The natural darkness of the cavern was illuminated by only a single torch decorating the wall. All other forms of light had long since burned out, leaving the remaining bandit leader hanging from the ceiling by his wrists in almost complete darkness. It would have mattered little to him in any case, his eyes still bloody and swollen from the spherical device Mera had delivered.

On top of his wounded eyes and bleeding thigh, numerous fresh wounds were present all over his bare flesh. Bruising was visible where something had impacted with enough force to crack multiple ribs. The man at this point was struggling to breath, whimpering quietly into the darkness, but he was met with only silence.

“Are you ready to talk? I don’t have all day, and we have only barely scratched the surface. Tell me what I want to know, and I might grant you a quick and painless death. Continue to resist and I will make sure that your final moments feel like an eternity. Now tell me… Who hired you?” The whisper sounded from every direction, emerging as if the shadows themselves were alive. Each time another word was said in that slow, methodical, and emotionless whisper the bandits body convulsed helplessly, similar to prey struggling fruitlessly within a spider’s web.

“I don’t know…. I swear I don’t know! I was just following orders, the man you killed he knew everything! Please let me go I won’t-” A fist impacted the already broken ribs, eliciting a scream from the hanging man.

“I don’t want to hear your begging. My friend here was really upset when he saw the bodies outside…. The ones you and your friends dumped thoughtlessly into that open pit. Be glad that I am the one in charge, my friend is a gentleman, but there are some things that get him riled up. To be honest, he would like nothing more than to tear you open with his bare hands, he probably could, but you have information I want. Speak up or I may just decide you are not worth my time.” Cadeyrn stood nearby sharpening his knife, taking the time to slowly whet the blade, allowing the noise to carry within the air.

As soon as the sound of the blade was heard the man began to shake uncontrollably, with his bladder releasing its contents, staining both his trousers and the floor. Seconds later he was screaming in pain, a rolled-up linen muffling the pained yells, while the tip of a knife dug deep underneath one of his toenails. Slowly and methodically Cadeyrn cut at the underside of the nail, making sure to hold firm the man’s foot as he struggled against the torture.

This process continued for a minute or two, with both men taking their time, dragging out the process before removing four of the man’s toenails. The former bandit leader had long since lost his voice, his head lolling side to side, the futile struggle having ended.

A splash of water brought him screaming back to life, his yells and cries audible now that the cloth had been removed. “Now, it’s time to stop playing games. My people found several letters addressed to you and your observer. The two of you stood at the top of this band of raiders, and I found quite the curious emblem.” In Cadeyrn’s hand was a palm sized bronze disk, engraved upon it was a dagger wrapped in a dark wooden handle, root like tentacles wrapping and writhing all along the base. In the flickering firelight it even appeared as if the spindly limbs were winding their way across the engraved disk.

“I have never seen this heraldry before, it is new to me, and I have a few questions. But first, why don’t you tell me who your dead friend was. Truthfully, I already have a good idea, however I insist you tell. Just keep in mind what will happen if you lie to me again.” The man struggled just to nod in response, his head falling to one side, unable to remain steady any longer.

“I don’t know his name…. he was a warrior. All I know is he came from Myrmien…. Lot of them did. We were told to come here, raid the road. The captives were to be sold to an unknown buyer, the warrior, and his men they handled that part. I only know that they wanted men, women, old and young, it didn’t matter…. They were buying everyone.” At this point the man was missing much of his fingers and toenails, on top of the multiple wounds and bruises. With the previous wounds slowly bleeding him out, his skin had taken on a pallid hue, which was somewhat noticeable even in the dim lighting present.

“Good… Good. See how much easier this could have been. Now we don’t have much time, but I think I have a feeling who might be behind this little scheme. However, I am not certain about this thing I found. It was hidden away, as if someone did not want it found. Tell me… who does this belong to.” Stepping right up to the man, the Scholar placed the bronze disk directly in front of his impaired eyes. At first, he showed no reaction, however once his lifeless eyes focused in on the disk they widened. It was only for a very brief instant because he quickly redirected his focus and attempted to act as if he was completely blind.

That singular moment had not escaped the Scholar’s notice, as much as the bandit may have hoped it had. “You know what this engraving means. Who does it belong to, and how are they involved?”

“I am sorry, I don’t know what you are talking about. Its dark and my eyes they are blind. I can’t tell you what you wish to know… perhaps when my eyes heal I can-” The man and his excuses were abruptly cut off by the finger pressing deep into his existing thigh wound. He screamed in agony as the Scholar pressed his fingers into the open arrow wound, making sure to widen it and increase the damage. Only when he was satisfied did it stop, by then the man was drifting in and out of consciousness.

“Last chance, who does this belong to!” This time there was no leniency, no façade of mercy within his tone. It was instead a promise of finality, there would be no games past this point. Either he said what he wanted to hear, or he would be left here for Timeaus to do with as he pleased.

The man finally appeared to realize his predicament, either he went for the promise of a quick and painless death, or he would be tortured slowly, inevitably meeting his end. That would not have normally been much of a choice, however the last few hours had shown the man that there were things far more painful than death alone.

“The people that belongs to are the buyers for the slaves. They prepared this location, provided the weapons. All they told us was that if we followed their directions, we could make a lot of money. We just did as they said.” Even though the man was here surrounded by his captors, his eyes were darting left and right as if looking for something or someone else.

“And their name…. What is their name? What are they known by? Is it a group, an individual? Spit it out!” Timeaus broke in for the first time, yelling at the captive, having lost his patience, and striking the man in his already broken ribs. Eliciting yet another scream, but also focusing his attention back onto the man standing before him.

“They call themselves the Order… of…. Th..e…” The bandit struggled to get out the words, yet something was wrong. His tongue began to swell, his cheeks changing to a purple color as numerous black veins creeped along his skin.

Try as they might, there was little either Cadeyrn or Timeaus could do. The man began to convulse, his tongue blocked off his airway, muffling the screams and restricting oxygen. Next were the black veins which appeared to eat away at the skin around it, blood poured from every orifice. One long excruciating minute later the man was dead, his body still hanging from the ceiling, covered from head to toe in the black sludge like liquid. A combination of blood and whatever substance those black veins had been pumping into the body.

“What was that!” Timeaus had stepped far back from the corpse, visibly disturbed by the strange and grisly occurrence.

The Scholar was more intrigued than disturbed, collecting a sample of the black substance in a glass vial before stepping away. Whatever that was it was not natural and the man himself had appeared unaware of it. Clearly it had something to do with the bronze disk, or more importantly the group or individual that emblem represented.

“I am not yet sure Timeaus, for now we should take whatever is essential and burn everything else. It’s too bad we won’t be able to collect the bounty on his head any longer. For now, just grab some kindling and let’s burn this place. I’m sick of the smell, and I have no desire to stand here allowing that stench to sink into my clothes.” The two quickly grabbed the things of value identified earlier and proceeded to set the furniture alight.

At least now they could be sure that there was more involved in this scheme than originally thought. They would need to remain on alert, it was unlikely the road ahead would be getting any easier.