Harsh and heavy rasps of breathing echoed in the darkness of the relatively small room. The scent of rotting wood, musk, and iron filled the stale air. Gilles stared blankly at the old wooden floor. He had been chained and abandoned in this cramped, unsightly chamber for a long time without a sense of time.

Gilles closed his eyes as he thought of his impending doom. From his place, he heard light but purposeful footsteps approaching the room. He tugged slightly at the short iron chains stretching his arms. His toes barely touched the floor, as he hung from the ceiling while sweat soaked his half-naked body.

Suddenly, the heavy wooden door loudly slammed open. Light entered the cramped room, accompanied by a silhouette of a large man’s figure. Gilles’ eyes widen at the sight that the small fraction of light provided.

Coldness drenched and slithered throughout his whole body from the tips of his toes up towards his head. He saw the largest object placed at the corner of the room. A contraption, an iron cabinet with its door slightly opened. The interior was covered in spikes large enough to enclose an average sized human. The remaining colour on his face drained at the sight of the iron maiden. A donkey-like structure situated beside it, with a vertical wooden board with a sharp V-shaped wedge on top. A glimpse of a large wheel left on the floor caught his attention before the door slammed shut.

Gilles narrowed his eyes at the sudden appearance of a strange figure. With his heightened sense of hearing, he listened as a large cloth shuffled around before dropping to the floor. His heart pounded against his chest, warning him from the stranger’s presence.

“Hallo, Gilles. I’m Marc and I will be your personal companion for at least a week. Do not worry, I am a very entertaining man. I will make you howl until your throat could no longer produce any sound,” his mouth remained shut at those words. He never showed any signs of weakness in front of others, especially outside of his family.

“Not much of a speaker, huh,” the gruffness in his rough voice blared. He glared at the direction of the voice. “That is quite alright. If you did not notice already, I could speak for the both of us.”

“Now, if you were wondering about the reason for my presence here, it’s quite simple. You were chasing after the wrong people and they wanted you off their trails. They hired me to ask you how far your knowledge extends,” the guilt and disappointment hit him directly on the stomach. Because of his foolish, selfish, and reckless actions, he would be tortured, and he could not even do anything to protect his family any longer.

“Where would you like me to start?” the man huffed. Gilles sneered at the cold dread and bloodlust in his torturer’s veins. “Well, if you would like to try some of my impressive and reliable tools, I highly recommend my heretic’s fork. The iron maiden was too boorish while the Spanish donkey takes too much effort on my part.”

He listened as the man ranted on how he should start. “Maybe I should use my crocodile shears to one of your arms. They look awfully tired from being stretched for a long time, the shears should easily clamp them down before tearing them apart. In that way, you could be free from this filthy chain.”

“Or should I use a fancy heretic’s fork? It might help your posture from hanging from the walls for too long,” Marc never received a response from his new patron.

“Gilles, do you know what happens to anyone who dared ignore me?” he leaned closer to the man until he could feel his ragged breathing. A minute passed, then ten, and nothing. Gilles gave away nothing and merely stared back at him.

He clutched his stomach as he chortled in laughter and mirth. He had not seen another man capable of staring at him head on since his current… employer. Gilles squinted as he tried to adjust in the darkness. His torturer laughed genuine laughter.

‘How did I get myself involved with madmen?’ Gilles thought.

The man did not stop laughing. Whenever he had a glance of the blank face of the chained man, he could not keep the amusement from appearing on his face. Impressed, Marc wanted to applaud Gilles’ tenacity, however, he really needed to start working.

“I am truly slightly reluctant to do this, but a job was a job. You were barking the wrong tree, I’m afraid. Since I have a hunch that you won’t easily break, I want you to call me Marc,” he let a malicious grin slip out on his mouth. Marc does not know if Gilles could see him, but frankly, it does not matter to him, he just wanted to let him know that he was greatly amused.

Amused, indeed. “Now, are you ready to confess your sins?”

Nothing.

“If that’s what you prefer…,” a sound of unsheathing reached Gilles’ ears. He prepared his resolve from what was to come. “I dug my own grave, and I should lay on it. A man that held heavy responsibilities to his family such as I, will never bend my will for any man. I will never break through this torture, never,” he thought.

“I’ll give you the own personal touch of my beloved dagger.”

A loud scream then followed from Gilles, and a colourful string of curses directed at Marc, as a fingernail dropped on the floor.

ՓՓՓ

“Sire.” Fifteen men stood in a line on the clearing surrounded by artilleries. Their heads are lowered as soon as they saw Verdun’s figure. Wearing tattered clothes and thick brown cloaks, they shivered.

“Any news about the bastard that has been meddling in our dealings?” Verdun asked with a permanent scowl in place. One man at the farthest right end of their line lifted his head to frown. “I hope that you haven’t been slacking. These days, he’s been slipping through our grasps. Or do you perhaps forgot that he killed five of your men a fortnight ago?”

“I’m afraid that he managed to kill another man, just three days ago...” Verdun turned and glared. He brusquely walked towards the wide-eyed man and grabbed his collar. Lifting his hands, the shorter man stood on his toes, wincing at the pressure around his neck. “His company also managed to steal a key from Leonard. B-but rest assured, Sire, we’re currently h-hunting the woman. I believe that they are both currently residing in Hemlock.”

He squinted at the chocking man. With a flick of his wrist, the man slumped on the ground. Clutching his neck, the man scrambled to kneel as he forehead touched the cold soil. “Woman? You let a mere woman kill one of you, and furthermore steal the key.”

They all winced at the implication. Verdun rushed towards one of the shelves. He grabbed an unsheathed sword. All fifteen men copied the man kneeling on the ground. “Now, who wants to have the honour of taking responsibility for your blunders? If no one volunteered by the count of three, I’ll slit all your throats. Don’t forget that you’re all expendable.”

“Three.” Verdun gritted his teeth, tightly clutching the handle in his hands. A vein throbbed on his temples. He couldn’t believe that his men allowed a woman, of all people, to escape their palms. He squinted at their large, bulky, and tall statures grovelling on his feet. “How pathetic.”

“Two.” They glanced at each other, but no one spoke. “Is there anyone who has a spine here?”

“One.” At the same time, the same man who first kneeled crawled towards his feet. His body trembled when he touched Verdun’s ankle. His sweat dropped on the damp soil, and his raspy breathing filled the silent air. “Remove your filthy hands from me, servant.”

His forehead left a shallow dent on the ground as he buried his head deeper. Trembling hands laid flat beside his ears. “I ap-apologize, S-sire. I will take responsibility. Please, b-behead this insolent servant.”

Verdun felt their crippling fear on his skin. He smirked. Without a word, he stepped over the grovelling man and rushed towards the fourteen cowards. When a head rolled from a man’s head in the middle of the line, they screeched. Scrambling to their feet, one by one, he reached for their twisted facial features. They probably hadn’t predicted this outcome. Once fourteen head detached from their respective bodies, Verdun chuckled.

“I don’t need spineless cowards within my men who doesn’t have an initiative to die,” he stated. Fresh blood and littered with bodies filled the clearing. He stabbed the sword, upright, on one of the severed heads. Verdun’s once pristine clothes dyed in splotches of red and his face covered in vibrant red splatters. He turned at the single man left, licking his lips.

“Clean this,” he said. “I want you to scour the whole town for this woman. There is a high possibility that she knows where the vermin hides. I must give him my gratitude for leaving a mark on my shoulder. This time, I don’t want to hear news related or similar earlier. Understood?”

“Yes, Sire.” The man exclaimed through his chattering teeth.