Disclaimer: I do not own Trinity Blood. This is a sequel to my previous story, Habeas Everto, and begins about a year after the conclusion of that story. Enjoy!
Trinity Blood: Sanctus Lancea
By: James Austin Valiant
The sweat started to pour off his face. The tight, enclosed room was suffocating him, pressing into him with the stale air that contained only his scent. He wished he could remember how he got there; he knew, but the memory had forced itself in the far reaches of his mind, where he could never hope to reach it. The man had already shed his outer shirt; he sat in the dark corner, trying his best to breathe normally.
After all the times he had told his friends to be careful, this was the one time he had ignored his own advice. The situation had appeared to be a trap, but he wasn't allowing himself to be cautious at the time. The Professor had a cardinal rule: there is always a way to figure things out. And this time, he had ignored that primal instinct. Was he slipping so much that he could no longer sense a trap?
To err is to be human, and as much as he hated to admit it, he was human. The overwhelming urge to vomit and evacuate every bit of squalid foodstuff from his stomach proved it, as did the treacherous smell invading his nostrils and overtook all his emotions. His unshaven beard gave him the visage of a callous, hardened criminal. Dry, chapped lips twisted in disgust and disdain and his tongue lusted for a drop of water. The callouses on his fingers showed the consistent and tedious work he had been forced to do, assembling gears and wires for months on end.
A small crack of light began to creep its way into the room, and the door at the far corner inched open. In it stood a man whose shadowy features were almost indecipherable for the lack of light. Darkness seemed to permeate through this man, yet there was an air of seeming calmness to him. A very hushed tone accompanied the stranger as he entered the room. This man in the doorway had, for sheer amusement, once stabbed and killed a man during a banquet with a steak knife. Brutality was no alien concept to him.
The Professor recalled other reports he had heard. Supposedly,Issak had been expelled and banned from traveling to several countries. Women all over feared him, for he was said to "discover" women, brutally rape and murder them. This was an evil soul, cultivated in an environment ruled by a vicious and unforgiving father, who had ceased to favor this dark son of his. Now, Panzer Magier was nothing more than an empty being, who tortured others for his own amusement.
The shadow broke into a sinister grin and addressed the Professor.
"William. I have received reports that work is proceeding at a good pace. Remember that the method for producing electrical repelling force must have provisions for imparting to a minute particle an extremely high charge." Isaak retrieved blueprints from his side.
"I trust that you and I will finally finish our project from so long ag—" The speaking man was interrupted by a sharp spit of blood and saliva that landed squarely on the toe of his right shoe.
"You arrogant idiot," the Professor spoke, as though struggling for every word, "This idea was stupid the first time we tried it, and it's even stupider to try it again. Sanctus Lancea is not a realistic, achievable idea!"
Striding forcefully into the room, Isaak grabbed the Professor by the back of the neck. When he realized that he was not going to stand, the dark haired Methuselah retrieved a weight from his pocket, and using it as a weapon, struck the Professor's knees. Grabbing the Professor once again, he forcefully dragged him out of the room, letting his boots drag stress marks in the ground.
The air outside the small room was no better than the air inside of it. It still stank, laden with the vapors of gallons of sweat and blood. In earlier times, it was rumored to have housed more than five-hundred prisoners. He knew where the man was taking him. Rumors spread around quickly and there was a proven truth to them. Now, they faced a wall that seemed to have a large sarcophagus growing out of it. The dark man smiled wryly, and threw open the door. The stench of a thousand deaths erupted from the enclosure. The Professor noticed sharp, metallic spikes and nails sticking out of all four sides of the sarcophagus, almost all of them were tipped with oxidized dark blood.
So, this is his famous iron maiden, the Professor thought. A device made up to torture and drive prisoners insane. With its enclosed space, soundproofing, and spikes, it was more than effective. Some iron maidens were created to kill, this one was not. It was created with the sole purpose of torture.
"So this is what you've been reduced to?" The Professor paused and chose his next words carefully. Under his breath, he uttered, "For the first hand man of such a powerful lord..."
"Now now, dear William. Mein Herr is truly a powerful and wise being, unlike your second rate watchdog you keep under Vatican control. Abel should keep trying to find you, though...how long has it been? A year?" Isaak taunted coolly.
"Listen Isaak," The Professor was not silent. "I am smarter than you, stronger than you, and at the end of this, I will be the one left standing."
Isaak von Kampfer did not answer with words. Instead, he forced the proud Professor into the grisly device. Slamming the door with an intensity that few could hope to display, he grinned, knowing the pain the Professor was feeling. It was pain that gave the dark man pleasure, pleasure that encompassed him and made him feel powerful.
Inside the iron maiden, the air was even more suffocating than the cell had been. The place began to grow darker, and old memories began to trespass on his current mindscape. The Professor attempted to collapse, but a sharp spike made him halt. There was nothing to do but stand…stand, take sparing breaths, hope and pray. Pray for his friends to rescue him. Pray for intercession. Pray for the strength, the integrity, the will to survive this torture.
