Infernal Blade

Five

Hanif

The food was bland as usual. But at least it was better than what they served me in solitary. I didn't know what it was supposed to be; maybe some sort of soup? I swirled the contents of my bowl distastefully, trying to ignore the odd chunks and lumps floating about.

I took another small sip, frowning as the salty and cold liquid hit my lips. Did it even have nutrition in it? Unlikely. Honestly, I was surprised they even fed us at all.

The majority of inmates were sentenced here for life, with no way of earning a shorter sentence. I was one of the few exceptions, which was probably why others always picked me for a fight. It didn't matter; I could best them all in a fight anyway. Well, unless they teamed up against me. I fought best one-on-one.

My stomach and nose flared up with fiery pain in that moment, as if in agreement. I released a groan through my teeth, taking the time to find a more comfortable position for my ribs.

My nose, on the other hand, was destined to ache no matter what I did. If I breathed, it hurt. If I chewed, it hurt. If I opened my mouth, it hurt.

The pain was exhausting. I did all I could to dwell on other things, and not the possibility of infection, internal bleeding, or the slew of problems that could very well come as a result.

As I finished up my stew, my gaze wandered the room. I watched other inmates carefully, on the alert in case any should decide to approach me. I wasn't in a mood for a fight, and I was prepared to leave before anything started.

"Get up."

I swiveled in my seat as a commanding voice spoke up from behind. My eyes met a dark uniform, and rose to meet the scruffy face of a guard. I held back a sigh and turned back to my food, disinterested. Couldn't I get one moment's rest in this place?

I dragged a finger across the wooden bowl, but before I could bring it to my lips, a hand grabbed the back of my uniform, pulling me backwards.

Thankfully, I had been expecting something like that. I dropped my bowl and flipped around before the guard could grab me again. Then I drew back my fist and slammed it into his jaw. With a grunt, he stumbled back a few steps. Keeping my expression calm, I turned and sat back down.

Was it a stupid move? Probably. But the consequences would be worth it. I had to keep up my reputation in this place, after all. It didn't matter what those sorry excuses for guards wanted; I wasn't going to be a passive dog, not even in this place.

The footsteps and voices of other guards approaching told me I only had a few more seconds of peace. I waited patiently until the footsteps were right behind me. Then I rose from my seat to face them.

Two guards had their swords out and pointed at my chest. The other two--one who was still recovering from my fist-- stared at me with disgust. I scoffed at the caution they took with me, feeling proud of it. It had taken me some time to earn such a hard reputation in this place.

"Hands on your head. Bend over the table," the soldier nearest me barked. I cast him a long, bored stare before complying. I knew this routine well, and I also knew what happened if I didn't listen. My body ached too much for me to want more pain.

However, I thought ruefully, they might just give me a beating anyway.

My ribs ached as I raised my hands to my head and bent over the table. A moment later, a hand shoved my face against the wood, causing hot, fiery pain to erupt in my nose. I hissed and turned my head against the hand as the soldiers grabbed my arms and pinned me to the table.