I looked deep into his pained and tearing, wrinkly old eyes I felt an elated feeling rush through me. I couldn’t help but let out a happy sigh as I smiled warmly at the scene. This is the life.
When I put him back together later he probably won’t turn against the church again. Of course, the satisfaction I felt quickly turned sour when I saw his eyes begin to dull. This old heretic was dying on me! I understand that being so old might make such trauma more difficult to handle, but he didn’t have to go and start dying! Well, whatever. I’m nothing if not a nice guy. I healed the old man’s vocal chords and dulled the pain he felt just enough to be able to hold a coherent chat with myself.
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“You are dying. *sigh* And after all the effort I put into correcting you. Don’t worry, I’m sure that if you truly repent, Sol will be merciful in the afterlife. Tell me old fellow, do you have any last wishes?” I asked.
“Charlotte… Granddaughter… She should be playing with her friends now… Only have each other…” Mumbled the old man incoherently, as the beginning of tears began to well in the corner of his eyes.
Wow, this fellow was completely out of it. His eyes kept lazily drifting around as they got progressively duller. Normally one wouldn’t so readily talk about their family with an inspector of God. Never really knew why. My impression of this old fellow just improved quite a bit. To show my gratitude, I called over a guard and had them go search for the child after I wrung out a few more details from the old fellow. It’s the least I can do to allow them a few moments; I can just imagine the heart-warming scene now: she’ll run in all in tears and go by her grandfather’s side, clutching his hand as she begs him not to die. I could barely wait to see the dramatic scene.
After about an hour, I heard the guards come back and my ears also detected some lighter footsteps alongside their heavier ones. Perfect! I quickly skipped over the entrails and out of the room to entertain the new guest. What I saw when I exited the room was a child of about 11 or 12 years of age. She was rather ordinary, having the typical dirtied garb from playing outdoors and dull brown hair tied back with eyes of the same colour. She looked to be rather unnerved, the poor thing even began trembling as her gaze settled on me.
I quickly made the decision to be kind to the child. Her grandfather might have been a heretic but it was unlikely he’d passed on his tendencies to her. Even if he had, I’m sure he’ll give a few words of wisdom before he dies, ow that he’s been re-educated. I took off my blood stained gloves, casually tossing them to the side, following which I withdrew a fresh pair from my pocket. I put the gloves back on and held my hand out to the slightly grubby looking child, displaying a friendly smile which seemed to make her ease up ever so slightly.
“Hello there, my name is Cyne. I’m a friend of your grandfather. It’s nice to meet you.” I began. I’d say the old fellow and I had been in each other’s company for long enough to be called friends… It is a time dependent thing, right?
“I-I’m Charlotte” the other party hesitantly replied, shaking my hand. She seemed to have eased up just a tiny bit more after hearing that I was a friend of her grandfather.
“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this but your grandfather is dying” I began adopting a sympathetic smile as her face went blank, clearly whilst the girl tried to comprehend my words.
It didn’t take too long before tears were streaming down her face and the all too familiar snotty nose had made its appearance… this unsightly display was way too familiar. I promptly gave the child some space, having learned from my past experiences that my clothes may end up getting soiled if such actions weren’t taken. Through the tears and sobbing, the distressed child managed to get out a few words.
“Where’s grandpa?”
How pitiful. I should really let the two see each other. I pointed to the door from which I’d just exited, and the child ran with all her might towards where her grandfather lay waiting. What good grandchild. I quickly followed, hoping to see a tear jerking farewell.
After passing through the door way, the silly child didn’t look where she was going and got her foot snagged on some entrails, leading to quite comedic tumble face first into one of the pools of blood scattered about the room. Blood doesn’t come out easily I’ll have you know. Most of the time I just get new clothes, especially since my working clothes are white.
Okay, time for the child to redeem herself. She got off the floor and stared at in shock at the bright red colours which livened up the room. Her eyes blankly gazed at the hanging entrails, slowly following their course to the centre of the room where her grandfather lay, his breathing now so shallow it was basically non-existent. Well there you have it child! Your grandfather is there, so run to him and comfort him in his final moments. I really wish there was a way to record scenes like this.
Unfortunately things didn’t go as I planned. The old fellow was barely conscious and didn’t even notice his own granddaughter and it would seem the teary and caring display before from said granddaughter were exaggerated since she wasn’t focused on her grandfather’s last moments. She let out a terrified screech which actually hurt my ears quite badly, noisy little brat. She turned around and ran towards the exit where I was located but slipped up on the bloody floor and fell with a splash. She also managed to ruin my great display, one of her arms desperately having grabbed some suspended intestines, ripping them apart.
After all that delicate work… I couldn’t help but sigh and crinkled my nose as the smell of waste intermingled with the meaty smell I was used to by this point. The girl looked at the chunk of entrails she held in her hand and threw up before passing out… How anticlimactic.
I left the room and closed the door behind me. The guards can go and fetch her after she’s had some alone time with her grandfather. I have heretic hunting to do after all; can’t spend all of my time meddling with family matters.
I walked past the two guards who had brought in the child and left the building. Those guards looked a bit pale… I wonder if they’re alright…