Chapter 0
Verse 1: The Power of Sword
Faint rays of moonlight were piercing through the tall glass windows of the training hall, illuminating weapon stands and dummies standing alongside the wall. It was late evening and most of the castle servants were leaving their posts, preparing to sleep. Nevertheless, the hall was still filled with ringing noises of metal blades meeting each other, like it was the middle of a training day.
Slash! A young black-haired lad made a forward strike, which was shortly blocked by his opponent, a bearded nobleman in his mid-forties, who already seemed to be quite exhausted by the sparring. Their swords met, making a clashing sound echoing through the corridors. Breathing out, the lad dashed back and prepared to make another front slash but just a moment before his hands were ready to perform the strike, he noticed the opponent was already aware of his next move, preparing to block the hit. The young man quickly changed his stance and performed a side attack.
Slash! The opponent clearly didn't expect such a rapid move and barely managed to block the hit. Their swords met again, this time the lad's one was slipping down the blade of his opponent. He felt it and quickly rushed his sword down until it hit the crossguard, which made the old man lose his balance. Using precious seconds, the lad made a rapid blow with all the strength he had.
Slash! The opponent's sword left his hands and flew through the hall hitting the cold stone floor with its hilt. The defeated man was now standing with a blade next to his throat. He raised his hands and smiled slightly, "Good job, my son!"
Gaap, the great king of Caerleon, was just defeated by his son Caim, who in his fifteen years already wielded the blade like a seasoned soldier. Though the king's youth passed long ago and his fighting skills were not at their best, he had still believed he could defeat a young hothead lad – the reality proved him the opposite. Gaap was truly proud of his son's skills but worried about the rage and temper he used them with. He had enough experience to know that such obsessions bring no good.
Caim took his sword away and calmly answered, "Thanks!". After his father picked up his blade from the other side of the training hall, Caim continued, "Do you need a rematch?" Gaap put the sword back into the stash at the corner of the hall and then replied, "No, you deserve that victory. It is pretty late, and I have plenty of audiences tomorrow." Caim nodded and proceeded to put away his sword and armor.
Several minutes later they were both walking towards the royal chambers through the dim corridors of the castle eliminated only by sparsely lit torches. Though it was almost night, Gaap was still processing all the sparring lessons he had with his son. He was not injudicious to underestimate the importance of the sword skills but he was wise enough to understand that they should not be the only trait of a future king. So, as they were walking up the stairs, he reluctantly started the dialogue.
"Son, this may be not the right time but I need to tell you something."
"Yes," Caim replied coldly.
"I am proud of your success in sword training but I do not appreciate the joy with which you are wielding your blade. You must understand that you will fight not for yourself but for your country. No matter how violently you swing a selfish sword, it can never defeat one that is drawn in the name of the nation," Gaap finished just as they approached Caim's bedroom. He turned to his son and continued. "Besides, I cannot condone your attitude towards the other lessons. I know they may seem boring and worthless but a true king must be sage in many things, not just one. Do not skip them just because you deem them unnecessary. When the time comes, you will find all the knowledge you've received truly useful." "I get it," Caim answered shortly. It was unclear whether he intentionally snapped or was too weary to hearken to his father's words. "I hope," the king answered just before Caim closed the door behind him.
Though deep in his heart Gaap knew that his son was still far from understanding the true meaning behind these words, the king was not discouraged. After all, Caim was only fifteen, and being an heir to the throne is not an easy thing. Gaap believed he still had a lot of time to mentor his son and direct him to the right path. With these thoughts, the king turned around and headed towards his chambers.
Verse 2: Self-righteousness
Through the large stone arc covered with vines, young Furiae walked into the inner garden. The spring sun was shining on the fresh grass and blooming flowers, the wind was finding its way over the high walls and through the long stone halls of the castle and reached the garden as a warm breeze blowing through bushes and leaves. Furiae walked along the stone path touching herbs and flowers with one hand while holding a book in the other. At the end of the road, there was a fountain surrounded by several small wooden benches. She sat on the one covered by the shade of a large oak tree and started reading. She tried to concentrate on words and sentences but the further she read the further her mind was drifting away into her own thoughts. Eventually, she put the book aside and ventured into the tall grass behind the fountain. She found the softest patch and fell on the ground. Her face and neck felt the warm sunrays while her back sensed the coolness of the grass and soil. She laughed out of happiness: cold days were over and she could finally stay outside all day – what else an 11-year-old girl can dream about?
As Furiae was enjoying the moment, a boy's voice echoed through the garden, "Furiae, are you here?" She jumped from the ground and rushed back to the fountain. "Inuart, I'm so happy to see you!" she said as she ran into him with hugs, which almost knocked the young lad off his feet.
"Yes, me too," he answered hugging her in response.
"How are you?" Inuart asked after a short pause.
"Oh, I'm great! It's finally warm, I no longer have to sit in the castle near the fireplaces!" the girl responded excitedly. "The parents still insist I should dedicate my time to studying but their mentors and their books are so boring!" she added in an indignant tone.
"Hah, my parents always tell me the same! How's your brother?"
"Caim… he must be training. Let's go see him!"
Furiae took Inuart by his hand and they both ran to the other side of the inner yard, where the training ground was located.
As the couple was approaching the place, they heard thuds and shouts. The training ground was a large stone platform with several dummies standing in line and Caim was practicing stances and strikes on one of them.
"Hi, Caim!" Inuart shouted to him. The lad ignored his greetings.
"Hey, brother, it's so good in the garden! Why don't you play hide and seek with us?"
The young prince stopped swinging his sword for a second. "I've got no time for your silly games!" he responded curtly and continued the training.
"Do you always have to be rude?" Inuart asked.
The lad lowered his sword and signed, "I'm becoming the king in a couple of years and I will have to rule this country. I must be in my best form, I can't let myself be weak like you!" Caim snapped at him.
"So, you're saying I am weak?!" Inuart responded in frustration. He walked towards the weapon stand filled with wooden swords. He took one, approached Caim, and took a fighting stance. "Stand aside, Furiae!" he shouted to the girl. She stepped away from the stone platform and was looking at the scene from afar.
"Try it!" Caim said tauntingly.
Inuart rushed into Caim with his wooden sword in front, the prince dashed aside and the boy fell flat onto the stone floor. Just as he rolled on his back in an attempt to block the hit from behind, Caim stepped on Inuart's hand holding the sword, and put his own weapon to the boy's throat. Furiae was both shocked and impressed by such a swift victory but did not show her emotions. After several seconds, the prince took his foot off the Inuart's hand and kicked the lying sword into the far corner of the arena. Slowly, the boy got up back on his feet. Being defeated so quickly almost made him burst into tears but he did not want to give Caim one more reason to mock him. Even though Inuart was 4 years younger and was clearly less experienced in wielding a sword this loss felt devastating for him.
"Told you…" Caim spoke coldly.
Inuart did not know what to answer or what to do, so he just quietly walked away and headed to Furiae who was standing under the nearby tree.
"Don't worry, you will win next time!" she told him cheerfully.
"Now get lost you both!" the prince shouted and continued his training.
The couple was walking back to the garden in silence. Inuart was very unwilling to talk and Furiae was afraid to hurt him by discussing what had just happened. She really appreciated how gentle he was towards her and cherished their time spent together. At the same time, there was another feeling, a different one. Caim's cold voice, his unmatched strength, and ruthless manners - all this evoked pretty strange emotions in Furiae's heart: something between deep admiration and strong affection. Was it the natural love of a sister towards her brother or something more, something stronger? She could not answer. These thoughts were dragging her into deep reflections, which she did not want to dive into. At least not at that moment, not with Inuart. So, she just squeezed his hand, put her head on his shoulder, and they slowly walked among the green trees and vivid flowers, enjoying the first warm days of the year.
Verse 3: Cunning Attitude
The city was boiling with life at midday: craftsmen had their workshops open, market vendors were shouting about their goods, heralds were reading the latest news, and beggars were approaching every passer-by by asking for a coin. Among the general folks minding their own business Caim and Furiae were walking escorted by three guards. Their father had to meet with the city aristocracy that day, and Furiae, who rarely left the castle walls had begged to go with him. The king knew she would get bored by sitting with him at negotiations, so he asked Caim to look after her.
The streets were very busy, so the group had to push through crowds of people, who were surprised to see the kings' children roaming the streets. Furiae was in a cheerful mood and looked around in wonder, surprised by how much the city was different from the castle. Houses standing next to each other so close that even a mouse would have a hard time passing in between; some of them were tall with many windows and chimneys, others had only one floor and barely any windows; some were wooden with colored ornaments carved on their walls, some were stone with fabric banners hanging from their roofs, others were plain with no decorations; some were looking as they had just been built, others were so run-down that they would have had crumbled long ago if not for the nearby houses supporting the walls.
"Are these as big inside as our castle?" Furiae asked wondering.
"No," Caim answered shortly.
"Are they even bigger?"
Caim ignored the question.
"No, they are much smaller inside, lady Furiae," one of the guards replied.
"How do the people live in them?" Furiae said bewilderedly, "Don't they have bedrooms, dining rooms, servants' rooms, a ballroom…"
"No, lady Furiae, the folks' life is much simpler than the royal one," the guard continued.
"Oh, interesting…"
As they were leaving the city center, they walked into a small park near the river that passed through the entire town. Being exhausted from the long walk, Furiae sat under the nearby tree.
"I'm tired, brother! Can we stay here?"
"Yes," Caim answered, shortly as usual.
"Go to the aristocracy district. Once the king is ready to go back to the castle, return to pick us up," the prince ordered one of the guards who was escorting them.
"Yes, my lord!" the guard responded and left towards the house where Gaap held the negotiations.
Being left with only two guards, Caim gave them a sign to stay at the park entrance and rested against the tree himself. His sister was looking at the houses beyond the river, while the prince just closed his eyes putting his hands behind his head. Furiae turned to him, suddenly for her, he had a smile on his face – a rare thing for him; he clearly was thinking about something pleasant.
"Hey brother, aren't the people sad that they do not have things we have?" she wondered.
"What do you mean?" Caim asked coldly without opening his eyes.
"Well, servants, guards, don't they need…"
"No, they don't need," he replied in the same bleak tone interrupting her.
"Why? Don't they want..."
"I don't care what they want as long as they are loyal and serve the kingdom!" the prince suddenly snapped, replying to his sister's question.
Furiae was dumbfounded by her brother's answer and pondered upon it for some time. The 12-year-old girl just couldn't comprehend the basics of social stratification and inequity. She hardly was able to; she spent most of her days in the castle surrounded by servants and spoiled by the love of her royal parents, she could not possibly imagine the life of an ordinary peasant, so she kept asking questions.
"Why can't they live like we do?"
Caim sighed with disdain which made his smile look a bit terrifying; then he replied, "They serve us, we rule them, we are superior. They will never reach our status. They live as we want and do what we want. When we need, we send them to die for us; when we need, we execute them ourselves. We are the ones that rule these lands and it is for us to decide what they should and should not do. Soon I will become the king and it will be for me to decide what's right and what's wrong!" he was speaking with such passion as if he was ready to send all the folks of his country into war to conquer the nearby lands right at that moment. Furiae was shocked by her brother's attitude towards the people of their country; at the same time, she was fascinated by his powerful voice. Such a cold-hearted and honest tone created an unusually strong mixture of feelings that provoked twisted admiration of him inside her. She put her left hand on his right hand; Caim ignored that and just put his left hand on the hilt of his sword, which he always kept in the scabbards on the left side of his belt. He was thinking about very different things: in a couple of months, he would turn eighteen which allowed him to become a new full-fledged king of Caerleon as long as his father agreed to cede this position. Caim was ready to do anything to prove he was worthy of it. He thought about practicing his sword skills to perfection and using them to defeat everyone whom he deemed unworthy and weak, so he would become the mightiest ruler in the history of the kingdom.
As brother and sister were sitting under the tree, they were approached by the guard that the Caim sent to the king about half an hour ago.
"My lord," he spoke, "The kind has finished his negotiations and is waiting for you near the carriages outside the city walls."
"Let's go," Caim responded and opened his eyes. He and Furiae stood up from under the tree unwillingly and, escorted by three guards, together they left towards the nearest gates out of the city.
Verse 4: Hatred Unleashed
The sun had gone down the horizon a long time ago; still some of its rays remained on a small portion of the sky's veil creating a fiery crimson picture of a fading sunset. The stone path leading towards the castle was illuminated by a few torches on wooden poles placed alongside the road. It was Caim's eighteenth birthday and he decided to spend this day riding a stallion around the kingdom lands instead of sitting in the castle welcoming the guests; however, he promised his father to return for the evening banquet. It was already late, Caim was pushing his steed to the limit to get back as soon as possible, so he wouldn't have to ride in complete darkness. He was climbing the last hill that obscured the view of the citadel; once he reached the top, he rushed down even faster. Nonetheless, something was wrong, it seemed like the entire sunset was moving around the castle. Caim looked closely and it was not the sunset: it was the castle engulfed in flames! He looked closer and saw a large black shape soaring around the site: a dragon! Gripping the reins firmly, Caim raced towards the citadel.
As the lad was getting closer to the burning castle, he witnessed several groups of soldiers clashing with each other. The flames reflected on their armor illuminating coats of arms: it was an Imperial army assault, and it seemed like Caerleon troops were losing. As the prince rode through the battlefield, he drew out his sword and tried to get a blow on the heads of the imperial soldiers he was approaching from behind. He hit one trooper in the back knocking them down, then he turned his blade's tip forward and pierced another soldier's throat hitting right between the gap between helmet and chest plate. Caim was approaching the citadel gates; instead of stopping his stallion, he jumped from it right into the fray at full gallop. An imperial troop instantly confronted him; the prince cited the cometdance incantation embedded in his sword and large exploding fireballs fell upon his foes, burning and dismembering their bodies. Caim would gladly finish each of them personally but he did not have time; the prince ran through the destroyed gates into the inner yard. There he saw tens of dead bodies lying on the ground: guards, guests, servants; some of them were still alive twitching and screaming in pain. At the center of the yard, a black dragon was sitting; a warrior was fiercely attacking the beast evading its fire breath and tail swings. It was Gaap who was trying to cut off the dragon's claws that held the mutilated queen's body. Caim unleashed cometdance upon the creature but the dragon seemed to ignore it entirely. The king saw the falling fireballs and looked in Caim's direction. He was tired and bleeding, still a genuine smile appeared on his face for a second as he understood his son was alive.
"Caim! Take the soldiers and retreat, I will…" he was shouting. The dragon utilized the moment and grabbed the king with its maw, as the man was looking away. Gaap was screaming but still tried to fight back even as the beast's teeth pieced through his armor and its powerful jaws broke his bones. Caim took the sword in both hands and rushed towards the dragon; as he was ready to cut through its scale, the creature leaped off, carrying the bodies of his parents with it. As it was flying away into the distance, the prince felt an unyielding rage. He witnessed the royal castle devoured by flames, his servants and soldiers killed, the Empire taking over his lands. However, he felt neither sorrow nor misery, just pure uncontrollable burning hatred. Only one thought was on his mind.
They took my kingdom! They took my throne! I will make them pay!
As Caim was standing in the courtyard, the troops started to come inside from the gates. These were not the allies but the Imperial forces. The prince grabbed his sword firmly.
I will murder you all!
He dashed into the crowd. Sliding under their swords he managed to cut the armpits of several soldiers as they tried to stab him. Even though Caim wore only light leather armor and any hit could be fatal for him, the agility it gave was very handy against the imperial forces in heavy full plate armor. When he ended up behind the troop he used a cometdance spell once again, which seemingly killed most of the soldiers, leaving only three dazed and standing. Caim rushed to one of them and rapidly stabbed their neck and groin, making sure they would not be able to stand up. Two other troopers ran into him from behind; the prince dashed away and hit one of them in the back. That soldier was pushed forward but kept their balance, another one quickly turned around and tried to perform a blow from above. Caim blocked the hit, stepped aside, and precisely hit them in the neck, ending their life. The last soldier tried to hit the prince in the stomach, but Caim managed to block the attack from below and while they were holding their swords, he kicked the soldier in the leg. They fell onto the ground; Caim jumped on them and started to relentlessly stab them in the neck. When he finished, he saw that some of the troopers were still alive trying to get up and continue fighting. Caim rushed to them and tried to utilize all the openings in their armor to perform deadly hits. He was enjoying bringing pain to his fallen enemies: even though it was not as thrilling as murdering them in the middle of the fight with one precise blow, hearing their death cries and moans was truly satisfying. While he was murdering the last soldier, he noticed some people running inside the castle in his peripheral vision. Caim looked around the bloodbath making sure everyone was dead and rushed into the citadel that was devoured by fires.
No one escapes my sword!
Surprisingly, the inner rooms were not as damaged as the exterior: the flames only managed to get inside through the small windows and did not destroy all inner chambers in a second. Still, everything of wood and fabric was getting caught on fire: furniture, paintings, banners, and supporting beams; Caim had to be quick. The heat was hellish, however, the prince just wiped the sweat with his glove, squeezed his sword's hilt tighter, and marched to kill more. As he ran through the corridors of the castle, evading patches of fire and falling coal pieces, he saw many dead bodies and burnt corpses: most were his own servants and soldiers, few of them were imperial forces. As he reached another corridor he saw a hobbling wounded soldier leaning on their sword, the blaze was illuminating Imperial symbols on their armor. Caim approached the trooper from behind, kicked the sword from their hands, and took them by the throat. The soldier was moaning something about mercy but the prince didn't care; with a grin on his face, he pushed them into the nearby room engulfed in flames. The soldier's armor instantly heated, their gambeson caught on fire; they were screaming in agony trying to crawl out, Caim just proceeded forward.
As he was going through the castle, looking for any survivors, he heard a heart-rending female scream coming from the inner garden, "Help me!" Apparently, it was one of his servants. Caim rushed into the yard and there he witnessed four imperial troopers trying to break into a small annex; its door was barricaded from inside. "Someone, help me, please!" a girl was screaming, Caim listened closer and it was not a servant, it was Furiae! The prince approached the troop from behind and stabbed one of the soldiers in the back. When others turned around and rushed toward him, Caim dodged into the nearest veranda. As they were trying to surround him, the prince suddenly dashed to the closest soldier, who was not ready and tried to block the hit. However, the lad just slid under their sword and pushed them in the back into the burning castle. Two other troopers instantly tried to stab him; the prince dashed away back into the yard and ducked, hitting one of them in the leg. Caim made some distance from the veranda and started taunting his foes. This time they tried to surround him from two different sides; Caim looked at one of them and used cometdance once again, instantly killing the soldier. The last one instantly rushed towards the prince attempting to perform an attack from the side, Caim blocked the hit, kicked the soldier with his leg and, while they were trying to keep their balance, he stabbed them in the groin, and when they fell onto their knees, he performed the final blow piecing their neck. At that moment Caim saw a trooper running out of the blaze screaming with their sword up and ready. He instantly blocked the hit but it was rapidly followed by another one. The prince dashed back a bit and suddenly heard a cry behind him. "Brother!". He turned his head and saw Furiae running out of the garden house with what seemed to be a gardening pitchfork. The soldier used the precious seconds and as Caim was turning his head back at his foe, their sword was already blowing at him from the left side. The prince felt a sharp hit but managed to dodge right before the blade pierced his armor. Seeing that Furiae was trying to attack the soldier from the left, Caim jumped towards their right and hit them in the leg getting right into the gaps between the plates. The trooper fell onto the ground, just at that moment Furiae stabbed them in the head: the pitchfork went through the openings in the visor instantly killing the soldier.
"Brother! Are you okay?!" Furiae turned to Caim and rushed towards him. As she tried to hug her brother she yelled in terror, seeing him covered in blood.
"No don't die, brother! Please!" Only then, the prince did finally decide to look at himself: all this time he believed he was evading all the attacks but that turned out to be far from reality. He had several gashes on his hands and legs: some were bleeding, some had already started to heal, some were seemingly cauterized by the fires. However, the biggest laceration was on his left side: what he considered to be a cut in the armor was a cut in his flesh. Only at that moment, he felt all the pain and agony these wounds gave him. He tried to take a breath and slowly walked into the annex Furiae had been hiding in before. The lad leaned on the wall inside, Furiae was screaming something in fear, begging him to stay with her, but Caim was not listening. He was thinking about all the soldiers he killed, tried to count the bodies; the excruciating pain fueled his hatred even more. A sardonic smile appeared on his face.
This is not over!
Caim wanted to gather all his strength and return to the fray, however, his body was not responding anymore. As he tried to make a step forward, he just fell onto the stone floor: he was too exhausted and wounded to continue fighting.
I'm not going to die like that!
He crawled towards the door and started barricading it again. Furiae rushed to help him and tried to talk in the process asking questions about their parents; Caim did not pay attention. He was looking around for some kind of medication but there obviously was none. His vision was blurry, his legs were trembling. He took off his leather jacket and fabric tunic and used the latter one to bandage the cut on his left side. He leaned on the nearby wall and slowly sat down on the stone floor. The prince laid his sword beside him and squeezed the wound with his right hand to stop bleeding.
I will not die!
Furiae hugged her brother screaming and crying; Caim just closed his eyes and tried to relax. He felt the death slowly creeping towards him but he was persistent in driving it away; he thought about how many more imperial scums he could murder, how they would suffer, how he could conquer the entire continent, destroy and execute all his foes, each and every one of them with his own hands. A terrifying grin appeared on his face and he laughed quietly.
They will die!
As he was diving into his fantasies, exhaustion was slowly putting him to sleep…
Verse V: Ambitions Turned Real
Nightingales and mockingbirds were singing in the morning as usual, as if the dreadful bloodbath never happened that night. Caim and Furiae were asleep together on the stone floor of the garden house. She was hugging him, with one hand wrapped around his chest and another one squeezing his palm. Despite many wounds, Caim managed to survive: he was not bleeding anymore, his breath was normal.
Suddenly, a hard knock came at the door: somebody was trying to break in. Caim instantly woke up, grabbed his sword, and, leaning on the opposite wall, was ready for the final battle of his life. The door was smashed open, and as the prince prepared to perform his attack, he saw Caerleon soldiers standing outside.
"Lord Caim!" they shouted and quickly ran into the building. The prince breathed out and fell onto the floor again. "He is wounded! Call the doctor, quick!" The soldiers surrounded him trying to help; they spotted frightened Furiae who was ducking in the corner. "Lady Furiae! Are you hurt?" Several of them approached her but she was trembling in fear and couldn't answer.
"She is fine," Caim spoke with exhaustion in his voice.
"Oh, Lord! How did you survive that massacre?!" The soldiers continued asking questions. The prince just turned his head towards his sword which was all covered with clotted blood.
"Where are the king and queen, we did not find…"
"Dead," Caim responded coldly.
A terrifying silence hung in the air. Everyone was shocked by his answer; the soldiers froze in place not knowing what to do or what to say.
"If so…" one spoke hesitantly, "who is in command now?"
Caim looked at him with a burning gaze "I am in command!"
Verse 5: Callous Mind
The dark halls of the keep's dungeon were illuminated by the torches placed on the stone walls. Some of them were burning bright, lighting large sections of the underground tunnel, others were on the brink of burning out, giving away only pale dim light that could hardly break through the veil of darkness. At the end of the tunnel, two soldiers were standing on guard at the entrance to the prison. They were silent, leaned on their poleaxes, waiting for the shift to end. Nothing interrupted the creaking noises of the torches until a sound came from the stairs.
It's time to beat answers out of this scum!
Caim was on his way to interrogate the imperial commander that the Alliance managed to capture in the last battle. He walked down into the underground section of the keep with his steps echoing through the dungeon tunnels, which awakened the sleepy guards. He approached them with an indifferent look on his face.
"Lord Caim!" one of the soldiers exclaimed, "the prisoner is ready for the interrogation!" The former prince opened the lock without answering. "Be careful, lord, we barely managed to put him in the chair," the other soldier added. Caim didn't pay attention to the warnings and just entered the room, closing the door behind him.
The prison area was pretty small: one cage inside the left wall and a stone chair for harsh interrogations at the center of the room. The only source of light in the room apart from the torch beside the door was a small semicircular window with metal bars that let through the dim rays of the setting sun. Under the window, there was a stone stool and a table with various tools of different sizes that were intended to make the prisoners more talkative: knives, hammers, pincers, stakes. The floor of the room had several blood stains as well as bits of rotten flesh – an obvious aftermath of the previous interrogations. Those pieces created a terrible stink that few could stand, even Caim wrinkled slightly once he entered the room.
The interrogation chair was occupied by an imperial commander with a naked torso and black striped pants that were an indication of his high rank in the imperial forces. His hands and legs were firmly fixed to the seat with metal shackles. However, despite the situation his face showed neither fear nor panic. He was sitting calmly with his head up and eyes burning bright red. Caim walked around the prisoner, took a small dagger from the table and the stool beside it.
"What is the next target of the imperial forces?" The lad asked the question coldly, putting the stool and the dagger in front of the prisoner.
"Glory to the Empire!" the soldier replied with delight.
As soon as Caim heard the answer he took a swing and punched the commander right into the face. Surprisingly, the prisoner didn't show even the slightest sign of pain. The lad dealt some more additional blows to his head, chest, and stomach; still, the prisoner remained emotionless.
I will make you talk!
Caim took the dagger lying on the stool and brought it towards the enemy's neck.
"Where is Empire planning to strike next?" Caim asked, this time with a notable anger in his voice
"Glory to the Empire!" the commander answered in the same manner as before.
After those words the former prince put the knife at the enemy's shoulder and started to cut his chest diagonally, making sure the blade didn't go too deep into the skin. Nevertheless, the soldier remained calm and seemed to be indifferent to pain. This angered Caim even more; he began to slice the commander's body again and again until his chest and arms were covered in wounds.
You will answer! I will make you suffer!
Clenching his teeth with a sardonic smile, the lad went back to the table and took the iron pincers. With them, Caim started to break the enemy's fingers and chop them off with the dagger. The soldier's body started to tremble but his facial expression didn't change. Even during such cruel torture, the commander didn't give off a single scream of pain. One finger – no answer, two fingers – no answer, three fingers – no answer… Even though Caim truly enjoyed mutilating his foe, he was not getting any answers, so he decided it was time for something more serious. He took a pair of rough wooden stakes and an iron hammer from the table.
"What is the next target of the imperial forces?" the former prince asked, hammering one of the stakes into the enemy's left palm which already had some fingers missing.
"Glory… to the Empire!.." the commander replied with an unexpected pause. He began trembling even more, his head started to uncontrollably shake like some mysterious spirit was leaving his body. His facial expressions were rapidly changing and the bright crimson-red color of his eyes was slowly fading.
Those imperials are real freaks!
Though Caim noticed the odd changes, he totally ignored them. He did not care which wicked magic the empire used on their soldiers, he just needed the answers. As the former prince was hammering the second stake into the soldier's right palm, he suddenly heard him screaming.
"Ahh… Please, mercy!" the commander yelled in pain.
"Answer!" Caim replied angrily.
"What?!" It seemed like the commander truly didn't understand what was going on. He cried and begged for mercy; Caim didn't care.
"Where are you going to attack next?" he asked even more viciously.
"I… I… don't know, please let me go!" the commander screamed in agony.
"Answer!" Caim shouted at him.
The lad took the hammer and started to hit him in the chest and face. The enemy yelled in suffering; Caim found that very satisfying. Those blows made the blood from the commander's wounds splash around, many drops landed on Caim's clothes and face, which made his sinister smile look even more horrifying.
"I swear! I don't know, please don't kill me!"
The soldier kept screaming until he was out of breath. Caim was enraged that he did not get any information. He continued beating the helpless prisoner over and over again. He was hitting him with the hammer as hard as he could until the enemy stopped breathing, until his arms and chest turned into mush. Then he put the bloodred hammer into his other hand and started to strike the commander in his head. Even though he was already dead, the lad continued to mangle the corpse: he punched and punched until the entire skull and brains splashed around the room. When there was nothing left of the commander's head, Caim breathed out, dropped the hammer on the floor, turned around, and left the room promptly, all covered in blood and pieces of flesh.
Whatever, I will just interrogate another one!
Both guards behind the door were standing in fear and awe. One of them wanted to enter the prison room but quickly backed down when he witnessed the bloody scene.
"Clear the room," Caim ordered coldly.
Suddenly, a sound of rapid steps came from the stairs. The lad narrowed his eyes and looked at the silhouette at the other end of the dark corridor. It was a messenger sent by the Alliance recon. "Lord Caim!" the messenger shouted. As he approached the former prince, he saluted him and started speaking. "Our intelligence has just detected a large group of imperial forces moving towards the Castle of Godness! We never expected them to act so quickly after the last battle! We barely have any troops on that front right now, if we set out tomorrow morning…"
"We set out now," Caim answered, interrupting the messenger.
"I'm afraid our soldiers need some rest before…"
"We set out now!" the lad repeated insistently.
"As you wish, Your Majesty," the messenger replied hesitantly and ran back to forward the order to the Alliance generals.
Shortly after he left, Caim went towards the stairs himself. As he was walking through the corridor, he was considering the defensive tactics and positions his troops must take. Among these thoughts, he also wondered where he should ambush the enemy himself. Caim was craving to murder imperial soldiers… many imperial soldiers!