Chương 35: 34. interrogation

Tavian spent some time alone in his chambers. When he left them, he knew he was leaving them behind forever. Right now he needed one thing more than anything else: Insight into Lord Anarvia's plans. And he had a possible source for that information: Mandros. The Tower was Tavirost's prison. Dozens of cells, accessible only via a central winding staircase, made up the tower.

Narrow slots high in the walls were the only windows, and they were now packed full of Anarvain agents who had surrendered when Mandros was captured and the fortress was secured. Tavian climbed the steps, passing the cells full of quiet men, before eventually reaching the highest cell in the tower. Within was one man, chained in the middle of the room by his ankles.

This room was the only one in the tower with a large window; it was blocked by heavy shutters, but still let crepuscular rays of light shine through the dusty air. Tavian glared at the man sitting serenely in the middle of the room. Mandros sat with his legs crossed, his hands bound behind his back. His eyes were closed, and he did not react to Tavian's entrance. His face was still bruised from Tavian's punch. Tavian stood in silence for a moment. A quiet rage simmered beneath the surface, but he repressed it.

Mandros spoke.

"Are you trying to starve me into submission?" he asked.

"Or have you simply holed up in a fortress without any provisions?" Tavian grimaced. Mandros opened his eyes, noting the reaction.

"So, you're as hungry as I," Mandros said.

"I'll tell you from experience, it's not worth dragging it out. You can choose between being beaten, or being beaten and hungry."

"Mandros," Tavian said.

"I've heard a lot about you, but I'm curious. How did a Karath Amon come to be in the service of House Anarvia?" Mandros smiled.

"Are you not familiar with mercenaries?" he asked.

"It's quite a simple arrangement." Tavian rolled his eyes.

"How much is he paying you then? What are you being paid for?"

"I'm being paid enough. And isn't it obvious? I'm training his men."

"If you're a mercenary, then I think we can come to a deal," Tavian countered.

"Name your price." Mandros raised his eyebrows.

"I'm afraid that my loyalty is quite expensive in this matter," he said.

"Since my reputation is of utmost value, the price for me to turn on my employer is significant."

"I can pay," Tavian said.

"I sincerely doubt it," Mandros said.

"I would guess that you've already sifted everything of value that you control in this fortress."

"There are other things," Tavian said.

"I can offer you a contract. A class, with enhancements, and other promises for the future."

"You have no future," Mandros said.

"So that is of little value." A Binding Oath would not work here, if Mandros did not believe Tavian would last the week. Tavian crossed his arms, angling for a different tactic. The man was getting under his skin.

"Do you know what this room is for?" he asked. Mandros shrugged.

"It's the only cell in the tower that has a window," Tavian said.

"Though, it has been many years since it has been opened. It is said that Tavirost imprisoned many of his enemies here."

"I'm not interested in your history lesson," Mandros said.

"That's the thing about it," Tavian said.

"It's applicable. Tavirost had a unique way of dealing with his enemies. If they were no longer of use to him, he would simply push them out of this window. Barbaric, yes, but I'm wondering if I should perhaps bring that practice back." This comment elicited a chuckle from Mandros.

"Then push me out your window, boy, if you're going to do it. Don't make empty threats." Tavian flushed. His jaw tightened.

"I will dispose of you if I see fit," Tavian said, his voice cold as ice.

"Don't think I'm incapable of an execution." The room chilled, and Mandros's mirth faded, a tinge of fear in his eyes. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

"I'm far too valuable a bargaining chip for you to simply kill me," Mandros said.

"You have lost this war, but you could still negotiate an escape for yourself."

"I already rejected Anarvia's offer," Tavian snapped.

"I'm not going anywhere." He felt an urge to slap the smug look from the man's face, but resisted it.

"You really don't understand, do you," Mandros said.

"You've already lost. You've been defeated. Let me make things easier for you. Surrender. Give up now. You merely waste lives and gold fighting."

"Bold words from the man in chains."

"You wear chains too," Mandros said.

"You simply can't see them yet." Tavian clenched his fists. He crossed over to the heavy shutters, and began unlatching them. The first swung open with a heavy creak.

"Quit playing, boy," Mandros said.

"If you're not useful to me you're going out the window," Tavian said, voice even and emotionless.

"You're wasting your time with games," Mandros said.

"The sooner you resign, the sooner we stop starving in this palace." Tavian swung the second shutter open and looked out the window. The drop to the courtyard below was dizzying.

"You're the one playing games," Tavian said. Mandros fell quiet.

"There was a second punishment, reserved for Tavirost's most hated of opponents," Tavian said.

"You see how that chain connected to your ankles is more than long enough to reach to this window? How long do you think it takes a man, hanging upside down, to die?" Mandros pursed his lips.

"By Ishtoran, boy," he snarled.

"You're a cruel one."

"What is Anarvia up to?" Mandros shut his mouth. Tavian grabbed Mandros by his collar.

"If you're lucky, you'll die before the birds peck out your eyes."

"You won't do it," Mandros said, as Tavian pulled him to his feet. Mandros' hands were chained to the manacles on his ankles. Tavian dragged him across the room. The chain jingled as it extended, still secured to the loop in the floor. At the open window, Tavian stopped. He released Mandros. The man stood with his back to the opening, and Tavian stood in front of him.

"It's a long drop," Tavian said. Mandros glanced over his shoulder, unable to resist.

"What is Anarvia doing in the dungeon?" Tavian asked.

"I know he was looking for a relic. Did he find it? What is his plan?" Mandros shook his head.

"I give you one more chance," Tavian said, feeling the heat rising in him.

"I don't know what you're expecting me to tell you," Mandros said.

"I know nothing."

"I should have punched you harder, before," Tavian said.

"I'm not going to make that mistake again."

"Go on, then, push me out the window," Mandros said.

"You won't." Tavian pushed Mandros as hard as he could. The Karath Amon man's eyes widened. He tripped backwards over the low sill of the window. The chain snapped taut an instant later. Tavian could still see the bottoms of Mandros' boots. He walked over and peered down at his prisoner. Mandros' long braid dangled from the top of his head, slapping the stone of the tower.

"Two to four hours," Tavian said.

"That's how long it takes to die, hanging upside down. Your blood pools in your head, and starts leaking out your eyes and ears." Mandros wriggled, lifting his head to glare angrily at Tavian.

"I'll sit here until you decide to be helpful," Tavian said.

"Or until you die. Either works for me, I have time." Mandros choked.

"Fine," he gasped.

"Fine, pull me back up. I'll tell you his plan, it doesn't even matter if you know it!"

"Glad to hear you've decided to be reasonable," Tavian said, smiling. He left Mandros dangling there, and took his time getting the guards. They helped him haul Mandros back into the room. Tavian let him sit on the window sill.

"Now talk," Tavian ordered.

"Like it matters now…." Mandros sighed.

"Anarvia found something in the dungeon. Something more powerful than you can imagine. You don't stand a chance against him."

"I know about Jarden's relic," Tavian said.

"I'm not afraid of it." Now a cruel glimmer of mirth twinkled in Mandros's eyes. He chuckled. Tavian leaned in close, his voice tense as he tried to rein in his emotions.

"Jarden took a captive into the depths of the dungeon. Why? He seemed to be talking to someone…"

"How should I know what Jarden is thinking?"

"When I punched you in the face, the two of you were talking. Walking the halls of this fortress, together. What about?"

"Plans," Mandros confessed.

"Just plans for getting men inside the walls."

"What is Lord Anarvia doing with Jarden's daughter?" Mandros looked genuinely confused.

"His daughter?"

"Lord Anarvia holds her hostage, does he not?"

"I did not know this. I did not know that Jarden had a daughter," Mandros said, brow furrowed.

"But if Jarden descended to the depths of the dungeon with a captive, they are both certainly dead."

"Cormath isn't dead," Tavian whispered.

"What?" Tavian took a deep breath. He didn't need to explain himself to Mandros.

"What is Lord Anarvia planning with the miasmic infuser? Is he just trying to make weapons with it?" Mandros glanced out the window behind him, at the long drop to the ground. He shifted in his chains, a condescending sneer twisting his face.

"I don't see that it matters if you know," Mandros said.

"You'll find out soon enough anyway. No, I'm not talking about the strange machine that Jarden tried to sell us but couldn't seem to find. I'm talking about a Witherstone." A chill ran down Tavian's spine as he heard the words.

"You know what a Witherstone can do?" Mandros asked.

"Let me give you a clue. Anarvia's men can no longer be killed. When they die, they simply rise again; stronger, more obedient, and harder to kill." Tavian stared.

"You should see the look on your face!" Mandros laughed.

"White as a ghost!" He chortled. Tavian's knuckles turned white.

"Be careful," Mandros warned with mock seriousness.

"Or you'll become his next ghoul!" For the second time, he suppressed an urge to strike the man. Nobody would know. Nobody would care. Tavian was king here, and this man, an insolent prisoner. He could— What was coming over him? He took a deep breath, then turned away from Mandros. Tavian wasn't that king of [Ruler]. Was it exhaustion? Stress? The effects of his miasmic wound? If the man was telling the truth, this was a huge insight. Anarvia was controlling the ghouls. The other houses needed to know about this.

Certainly they wouldn't side with a man desecrating the dead and leveraging black magics in his efforts to rule. Tavian turned and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. As he emerged from the tower, guards saluted him, wincing at the dark glare he shot their direction. If Lord Anarvia had recovered a Witherstone from the dungeon, he was probably not interested in sending more men to die down there. On the other hand, if his men did die, he probably just raised them back up as ghouls.

Tavian started planning how he was going to rescue Cormath. He could— An explosion rocked the ground. Smoke began billowing from the Temple of Ishtoran.