flstandardbreds Chapter 346 Dungeon Daily
Chapter 346 Dungeon Daily
In the corridor of the dungeon, the dim candlelight flickered, casting mottled light and shadows. The air was filled with dampness and mold, the walls were covered with moss, and the stone brick floor was uneven, making a dull echo with every step.
From the depths of the torture room, heart-wrenching cries continued to be heard, with pain and despair in the voices, as if they were the wails of the soul. The candlelight jumped in the torture room, illuminating the cruel scene:
A strong man was tied to the execution board, his eyes closed and sweat dripping down his forehead.
There was a man standing on each side of the strong man, one of whom held one of the strong man's thighs tightly with his strong arms, and the other held a knife-like tool and scraped back and forth on the inside of the strong man's thigh. Every scrape was accompanied by the strong man's screams and struggling body.
In a corner of the torture room, on a small bed, a man was flipping through a book. The name on the cover of the book stood out in the dim candlelight: The Art of Torture. The man seemed to be immersed in the book, but as the shouts of the burly man on the execution board grew louder, his concentration was gradually broken.
The man frowned. He couldn't continue reading. He stood up and shouted in the direction of the burly man:
"This is my territory. If you want to shout, go back to your room!"
The man's sudden shout broke the silence in the torture room, and the two people who were torturing the strong man stopped their actions instantly. The strong man struggled on the execution board, his breathing was short, and sweat was sliding down his forehead and cheeks, but he responded:
"What do you mean by your territory? Although you are the torturer, this dungeon was built at the expense of Lord John. You are only employed by Lord John as a torturer. As the executioner, I can of course use the public facilities here."
"That's not what I want to say. What's more important is why you let someone scrape your legs with that knife and scream!"
There was obvious anger in the torturer's voice, and his fingers unconsciously clenched the book in his hand, as if he wanted to hit the executioner on the head with the book.
"You said this."
The executioner seemed not to care about the torturer's anger. He first asked the two men to untie the chains tied to his limbs, and then picked up the knife-like tool to show it to the torturer. Its surface was smooth and the edge was not sharp.
"This is called a fascia knife. The Kushans use it for yoga. The Kushan merchant who sold it to me said it can relax the muscles. It's expensive. It cost me three gold coins. They said it's made of ivory, but it works really well. Although it hurts, the merchant said it won't hurt once the muscles become flexible."
The interrogator frowned slightly, and his eyes moved away from the dark dungeon stone wall and cast towards the dim ceiling above. He sighed, with a hint of teasing and helplessness in his voice:
"Speaking of which, the public security has been too good in recent years. The dungeon has almost become an unused warehouse. There are not even any prisoners to be seen."
The executioner sat opposite the torturer. There was a hint of pride in his eyes. He smiled contemptuously and responded:
"Isn't this all thanks to Lord John? He governed the city well and made the whole city peaceful. He not only ensured that everyone had enough food and clothing, but also strengthened patrols and enacted strict laws. This is why there have been no serious criminals for so many years."
However, the interrogator was not moved by the executioner's words. He turned his head and pointed at the two jailers next to the executioner, who had an awkward smile on their faces. There was a hint of sarcasm in the interrogator's tone:
"But, you see, now even the citizens are teasing us, saying that torturers and executioners are the two most leisurely positions in the city. At least the two jailers have something to do. They are also responsible for the sanitation of the dungeon and sweeping the dust on the ground."
"dinner time!"
A shout echoed outside the torture chamber. Two jailers heard it and immediately walked out. A moment later, they hurried back into the room, each carrying a basket and a barrel full of food.
The basket and barrel were placed on the execution board, and everyone dragged wooden benches out from the shadows and quickly sat in a circle, ready to enjoy this simple meal.
“Is this clam chowder?”
A jailer curiously lifted the lid of the wooden barrel, and a puff of hot steam wafted out, followed by milky white soup and floating clams that appeared before everyone's eyes.
The interrogator did not raise his head, but spoke calmly:
"I don't like this soup, unless the chef shells the clams before making it next time."
As everyone devoured the clam chowder and rations, the executioner put down his bowl and turned to the torturer and asked:
"How are your torture skills?"
The interrogator smiled slightly, with a hint of pride in his eyes:
"Although I haven't done this kind of thing for some years, I have been called an excellent torturer by many seniors before."
The executioner's interest was aroused, and he asked:
"Then who do you know is the best torturer in Midland?"
The interrogator pondered for a moment, then slowly said:
"According to my master, there is a place called the Tower of Resurrection in the royal capital of Windam. There lives a royal torturer. I have never heard of his name, but his torture skills are second to none. It is said that he can skillfully avoid vital parts and make the victim endure pain for a long time. The longest time he tortured a victim was a year before he died."
At this moment, a burst of hurried footsteps broke the silence of the torture room. At first, the executioner thought it was just the servants collecting the tableware passing by, but along with the footsteps, the sound of a crisp anklet hitting the ground gradually became clearer.
Hearing this, he suddenly jumped up, and his movement was so fast that the people around him couldn't help but startle.
"Stop eating, it's time to get some life! There's the sound of handcuffs outside, there's a prisoner coming in!!!"
There was a hint of excitement and nervousness in the executioner's voice.
When the torturer heard this, he immediately put down the cutlery in his hand, leaned over to listen, and confirmed that the rattling sound of the chains was indeed there. Then he quickly stood up, put the cutlery on the execution board somewhere else, and replaced it with the torture instruments.
At the same time, the executioner also took out a black linen hood from a box in the corner, which was used to cover the prisoner's face. He gently patted the dust on the hood and quickly put it on his head.
After a while, the door of the torture room was slowly pushed open, and two soldiers escorted a man in. The torturer's eyes were as sharp as a hawk. When he saw the man's bruised cheeks and his gorgeous clothes torn to shreds, it seemed as if he had just been through a fierce fight.
"What has this kid done wrong?"
The executioner asked. He usually liked to choose the torture instrument according to the crime committed by the opponent.
"The organization's men kidnapped the girl, and then were beaten up by her boyfriend."
A soldier answered, with a hint of disdain in his tone.
"understood."
The torturer nodded, then picked up a nutcracker-like device from the table. Its two metal clamps were tightly interlocked and looked enough to cause great pain.
"Then just castrate him."
As the torturer spoke, the torture instrument in his hand was already pointed at the man's lower body.
"No."
Another soldier suddenly spoke up:
"He is the son of the new Shire Governor, so he must not be allowed to get hurt."
"But we can't just let him go like this."
Then the soldier changed the subject and a cunning look flashed in his eyes.
"So our patrol brought him to you. See if you can make him suffer a little without showing it on the outside."
"Can't you tell from the outside?"
The torturer thought for a moment, looked around, swept his eyes across the torture rack, and finally fell on the fascia knife in the executioner's hand.