Chronicles of the Reaper - Chapter 7
Pressure mounted on both sides of the interrogation as the Night Agents watched Quentin gradually regained his consciousness. To the awakening halfling, he had hoped that all that passed was just a horrible nightmare. From the moment he was abducted in darkness, on board of his mainland bound merchant ship, to the tortures of these relentless creatures.
The Night Agents are royally commissioned assassins, spies and informants to the Kingdom of Veldyia, and they exist only in whispers and rumors to their allies and enemies alike as their under armed tactics leave the peace-loving Velydians much to be desired. Whatever foul rumors about tortures, abduction, secret executions, that spread through Veldyia are probably true. Their sinisterly dark activities pricks like the ugly thorns in the guise of a rose, secretly striking terror across the lands even to their unsuspecting allies, as their motives, intents, and operations come unannounced and unknown.
Like all twisted games of espionage, all identities of Night Agents are well guarded and almost known not to exist; faces are masked in hoods, goggles, and cloths that allowed no compromise in security of information. Families, marriage and lovers are almost the unwritten taboo for every member; the rules of the agency are harsh towards its members, and even harsher upon its enemies. For that, the organization has proved successful in years of its silent pursuit to foil countless attacks and invasions.
The recent turn of events however, troubled the intuitions of the Night Agent's Sovereign, the top of the Agency's hierarchical chain of command, the finest and most cunning of all agents – Cain. He struck a menacing stance, with arms crossed over his leather bounded chest, outfitted to function as agile as his reflexes. The unfold collar towered up high to shield his neck and jaw line, masked behind a dark cowl that cast his face in darkness, his empty visage would lead anyone to believe him as a shadow incarnate.
Quentin, a stripped down resilient halfling, roused bleary-eyed and giddy, vomited a pool of yellow and green onto the ground. His arms started to sore for being held up above the ground by chains. He tiredly sways himself back and fourth to no avail.
"Quentin," the sturdy interrogator started, "Who are you working for?" He motioned his large, strongly built comrade to splash cold water on him.
"I…work…for myself…" Quentin roused completely as he defended. He teeth chatters at the shivering cold.
A slash of whip came down on his pale skin, instantly opened a wound across his chest, accompanied with a shriek of agony.
"The torture won't stop, Quentin. Talk!" Another cold, heartless slash came down on the crying halfling, wailing in pain, humiliation and tears.
"What…what do you want!" Quentin pleaded innocence to stall any attacks.
"You came to this island two years ago as a merchant, traded on cloths for jewels, is that true?" his torturer asked rhetorically which was replied with a nod. "That…that's what I do…"
"Half a year later, you purchased a mansion off the Emerald port in the forest and traded as you were." He growled, as if his crimes are soon to be revealed. "Last winter, your visit to Veldyia became frequent and almost routine."
"The demands for Veldyia Jewels were profitable…" Quentin wheezed at his opening gash, when another sharp stroke of leather came down hard on him, opening a third wound. "Liar!" the interrogator yelled. "the Port Master's ship manifest list revealed little to no goods worthy of transactions since late winter…!
Yet you spent lavishly on luxuries throughout summer and spring!" The interrogator came close to him with dagger at hand, jabbed once at his open wound, twisting the halfling's shallow injury. "You spent no more than 2 days on every trip; you bought a bigger ship, extended your mansion and kept a mistress for pleasure." He snarled viciously behind his mask. "Who's paying you, Quentin? What is your purpose here in Veldyia? What was written in that letter you carried in your inner breast pocket?"
Shocked at how much they know and realizing the fact that he has been cornered, he groveled for mercy, "Please…I know nothing, I'm merely a messenger…"
"Liar!" the interrogator pressed his blade deeper in his flesh. "Why was your mansion extended? Like a fortress with traps and barred doors! What are you hiding?"
"I…I…" he trembled at the thought of being a betrayer, but the pain was already too much to bear and there was no point in extending this any further. "To house the halfling girl!" he exclaimed in despair.
"Who is this halfling girl? Talk!" the torturer pressed on.
"I was never part of any plan, I was merely the messenger that brought the encoded message to the mainland." He began talking in speed. "She was never…" he carefully chose his words. "…she was never really my mistress; she is the liaison to my real employers that I've never met."
The torturer contemplates at the new information before asking the next, "What was your mission on the mainland?"
"I…I…" he was frightened as he was afraid they might catch him lying for claiming to such a minute task. "I merely serve as a messenger as I have here…" Expecting another attack, which came just as true. "Argg! I swear I'm telling the truth!"
Pausing, the torturer walked and spoke to Cain. He returned and said, "Tell me more about this halfling girl, what of her significance? When have you both met?"
"Shortly before winter, I was…'approached'," Quentin emphasized the word. "…by a halfling girl who seek my companionship. She claimed to have come here and start her life anew." He swallowed. "She requested to purchase the property under my name and be my benefactor."
"What else? What did she tell you about your missions? Where is she getting all her money?" the Agent asked.
"She…she began preaching about the repression and cruelty of the elites of Veldyia…about a great change..." he shook his head in confusion, "..and the selfishness and arrogance of the kingdom." He seemed lost in words. "I…I can't…I don't recall the bulk of philosophies she advocated, but…" suddenly his eyes flared with an unusual faith. "Torture and fear tactics…" he whispered. He suddenly realized the significance and sense of the countless preaching. "The kingdom is naught but a kingdom built in a web of hypocrisy and deceit!" he breathed. "People with innocent philosophies of revolution were taken away and punished! Vile dark, dungeons built as elaborate as the city! A city that houses murderous barons that escapes justice!" His pain no longer took hold of him as he recalled propagandas of hate. "The poor are denied second chances and be cast off into the wilds like animals! Animals! Animals!" he yelled in transition to a completely different person and continued spewing out litanies of curses.
Stepping back, the torturer confirmed their suspicions and spoke. "Quentin François, you are hereby charged on counts of treason, which is punishable by death under the decree of High Lord Veldanen and the Ministry of Defense. Your lands, property and family will be seized by the kingdom. Your kin, spouse and children will be placed under arrest and be further interrogated to ascertain their loyalties…" the torturer's announcement sent Quentin silent in shock. "My spouse…?" he echoed disbelievingly.
"Your family is already here in Veldyia," the Agent claimed as he moved closer to his ears. "…your pregnant wife, Lydia." The torturer whispered wickedly into his ears. The growing courage scribed on Quentin's soul was crushed instantly, not doubting the words of these people. "My child is coming to this world…please, give us all a chance…" he noticed the implications and started weeping bitterly.
Cain shifted his foot a little before walking forward. A glimmer of hope replaced Quentin's misty eyes. "Milord…" he recognized Cain's powerful authority when the other step back in respect.
With hands on Quentin's shoulder, gazing at Quentin through the darkness of his cowl, he said with deep, judgmental tone, "What's left for you, halfling?" Quentin met his gaze morbidly. "When all, you have betrayed…?" His words hit the tormented halfling like an avalanche of rocks.
"Execute him." Cain ordered. Immediately, the agents unbind the agonizing halfling that was crying out for mercy. He wept silently when he was forced to his knees and when a big, burly hand held his head steady. A drow agent unsheathed a formidable katana and aimed at his tiny neck.
With courage, he mustered, "What of my family, milord?" he asked pleadingly while looking towards Cain who is walking away. "Your family will suffer the same fate as those who betrayed the Kingdom," Quentin looked down in hopelessness and tears, almost ready to accept his fate. When he closed his eyes in prayer, the sword came down like lightning, severing the head.
Approaching his second-in-command, the lady agent with a double-blade asked, "Do we execute the spouse?"
"No, she can wait. We will place her in the cell for now." He refuted. "Our top priority is searching for the halfling girl."
"In the mansion?" she confirmed.
"That seems to be our only lead," he nodded. "All five of us will launch an attack as soon as they get rid of the body, request Pione to initiate the high alert protocol, leave no stones unturned."
She quickly leaves to get prepared.
Unflinching at the execution, his mind calmly formulated thousands of possibilities.