There were no further comments or alternatives offered, so ten minutes later four men could be seen leaving Osprey Hall. Alter walked at the front, he’d gotten himself into this situation after all, it was only right that he not try to palm the responsibility off to anyone else. Riptide had volunteered to accompany him, with the understanding that he would take over should Alter find himself unable to continue. Boozehound walked a short distance behind them, carting his medical supplies for when they would inevitably be needed to back up a threat. Finally, Whim followed along as well with an armful of papers. Some blank for note taking, others were maps and charts of the city and beyond. Their destination was the houseguard’s barracks located on the opposite side of the main house. Beneath that building were the holding cells, where their unfortunate guest awaited their attention. Seeming to spot something out of the corner of his eye, Riptide looked back at the Hall for a couple of seconds before grimacing and turning back around.

  “I think our big bridge of friendship just lost a lane.” He murmured.

  Alter pondered what he might mean as he too looked back towards the building they had left, but saw nothing. A thought popped into his mind. “Peter?” He asked.

  Riptide nodded. “Staring daggers at us through the briefing room window, but he disappeared the moment I noticed him. I guess today marks a pretty big step towards realising his fears of us going power-mad, and I don’t really blame him for feeling that way.”

  “Neither do I. Could you talk to him later? You’d do a better job at settling him down than me.” Alter asked tentatively, fully aware that he was shirking his responsibility as leader.

  “I’ll try.” Riptide sighed dejectedly, it was a conversation no man would want to have.

  Masking his relief, Alter led the men out into the gardens. Not wanting their movements to tip off any prying eyes, they meandered their way towards the main gates at first, before suddenly cutting across the central driveway and making a beeline for their destination. The barracks was a much more stark, utilitarian looking building than Osprey Hall. Alter would go so far as to call it brutalist were it not for the fact that these people had not yet invented concrete. The doors of the building were guarded by two very relaxed looking members of Winslow’s crew who hurriedly lurched to attention and saluted as they spotted their approach. Alter came to a halt and matched the gesture.

  “Good day, gentleman. I trust you know why we are here?” He asked evenly.

  “Yes, Sir.” One of the men nodded as he reached back and opened the doors. “If you’ll follow me.”

  The quartet of men followed the guard into the building, travelling through its featureless corridors in silence. Every surface was bare, slate grey stone but for a narrow length of dirty green carpet that ran along the middle of the floor. It was a stark reminder of the luxury they were afforded for their services, a small needle of guilt stabbed at him as they moved.

  “What is the prisoner’s condition?” He asked.

  “Conscious and alert, we haven’t done anything to him, though he’ll still be a little sleep deprived. Also, any food and drink we offer has been refused.”

  “He’ll be a little out of it then, that’s fine. How’s he being held?”

  “The man spent the rest of last night in a one-man cell. Then, a couple of hours ago we moved him to an interrogation room. He’s currently strapped to a chair by his chest, arms and legs. He’s also been gagged after we all got fed up with his constant shouting, he even tried to bite someone once.” The guard chuckled as he guided them onto a staircase leading downward.

  “The man’s got some spirit then. That’s good, it means he’s got something to lose.” Whim commented darkly as they descended.

  Nobody felt the need to respond as the faint sunlight from narrow windows was replaced by blazing torches set into the underground walls. Shortly after arriving on the basement floor they were shown through a door and into a small antechamber with a table and chairs. There was another door on the opposite side of the room that seemed to be made of metal.

  “The interrogation room is through there.” The guard said, pointing at it. “You may use this room as you see fit, will you need anything else?”

  “No, this will do nicely. You’re dismissed.”

  The guard saluted once again and quickly left, leaving the squad members to their own devices. Boozehound set his medical bag onto the table with a heavy, pronounced thud and planted himself onto one of the chairs. The others took the remaining two before they all looked over to Alter who lingered near the entrance.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Are you sure you want to do this? It’s not too late to back out, you know.” Riptide asked.

  “I won’t lie and say I’m not tempted.” Alter admitted. “But on the contrary, it’s already too late to contemplate anything like that.” He added as he began his slow progress towards the metal door.

  “Well, just remember that we’re all right here if you need help. Oh, and try not to mess up the order.” Whim quipped with a half-smile.

  “Thanks.” Alter answered slowly as he made it to his destination, with a deep breath he reached for the handle, exhaled, and stepped into the next room.

  The interrogation chamber was just as featureless as the rest of the building. The walls were barren, Alter had expected at least some torture equipment, or perhaps some mounted manacles. Two lit torches cast orange firelight across the space, illuminating two chairs sitting looking at each other in the centre as the only furniture in the room. One was occupied by the familiar silhouette of the brown-haired man, bound and gagged just as the guard had said. His eyes followed him across the room, his gaze sharp and resentful. Slowly, Alter crossed to the other chair, sank down onto it, and met his razor-like gaze evenly.

  “Hello.” He began. “You may recognise me, you may not. You may think me dangerous, you may think me harmless. These things do not matter, not yet. But I know you, who you are, and what you’ve done. I think you know things, facts and secrets that I would very much like to learn. You’re a smart man, you know how this goes.” Alter stopped for a moment, shifting his weight slightly and cracking his knuckles.

  “Let me explain to you how this is going to work. We’re going to go through the four individual stages in this interrogation. I'll explain what each one means, the results of agreeing to tell me what I want to know during them, and the consequences of refusal. Each of these stages have names, Talk, Sing, Scream, and Whisper. Once all four have been explained, I’ll leave the room, give you some time to think, then we’ll get started once I return. Understood?” Alter paused, but the man simply glared and made no attempt to acknowledge him.

  “Alright then. When I re-enter the room we shall begin stage one, I will remove the gag, and invite you to talk. I will ask you questions, and you will answer them honestly, and to the best of your ability. Seems easy enough, doesn’t it? Now, I’m not going to insult you by expecting it to be so simple, you’re a loyal man, not so easily swayed by a few hopeful words. So let me sweeten the deal a little. If you talk, and the information you provide can be proven accurate, I’ll make sure you get out of here unharmed. But your boss, hmmm, I get the feeling he won’t take your capture well. Even if you manage to get out without breaking his confidence, lie your way to freedom, that stain of doubt will hover over you. You’ll be a risk, dangerous, and needing to be removed. He’ll kill you to protect himself, don’t ever doubt that fact.” Alter paused again, leaning forwards.

  “Here’s what I’m offering you instead. An escape. We’ll get you out of here, somewhere far away where he can neither find nor hurt you, with enough money to forge a new life for yourself. Heck, I’ll go further, do you have a family? A wife, children? We’ll get them out as well, safely and quietly, so that you can all be together again.”

  Alter leaned back in his chair, his torso tilting slightly so he could reach one arm backwards and allow his elbow to perch on top of the backrest.

  “But you may not wish to talk, fair enough, as I said I honestly expect that to happen. So, we’ll move on. If you do not wish to talk then you shall sing. My doctor is waiting in the next room, he shall be invited inside, along with his little bag of tricks. Tricks like drugs that make you unable to lie, that’ll mess with your mind, your perception. We’ll go from your captors to your best friends, and you will be oh so happy to tell us whatever we wish to hear. Additionally, my offer of a new life will stay on the table, you’ll still make it out alive. But you will be alone, your family will not be contacted. I wonder, could you live with the idea that your loved ones will never know what happened to you? What would the guilt do to you?” Alter pressed. This was the lie, one that he desperately needed him to fall for. He did not want to have to progress past that point.

  “Then again.” He continued, standing up again and slowly pacing around the room. “You may be made of sterner stuff, perhaps you will resist the medication. In that case I shall congratulate you for your resilience, and we’ll move on. If you do not sing then you shall scream, and the real torture begins. I’m sure I don’t need to go into a huge amount of detail as to what that means. But what you may not know is how far we can take you towards oblivion without letting you go. The doctor’s bag holds other wonderful things, drugs to keep you conscious, to make sure your pain receptors are nice and alert, to make you feel far more agony than the human mind has any right to experience. We’ll leave you a gibbering wreck, cast adrift from life, yet unable to truly die. But that’s not all, once you have refused to sing then my offer is officially rescinded, there will be no new life waiting for you.” Alter moved behind the man, partly for the added psychological effect of being an invisible voice, partly to stop himself from having to look him in the face as he spoke such vicious words. He shivered, but continued, like acting on the stage he was only playing the part. Surely, it wouldn’t get this far.

  “Then, finally, if you do not break, I shall applaud your commitment, your tenacity, and we’ll move on. We shall grant you your release. For if you do not scream then you will whisper. You will die here, alone in this barren room, never to see the sun or sky again. ‘But why?’ You might ask, why let you take your secrets to your grave. Are you familiar with Lord Oliver Masserlind? With the powers that he possesses? I am, I’ve seen them at work. I’ve watched him stand over a dying man and rip the memories from his fading mind. Your departing soul will be intercepted, questioned, and disassembled. All will be laid bare in the end, despite all your bravery, your strength, your sheer will, your soul cannot lie. Despite all of that, I will get everything I want from you. The only question you can ask yourself, the one thing you can control, is how much pain you suffer before that happens.”

  Alter let out a slow breath, a strange dizziness eating at the corners of his mind. With regular, measured steps, he began to head for the door.

  “Talk. Sing. Scream. Whisper. Take your time, think. Then, when I return.” Alter opened the door and took a half a step out, glancing back at the imprisoned man.

  “We shall begin.”