The Legend of Nakrang

Courageous

With exaggerated flourish and a morbid crack of the whip, a pained cry of agony shattered the tranquility that was typical of late spring.

The company of soldiers watched on as one of their own received public punishment.

Poorly-concealed fear marred some of the weather-beaten faces, others were etched in grim worry, and some remained stonily indifferent.

"This would teach you to behave like a common thief."

The voice was a quiet, controlled one, thought it held an unreadable, sinister hint to it.

"Continue."

"N-no, please, no!"

Another resounding crack was echoed by a strangled scream, as the braided leather of the whip came into contact with bare flesh, tearing off ragged strips of skin.

"Mercy, please have mercy!"

The poor boy collapsed heavily onto the gravelly terrain of the military training ground, groaning and whimpering as open wounds came into contact with dirt and sand.

"If everyone does the same, what would it make of our Great Goguryeo empire?"

Blood steaming down his back to stain the sand, the young man was beside himself with fear as he shakily propped himself up on his arms again into a kneeling position.

"Please..." He uttered, looking past the whip-yielding soldier to plead with the figure in blue and silver lamellar armour.

"Continue."

Blubbering frantically, his freshly-post pubescent voice betraying his youth, the young man continued explaining, "I didn't know the rules...if I had known I wouldn't have taken it-"

Crack!

With a snap of his wrist, the whip once again struck the tortured young man forcefully on his side, sending a spray of blood droplets into the air.

Except for the repulsive splash of crimson against brown, there were no other sounds.

He did not scream from this strike, but instead, lurched over heavily to collapse in a shuddering heap.

"Mercy...m-mercy..." His pale, chapped lips wore the word like a mantra.

The whip was raised again, forcing some eyes closed among the soldiers who were forced to play witness to the brutality in front of them.

But the sickening crack of the whip never came.

"Why have you stopped?" The same voice asked smoothly.

The perpetrator of the torture made a forceful move to raise his arm again, only to fail again as he fought futilely against the strength holding the whip back.

Whatever it was holding his whip back, did not budge an inch.

Realizing that the earlier failed strike was due to deliberate  resistance from someone who had the gall to challenge the general's authority, the soldier whirled around, intending to confront-

"Your Royal Highness!"

All hints of frustration and rage faded to be replaced by fear, as the soldier hurriedly dropped the handle of the whip to fall to his knees.

Almost mechanically, the rest of the company knelt in greeting the Crown Prince, who was still maintaining a steely grip on the bloodstained fall and cracker of the whip in one leather-gloved hand.

The armor-clad figure, who by now had finally turned around, knelt in greeting. Hidden by the armor plates around his face, was a faint expression of contempt.