Diary of Fing Lozbell, apprentice torturer.

After my evening with Sheryl, I arrived at work this morning with a skip in my step and a whistle on my lips. I greeted Ralgar with a cheerful, “Hello!” and he responded with his characteristic glower and grunt. He was wiping off the blood and excrement from the iron casket in preparation for the day’s duties. Ralgar wouldn’t pry about my date and I doubt he even cared but he listened patiently to me as I happily shared the highlights of last night’s dance. I was midway through describing my meeting with Sheryl’s brother when the chamber door banged open.

Captain Mirg and two of his burly guards came into the room dragging a young man in very expensive clothing. The young man was shouting threats and demands but Mirg ignored him. Instead, the captain ordered his two men to tie up the “ungrateful traitor” to one of our tables and then addressed Ralgar. The boy, for I could tell he was barely in his early teens, was the son of Duke Hailman. He was involved with a group of renegades who were trying to whip up the commoners into rebelling against the king. Mirg needed to know where the group met and who its leaders were. Ralgar told me to get out the toe extractors but Mirg stopped him.

“His father is too important. Don’t damage him,” said Mirg with obvious scorn in his voice. “Get him to talk but he can’t have any marks or the king will have all of our heads.”

Ralgar nodded in understanding and waved the captain out. The guards left us the boy who now turned his arrogant gaze to us.

“I am Kuyrig, son of Duke Hailman. You will release me at once or my father will have you executed,” shouted the boy as he struggled to loosen the ropes that tied him to the table. 

Ralgar smiled. That was never a good sign. I had only seen Ralgar smile twice before and both times involved a “guest” suffering a huge amount of pain. I asked if we were going to need the water hose or the spinning chair but Ralgar shook his head and walked over to one of his chests. He pulled a key from beneath his shirt and took out a small black box. I was curious. I had never seen that box before and I asked Ralgar what was in it. The old torturer held the box reverently to his chest and only smiled. He slowly opened the lid and showed it to me. I gasped.

Inside was the most beautiful crown I had ever seen in my life. It was silver with glittering red and blue gems and sat on a black velvet pillow. I wondered how Ralgar with his small salary could ever afford such a thing. It had to be worth a fortune. I briefly imagined how it would look on Sheryl’s head and how pretty she would be. Ralgar carefully pulled the crown out of the box and approached the table with our struggling guest. The boy saw it and laughed.

“What are you going to do with that piece of trash? My servants wear better jewelry. You think you can scare me with a silver crown. I am-” but what he was I never did find out. Ralgar placed the crown on the boy’s head and the boy’s voice immediately faded. His eyes widened and he began to shake and sweat all over. Ralgar leaned his face close and the boy recoiled in terror. He began to scream. An hour later and we had all of the information we needed. The young boy was still shaking uncontrollably and mumbling to himself when Captain Mirg returned for him later that day. I don’t think our guest was in perfect health but he didn’t have a mark on him and that was good enough for Mirg. 

I no longer image Sheryl wearing that crown. It is pure evil. I don’t know how it works and I don’t want to find out.