That day, a large manor in Upper Alandriel in the nobles quarter was filled with the screams of a young boy, begging for help. But by the time the screaming stopped, help never came.
When Daniel came to again, basking in the moonlight of a full moon, he realised he was now missing all of his fingernails and had a broken nose. The man who was called 'Harold' had left the room with a conniving smile, chuckling as he went. Trying as much as he could, Daniel could not remember how he got here, only a bit of the torture he endured yesterday and now. It almost felt like whatever he did do to get here was 'removed' somehow from his memory.
Although, his body did react strangely to that dishevelled boy earlier, as if it pained to see him that way. Before long, however, the moonlight was snuffed out of the sky, leaving Daniel in an inescapable dark, unable to sleep nor rest.
Hours passed insufferably, and the screams for help fell on deaf ears. Pain reverberated around his body, convulsing and begging for it to be alleviated ...anyone... please just anyone, help me... plea- The door swung open again, revealing the man and that boy from yesterday once more. Wait, yesterday? Daniel hadn't realised, but daylight was now shining into his cell and the day was over.
"I hope what you experienced yesterday persuaded you in to revealing the truth," the man said, his voice just as otherworldly as it was yesterday, before crouching down once more and asking, "So, do you know of a man called Lucan Duskwalker?"
"...n... ...n-no..."
"Tut-tut-tut, very disappointing, Daniel. I would of expected by now that you'd realise resisting won't get you anywhere. Why don't you just say it? That you do know him? That way you'll be free, and this suffering over with. So why do you keep denying the truth!" shouted the man, punching his fist into the stone wall next to him, the brick shattering into small shards of rock, and a crater forming from the dust that lay upon the impact.
And with it came gushing in a wave of pure wrath and anger and frustration and everything few and far between, palpitating with the swift rushing of a heartbeat and so dense, it felt like you couldn't breathe.
"...-ing..."
"What?!" exclaimed the man, crouching down and into Daniel's face, locking each other's eyes into a stare.
"...i'm... n-not... lying..." the ruined boy said, dooming the room to a palpable silence.
"You frustrate me, Daniel. Not only have you been in contact with Lucan Duskwalker, but the scan even told us you have conversed with him on many an occasion," the man said, condescendingly with his 'aura' disappearing, before commenting, "Harold. Let me do the work for today- also fetch me that whip of yours you made a while back, I think it'll come in handy."
"Heheh... this will be a fun one," the man called Harold snickered behind the iron door, "You'll be havin' them shortly, Inquisitor..." he finished, shuffling away.
"So lets start with this," the man talked to himself, pulling out a small set pliers and a hammer out of the 'tool' shelf next to him, also stained in red, "Daniel... I believe you came to the city from the county-side and then somehow met Lucan Duskwalker soon after, no?"
"...-hu... -huh..?"
"Stop feigning ignorance," the man spouted, pulling over a trolley that Harold had brought when he just now returned, where he strapped Daniel's arms onto. The stain of blood persistent on the top tray as well, and while Daniel realised this, the man continued, "First, will be your pinkie."
The man seemingly swung his arm downwards, yet to Daniel it looked like he hadn't swung it at all. In reality however, the man simply swung it to fast to see. And the horrid pain of a hammer swinging down and smashing his left little-finger to bits followed, with the ear-splitting scream of agony a close second behind.
Fragments of bone and flesh lay strewn across the tray, a small bloodied stub left where the finger once was, and a small unevenly broken bone deciding to poke its head out from it as well. Due to the size of the hammer, a sizeable chunk of flesh was also taken off from the left ring finger as well, exposing the raw white of an untouched bone inside, a crimson pool of blood leaking from the two fingers.
"I shall ask you again. After you departed from your home in the country-side, you stayed at the lodging of a certain Iago Duskwalker and met with the concerned Lucan Duskwalker the day afterwards, correct?"
"p-p-please... I d-do not kn-n-n-now... plea-"
"Lies. Ring."
The hammer struck once more, this time further into the base of the finger, separating the finger into two parts; the knuckle and the tip, hanging onto each other by a single tendon, half torn. The rest lay in smithereens across the tray, with a fragment of the smashed finger bone flying past Daniel's face, leaving a single line of red across his cheek.
As usual, another scream followed, this time more horrifying that the last. Yet this time, the snickering of a certain grotesque man in the back accompanied in it, a bloodthirsty look in their eyes; it was Harold.
"If you lie, you shall have one of your appendages 'removed' something that you should of guessed by now, if you could even think straight from the pain surging through you right now."
"...I-I don't, I don't know w-what you're talking about... p-please just-"
"Tut-tut-tut," the man interrupted, pulling put the plier and squeezing it open and wedging Daniel's right little finger in it, "any more lies and I'll simply let go, would you want that?"
"...I d-don-"
A gut-wrenching snapping sound reverberated around the cell, with Daniel's finger being snapped clean in half at just below the middle knuckle. It was routine by now. Screaming. The laughter. The silence. Then repeat.
"Harold, will you lend me the whip now?"
"Hehehe... Yes I will, Inquisitor" chuckled Harold, bowing and presenting a whip to the man. The whip was made of a hard, thick leather, with nails, razor blades and spikes attached at uneven intervals to the hide.
"Please take the tray away, and make sure to keep the remains, for you know what."
"Yes, Inquisitor"
Harold unceremoniously ripped Daniel's hands out of the restraints, even ripping off the part of the finger that hang by a tendon to its body, before putting it on the tray and sliding it away and past the cell. Every singular iota of Daniel's being begged itself to run or hide or for the sweat release of death. He twitched and convulsed, while frozen rivers ran down his face, head hanging low.
"Now, Daniel," the man exclaimed, causing Daniel to raise his head just enough to get a view on his tormenter, "The punishment has changed. Tell a lie and you shall receive ten lashes by this whip. Lets start. The days after you first came to Alandriel, you seemingly met up with Lucan Duskwalker consistently, no?"
"..."
"Answer me, Daniel. Insolence is not tolerated and will be met with a far harsher punishment."
"...-idn't-"
Before Daniel could even finish his attempt at an answer, the whip contorted and slashed against his face, ripping and gnawing at his flesh and skin, forming a straight line of blood across his face, pieces of muscle and flesh peeling off around the tear.
Before Daniel could even feel the pain of the injury, the whip lashed again. At his chest; his arms; his legs; his face again and everything that could be hit, delayed screams at each movement of the whip. Until...
"I think that's enough for the day. Son, Harold, leave him to rest."
"Yes, Inquisitor" two voices rung out simultaneously, one belonging to the revolting man, and the other from the boy, whose almost holy voice seemed an angelic saviour from his old life into his new one of torture. Although, who this saviour was, Daniel could not tell.
The two who responded, walked out of the cell together, as the man in front simply turned around and followed, as he shut the heavy, iron door slowly, inching forward as it met and crashed with its frame. With that, despite the sun still shining, Daniel's day ended, for the only thing he could do was sleep the pain away.