Time Is The Key To Everything

Chapter 15: Cassidy To The Rescue!

Paul was thrown down on the floor of the prison; the dagger was pointed straight at his temple. He spat out hot blood, letting it dribble down his chin and stain his already soiled uniform. His hands were bound tightly behind his back, cruelly cutting off proper circulation.

How was he supposed to use those hands to play the piano with if they were going to be bloodied?

He barely suppressed a groan of pain and blearily opened his eyes to stare up at his enemy. The prison was dim and he could barely see anything without his glasses, but he could still recognize the dark black eyes glaring down at him.

James slammed his fist down against Paul's skull, sending him sprawling on the cold stone. Pain shot through Paul's skull and his sight blurred momentarily. He clenched his teeth; he had known that James' military was harsh, but this was just ridiculous.

"My apologies. This prison may not be up to your lavish standards." James said in a voice even colder than the prison. "Not everyone can live the life of an aristocrat free of suffering."

"Oh, that's quite all right." Paul said lightly. "I don't expect much from frugal and pitiable Englishmen. My standards were low to begin with."

"Well, I'm glad we're both at odd ends of each other." James shot back. "I didn't expect anything at all from your army either."

James slowly paced around Paul like a patient vulture. Paul kept his gaze steadily before him, not even flickering towards James when he passed by. There was a bandage wrapped around James' ankle, but he didn't even limp.

"Looks like the invincible James had a bit of a nasty blow as well." Paul couldn't help but comment, eyeing the ankle.

"Don't even try to flatter yourself; it wasn't caused by any soldier of your army." James said summarily, immediately halting directly behind Paul.

Paul could feel James' eyes glare down at him as he hovered like a Grim Reaper, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

"If it was caused by a soldier of my army, you'd be bedridden." Paul retorted. He was not one to sit around idly while his enemy crushed his name into the dust.

"Your people is only good at sickening me with their superfluous lavishness." James snorted. "But thankfully, I've managed to get over it, no matter how disgusting it is." He moved in front of Paul and crouched before him. Paul stared defiantly back at the younger nation.

"So, where shall we start with?" James said coolly. "Can we skip immediately to the interrogation, or will we be required to dirty our hands and force it out of you?"

"How kind of you to offer the guest a choice." Paul said sardonically. James chuckled and playfully patted Paul on the cheek before rising to his feet again. "What do you want from me?"

"Oh, I merely took you hostage because I enjoyed your suffocating and uptight presence." said James. "I guess I'll have to get used to it, considering you'll probably be stuck with me for a good amount of time. It isn't like anyone would want to bust you out anyway."

"Not everyone is friendless like you, James." Paul shot back.

"Patrick would rather fight Anthony than rescue you." James continued stubbornly. "Benjamin barely ever gets his hands dirty helping you against me. Your own countrymen would rather attend some posh opera than do anything about you. Loyalty, what a pal."

Paul coughed, trying to avoid licking the blood that oozed down his lips. "There's still Cassidy."

"You are a liar. She isn't even in this war." James said automatically. "Just because you practically enslaved her under the Holy Roman Empire's rule doesn't mean she is obliged to run to your call like some mongrel."