The man screamed as he was being tortured on the X-shaped frame, the man was screaming and crying from the pain as The Archer watched the torturer do upon the man. The Archer gulped as he sympathized with the man, despite knowing he shouldn't, should he? Should I? He asked himself as he watched the man scream and gurgle and spit out blood.
The commander walked behind him, patting his back, "Such a sad sight, isn't it?" He said as he stood behind him, "He retreated into enemy territory thinking that we'd take him captive and not do anything to him, what a coward he is. That's what he gets for deserting. If you ever think about deserting like this man, you'll get this treatment." The man snickered as he walked away, The Archer didn't look back, he just continued watching the tortured get tortured. The man was a deserter of House Avila. The Archer couldn't look away or else he would get tortured. He knew the threats the commander was giving him when he first arrived in Lakewood until now were getting through him.
They see right through me. The Archer thought about the threats as he watched the man get tortured, his fingernails getting torn off, his fingers getting cut off one by one. They see right through me! I can't look away or they'll cut off my fingers! The Archer thought once more as he was forced to watch the gruesome act.
"PLEASE STOP!!!" The Tortured Man screamed out, "PLEASE!!!"
The one that was doing the torture upon the man just laughed at his misery, leaving no reply as he went on and flayed the man. The Archer just watched and watched, If I look away, they'll get my head on a pike for everyone to see. I need to watch, I need to. He thought. The Archer gulped as the torturer stopped, flicking the blood off the blood-soaked dagger as he snickered at the tired man on the X-shaped frame.
"I'll be back for you." The Torturer whispered to the man as he wiped the blood off of his gloved hands before removing the glove itself, the torturer then looked at The Archer, "Hey, you. Watch over him. Don't get him off or you're next." He threatened The Archer as he removed his apron and put it down next to the dagger and the gloves before he gave the Archer a firm look before he went outside of the torture chamber. The Archer just stood there and gulped as he watched over the man, looking tired and weak from the week-long torture he was getting. The man's skin was flayed from the leg up, and his pointer, middle, and ring finger on his right hand were cut off.
The Archer looked at the man, weak and scared, like he used to be back when he was just a servant boy for some house back when he was a child, whom he was always beaten up and his mother was always raped by the Lord of the House before getting killed by the Lord for sleeping with another man besides him. Everything happened until the sack of Gandara Carpio back in the South of the Mainland. The Sack of Gandara Carpio was one of the most gruesome events that happened back in the days of King Harlowe of House Forman. I can't do this anymore. Thought the Archer as he looked at the weakened and tortured man. He immediately grabbed the dagger used to flay him and cut the rope that was tied to the frame, he helped the man to his feet and the man looked at him, and the man whispered an inaudible 'thank you'.
The Archer and the weakened man went out of the torture chamber and ran down the hallway, slowly but surely, not wanting to be seen. Once they reached the outdoors of the small castle, they noticed a squad of knights and squires on the castle's main grounds, but the Archer knew that the castle had a small back door through the kitchen, the two men hurried as they went to the kitchen.
When they reached the kitchen, the Archer spotted a knight who was looking for food to eat while on a break, the two men ducked down behind the counter as The Archer grabbed his bow and pulled out an arrow from the sheathe, he pulled the string back and hit the knight straight through the head, once the coast was clear, they made it out to the winter forest of the Fellowes. The snow fell slowly as they heard the horn sound from inside the castle, The Archer held the wounded man close to him as they ran through the white snow-filled forest, the blood from the wounded man leaving a trail in the white snow.
"Just keep running!" The Archer breathed out as they both ran away from the castle, the wounded man huffed as blood dripped down all over his arms and flayed fingers and legs,
When they reached a cave, The Archer covered the blood trails outside the cave entrance with snow, then the Archer came back to the wounded man who was sitting on the rough, cave floor.
"Are you okay?" The Archer asked, looking sympathetic for the man who had been tortured for so long.
"I— I'm fine. Everything… hurts, sire."
"I see." The Archer responded as he looked around the cave for a goldenrod plant. "What crimes did you commit that caused you to be abused this way?" The Archer asked the man as he noticed a goldenrod plant that was growing along the cave walls made of cobblestone and moss. The wounded man coughed as he wiped the blood on his torn and dirty tunic.
"I… I abandoned the house I pledged to… House Avila. You've heard of that house, haven't you?" The wounded man coughed again, breathing heavily as he shivered from the cold, "I hated there, I hated BEING there! They were all assholes..."
"Why, if I may ask?" The Archer chuckled a little as he knew, he used to be a squire for that house, but a siege happened and he was handpicked to be an Archer for Lord Avila, He grimaced at the thought of remembering the cruelty the Lord of the House has inflicted on those slaving for him has done.
"I was always the laughing stock of the whole town! That shitty lord would always pick me and humiliate me just for his own entertainment! For all of their entertainment!" He shouted out, his voice echoing throughout the deep cavern they were in.
"Do you hear that?" The Archer shushed as he listened, the wounded man sat down again, coughing quietly as the Archer investigated the noise. It was coming from the entrance of the cave. It was footsteps, it sounded like a lance fournie was outside of the cave, making a camp. The Archer readied his bow and arrow as he snuck a peek from the corner of the cavern wall, and he was right. There was an estimate of a hundred to a hundred-and-fifty foot soldiers, and The Archer would have to think of an escape, even if it means death.