𝔻𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥: 𝕆𝕗 𝕄𝕚𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕕𝕤, 𝕄𝕖𝕟 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕄𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕒𝕝 𝔾𝕠𝕕𝕤

Chapter Nine: Jouhnr

Chapter Nine:

JOUHNR

It was a crescented midnight when it began, granting an audience with the stars. The paladins were hung with their heads pointed towards the earth, the ropes strangling the veins in their legs a deep Tyrian purple. The overseer of the watchers saw to it that the two be tortured for their transgressions. "A slow death should do nicely." The godling heard it said. Wounds meagre but deep enough to bleed were opened at their spines so to only delay at the end.

This is absolute cruelty... Jouhnr thought when the prisoners were forced to watch. The very gods themselves gave up their lives as sacrifices... The seeker did little to lay eyes on them, no matter how long he had to listen. Lord seeker... Lord... Seeker... Jouhnr made out with what his ears would tell him, the rest was sealed below dense wooden pillories.

Yet even me, a mere mortal cannot do the same. For prisoners of war, death was not uncommon but even a spectacle such as this was impossible to look away. Wyrin, especially, could not take his eyes off the horrors that unfolded before them. "Looks like its beginning to rain, Wyrin." The godling spoke to the prisoner's confusion. "I don't think there is any," Wyrin replied the moment he looked away before holding his tongue. "Jouhnr?" Wyrin asked.

"No, there is," the godling lied.

"Of course, lord seeker." Even Wyrin was titling him as such yet even that could not soothe the pain. What a terrible day for rain. The priest told no one, feeling the droplets on his face. Tasting of brine, Jouhnr could hear the silent thunder brew. Though there was not a single herald of lightning to announce its forthcoming. When the storm unleashed it, the godling heard himself plea. Please, please I beg of you... Stop this... And that prayer grew to words aloud. "Put end to this! Please I beg of you!" Jouhnr demanded with tears in his eyes.

"Know your place, priest." spoke the brass faced overseer, his grin still and unnerving. Yet the Gullsjori commander simply gestured him not engage, approaching in his stead. "You want us to stop?" The commander named Godphri asked. Godphri was a brute of Gullsjori strength, arms thick with muscle. His hair that ended in a thin braid of short blonde flashed brightly against the campfire flame, yet that was not the only that was burning. "Say it again!" Godphri said, his teeth grit with subtle fury.

Jouhnr knew not what to say or even dared to do so, for his silence was angering enough as it is. Almost like an instinct that he should be afraid, akin to the hissing of a serpent. "You want us to stop?" It was how calm it was repeated that sent shivers down his spine. "We were given strict orders to not slay any worshippers..." Godphri spoke. "Lord seeker, was it? That is some title they gave you. You must be quite important to be deemed a lord." The commander continued, tugging at the godling's braid.

"Perhaps your rank will prove useful to us in the future," He went on. "Even now, they cry out to you in desperation," Godphri said when he heard the sound of paladins, clinging to life.

The sheer grasp Godphri had on the lord seeker was incredible, his fingers like piercing needles emerging from his skull. "This is nothing compared to the devastation laid waste by your country." The commander spoke, bitterly. "Know this, seeker lord," Godphri snarled. "Gullsjor has no want of being conquered nor will ever succumb." tapping a finger on the pommel of his scimitar. Conquered? Succumb? Jouhnr thought. What is he even talking about? The godling wondered as the commander released his grip on the priest.

"Gullsjor is not a nation for foreign gods or rootic gold. Until your country understands that, only then, will their suffering as well as this foolish war end." Though Jouhnr had only ears for his thoughts, echoing the words: Conquer and succumb. Jouhnr had not the slightest clue on what he meant but the idea of it haunted him. What does he mean by that? Does he mean the skirmishes over Ambrosia? Jouhnr could only ponder. The city that will settle the war. The priest heard it called amidst the caravan. "What do you mean conquered? Ambrosia is under a treaty of peace with Cryvern and has staged no battles on Gullsjori cities!" Jouhnr announced.