Interlude 3
The bishop of Endeloin was an older man of normal height and stature. He had an untamed grey beard and a receding hairline that had lowered to the back of his skull. His eyebrows were thick and white .
The bishop loved his job. He revealed in the power his position gave him over people. Sure, he may have had to act humble and pious most of the time to fool his followers into believing he was a good man of the cloth, but it was worth it. At the end of the day he loved how the normal- lesser- people hung onto every word he said. He loved how they did not question his authority, it made him feel important and on the same level as the One God he professed to believe in. Well, some sheeple did question him, but when that happened he would just deny their criticism -however valid- and shift the blame back on his accusers. Usually, if he was in the mood, he would publicly execute them in front of the entire city and make a mockery of their corpses for all to see.
As he sat in a throne-like chair on the pulpit, staring into the empty cathedral, he admired the grandness of it all; the superiority of the New Religion and the Greatness of himself. He knew that at the service later that day the church would be full of people waiting for him to give them life.
His mind wandered a bit from that daydream to what charity he would perform for the sheeple of the city the following day. He didn't mind doing charity, in fact he loved it. He loved seeing the people who were lesser than him get the things they needed the most. It fed his ego, quite a lot, and made him feel like a good person.
The sound of one of his priests walking towards him, down the middle aisle of the church, brought him out of his egocentric visions.
"Father bishop!"
"What is it, my child?" He answered.
"You asked for us to come get you when the special prisoner was about to break."
The events of the previous day had been most fortunate for the bishop. After receiving a dove from Negathor, he called his flock into an emergency service; where he gave them a call to action. He made it seem like the One God wanted the boy to be found, and that the boy with dreams was an enemy to the church. He really put the fear of the One God's wrath into his followers that night and they ate it up like pigs eating slop, every single word. By nightfall one of his sheep had snitched on a psychic that lived next door. The psychic they now held prisoner in their dungeon.
"Thank you my child." The bishop rose from his seat and followed his priest into the dungeon below the chapel.
The dungeon was a dark room, dimly lit by a few candles that lined its walls. An executioner, dressed in all black robes, embroidered with the golden dot in the center, rushed to greet him.
"Father bishop, come in."The executioner led the Bishop to a woman chained to the ceiling; her legs spread, straddling the pointy end of a triangle of sharp wood, her feet weighted down at the ankles. Blood poured from her naked flesh, staining the wooden horse she rode. Her body was bruised, beaten and bloody. Her chest bare, sporting pockets of bleeding, ripped out flesh where her breast used to be. She could barely open her eyes, the skin around them had been blackened from her abuse.
The bishop stood next to her and looked directly into her eyes, unphased by her grotesque image.
"Don't get me wrong heathen, by the orders of the One God, given to us in the great book, I have to kill you. But I could put you out of your misery fast, or continue doing it as I've been doing it- nice and slow. It's your choice, all you have to do is tell me what I want to know."
"I already told your priest, I don't know anything!" The woman struggled to speak through her swollen lips.
The bishop knew this was a lie. Through the member that gave her up, he knew that this woman, this witch, was part of the group of hellenistic heathens called the Brotherhood of Old, who - through the unholy ones guidance- defied the One Religion, the Pope King and the true One God at every chance they got.
The bishop motioned to the executioner, calling her bluff. "Put more weights on!"
The executioner did as he was told, attaching two more weights to the woman's ankles. She screamed in pain but the bishop didn't care. The more she screamed, the more he felt alive. A fresh river of blood shot out of her torso. The priest motioned again to the man of death to remove the weights.
"Don't you know it's a sin to lie?" The bishop remained calm.
The woman spat blood in his face and screamed, "Fuck you!"
The bishop wiped the blood off with the sleeve of his white robe. "What a shame, I was hoping to wear this to service tonight. I guess I'll have to change."If the bishop were to be honest with himself, he had hoped she would resist. He loved causing her pain, but on top of that, he loved a challenge. He loved seeing her screem as she was strung up, helpless to stop the torture they were putting her though. Like the gullibility of his flock, it made him feel like a god.
"Triple her weights"
The executioner attached four more weights to her ankles. The bishop could see the woman's body shift as she cried out in agony. She was about to break, the bishop felt it. He knew the woman wanted the pain to end despite her acting tough.
"They're coming to Endeloin!" She cried.
The bishop lifted up her weights and she stopped screaming.
"What did you say?" The bishop smiled at his victory.
The woman breathed heavily, utterly defeated. The bishop had won and he wanted to stay in this moment as long as he could. He enjoyed winning.
"They're headed to Endeloin. They're coming from the tunnels in the base of the Vendeloin mountains." The woman hung her head low as she confessed.
"Good, good. See that wasn't so bad now, was it?" The bishop gently removed her weights and caressed her broken face. "Now, when will they be here?"
Before the woman could answer his question she slumped over, her eyes slowly closed and what little life she had left finally left her body.
"Well that's unfortunate." The bishop huffed in disappointment. He snapped at the priest who -up until now- hovered near the door, shielding his face away from the ghastly scene. The priest came to attention and joined the bishop at his side.
"Have the priest Sametell do the service tonight. I'll take a group of kingsmen to the tunnels . I will wait as long as I need to to capture him and then I'll bring in the boy with dreams myself. Understand?"
"Yes father bishop." The priest disappeared from the dungeon as fast as he could.
"Executioner, throw this body in the hole outside with the rest of them."
The executioner untied the dead woman's body from the ceiling, her limp carcass leaned into his arms. Unceremoniously he threw the body over his shoulder and exited the room.
The bishop was proud of himself. He felt his treatment of the woman was justified and the One God would reward him greatly for his undying efforts. He observed the puddles of red on the floor and admired the executioners handiwork, before leaving the dungeon himself.