Clegane's Boot collided with my chest like a freight train. Thick steel breast-plate and boiled leather coupled with the padding take the edge off the blow. Enough of the edge to keep him from crushing my ribcage.

I had already breathed out. I learned that trick in the first week. 'Hurts less if he doesn't knock the wind out of you too.' Taking a blow from the giant and not hitting the ground and staying there from the pain though, was straight fucking grit.

Back on my feet a few seconds later. Not fast enough. His sword was coming at me as soon as i was on my feet. The sword in my hand tilted just enough, by learned instinct, to deflect some of the force from the blow. Just enough was deflected not to send me back on my ass.

"Faster, boy." The brute grunted before his boot sent me back into the dirt.

They say true hell is watching the ones you love in pain. Pain without end.

Every day is a struggle to survive. To show weakness is to die.

Every day a fight to the death.

What is hell if you only love yourself?

Outlaws to hunt.

You realize pain itself is an illusion.

Bandits to fight.

A chemical reaction to alert your brain to injury.

Villages to burn.

The illusion is a learning experience.

Gregor does them all. Where Gregor goes, I go.

Bring me this. Burn that. Hold my sword while I pull my pants down. Wipe the blood off my armor. Hold her head down. Torture him. Kill her, shes' too old.

Hell is my life.

The strong target the weak.

If you see five hundred pounds of steel and flesh, do you charge it or the child next to it?

They come at me first, over and over again.

To kill me...

I refuse to die here and every time!

Death isn't real.

Nothing is real.

Only the illusion of hell that is my life.

Faster, I rose. Still he sent me to taste the dirt. Over and over again. I rise faster and faster every time.

I don't feel human anymore.

I forgot what it feels like.

I am a monster made flesh.

A demon, manifest.

Humans feel pain.

Monsters don't.

888

"You are too fucking stupid to do your job." I told Tickler. "Can't you tell hes' fucking lying to get you to stop?" I continued over the squealing knight's clamor. I had finally spoken up during the middle of one of his sessions. I usually held the comments back until we were out of the torture e's hearing. i couldn't hold back anymore as my temper blew.

I love humiliating and embarrassing the repetitive sadist. For a Westrosi torture expert, he was above average. He got answers from around eighty percent of the people he tortured before they expired. Unfortunately for him, they usually lied to get the pain to stop and died soon after. He did ask good questions once they started talking though.

That is not satisfactory.

The skinny old torture expert turned around and glared. "You think you know so much you little shit, why don't you do it then?" He wheezed. Hot oil still dripped down and sizzled on the screaming knight's testes.

"Because it's your fucking job!" I yelled back. "Why the Mountain pays you good gold to fuck up time and again isn't my fucking problem. When you fuck up my job though, it becomes my fucking problem." I shouted in the idiot's face.

I hate the incompetent asshole more than you can imagine. During tax season, lots of greedy nobles like to hide what they owe and think they are being clever. I had too many assholes in my section claiming to have 'lost the gold to bandits' or 'never mined that much gold'. One or two can be over looked with the dozens I have to deal with this year. When a full six villages claim it though, It's time to bring in the expert.

Unfortunately, the expert is a fucking imbecile.

I have been assigned the south quarter of the River Road to collect on. I was one of the 'captains' of the Mountain's men. He got to go around having fun during tax season and the 'captains' have to do the detailed clean-up grunt-work after the Mountain's men did their thing.

As I was the only one who could read of Ser Gregor's captains and his squire on top of it, I got the most detailed grunt work. Writing down what comes out of the mouths of the 'traitors' and passing it on via raven to the Mountain and his men in the field(or keep them to myself). The longer I was here listening to this shit, the longer I was kept out of the best time of the year. Over a dozen knights and minor nobles were in Cleganes dungeon. Over the last three days, he had only broken one.

Every one of the prisoners had too much valuable information to be killed so easily. It was taking far too long.

Raiding got me gold. Gold I could use to get the fuck out of Tywin's lands. If I steal enough gold, I could buy a ship. I needed a many times the gold I have to buy a ship though. A cheap ship could cost ten thousand dragons on the low end of the price range. A cheap ship also runs the risk of sinking in the middle of the narrow sea.

Don't forget pirates.

Two, almost three years as the Mountain's squire had taught me plenty of lessons.

Get the gold up front. If she bites. knock her teeth out in front of the other women. Get the gold upfront. Don't sleep near anyone you killed the family of the day before. Get the gold upfront. Blood dries an ugly brown on expensive red silk and doesn't wash out.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Lots of good things to fill in the gaps in the lacking education I had received in my past life.

"Thats it, I've had it with you, you little bastard! The Mountain can find a new tickler. I quit!." He shouted back in my face in his scratchy voice. He had finally lost his temper.

He overturned the pot of hot oil onto the now shrieking knight's lap. Burns like that are fatal. All the information he knew is gone. He will be delirious from the pain and die soon from the agony and shock.

The prisoner's looked on from the cages across the dungeon with glee. Their tormentor was leaving. Never to return.

The landed knight had owed five thousand dragons he had hidden somewhere.

Lost forever.

The tickler turned back around and started to walk toward the dungeon's exit.

"Hey asshole." my voice made him pause and look back over his shoulder.

A branding rod whacked into his chin with a wet popping sound. He collapsed to the floor unconscious with a broken jaw.

The prisoners behind me started to laugh and cheer. I looked over at them with a smile. They looked back with hopeful expressions. "Please boy, free me. I'll make you a knight. Give you a high born wife. Anything you want." One cajoled brazenly.

Only idiots trust liars. Everyone lies.

I will enjoy crushing that hope out of each and every one of them.

Hope is a lie.

The smile was maintained as I walked over to the wall and removed the rope and a pulley from the tool rack. A cat's paw cuff knot restrained the hands of the tickler. I hooked the pulley to it's spot and looped the rope through. The cuff tie was one that would slowly cinch tighter and cut off circulation to a limb under force. It's a favorite of Japanese police as the harder you struggle, the more the cuff tightens.

If you want the person to be able to use a limb after you undo the cuff never ever suspend someone from such a knot.

I pulled on the rope and raised the Tickler up in to the air. I cinched the end of the rope secure on his ankles to intensify the weight of his body.

Next week is my twelfth name day.

I had forgotten it the last two years. Swinging a sword in a life or death fight does that to you.

Time for a birthday present to myself.

I dumped a bucket of water on the naked man's head to wake him up. He had come to while I was cutting his clothes off with a knife and started wriggling too early. I had pinched down on his carotid artery until his eyes rolled back and he slipped back into unconsciousness.

He immediately started shrieking through his busted jaw. Squirming caused him more pain he quickly realized and stopped jerking around. I waited a few minutes for the screeches to turn into groans of agony before I started the process.

I was standing behind him and facing the audience of hope filled prisoners, out of the old man's view. The brazier that had been used to heat oil, now had a thin blade sitting in it, heating up. I held another thin bladed knife and and a small cutting of hollow reed straw.

"I want you all to realize and recognize here and now that I am not this old man." I addressed my silent audience. The tickler jerked in surprise at my voice behind him and began shrieking anew.

"Uck coo." He cursed, trying to kick at me from behind.

"I want you all to watch this closely." I continued, ignoring the imbecile. Walking around to the front of the naked man, I gazed into his eyes. Pain and anger glared back. I couldn't see any fear in his eyes.

That is not satisfactory.

I put the reed in my mouth to free up a hand. I held on to the ticklers throat with one hand and dug my thumb and forefingers onto the sides of his trachea to hold it steady. He stilled as any motion, choked off his breath.

I brought the knife up under his Adam's apple and pressed the small blade about a half inch deep. I quickly removed the knife and inserted the reed before the tickler realized what was happening. I could feel the hot stinking breath escape from the new breathing hole.

He had a look of fear in his eyes now as wheezing panicked and shallow breaths came from somewhere they shouldn't.

Success.

Now, he really wriggled and gave hoarse, wheezing shrieks through the reed straw as I put on a leather glove and moved over to the brazier. He continued jerking so much as I came near that one of his shoulders dislocated with a wet pop. Fear-piss soaked my boots.

I grabbed his junk with one and and brought the glowing knife slowly through his sizzling flesh. His eyes rolled back again. I used the opportunity to insert his flesh into his mouth and tied a rag under his chin to the top of his head to hold his mouth shut.

The sounds of puking and sobs echoed from the cells.

I put the slop bucket from a cell under him. It was full of foul smelling stuff. I reached up to the non-dislocated shoulder and pulled downwards. His body tilted in the air as the pulley raised his feet and lowered his head. I punched his shoulder and it dislocated too with another pop. He regained consciousness as his head lowered down into the bucket. Fast wheezing gasps came from the tube as the tickler felt piss and shit creep up his nose and into his mouth.

His shuddering body jerked behind me as I smiled at the prisoners.

So much valuable information.

"Who wants to tell me about gold?"