Re:Creation Book 1: Allegiance

Twenty: Six

Another grunt of pain.

Another.

A cry.

A shriek.

Another.

Grunt.

The sharp crack of Ilaven's whip.

Phaeus watched by Ilaven's side as an unlucky prisoner faced his punishment. The dark stone walls echoed all sound, spitting the visceral cries and rhythmic snaps back at those within the cell.

According to Ilaven, the imprisoned was Lord Alastor Balthazar--a scholar and former councilman who had served under King Corvelius. He'd been captured during the initial raid on Tamras, though his interrogation had only begun a few days prior. Once Phaeus had disclosed to Ilaven that Prince Lev was alive, the new ruler of Myral started to suspect Lord Balthazar of withholding information from him.

Another cry of pain.

The injuries forming on Alastor's back ran deep, turning his once pale skin a blistering red. Some wounds had already risen from swelling, while others split open, spilling blood down his back. His frame was thin, his eyes, sunken and hollow. Bruises spotted his skin in varying colors.

Phaeus watched, feeling an odd mixture of empathy, intrigue, and suspense. He was more than aware of the few lives he'd shamelessly ended in getting to the Tyveren's former home, but he wasn't used to such torturous methods being used on someone.

Another shriek.

The scarlet dye of blood.

The chains binding Alastor to the post in the center of his cell rattled with each violent lurch of his body.

It was kind of exciting.

Though it wasn't the torture that tickled Phaeus so. Recently, he had learned from Vin that Ilaven Arette was in fact the king of Mithro, not some random warrior or general as Phaeus originally guessed. The revelation was shocking to say the least, and ever since, Phaeus had been transfixed by Ilaven's every move. Even now, as Phaeus watched the gruesome scene unfurl before him, his eyes kept finding their way back to Ilaven. This was the power a king possessed. The power to do as he pleased with no one to stop him; no one to berate him, no one to look down on him. He couldn't be ignored. He couldn't be denied. No one would dare raise their hand or voice against him.

It was kind of exciting.

"I will ask again," the eerie calm of Ilaven's voice sent a shiver down Phaeus's spine, "where has Corvelius gone?"

"What..." Alastor panted through gritted teeth. "What makes you so sure... that the Tyverens are alive... after what you've done?"

"I'm very much aware that Prince Lev survived," Ilaven responded with a sideways glance at Phaeus. "And if he managed to escape, then I have no choice but to entertain the thought that they all lived."

"Prince Lev is... alive?" Alastor's voice held a glimmer of hope within it. "A-and what of the queen?"

"You need not worry of her fate." Ilaven circled around to Alastor's front, folding up the whip in his hands as he did. He crouched so that they were eye level with one another. "She's not the one I'm after, so there's no reason to be concerned about her. Although, I am a generous man. Tell me where that coward Corvelius has made his den and perhaps I shall tell you of Sherryl. Do we have a deal?"

But Alastor remained silent.

"I see." Ilaven rose to his feet once more. He allowed the whip to unravel again, its bloodied end falling inches away from Alastor's face. "How unfortunate that a smart man such as yourself should choose to deny a king a simple request."