The King - Dead for a piece of bread

Rufus's heart seemed to turn as cold as his guts. He was too tired for situations to worsen. What could it be now? Some sudden murder? Threats from the elite? An accident involving Cleopatra? Rufus looked at his daughter. The queen seemed to understand what was going through her husband's mind, so she held his chin and directed his face towards hers.

"That strange friend of yours, Captain, arrived yesterday from that stupid journey and brought a prisoner. The guards said the captain stayed on his ship at the port, but the prisoner is locked in the dungeons."

The news startled the King, who was regaining his strength. Not only because of the unexpected return of Captain, a dear and loyal friend, but also because it meant that the person responsible for the explosion might be imprisoned in the dungeons. Why would Captain, who was at the port, order someone to be arrested? He only used that privilege when something very serious happened; he wouldn't abuse the little power he had.

"Bring him immediately. Soldiers, retrieve the prisoner from Captain," the King commanded, rising from his throne to give the order.

"Please calm down, my King," Olympia said, placing her hand on the monarch's armored chest. "The prisoner was taken with a serious and poorly treated wound. He passed out after being placed in the cell, and Margaret herself assured me that no one was able to wake him up."

"And when was that? When did you speak with your sister?" the King asked.

"Shortly before you arrived," replied the Queen.

"I can't wait." The King gently brushed his hand on Cleopatra's face, who hadn't said a word, and then rushed down the stairs, heading to the place he disliked the most in all of Ard Taj, the dungeons of the royal fortress.

The path was well-known, albeit greatly avoided. The dungeons were built to imprison those who dared to defy royal orders. An immense cavern had been dug deep into what seemed like the end of the world, far below the ocean level. When he was still a child, Rufus accompanied his father to the torture sessions that were conducted in the depths of the dungeons, where the worst men were taken to be punished. The King vividly remembered the time when a boy, not much older than himself at the time, around eight years old, was captured and sentenced to torture. His father had told him that the boy was part of a group of men who gathered at night to invade homes, kill men, and violate women. However, the young boy, chained and helpless, kept insisting that he had only stolen to feed himself. Despite his father's accusations, Rufus couldn't help but feel a deep sense of empathy for the boy. The conflicting narratives and the boy's desperate pleas haunted Rufus, leaving him troubled by the possibility of ever having to endure such injustice and suffering. The knife sliced through his skin, creating gashes and tearing away pieces, while the young boy screamed with all his might. In that moment, Rufus empathized with him, imagining himself in the boy's position. The thought of enduring such pain and torture haunted him for years to come. The young boy was sliced open as he hung from his chains, already unconscious, after persistently proclaiming his innocence. It was then that one of his father's soldiers laid the boy sprawled out on a long table that lay below and severed both of the boy's hands. The gruesome act caused a torrent of blood to spray, but the boy remained motionless, lost in a deep slumber. Rufus could still recall the harrowing scene, the sound of the blade cutting through flesh, and the sight of the boy's hands being severed. It was a brutal and disturbing display of power that left a lasting impact on Rufus, forever reminding him of the horrors that could unfold within the walls of the dungeons. Blood splattered in that moment, but the frail little boy seemed to face an even greater challenge: the deepest slumber. The boy only regained consciousness when a healer pressed a peculiar tool with a flat, red-hot head against the boy's bloody wrist. In response, he jolted up, screaming and leaping off the table. However, the session was far from over. Two soldiers held the young boy, each extending one of his handless arms forward. The healer pressed that instrument onto the stump of the boy. A sound of burning blood and vaporizing echoed softly as the boy's screams seemed to shake the entire dungeon. Why hadn't they put something in his mouth to silence him? His father later explained to him that it was important for the accused to hear their own screams so they would never forget them. The boy, Rufus thought, died as soon as the young prince left that dungeon, but his screams remained vivid in Rufus's mind to this day. It was only after many years that he understood the importance of torture. Although he didn't engage in it as frequently as his father, he always allowed thieves, rapists, and murderers to undergo a session of cuts so they would never forget their wicked deeds. However, amputations had been prohibited.