Lakan sat in the stone cellar, his eyes fixed on the man across from him. The large figure, twice Lakan's size, was restrained in chains that were bolted to the floor and had a jia around his neck, but that did nothing to quell the strategist's disdain. Every glance at this man stirred a deep-seated anger within him; a hatred for the vermin who had dared to lay hands on his daughter.
Memories flooded back, vivid and painful. He could still see her, her small and battered frame, nestled in the arms of that man... no, thatthief. The sight had ignited a fury in him that felt insatiable. Lakan clenched his fists, feeling the heat rise from his core. The helplessness gnawed at him; he was powerless against the crown prince's authority.
His heart ached with the longing to take his little girl from the thief's arms, to protect her from the world that had was so cruel. But the reality was harsh; the prince had taken everything from him, and now here he was, face to face with the embodiment of his torment. The chains rattled slightly as the man shifted in his seat, but Lakan's focus remained unwavering. This confrontation was only a prelude to what he truly wanted; justice for his daughter and a reckoning for those who thought themselves above consequence.
Lakan's gaze shifted briefly to the guard tied up in the corner of the dimly lit cellar. The man's muffled pleas were barely audible, distorted by the rag stuffed in his mouth. Tears streamed down his face, mingling with snot, creating a pitiful sight that did little to stir any sympathy in Lakan.
"Tell me, vermin, what is your name?" Lakan asked, a sinister calmness in his tone. He wanted to toy with the man before tearing him down completely.
The guard struggled against his bonds, attempting to articulate something through the rag stuffed in his mouth. "MMMPPHHHHH MMMMHHHHMMMPPP!" he managed to mumble, panic evident in his eyes.
Lakan smirked, his amusement barely contained. "Oh, I guess it doesn't matter if you tell me or not. Rikuson will surely let me know whose family to contact." He waved his hand dismissively, as if the man's identity was inconsequential.
The large man in chains shifted uncomfortably, his expression darkening. Lakan leaned forward, intensifying the atmosphere. "You see, I have resources. People who will make sure your family feels the weight of your actions. They will know exactly what happens when someone hurts my daughter."
Lakan maintained his unwavering gaze on the man, watching the fear seep deeper into his eyes. Each flicker of panic fueled Lakan's determination. The knowledge that he held the power in this moment was intoxicating.
He leaned back slightly, adopting a casual demeanor to further unsettle the man. "You may think you're safe in those chains, but remember, every second you sit there is another second closer to your reckoning."
The large man swallowed hard, his bravado faltering as Lakan continued to dismantle his facade. Lakan savored the tension in the air, knowing that breaking him down would be a slow but necessary process. He had time on his side, and he intended to use it wisely.
Suddenly, a voice broke through the charged atmosphere. "Master Lakan, I've brought the tools you requested," Rikuson said as he rolled a table down the hall.
Lakan's eyes lit up with enthusiasm. "Rikuson!" he exclaimed, a smile spreading across his face. "You're back. Can you believe this scum wouldn't even tell me his name?"
"Well, sir, he is gagged, so that could be an issue," Rikuson replied, a hint of amusement in his tone.
Rikuson had always known that Lakan could be downright scary, but witnessing it up close was something entirely different. He normally delegated any dirty work to others, but this felt personal. The intensity in Lakan's demeanor was palpable, and Rikuson sensed the weight of the moment.
"Let's remove that gag, shall we?" Lakan suggested, his eyes gleaming with a mix of excitement and determination. He turned to Rikuson, his voice firm yet calm. "We need to hear what he has to say."
Rikuson nodded, approaching the man in chains with caution. As he carefully pulled the rag from the guard's mouth, Lakan leaned in closer. The man gasped for air, his face contorted with a mix of relief and fear.
"Now," Lakan said, his voice low and menacing, "let's start again. What is your name?"
"I'm truly sorry, Sir, I didn't know she was your daughter," the large man wailed, his voice cracking under the weight of his terror.
Rikuson was taken aback. Daughter? He hadn't known that Master Lakan had a daughter. It must have been the tiny girl who had been struck, saved by a high-ranking noble. Suddenly, everything made sense; Lakan's fury was not just about the act itself, but the violation of something sacred.
"Does that matter after the fact? You just saw her as a lowly serving girl, didn't you?" Lakan snarled, his voice dripping with disdain. "Even if she wasn't my daughter, she would have been someone's daughter."
The man trembled in his chains, unable to respond as Lakan's words cut deep. Rikuson watched as Lakan poured some juice into a glass that sat on the table he had rolled in, the liquid swirling ominously.
Lakan took a moment to sip from the glass, his eyes never leaving the man before him. The sound of the guards' cries and pleas for forgiveness filled the room, but they fell on deaf ears. Lakan's focus was solely on ensuring that this man understood the gravity of his actions.
"Do you even comprehend what you've done?" Lakan continued, his tone icy. "You've not only harmed my daughter but also shattered any semblance of safety for very high-ranking nobles. You will answer for this."
The man's sobs intensified, but Lakan remained resolute, ready to dig deeper into the darkness surrounding his actions.
"Right, shall we begin?" Lakan asked, pulling back the white cloth that covered the table.
The guard trembled in fear as he caught sight of what lay on the cart. Various tools gleamed under the dim light, each one more menacing than the last, alongside the heavy club he had once wielded. "Please, Sir, I truly didn't know who she was," he pleaded, desperation lacing his voice.
"Haven't we already been over that?" Lakan sneered, his patience wearing thin. He leaned closer, his voice lowering to a chilling whisper. "By the way, did you know that I spent three years in the west? I learned so many things during that time. How to make a man live for a month without killing him while wishing for death every day."
The guard's eyes widened in horror as he processed Lakan's words. The implications of what was to come sank in like a heavy weight.
"Each day will stretch on endlessly," Lakan continued, savoring the fear radiating from the man. "You will wish for release, but I will control your suffering. You will learn what true despair feels like."
With that, Lakan picked up one of the tools from the table, examining it thoughtfully as he turned back to the trembling man. "Let's see how long you can make it."
"Ahhhh, Rikuson!" Lakan said joyfully turning to his subordinate, "Would you like to take a bet to see how long he lives?"
Rikuson shook his head no, "No Sir, If I'm against you I'd be sure to lose."
Lakan chuckled, clearly enjoying the tension in the room. He leaned closer to the trembling man, the tool glinting ominously in the dim light. "You see, Rikuson," he said, still addressing his subordinate, "it's not about winning or losing. It's about the thrill of the game."
The man's eyes widened in fear as Lakan continued to toy with the tool. "Tell me, would you like to make a wager?" he asked the guard, a smirk creeping onto his face.
Rikuson shifted uncomfortably, watching the scene unfold with a mix of concern and intrigue. "Sir, perhaps we should reconsider this approach," he suggested cautiously.
Lakan waved him off, still focused on the man. "Oh, it's all in good fun, Rikuson. Besides, I'm curious to see how much he can endure."
He turned back to the man, his expression shifting from playful to menacing. "Now, let's get started, shall we?"