Ser-vile Experience

The people brought into the throne room are forced onto their knees in front of the nobles, causing the room to go silent at the sudden introduction. Michael's eyes harden as he looks down at the three families, or at least, that's what he assumed them to be.

Three pairs of middle-aged men and women, with their sons and daughters who ranged from seven years old to around fourteen. Each person was heavily bruised and looked utterly exhausted, completely unable to put up any resistance as the guards force them to remain on their knees.

The man, Baron Jargkon walks over and caresses the hair of one of the young boys, causing him to shudder and begin crying while the adults have looks of futile rage overtake their faces. "Ladies and Gentleman! May I present the Larchfield, Patrick, and Dolsmouth families to you... Their names are unimportant of course, as only their crimes truly matter now.

These people attempted to evade paying their taxes, believing that the traitor, Prince Wales is the true ruler of Albion. As you can see, I've tried stamping such ideas out, but it looks like a firmer hand is required... Lady Sheffield, if you may?" he says, making way for Sheffield.

That bitch Sheffield smiles menacingly as she walks over to Michael, stepping behind him and resting her hands on his shoulders as she whispers into his ear. "Gandalfr, I order you to strike that boy in the chest as hard as you can."

...

Michael's mind blanks at the request, but his body is already in action, slowly walking to the six-year-old boy who tearfully looks up at him. "No." Michael inwardly mutters, unable to put up any resistance as his body's hand rears back and punches the boy, sending him flying back into the legs of the guardsman waiting not far behind the group.

*Cough!*

The boy is tossed to the floor by the guardsman as he begins heavily coughing, holding his chest as he lays on the floor. Michael's punch was enough to break the young child's ribs, and judging by the blood he was coughing up, he may have pierced a lung.

Michael mind was shutting down at this point, his ego going silent as his brain memorizes these scenes. Sheffield and the nobles in the throne room begin laughing and commanding for him to do more, some even throwing cutlery for him to use.

Michael's body snatches a fork out of the air and plunges it into the young boy's arm, causing him to give a coughing scream of pain. Some of the restrained adults attempt to help the boy but they are forced back down again by the guards as Michael's body continues to torment the boy.

*Thud!*

*Thud!*

*Thud!*

Michael's body strikes the boy, again and again until he stops moving entirely. He then hears a shout from Baron Jargkon who by now is gorging himself on wine as he watches the events unfold, "CRUSH HIS SKULL!"

And, his body follows the order.

*CRUNCH!*

The young boy's skull crumbles under his barefoot, breaking bone and squishing brain matter as it explodes in a show of pure gore and brutality. The nobles cheer, the peasants scream, but Michael does nothing, not even removing his foot from the child's skull.

His mind is another matter however, "FUUUUCK! NO! PLEASE STOP! THIS IS MY BODY! JUST FUCKING STOP!" he inwardly screams, tears actually beginning to fall down his face despite him not having orders to cry.

The nobles only cheer louder at his state however, Sheffield herself grinning exuberantly at the mental turmoil she was clearly putting him through.

The night doesn't end there of course. There were still many people that required punishment...

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Michael awakens and finds his pillow complete soaked through with tears, he rubs his face but doesn't feel the energy to even get up, despite the discomfort of the damp pillow. He remembers that night vividly, as it was the start of Sheffield's change of tactics. Instead of simple physical torture and self-mutilation, she started using him as an executioner. All while making sure every person he killed was beaten to death with his bare hands as if to make sure he remembers the sensation.

And it worked... Even now his knuckles twinged with phantom feelings of crushing bone beneath them. He'd have been fine with executing criminals, but innocent people whose only crime was disagreeing with the Reconquista?...

The worst thing was the look in the people's eyes as he brutally murdered them, once he started crying they understood that he wasn't doing it under his own volition. After that understanding it was as if they let him kill them, even presenting their necks to end their suffering sooner.

Killing the adults would've been fine, a weight on his conscience, but manageable... But what Sheffield forced him to do to children? He'd make her pay for it, he'd skin her and throw her in the fucking sewers!

It takes around two hours for Michael to compose himself again. He was still tired, as his nightmare had awakened him far earlier than he intended. Yet, he didn't dare fall asleep again for fear of seeing the same dream.

He runs through Rhasta's words again, but doesn't find any solace as far as his conscience goes, let alone his hatred for Cromwell and Sheffield.

Something odd does happen once the time reaches 9 am, however... He gets a great sense of Deja vu, as if something was on the tip of his tongue but he just couldn't say it. He feels an odd need to look at his map, and once he does so he begins scanning it from top to bottom...

It's then he notices an inconsistency. Not a big one, but one he'd somehow completely overlooked. He scratches a mark into every village he visits to note that he'd been there already, but the scuff mark leftover Westwood was different from the others. The mark was far deeper and longer, as if it were made by someone with longer nails...