"Information is the most important asset in war. There are many ways to obtain information, from stealing enemy reports and orders to figuring out the enemy strategy. However, the most accurate information comes from the enemy themselves. If you are lucky enough to capture an enemy, the most reliable way to obtain information from them is torture. With torture, do not needlessly inflict pain. Inflict enough pain for them to give up their information but make sure to keep on dangling the promise of escape if they the information is given up. Of course you would still kill the enemy, however that is the most important rule of torture. Too much or too little of pain will render that opportunity of gathering information useless."
-Redcap Translations, by Cameron Coy
As the morning light shone through the cracks in the walls and the barred window, a battered and ruined boy finally decided to tear his eyelids open. Rather than being met with his bedroom, the sight of a cold, stone cell greeted him grimly. No bed, just an armless chair which the boy was strapped to. No work desk, but a small wooden projection from the wall with countless unrecognisable tools on it. No window with a view of the whole of Lower Alandriel, just a small barred up gap at the very top of the wall behind Daniel which he couldn't even see. No Igo barging in through that wooden bedroom door, just a heavy iron slab with a handle blocking any view of where he could be. A constant banging rang throughout Daniel's head, his ears and eyes trying to figure out how to hear or see once again. A raw pain shot around each and every nerve in his body, his eyes darting up and down and side to side around the room in absolute terror and agony. His throat, completely dry and coarse and whatever voice that croaked out of it was not one usually associated with its bearer. Fingers bloodied and warped, with a few fingernails ripped out here and there. The banging became worse. No amount of screaming and yelling could get across the pain and fear Daniel felt. The banging became consistent with a small voice accompanying it. Why? The voice became louder. Why? w-What happened... I want to go home! The voice began to sound like words. P-please get me home! Anyone... Nyn! Lanyon! Igo! Sun! P-please-
"Wakey-wakey, get up already! Your host is arriving!"
The voice became real. Host? I-I'm a guest?! What do you mean! I-I-I want to g-go home! Please! I beg of you! Just let- The door of the cell swung open. What would be the outside of the cell was obscured by a towering figure, seeming larger than life itself. The man exhumed pride and power with every step he took towards Daniel. Though his eyes could not raise themselves enough to see the man's face, only allowing him to see a smart crimson suit and black shoes, Daniel could see that behind him cowered a shaking boy, dishevelled white hair crashing down the sides of his head, an expression of pure embarrassment and shame smothered over his face; for some reason Daniel felt like that appearance and especially that expression did not suit the boy he just met, a boy just around the same age as him, and oddly familiar in a way he could not describe.
"Is this him?" a booming voice exploded massively, sending shivers down those who heard it.
"Y-yes, fath-Inquisitor." the boy behind this man squealed.
"I thought I told you not to call me father, boy." an otherworldly voice threatened, the bearer of this voice looking down upon the boy.
"Yes, Inquisitor" the boy uttered emotionlessly, standing up straight with a blank stare at that man's orders.
"Good. No need to remind you then." the voice ordered, "Now... Daniel, I believe your name is, yes?"
"...y-yes..." Daniel croaked, using every bit of resolve in himself to respond, even though he didn't particularly want to; as if he was compelled to do it by some unknown force.
"Daniel, the reason I have you here is because I believe you know someone very... let's say important to me. So, with that in mind," the voice crouched down to head level with the boy, his head turned slightly to the left, "do you know of a man called Lucan Duskwalker?"
This man, much like his voice, felt almost god-like. A glorious head of brown and slightly greying hair topped the war-hardened and dead expression of his face. A stout yet sharp nose, accompanied by slightly slanted eyes, a creeping smile engulfing the bottom half of his face, though there was no emotion behind that smile. That smile was deliberate, only made to force fear down the throat of any who just so happened to lay their gaze upon it. This man was the epitome of beauty itself, with not even the prettiest woman in all of Alium able to match it.
"What is your answer, Daniel?" the voice boomed again, more demanding this time. With Daniel not even realising it, minutes had passed between the first question and what this man was saying now; that long of a time absorbed simply in the appearance of a man.
"...w-wh..."
"Hmm? What did you say?"
"...w-ho.."
"Denying it are you? Well, some persuading will help with that. Boy, let's leave this to Harold, shall we?"
"Yes Inquisitor"
"Harold, I'll leave it to you" the voice commanded, looking over to a hunch-back man smirking behind the door entrance.
"It'll be my pleasure..." the man laughed cynically, stepping into the room and preparing the strange tools; various knives and saws stained in red, "I'll enjoy this. I hope you will too..."
That day, a large manor in Upper Alandriel in the nobles quarter was filled with the screams of a young boy, begging for help. But by the time the screaming stopped, help never came. When Daniel came to again, basking in the moonlight of a full moon, he realised he was now missing all of his fingernails and had a broken nose. The man who was called 'Harold' had left the room with a conniving smile, chuckling as he went. Trying as much as he could, Daniel could not remember how he got here, only a bit of the torture he endured yesterday and now. It almost felt like whatever he did to get here was 'removed' somehow from his memory. Although, his body did react strangely to that dishevelled boy earlier, as if it pained to see him that way. Before long, however, the moonlight was snuffed out of the sky, leaving Daniel in an inescapable dark, unable to sleep nor rest. Hours passed insufferably, and the screams for help fell on deaf ears. Pain reverberated around his body, convulsing and begging for it to be alleviated ...anyone... please just anyone, help me... plea- The door swung open again, revealing the man and that boy from yesterday once more. Wait, yesterday? Daniel hadn't realised, but daylight was now shining into his cell and the day was over.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
"I hope what you experienced yesterday persuaded you into revealing the truth," the man said, his voice just as otherworldly as it was yesterday, before crouching down once more and asking, "So, do you know of a man called Lucan Duskwalker?"
"...n... ...n-no..."
"Tut-tut-tut, very disappointing, Daniel. I would have expected by now that you'd realise resisting won't get you anywhere. Why don't you just say it? That you do know him? That way you'll be free, and this suffering over with. So why do you keep denying the truth!" shouted the man, punching his fist into the stone wall next to him, the brick shattering into small shards of rock, and a crater forming from the dust that lay upon the impact. And with it came gushing in a wave of pure wrath and anger and frustration and everything few and far between, palpitating with the swift rushing of a heartbeat and so dense, it felt like you couldn't breathe.
"...-ing..."
"What?!" exclaimed the man, crouching down and into Daniel's face, locking each other's eyes into a stare.
"...i'm... n-not... lying..." the ruined boy said, dooming the room to a palpable silence.
"You frustrate me, Daniel. Not only have you been in contact with Lucan Duskwalker, but the scan even told us you have conversed with him on many an occasion," the man said, condescendingly with his 'aura' disappearing, before commenting, "Harold. Let me do the work for today- also fetch me that whip of yours you made a while back, I think it'll come in handy."
"Heheh... this will be a fun one," the man called Harold snickered behind the iron door, "You'll be havin' them shortly, Inquisitor..." he finished, shuffling away.
"So let's start with this," the man talked to himself, pulling out a small set of pliers and a hammer out of the 'tool' shelf next to him, also stained in red, "Daniel... I believe you came to the city from the county-side and then somehow met Lucan Duskwalker soon after, no?"
"...-hu... -huh..?"
"Lies," the man spouted, pulling over a trolley that Harold had brought when he just now returned, where he strapped Daniel's arms onto. The stain of blood persisted on the top tray as well, and while Daniel realised this, the man continued, "First, will be your pinkie."
The man seemingly swung his arm downwards, yet to Daniel it looked like he hadn't swung it at all. In reality however, the man simply swung it too fast to see. And the horrid pain of a hammer swinging down and smashing his left little-finger to bits followed, with the ear-splitting scream of agony a close second behind. Fragments of bone and flesh lay strewn across the tray, a small bloodied stub left where the finger once was, and a small unevenly broken bone deciding to poke its head out from it as well. Due to the size of the hammer, a sizable chunk of flesh was also taken off from the left ring finger as well, exposing the raw white of an untouched bone inside, a crimson pool of blood leaking from the two fingers.
"I shall ask you again. After you departed from your home in the country-side, you stayed at the lodging of a certain Iago Duskwalker and met with the concerned Lucan Duskwalker the day afterwards, correct?"
"p-p-please... I d-do not kn-n-n-now... plea-"
"Lies. Ring."
The hammer struck once more, this time further into the base of the finger, separating the finger into two parts; the knuckle and the tip, hanging onto each other by a single tendon, half torn. The rest lay in smithereens across the tray, with a fragment of the smashed finger bone flying past Daniel's face, leaving a single line of red across his cheek. As usual, another scream followed, this time more horrifying than the last. Yet this time, the snickering of a certain grotesque man in the back accompanied in it, a bloodthirsty look in their eyes; it was Harold.
"If you lie, you shall have one of your appendages 'removed' something that you should've guessed by now, if you could even think straight from the pain surging through you right now."
"...I-I don't, I don't know w-what you're talking about... p-please just-"
"Tut-tut-tut," the man interrupted, pulling put the plier and squeezing it open and wedging Daniel's right little finger in it, "any more lies and I'll simply let go, would you want that?"
"...I d-don-"
A gut-wrenching snapping sound reverberated around the cell, with Daniel's finger being snapped clean in half at just below the middle knuckle. It was routine by now. Screaming. The laughter. The silence. Then repeat.
"Harold, will you lend me the whip now?"
"Hehehe... Yes I will, Inquisitor" chuckled Harold, bowing and presenting a whip to the man. The whip was made of a hard, thick leather, with nails, razor blades and spikes attached at uneven intervals to the hide.
"Please take the tray away, and make sure to keep the remains, for you know what."
"Yes, Inquisitor"
Harold unceremoniously ripped Daniel's hands out of the restraints, even ripping off the part of the finger that hung by a tendon to its body, before putting it on the tray and sliding it away and past the cell. Every singular iota of Daniel's being begged itself to run or hide or for the sweet release of death. He twitched and convulsed, while frozen rivers ran down his face, head hanging low.
"Now, Daniel," the man exclaimed, causing Daniel to raise his head just enough to get a view on his tormentor, "The punishment has changed. Tell a lie and you shall receive ten lashes by this whip. Let's start. The days after you first came to Alandriel, you seemingly met up with Lucan Duskwalker consistently, no?"
"..."
"Answer me, Daniel. Insolence is not tolerated and will be met with a far harsher punishment."
"...-idn't-"
Before Daniel could even finish his attempt at an answer, the whip contorted and slashed against his face, ripping and gnawing at his flesh and skin, forming a straight line of blood across his face, pieces of muscle and flesh peeling off around the tear. And, before Daniel could even feel the pain of the injury, the whip lashed again. At his chest; his arms; his legs; his face again and everything that could be hit, delayed screams at each movement of the whip. Until...
"I think that's enough for the day. Son, Harold, leave him to rest."
"Yes, Inquisitor" two voices rung out simultaneously, one belonging to the revolting man, and the other from the boy, whose almost holy voice seemed an angelic saviour from his old life into his new one of torture. Although, who this saviour was, Daniel could not tell. The two who responded, walked out of the cell together, as the man in front simply turned around and followed, as he shut the heavy, iron door slowly, inching forward as it met and crashed with its frame. With that, despite the sun still shining, Daniel's day ended, for the only thing he could do was sleep the pain away.