“Let me out,” a man cried through the rickety door. Heiko grew tired of his wailing. “I’ll do anything you say.” His captive was not broken yet. In his line of work, there were a few rules that always held true. The strongest men can be reduced to pitiful puddles when they are clamped in iron, left to rot underground. Don’t bother interrogating hysterical men; they will say anything to gain a glimpse of freedom. Most importantly, they needed to fear his cold fury greater than death itself. If he was patient, the questioning would take long. Captain Martin took no time at all. A little longer than two minutes, and he was one of the stronger ones.

  As his newest prisoner cried out for mercy, Heiko left the dungeon, shaking his head. This was a game of waiting. His questions would receive their answers soon enough, but waiting was such a hassle. When he passed a guard, he imparted a single order, “When he stops his whimpering, send a messenger for me.” The guard nodded, ramshackle armor shaking. Heiko wondered if the man understood him. This city’s excuse for a prison was made more pitiful by having an aged guard who lost his hearing over a decade ago.

  “Another town needing the King’s firm hand,” Darius had said on their first night. He hated to agree with the oaf, but he was right. How could these fools pretend to maintain the King’s peace with shoddy prisons? As he watched the corridors, he took note of the eroding stone. Dead weeds hung from the mortar. River water leaked from the ceiling. Great conditions to give prisoners a sense of hopelessness, but crumbling, lax dungeons had easy exit routes. A hardened criminal could sniff them out.

  That rat in the Watchtower would slip out in an hour, he acknowledged, recalling how many dungeons and jails the troublesome inmate escaped before landing at his final destination. There was a man that needed a noose’s embrace, but he had some use. Rumor has it that he knew where a great treasure was hidden, holding many royal artifacts lost to time. No doubt a ploy to extend his meaningless existence. Still, there was some enjoyment out of going along with another’s lie. All it took was a little imagination...and guts of iron.

  Two guards patrolled the outer corridors of the dank dungeon. This lot had the foolish gall to call the passageways The Labyrinth. What mockery. Not even a blind man would lose his way. As he passed, the guards stepped to the side, bowing their heads. At least the underlings understand when to honor their betters, Heiko considered, finding the one good quality of the city.

  “Tell me,” one guard whispered to the other. “Is he as skilled as they say?” His companion hushed him. If they saw what he did to his captives, they would not breathe within earshot.

  Once he exited the dungeon, he made his way toward the cathedral. Unlike other cities, the founders decided to make the temple part of the capitol building. Government, prison, and place of worship. A curious decision. Their founders were brothers, each serving the city in their own way. They were eccentric and suspicious of one another. That was the true purpose for housing everything under the same roof. No brother trusted another.

  Whatever their reasons, the founders made it easy for Heiko to track down his troublesome leader. Worshippers and priests scattered about the temple section, some whispering amongst themselves while others prayed aloud. Many stood or knelt in silence, fearing what others would think of their prayers. Among them, kneeling at the empty altar was Darius, wearing a white veil of prayer, a custom among the royals, to hide their faces from onlookers.

  If there was nothing else that could be said about Darius, he was devout in his prayers. He could be found at the temple once near dawn and again at sunset. While his prayers were spoken aloud, he never said them above a whisper. His conversation with the gods was meant for his own ears and the spirits that chose to listen. This might be the only part of his life that did not have the overwhelming stench of pride.

  The temple’s condition was well-kept. Sanded wood with a bright sheen made the walls and floors, giving a sharp contrast to the eroding stone of the dungeon. Across the room stood several statues, the gods and goddesses of the city. During his childhood lessons, Heiko read all about the various deities worshipped across the world. The empire had extensive knowledge on them all. Some men devoted their lives to understanding the different customs of every god. He found it a waste of time. Who cared if different regions worshipped the same gods through opposing methods?

  He paid no attention to the statues. They were not his gods, but he showed no disrespect. One foolish traveler desecrated a temple by laughing at a statue’s countenance. Though the details were a little muddled as to who started it or how long it lasted, the man was made an example. The following morning, he was found beaten and naked outside the city gates without a coin to his name.

  Darius remained on his knees, paying no attention to the approaching footsteps. The altar before him was made of onyx and marble, showing the duality of the being he worshipped. A royal sigil engraved the stone. This was where the servants of the crown paid their tribute to their god made flesh. By royal decree, no city had to give up their gods once the empire conquered them. However, they had to reserve a place in their temples for the god that let them live.

  “...and let the King’s peace reign,” Darius concluded while Heiko waited in silence. Taking a deep breath through his nose, he released a long, cleansing sigh. Many eyes lashed in their direction. The proud official liked that. Now that his moment of piety had passed, he wanted to remind them who's fist held them within a tight grasp. “Are you done with the prisoner?” he asked, turning to Heiko.

  “He’s not ready for interrogation,” his servant answered.

  “Pity,” Darius said. The pair made their way through the temple, directing themselves to the royal courtyard. Before diving into private matters, one needed to find a location where eavesdropping was difficult. “We have tarried here long enough.” The quiet man gave a slight nod. Though he enjoyed sitting in the lap of luxury, Darius’s mission was more dire than ever. They were passed smelling the flowers at this point. Word traveled fast of the peacekeeper and rumors of the order he brought. Forewarnings gave time for troublesome men to sweep their wrongdoings out of view. When they arrived, all seemed well, covering up their dark underbellies.

  Keeping the King’s peace was harder in each new city. Revealing the horrid crimes took longer. Darius had his informants throughout the empire. Many of his spies sent their findings. Here in Larak, multiple sources spoke of an underground slave market, one that didn’t pay tribute to their king. Since his Majesty passed the Bondsman Decree, all slavers and masters had to pay a tax worth a quarter the selling price of a slave. It was not uncommon for slave merchants and buyers to hide their trade, hoping to cheat the throne of his demanded price.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  What was so strange about Larak was the blatant disregard they had toward secrecy. If the reports were accurate, the market was held in the open. All people, local and foreign, saw the slave market running on a day-to-day basis without any tribute returning to the royal coffers. It should have taken minutes to gather all the proof needed to take all necessary actions to return the King’s peace to the city. Yet when they arrived, the market had vanished, as if it never existed at all.

  The pair walked through the courtyard. It surrounded the capitol building. Lovely flowers, well-pruned hedges, and elegant trees gave a beauty and serenity that the building itself lacked. According to the Larak’s history, the circular garden was planted right after the capitol’s construction. It was as if the three founding brothers hoped to mask the shady, mistrustful deeds that took place within the walls. Much like their forefathers, the people of Larak hoped to hide their treachery.

  “Perhaps we were wrong,” Darius pondered when they happened upon a tree that’s trunk had a natural bend. It was the right size and shape for a temporary seat. The peacekeeper sat on the tree, shading himself from the harsh sun. Few souls shared the garden with the two officials. A few guards, clad in light shirts and capes, stood watch at the entrances, but they were far from earshot. One groundskeeper walked around with a watering bucket. If anyone else enjoyed the garden, they chose to stay away.

  “About what?” Heiko asked. He had his suspicions, but it would be better to hear Darius admit it himself. There were so few times when the man shared any kind of blame.

  “Taking Martin the way we did,” he explained. “Don’t get me wrong. He deserved everything you gave him.” Rubbing his hands together, he leaned his chin against his fingertips. “Still, taking out a higher-ranking official was not our best call. It was as if we sent a signal fire to every ne’er-do-well in the region.”

  Heiko longed to be free of this miserable job. All it did was hinder him from his own goals, especially since their assigned task was becoming more difficult with time. While he wasted his days toying around with spineless traitors and treacherous yellowbellies, the greatest threat to the empire’s security slipped farther from his reach. Darius’s targets were commonplace thugs in comparison. As far as Heiko was concerned, these cockroaches could be left to their own devices. He had a rat to exterminate.

  No, he remembered. Swift justice must be delivered to these false leaders. Since they allowed constant disruptions to the King’s peace, rats had free reign to do as they pleased. No one keeps them in check. No doubt, others might have aided his quarry in some small way, as Martin had admitted.

  A faint smile played on Heiko’s lips. That was an interrogation worth remembering. Using the chain rings in Martin’s own dungeon, Heiko bound the man’s hands with thick rope. Stocks held his feet in place. Four guards, once former captain’s subordinates, held the end of the ropes. They were given one order. Each time Heiko snapped his fingers, they were to pull on the ropes as hard as they could until he gave the sign to cease. They only received the command twice.

  Interrogation was all about intimidation. His prisoner had to believe there was nothing he wouldn’t do. Before putting Martin to the question, he starved the man for three days, giving him moldy bread and muddy water for his sustenance. When Heiko arrived with the four guards, the once proud soldier laid in a puddle of his own vomit. As soon as he saw the ropes, fear flashed from the poor man’s eyes, but it was not enough. After enduring two minutes of strain from the taut ropes, Heiko gave the extra incentive of keeping nine of his toes. That was the moment Martin broke.

  “What is your assessment?” Darius asked.

  “What?” Heiko asked in return.

  “Of the prison cells,” his superior spat, eyebrows furrowing in frustration.

  With a nod, he gave his report. “Any fool with half a brain and a cup of courage could break free. If I did not chain him myself, he would be free within the hour.” A faint smile edged at the corner of his lips. “Despite his protests, he went easy enough. I believe he hopes to escape. They take us for fools.”

  After they removed Martin from power, Darius placed a more loyal officer in charge as the captain. Heiko couldn’t recall his name, but he couldn’t forget how pale the man’s face was when Darius delivered the final directive. “You are in charge of this city until the palace sends a replacement,” the peacekeeper had said. “I trust you will do a good job. If not, I have already recommended that your body be boiled in oil and feed to the dogs of the city.” The pitiful officer looked as if he were about to faint.

  Heiko wished their business in Larak could be as fast. The longer they dwelled here, the colder his trail became.

  At his assessment, Darius’s shoulders quivered. “Insulting the king’s servant is no less an insult to his royal person.” Taking another shaky breath, he swore, “This slight will not go unanswered.” Collecting himself, he asked, “I trust the other cells were as bad.”

  He nodded.

  Darius shook his head. “If only his Majesty dealt with this treachery long ago. It was left unchecked for too long. He might have cut most of these weeds from the root, before they had time to fester throughout his gardens.” He rubbed his thick chin. “Perhaps we should send a few to the Watchtower, make an example to others.”

  At the infamous prison’s name, Heiko caught a glimmer of delight in Darius’s eyes. The Watchtower, the King’s personal prison. Its cells were reserved for the worst criminals imaginable and those that the King took a particular disliking toward. Currently, the Watchtower was under the supervision of two of the King’s nephews. It was an honor to serve the King in that manner, an honor Darius lusted after. Was there any power the man didn’t want?

  If Heiko could catch his quarry, he wondered if it would be better to send him to the prison or the executioner’s block. Faris. The very name sent a loathing fire coursing through his veins. He had to bring this man to justice. Their game had gone on long enough, but somehow, he always stayed one step ahead of him. Was he that clever or was fate on his side? That was a question for priests. Heiko had other matters to consider.

  During questioning, Martin knew very little. He could only say two things. Most of what he said was difficult to understand through the tears. However, Heiko knew how to get the relevant information and ignore everything else. The first thing Martin blubbered about was why he did it. That didn’t matter. It was the mundane rebellion that resides in the hearts of most men with too much ambition in their guts. The second was how he ignored reports of the cursed swordsman. Martin let him join a merchant traveling westward. They were long gone.

  The merchant’s skeletal corpse was found with a hole in its forehead. Was it another body in Faris’s wake or was someone else to blame? Reports spoke of another man that departed with the other two, but no one said anything about the third man other than he existed. Even Martin had little to say about him. Could a man be that unmemorable or was something else at play?

  Standing beneath the tree with Darius, Heiko felt his hunter’s spirit damper ever so slightly as the man continued talking about Larak’s problems. As long as he served the peacekeeper, his search for the cursed swordsman would be hindered. Of course, he had his spies but none of them were skilled enough to bring Faris in. What he needed was a true killer. A sword for hire that could get the job done. A cutthroat that could stand toe-to-toe with any fighter, one that even Fiore himself would respect. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he realized it was a fruitless endeavor. After seeing the weakness of men, he doubted such a soul existed. Still, there are other methods. Some cheaper and far more loyal.