Chapter 25
Darrow
The entrance to the dungeon was in a courtyard, enclosed by dull brown barracks and an administrative building.
Rows upon rows of windows in the two-story-high military quarters looked down upon the heavy, circular door set almost level with the ground, making it impossible to come or go without someone noticing.
Of course, they’d designed it that way on purpose.
The thick metal was only a few shades darker than the flat stones around it.
We didn’t use the underground cells often, but the place had the maximum security measures we could implement.
I cut my thumb and let my blood drip onto a clear, flat gem embedded in the middle.
It turned green. Then I turned a dial next to it in a sequence tuned only to me.
After three spins, stopping at specific runes, a thunk sounded. It unlocked.
I hauled the door open, using considerable strength.
The soldiers guided our prisoners down the stairs that appeared below.
I followed after them as fae lanterns on the walls automatically lit the underground chamber.
We reached a T-intersection. The supply room and interrogation room doors were in front of us, and then to the left, three cells with a shower area beyond them, and three more cells to the right.
I mulled over the best way to handle the prisoners. We had two males and one female.
“Lock her in a cell to the left,” I said, pointing at the dark elf captive who was lean except for her wide hips and bust. “Put one male in any cell to the right, and I want the other one in the interrogation room. Make sure they’re completely stripped and searched before re-shackling them.”
They moved swiftly to follow my orders, with Jax helping the guard who headed to the middle room.
I went to the supply closet to grab some things I might need, though most of them would already be laid out.
Yesterday, I sent a sebeska to the prince, letting him know I would attempt to capture a few Karganoth soldiers alive and requesting that one of the military captains with access to the dungeon prepare it.
I stripped down to only my pants and boots, wanting my scars visible, and set my armor and tunic neatly on a side table.
Skimming through a shelf with an assortment of items, I grabbed a set of brass knuckles.
I enjoyed the injuries and pain they caused.
Last, I pocketed a knife that I might or might not need, depending on how things went.
Since I didn’t see the faces of those I’d grabbed in the darkness, I didn’t know their identities or training levels.
Some of our prisoners might have passed trials high enough for them to put up quite a bit of resistance, while others might have only attended the basic instruction of lower soldiers.
I moved to the interrogation room and found the naked dark elf standing in the middle of the room with his wrists shackled above him, and his legs spread far apart with more shackles on his ankles.
Of course, all the metal was iron, so he wouldn’t be able to access his powers.
We wanted him to be completely vulnerable and weak.
“Go help with the other two,” I ordered the guard and Jax.
They left the room without a word.
My prisoner had short black hair and a matching, trimmed beard, but it was his long face and broad nose that stirred long-forgotten memories.
I vaguely recognized him from my youth, during the first few years of my training.
Since he didn’t have any scars, I guessed him to be no more than a level five or six.
I’d reached the peak at ten, but only those from about a dozen highborn families could climb to that rank.
Among them, more than half didn’t make it to that point.
If he’d come from one of them, though, I’d know him by name.
His eyes were dark yellow, which told me he likely came from the desert in southern Karganoth.
It was a trait that began more than fifteen hundred years ago.
Scholars later deduced that environmental factors had caused the change, since it occurred more frequently in babies with each generation until nearly everyone in the region shared it.
The lava pits in the mountains produced noxious gases that locals couldn’t smell, but they were terrible for those of us who visited. I’d never learned what they were precisely since I didn’t particularly care.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
He spat at my feet. “You’re a disgrace to your family, fighting against us.”
“Karganoth doesn’t deserve my loyalty,” I said, unbothered.
Then, I punched him in the nose, enjoying the satisfying crunch. We couldn’t afford to waste time with niceties. I wanted him warmed up before the prince arrived, and his most important thoughts at the forefront.
Prince Armin’s ability to read active thoughts was well known enough that I’d advised him to wear a mask when I’d messaged him.
We had those in the supply room as well for him to take.
No need to tip the prisoners off that we could get the information out of their heads, whether they spoke or not.
They’d try harder not to think of anything significant.
The dark elf grunted. “It’s just as well you lack loyalty to the crown. You’re too weak with your half-blood, anyway.”
As if I hadn’t heard lines like his a thousand times or more and long since learned to find them amusing.
Other people’s opinions on my heritage meant nothing.
Power was what mattered, and I’d more than proven I had plenty of that.
“What does it say about you if I passed the highest level of training and you didn’t? ”
He glared at me and bared his teeth. “Your family must have helped you.”
“My family?” I laughed. “You’re deluded if you think anyone in my family helped me at any point, and they certainly couldn’t control the God of Wrath, could they?”
The prisoner worked his jaw, jealousy and rage gleaming in his eyes, but he said nothing.
“What’s your name?” I asked again.
Still, he refused to speak. I hit him in the cheek, the jaw, and the stomach while continuing to ask the same question. It was pointless to inquire about anything else if he wouldn’t tell me something as simple as his name. He didn’t talk, though.
I kicked him in the groin, reveling in his scream from having his exposed dick and balls smashed against my boot.
We were taught during training that no place was sacred when torturing the enemy for information.
I’d had every part of me injured enough times during training, so I knew exactly how all of it felt.
In fact, I’d had far worse done to me. The prisoner was lucky I didn’t use my knife to carve into his private parts, but even I had lines I refused to cross—not that he knew that.
“Do you want to answer me now or should I use these next?” I asked, pulling out the brass knuckle cuffs.
“As I recall, this particular item will ensure you don’t get an erection for weeks after the damage it will cause, assuming I let you keep those parts.
I may just cut everything off and leave you in the shackles long enough that nothing grows back. ”
His eyes widened.
No mercy. That’s how the instructors in Karganoth trained us, and he knew it. I let coldness and depravity fill my gaze, willing him to believe I was as dark as the rest of our kind. There were certainly times when I wasn’t that different, perhaps even worse.
“Jagon,” he wheezed. “My name is Jagon.”
I patted his swollen cheek. “Good boy, you’re learning. I wasn’t sure if anyone from southern Karganoth was capable of it.”
The door opened behind me, but I didn’t turn to see who came in since I had a good idea.
One set of footsteps I heard on the stone floors belonged to my wife.
Somehow, she’d convinced the prince to let her join him.
I wasn’t going to hide this side of me from her, especially since she had a good idea about it anyway.
“What were your orders for this morning’s attack, Jagon?” I asked.
The masked prince moved into my view, standing behind the prisoner so I could see him but not the enemy. Excellent. He was already thinking ahead and making my job easier.
The dark elf clamped his mouth shut and turned his gaze to the woman behind me. He was studying her a little too closely for my liking—not to mention failing to answer my question. Did he value the pieces of his body so little? For Aella, I might resort to very extreme measures.
“Dear wife,” I said, glancing over my shoulder to find her leaning against the wall by the door with her arms crossed. “Which part of him should I hurt next?”
To my amusement, she didn’t look appalled. Instead, she lifted a blonde brow. “Isn’t it obvious? Stab one of his eyes, so he’ll rethink looking at me.”
I had the little knife out of my pocket in a second, and the blade two inches deep in Jagon’s socket a moment later.
I’d chosen his left eye. He never had a chance to try answering me after her suggestion, but he did let out a scream as I twisted the blade.
I knew how much it hurt. During level eight training, I’d had it done to me, though I hadn’t worn iron shackles and healed within a week.
It was impossible to feel bad when he had been looking at Aella far too closely.
“Excellent choice. Perhaps you should come to all my interrogations,” I said, giving her an approving look.
She studied her nails as if bored. “Next time, give me advance notice and I’ll bring a crunchertrap to liven things up. Torture is often boring and repetitive.”