The sunrise streamed light through a high window onto the stony ground. Lucullus lifted his head, and looked around this strange place. He rubbed his eyes, and immediately he recognized where he was. The bars. The straw bedding in the corner. And that awful smell. He must’ve been taken to the village jail. It was more like a sewer than anything else, but a fitting place for those who violate the law. But why was he thrown in here? He tried to recall the previous night, only remembering his fight with the guards, and them announcing that charges had been made against him. But he knew not what the charges were.

His head throbbed, and sharp pains pulsed through him from his bruised ribs. It seemed to be a miracle that he was able to sit up. He noticed he had no shirt or trousers, but just a loincloth.

A guard came by the cell, accompanied by one of his comrades. He twirled a ring of keys on his finger as he strolled up to the cell door. “Well, look who it is. The man who cries out for justice as he strikes at the innocent.”

Lucullus looked up at him, his expression radiating with silent contempt.

“Nothing to say?” He leaned against the bars. “You seemed to have plenty to say last night. Or are you perhaps realizing your mistakes?”

Lucullus glared at him. His breaths were sharp.

He looked at his comrade. “Looks like you did pretty good. Didn’t know you’d be able to shut him up for that long.”

The other guard shrugged. “All I did was knock him out.”

“You’ll have to show me your secret. I wish I could get these scum to be silent like this more often.” He guffawed.

Lucullus turned away from the guards, unable to bear the sight of them.

“Just so you know, you’re being charged with sedition, murder, and assault on several fine guards.” He spat. “Figured you’d want to know. And since I was in such a good mood, I decided it wouldn’t hurt to tell you.” He gave a condescending grin. “I’ll be expecting a ‘thank you’ when I come back.”

As the two guards left, he began to pray silently.

“Lucullus. How’s your head? I heard about what happened.”

He stopped his prayers, and sighed.

“Lucullus! Turn around. Speak to me.”

He begrudgingly turned around. “Is this how you would keep me from learning the truth of Decimus’s death?”

Tullius shook his head in disbelief. “What are you on about?”

“I know those guards don’t make an arrest like that unless you give the orders. So why?”

He looked down and sighed. “They know.”

“They?”

“You were right about the conspiracy, more than you could ever know. Lord Quintilius offered me a deal from the conspirators. You had to be given over to them, and they promised to spare our village.”

He scoffed. “Spare us from what?”

The look of horror filled his eyes as he recalled. “I was shown visions of what was to come. Through a servant of their cause, who is great within Lucium. They would prepare the way for a great dragon with ten horns, who would rule over this world. In forty-two months, he will come into this world from his captivity, and all shall adore him. But those who reject him before his reign shall be made as the lowest slaves, or shall be killed.”

He shook his head. “And you went along with that?”

He gripped the bars. “What choice did I have? I at least saved you from being killed by them. Even with all the charges against you, a life in prison will be the worst you’ll get. Without me, you’d be dead like Decimus.” He let go of the bars. “You saw what they did to him. How do you fight that? You and I both know that if they can do that to him, they can do it to us even more.”

“You fool! To negotiate with these people is to admit defeat. You make Decimus’s sacrifice vain. Pointless. I was finishing what he started.”

He aggressively pointed at Lucullus. “It is you who has been the fool. Not me. You bear witness to their power, and you want to repeat the mistake Decimus made? With all of his resources and prestige, it didn’t save him from their wrath, even as they operate in the shadows. What makes you think you’ll fare better?”

He turned away. “If you would’ve helped me instead of helping yourself, we could’ve stopped them.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“I was saving both of us. If I would’ve denied them, I would be dead.” He once again pointed at Lucullus. “And you would’ve been next.” He took a breath to calm down. “Your trial is tomorrow morning. I made sure to get the elders more sympathetic to you to preside over it.” He sighed. “Sedition and assaulting guards will probably get you life in prison, but at least you’ll live. Perhaps you can learn to choose the right side, and I can come to release you one day.”

Lucullus shook his head as Tullius walked off. He crawled over to his straw bedding, and laid down. His head still felt terrible, but it was at least more bearable than when he woke up. The trial was, no doubt, a show trial. No conspiracy trial would be fair. But it would still be worth him trying to bring the secrets he knows to light, even if he had no access to proof, much less legal counsel.

Late in the evening, as Lucullus was resting, the guards entered his cell, and one kicked him to wake him up.

He rolled over to face the guards. “What do you want?”

The guard spat on him. “Watch your tone, profligate. You’re lucky to be alive right now.” He motioned for the other two guards. “Chain him.”

As ordered, they shackled him to chains that dangled from the ceiling.

He tried kicking one of the guards as they went to chain his feet to the floor.

They punched him in his bruised ribs, and continued chaining him.

“One stupid decision after another, Lucullus.” He chuckled. “You know, you’re only going to make this next part worse by resisting.”

The two guards pulled out their whips, and paced around Lucullus.

The other guard gave a sinister smile, and exited the cell. “You know what to do. Have fun, boys.”

They began giving Lucullus several lashes.

With each lash, his body jerked, though he was scarcely able to move. From his stretched position in the chains, any slight flinch agitated his injured ribs, causing sharp pains to shoot through him. All he could manage was a stifled grunt between lashes.

Once his torturers saw that he had enough lashes, they put away their whips, and punched him in his wounds until the other guard came back a few minutes later to end the torture.

“That’s enough, boys. I don’t want him to die before the trial starts.” He motioned for them to unchain him. “We’ll see you tomorrow, Lucullus. Have a good night’s rest.” He laughed. “You’ll need your rest for the trial. I just know you’ll be proven innocent.”

Lucullus crawled back to his bedding, and writhed in pain. His groans echoed through the jail. Thoughts of despair filled his mind. Truly, the gods which he dedicated his life to serving had forsaken him. All his life, the Magisters told him that if he prayed to the gods, they would always answer. Yet, even as he prayed to the patron demigod of his village, there was no answer. His harvest was good, and yet, his life was in tatters. He’s lost two friends, and was delivered into the hands of his torturers. Perhaps he did something to offend Ferax, and this was a divine punishment for it.

It was dark in the jail. The only light came from the moon as it streamed in through the windows. Lucullus slept like a corpse. He certainly felt like one, just without the benefits of actually being dead. He awoke to the sound of the door of his cell creaking open. But when he looked to see who it was, the door was closed, and no one was there.

As he started back to sleep, there came a great wind through his cell. A fog settled in, blocking his view of anything beyond the bars. The normally chilly air felt warm. And he wondered what sort of sign this was. Could it be the conspirators coming to kill him?

At the cell door, a ghostly figure appeared. As the figure became clearer in the fog, it walked toward him.

In a burst of adrenaline, he got up from his bedding, and assumed a defensive stance; one that wavered as the injuries he suffered earlier caused his muscles to give out.

The figure raised its hand up. “Be not afraid, Lucullus. I come not to inflict punishment upon you. For you have already suffered greatly. But I say to you: three times you shall be scourged by this world. One was, and two are to come. And no man shall scourge you any further, for it is first by man that you were afflicted; but He who has power over all things that shall put you to the test. First, by withdrawing his warmth from you, that you may know the desolate life you have lived. Second, you shall be purified in a trial by fire, and his saints shall minister to you.”

Lucullus, still breathing heavy, wondered in great confusion about the words which the apparition spoke; though he attempted to keep a neutral expression. “If you aren’t here to kill me, then why are you here? Who are you?”

“I am the one who He sent to make straight the ways of men. And I come to you with a warning from Him. Hearken to the one who sent me. Take heed to the signs He places before you. The spirit of darkness has covered the world. It attacks you because it knows you have been called to great things.”

“What are these signs that I will see?”

“They will be a beacon of light, which shall guide you on the path of righteousness and truth. But you must follow them, for He does not take away anyone’s free will. But the spirit of darkness corrupts all, and takes control of those who allow it in.”

“I can’t understand your riddles.” He approached the apparition. “Why must I be called to these great sufferings? I give many sacrifices to the temple. I pray frequently, and my ways are honest.”

The apparition shook its head. “You are called because it is the will of the most high. But you must be humbled, for your ways are lacking. Your sacrifices are hollow, and your words empty. For you give time to idols, to empty shrines; and you expect your seed to grow, yet do not give them light. All the water of the seas would do nothing to your seed because you keep it in darkness. Open your heart to the light, and your reward will be great.”

Before Lucullus could ask another question, the figure vanished; as did the fog and warmth in his cell. He pondered over all that was said by the mysterious ghost. This ghost looked almost like a man, but was so bright; almost too bright to look at. It was amazing no one else in the whole jail noticed it. But on what authority did it speak when it said that his prayers were empty? He put all of his heart into his prayers. It hardly gave him a straight answer; almost speaking like those of the noble courts do. Perhaps it was a… no it couldn’t be.

Before he could finish parsing the mysteries revealed to him, he passed out, not even making it back to his straw.