"Hey, wake up." a high-pitched yet manly voice resonated in Hubert's ear.
Rays of sunlight pierced the gaps in the formation of leaves, continuing until it too pierced his eyelids.
"Ye-yes?" Hubert responded hoarsely as he slowly supported himself up.
"Are you a watchman?" the man asked.
Hubert's mind was kickstarted to work by the sudden realization of the morning time. His vision became clearer, as he perceived the figure that stood in front of him.
A knight, marked by the coat of arms of House Trilly, a fiery bull figure amidst a blue background, on his chest and cape. His sword was hanging loosely on his waist, though his hand rested on it.
"Yes, I am," Hubert responded once again.
"What are you doing…"
Schwing
The knight came to a sudden realization. With one brow raised, a hand pulled his longsword from its leather scabbard from the waist of the knight.
"We got a deserter here!" the knight shouted, signaling his fellows.
The sound of crushed leaves filled the air as the ground shook and metal clanked. Another knight came, then another, and then another, until Hubert was surrounded. All wearing the same mark.
"Wa-wait! I-I'm not a deserter." Hubert explained, his voice shaky.
"Then what are you? The nearest outpost is 7 kilometers from here, are you saying that the watchmen are patrolling outside the normal 3 kilometers radius?" the knight questioned.
Hubert opened his mouth. But no voice came of it. The sight of the terrifying barbarian full of bloodlust filled his mind and clouded his judgment.
The knights surrounded Hubert, some had their hands on their scabbard, and some had already pulled it out of its scabbard and pointed it at him. All looked at the lone watchman who had just awoken from sleeping on the dirt, their eyes cautious.
A knight walked toward him from behind, his sword already drawn. Directing the pommel of his sword and launched an attack at him.
Hubert's vision turned blurry.
---
Two knights, the first, the one that woke Hubert up at the start, the other, the one that knocked Hubert out, dragged unconscious Hubert by his two arms in front of the courtroom. Then they threw him to the floor, before walking to the side of the red carpet.
His legs and arms in chains of steel, his face full of bruises, his whole body covered by blood and leaves.
A servant came, bringing in a bucket full of water. From the bucket, she took out a piece of rag, and dipped it in the murky water.
Swiftly and roughly, without any care of his well being, the servant rubbed the rag onto his face. Waking him up.
"Wh-where am I?" another ray of sunlight rushed into his eyes as the servant left his side.
His visions were still blurry, his head movement disoriented, yet he could see around him, a large room, a courtroom befitting of the nobilities, bathed by the grand sunlight coming from a large stained-glass kingdom.
There, a large banner, marked by the mark of the house of Trilly, draped wavingly. Under that banner, a man sat on a wooden throne located on top of an elevated stone platform.
"Watchman!" the man on the throne shouted. His voice echoed in the room like a roar of a boar, his gaze like a lion staring at its prey, his presence became the star in that room.
Hubert's consciousness gathered, his heart beat fastened, his pupils dilated. His body trembled upon the voice.
"Deserter! You have sinned against your liege!" the man accused.
"I'-I'm no deserter, s-sir." Hubert objected.
"When the barbarians attacked, how could only you survive? That even my nephew was nowhere to be seen in this city, now? You thought that the men of House Trilly, in whose veins runs my blood, would be defeated so easily by the barbarians?!" The man roared.
Upon clearer vision, Hubert recognized the man in front of him.
The man was that of a prominent noble. One that he saw once when his father took on a trip into the city, commemorating the coming of a hero, protector of the north.
The head of House Trilly,
Duke of Trilly,
Duke of The North,
Master of the City of Trilly,
Grandmaster of the knighthood order of Trilly,
Asger Trilly.
"Yo-your majes-majesty… Our outp-post wer-re attacked! Si-sir Greg-gregorius…" Hubert responded.
"You dare say his name?! Have you no shame for not defending a noble bloodline? HAVE YOU NO FEAR OF MY NAME?" a fiery raging voice cut off Hubert in the middle of his sentence.
"Me-mercy." Hubert shook with fear, his head bowed down until it touched the carpet, like a slave begging for mercy from its master.
"Even if you are not a deserter, a watchman that abandoned his post… doesn't deserve to live with his head looking up." the duke said, pitiful, yet he knew that it must be done.
"Coward." the duke muttered as he stood up and left the room.
The two knights on each side looked at each other and smirked. They then grabbed Hubert by his hands again and dragged him outside the courtroom. Into the hallway of the castle.
"Coward… Coward… Coward…" his mind was filled with the word as he continuously muttered the same word repeatedly.
He continued until a while walking in the hallway and turning a few corners, until they stopped in front of a room. Then the knights dragged him inside.
The room was dimly lit. The putrid smell of blood and rust filled the air, striking any nose that made contact with it. In the room was a wide assortment of rusted iron tools.
In the middle of it was a metal chair, patiently and silently waiting for its next victim, Hubert.
"No… No… NO!" Hubert pleaded, unbeknownst to him, the place would become his home for months.
Then the room closed.
"Ugh… Wh-where am I? Is this… Penfirth?" Hubert groaned unsettlingly.
"Nice! 27 streaks in a day!" a knight excitedly exclaimed, breaking the record of making Hubert unconcious.
"Hey, we broke our previous record. This watchman sure is strong, huh? Enduring all of this just like a coward he is!" another exclaimed, also with the same excited tone.
Hubert raised his head. His arms were strapped to the chair by leather rope as thick as two coins stacked together. His legs binded together with a device of rings of steel fitted to his ankle and connected together.
Then he saw the two knights.
"Ehm ehm! By the order of Duke of Trilly, I sentence thee to… A finger crushed by hammer!" a knight roleplayed.
"Yes, sir!" the other knight proceeded.
He then grabbed one of Hubert's finger and placed it on a flat surface of the metal armchair. Then the knight, who was just acting as a messenger, picked up a hammer and placed it on top of the finger.
Then he raised the hammer, aiming.
"In 3… 2… 1…!"
Splinters of nails and blood went flying everywhere.
"AGHHRHHHH" Hubert screamed, then it went black.
"Ah yes… I'm being tortured for being a coward… Of course, it's the fate that I deserve to get for sinning. Against who? I don't know…" Hubert's spirit, broken to pieces, with no support that he could lean against.
"O-Goddess Astia, you are the only Goddess of this world… Why, just why..?" he spoke to himself, unconscious.
"28 streaks in a day!"
Hubert's consciousness went back to reality.
His eyes looked over at the states of his body.
Since the first day that he came into the room, he had been tortured. He didn't know the purpose of his torture, as none of the torturers mentioned it to him.
But he knew of their qualities, they flogged him and his flesh fell off his body and rotted on the floor. They marked him with pieces of hot metal and scarred him with daggers, nails, and hammers.
Then they would roleplay, playing as messengers, kings, dukes, and even God. They mocked him, cursed him and spat on him.
And in the end, a healer would cast a spell upon him, so that he wouldn't die.
"I'm… No coward." Hubert murmured.
"Oh? You can still say that? Then you…" he clenched his fist, equipped with gloves of steel.
"Should have died along with your comrades!" the knight punched Hubert. Then he punched again, and again, and again.
"Haa…" Hubert groaned, giving up. Though his sense of pain blared jolts upon jolts of pain, he knew responding to it was useless.
"The watchmen are nothing anyway. Against the barbarians of the north and they folded so quickly! Might as well not have them protecting our borders!" the knight said to the other.
"Don't say that… at least let them be a meat shield for us! Ahahhahahah" the other knight responded with a laugh.
Creek
The door of the room suddenly opened, revealing yet another knight.
"Hey you guys, take that guy out, his majesty wants to see him."
It was a ray of hope for Hubert, this nightmare, this terrifying dream, all of this is going to end.
"Ahh, it's no fun! It's been only three months that he's been living here." a knight cited.
"Don't worry, we don't know what his majesty want to do with him yet," The knight who opened the door replied.
They chained Hubert by the legs and arms again. Then they dragged him on the floor like a beggar toward the courtroom and then tossed him into a kneeling position.
"…" the duke looked at Hubert with a disgusted face. Yet he kept looking at Hubert.
"Coward." the duke greeted.
Hubert, facing down, looked at the carpeted floor in silence. After all, with what strength would he use to respond. His muscles were mostly gone, his face showed signs of famish, his pupils found peace in nothingness, his facial hair grew out of control.
"Have you thought of your mistakes, deserter?" the duke asked once again.
Hubert left him with no response.
The duke let out a sigh, then he stood up from his wooden throne and descended the stairs.
His presence was so majestic that sunlight seemed to gather behind him. His cape made of silk, embroidered by the coat of arms of his house. His hand rested on the masterfully forged sword of his on his waist.
As he stopped in front of Hubert, he looked down on Hubert and clenched his fist.
In a swooping motion, the duke grabbed Hubert's face with his hand covered by the leather glove. Then he looked at it as if examining a property, only to be met by a spiritless face and emotion.
The duke's wrinkles and gray hair and short beard showed signs of aging. His handsomeness reduced by the passing of time. His eyes were red and sharpened, like a raging bull even in his calmness.
"The Church of Visions needs for more slaves, take him to them," the duke commanded, as he took his gloves off and gave to a servant to be burnt.
Then, Hubert was sent, to the
Church of Visions.