Chapter 10 – Dain
DAIN
Igot word mid-morning. The Truthteller had stopped interrogations. The official report had been filed, and the transcript recorded.
Subject’s mental state compromised by prolonged sensory deprivation. Further interrogation impossible until recovery.
I was moving before the messenger finished speaking.
The admin wing was on the opposite side of the palace—past the council chambers, through the marble corridors where scribes and clerks kept the kingdom’s records. I didn’t run. Didn’t need to. My stride was purpose enough.
The pain in my chest had changed. Less a flare now, more a constant pressure, like something was slowly being crushed. I breathed through it and kept walking.
Four days. She’d been in there for four days. And now I had proof.
The admin wing doors were heavy oak, carved with the kingdom’s seal. I walked through them without slowing, and every head in the room turned. Scribes looked up from their desks; clerks paused mid-conversation. Good. I wanted witnesses.
The head scribe at the far end saw me coming: an older man with ink-stained fingers. He stood quickly, hands raised in a placating gesture. “Commander Virellan, I?—”
“The official transcript of Captain Sylvenhart’s Truthteller interrogation,” I said, voice formal but cold. “Section 9.3 allows any military officer to request documentation pertaining to active cases.”
He swallowed. “I’m afraid those records are sealed pending council review?—”
“Sealed?” I raised my voice deliberately. Let it carry. “On whose authority?”
People were watching now. Other scribes. Clerks in the hallway. Guards stationed at the doors.
“Council orders—” he stammered.
“The council is sealing evidence that their interrogation violated protocol?” I stepped closer, voice cutting. “That their prisoner’s mind fractured under illegal detention? How convenient.”
The scribe’s face went pale. “Commander, I can’t?—”
“Can’t or won’t?” I leaned forward, hands braced on his desk. “Because if you’re hiding evidence of torture, that makes you complicit. Your name goes on the list with Hallen’s and Vareck’s. Is that what you want?”
He started to speak, then thought better of it. Looked around desperately for support that wasn’t coming.
Then, movement at the edge of my vision.
A younger scribe stepped forward from one of the side desks.
Dark hair, watchful eyes, ink smudges on his sleeves—Taeris.
I recognized him vaguely. He’d been assigned to palace records around the same time Azaria was made captain.
He was young and full of nervous energy.
I’d seen him flush bright red once when she’d walked past his desk.
He looked at the head scribe, voice quiet but steady. “It’s already recorded. Sealing it after the fact violates archival law.”
The head scribe’s eyes went wide. “You’ll be dismissed?—”
Taeris’s voice came louder now, braver. “Then dismiss me. But he’s right. If we hide this, we’re part of it.”
Silence stretched. Then Taeris moved. Turned to the filing cabinets behind him, pulled open a drawer, and rifled through parchment with practised efficiency.
The head scribe lunged forward. “Don’t?—”
Too late. Taeris pulled the transcript free. Held it for a moment, met my eyes. Then handed it to me. I took it carefully. The parchment was still crisp, the ink barely dry.
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
Taeris nodded once, jaw tight. “She deserves better than this.”
I looked at the head scribe. He was standing there, pale and shaking, realizing he’d lost.
“If you have a problem with this,” I said, voice low and lethal, “take it up with High Lord Tywin. I’m sure he’d love to hear how you tried to seal evidence of council misconduct.”
The scribe said nothing. I turned and walked out. The room remained silent behind me.
Now it was official. Permanent. Undeniable.
They’d tortured her until her mind broke. And I had proof.
By the time I reached the corridor outside, my hands were shaking. Not from fear, but from rage. Cold, focused, lethal rage. I looked down at the transcript. Read the final lines again.
Subject unable to maintain coherent responses. Memory fragmentation evident. Emotional regulation compromised. Continued interrogation deemed impossible without risk of permanent psychological damage.
Recommendation: Immediate cessation of questioning. Medical intervention required.
The Truthteller had done his job. He’d documented exactly what they’d done to her. Now the question was whether it would be enough.
I turned toward the council wing. Hallen and Vareck were about to learn what happened when you pushed me too far.