The sounds of hammering echoed through the narrow corridors of the fortress as the goblin smiths worked tirelessly in the dim glow of the forge. The heavy scent of molten iron and the rhythmic clang of metal against metal reverberated through the stone walls, but within the cold chambers of the throne room, it was silent.
Kevin sat upon his throne, his mind fixated on Harrod. The blacksmith was bound in chains, his body broken but not his spirit. Kevin had seen men like him before—fighters who defied all odds, even in the face of defeat. They didn't break easily, but they did break. He knew that Harrod's capture was only the beginning of a longer game. The blacksmith's fate was now tied to the very rebellion he sought to lead.
But Kevin wasn't just interested in breaking Harrod physically. He wanted to shatter him in such a way that the humans who followed him would be left hopeless, leaderless, and without direction. The resistance had been a thorn in Kevin's side long enough. If he was to solidify his control over the city, it was time to extinguish the embers of rebellion once and for all.
Grom lumbered into the throne room, his massive form casting a long shadow across the stone floor. His eyes, gleaming with the savage joy of combat, met Kevin's, and the hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"He's ready," Grom said, his voice gruff. "Though he doesn't seem to be too keen on talking."
Kevin rose from his seat, the dark cloak that draped his shoulders trailing behind him like the shadow of death. "He'll talk," Kevin said, his voice calm but laced with the promise of something darker. "They all do. Eventually."
The walk to the dungeons was short but oppressive. The flickering torchlight barely illuminated the jagged stone walls, casting eerie shadows that seemed to close in with every step. Kevin's boots echoed in the silence, a steady rhythm that matched the beating of his own heart. Harrod was a key player in this game, and Kevin intended to make full use of him.
When they arrived, Kevin found Harrod slumped against the wall, his wrists bound in heavy iron shackles attached to the stone. His face was bruised and bloodied, but his eyes burned with defiance. The chains rattled slightly as Harrod shifted, raising his gaze to meet Kevin's. Even now, after days of imprisonment and brutal treatment, there was a fire in those eyes—one that Kevin intended to snuff out.
"You're persistent, I'll give you that," Kevin said, his voice cutting through the dim silence of the dungeon like a blade. "But persistence alone won't save you."
Harrod spat on the ground near Kevin's feet, a wordless show of defiance. His lips curled into a half-smile despite the pain. "You think you've won," Harrod said, his voice hoarse. "But the city isn't yours. It'll never be yours."
Kevin's eyes narrowed, his patience thin. He stepped closer, looming over Harrod, and his presence filled the small chamber like a dark storm cloud. "I've already won, Harrod. You just haven't realized it yet." Kevin knelt down, his gaze locking with the blacksmith's. "Your people are scattered. Leaderless. They will abandon you. They will see you for what you are—a failure."
Harrod's smile faltered for just a fraction of a second, but it was enough for Kevin to know that his words were sinking in. The chains rattled as Harrod straightened, his voice filled with anger. "I'm not the leader," he growled. "The people will rise because they have no choice. You can break me, but you'll never break their will."
Kevin's smile was cold and calculating. "Perhaps. But if they don't fear you, they will fear what I do to you." He stood, turning his back to Harrod as if the conversation was already over. "You're nothing but a symbol, Harrod. And symbols are easy to destroy."
The sound of heavy boots approached, and Rax entered the dungeon, his expression smug. He'd been Kevin's eyes in the human population, slipping into their midst unnoticed, stirring up doubt, and twisting their loyalties.
"Boss," Rax said with a nod, glancing at Harrod before returning his attention to Kevin. "It's just like we thought. The humans are confused without him. They don't know where to turn. We keep spreading those rumors, and they'll be eating each other alive soon enough."
Kevin nodded, his mind already formulating the next step. "Good. But we're not done yet. Not until Harrod is nothing more than a whisper of failure in their ears."
Rax chuckled, his eyes flicking back to Harrod. "You hear that, blacksmith? Your friends are losing faith in you already."
Harrod's silence was telling, and Kevin relished in it. He knew Harrod was fighting to keep his composure, but there were cracks forming. Kevin had learned, through his journey in this world, that there were many ways to break a person. Pain was one way, but psychological warfare was far more effective in the long run. It was only a matter of time before Harrod's mind would bend, if not break.
But Kevin wasn't here for simple cruelty. He had a bigger plan in mind. Harrod's death would be too easy, too quick. No, Kevin wanted to make an example of him—a public one.
"Rax," Kevin said, his voice carrying a note of finality. "Gather the humans. All of them. I want the city square filled."
Rax raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "What's the plan?"
"We're going to show them what happens when they follow weak leaders," Kevin said, his eyes fixed on Harrod. "We'll make him beg in front of them. And when they see their great blacksmith kneeling in chains, they'll know that resistance is futile."
Harrod's body tensed, his fists clenching despite the pain of the shackles. "I'll never beg," he spat, though his voice lacked the confidence it had before.
Kevin smiled coldly. "We'll see."
The next morning, the city square was packed. Goblin guards lined the perimeter, keeping the humans in check as they were herded into place. The air was thick with tension, the weight of unspoken dread hanging over the crowd like a storm cloud about to burst. The humans stood in uneasy clusters, whispering among themselves, their eyes darting between the goblins and the makeshift stage that had been erected in the center of the square.
Kevin stood at the edge of the stage, his arms crossed over his chest as he surveyed the crowd. This was the moment he'd been waiting for—the moment to solidify his rule not through brute force, but through sheer psychological dominance. The humans needed to see what happened to their so-called leaders when they defied him.
Harrod was dragged onto the stage by Grom and another goblin guard. His chains clinked against the wooden platform, and though he struggled to stand, his body betrayed the pain he was in. His eyes scanned the crowd, and Kevin saw the flicker of recognition, the realization that his people were watching him—waiting for him to show strength or break.
Kevin stepped forward, his voice booming over the crowd. "This," he said, gesturing to Harrod, "is the man you followed. The man who led you to believe that you could resist. But where is your rebellion now? Where are your weapons? Your victories?"
The crowd murmured, a wave of uncertainty rippling through them. Kevin could see the fear in their eyes—the fear of what was coming next.
He turned to Harrod, his voice lowering but still loud enough for the crowd to hear. "Beg," Kevin said, his command cold and unfeeling. "Beg for mercy in front of your people, and I'll let them live."
Harrod's jaw tightened, his eyes locked on Kevin with a mixture of hatred and defiance. "I'd rather die."
Kevin nodded, almost as if he'd expected the response. "And die you shall. But first—let them see you fall."
With a snap of his fingers, Grom and the other goblin forced Harrod to his knees, pressing him down with brutal force. Harrod grunted, his body shaking as he fought to stay upright, but the pain was overwhelming. Still, he refused to speak.
Kevin crouched beside him, his voice soft, barely a whisper. "I'll break you in front of them. And when they see you broken, they'll lose all hope."
But then, something unexpected happened.
A voice from the crowd—soft at first, but growing louder—began to speak.
"We stand with Harrod," the voice said, and soon others joined in. "We stand with him!"
Kevin's eyes snapped to the crowd, his heart racing with fury. He hadn't anticipated this. The humans—those pathetic creatures—were rallying behind Harrod, even in his defeat. It wasn't fear he saw in their eyes now. It was something far more dangerous.
Hope.
Harrod lifted his head, a small smile playing at the corner of his bruised lips. "You'll never break us," he said, his voice steady now, filled with a quiet strength.
Kevin's hands clenched into fists, his fury boiling over. He had miscalculated, and he knew it. But this wasn't over. It was far from over.
"Take him away," Kevin ordered, his voice filled with venom. "We'll deal with him later."
As Grom dragged Harrod off the stage, Kevin turned his back on the crowd. He had wanted to make an example of Harrod, but instead, the humans had found something he hadn't anticipated.
Kevin's mind raced with new strategies, new ways to crush the rebellion. If hope was what they had found, then Kevin would find a way to take it from them.
No matter what it took.