1st Trial of Cylus, 717th Arc
Andaris Farmlands
Andaris Farmlands
The wagon wheels reminded him of the ones they used at the mills along the river, though instead of churning up water between their wooden spokes, it threw snow back into the air from which it came. Like it was trying to return it—‘please no, we don’t want it’—with no chance of success in sight. No, the snow kept falling and the wheels kept turning. It would reach a point when the latter would soon find itself incapable, but this was not that point. So the wheels kept turning, moving ever closer to the destination of the day and of life itself.
Vex forced himself to look away from the ground, pull himself away from his thoughts, to answer the man beside him who was driving the wagon. Truth be told, he looked more a beast than a human, the way has bundled up beneath the furs, with only his hands naked to the night air while they guided the reins. Beside him, Vex wore only a cloak, black with a red lining, over his standard outfit, which stood in sharp contrast to his companion. Yet he was warm, comfortable even, despite the layer of snow collecting on his shoulders and in his hair. “Not in the slightest,” Vex replied with a small grin, more a baring of his teeth than anything else, as he looked over at the man beside him.
Vex could see a light pass behind the man’s almond eyes, a shudder that began behind those round orbs and then spread across his face and body. Shock. Disgust. Fear. Vex was not sure which of these emotions fueled the reaction; he only knew that they were often experienced by men and women who found themselves in his presence. And not just because he was an Aukari, either, though that was certainly a driving force. No, this man was unnerved by the kind of man who sat beside him as they trudged through the snow, with only torch light to guide them through the dark.
A torturer. That was who Vex was and who he had been asked to be tonight.
But, of course, it was all subjective. Torture and art was divisible only by the individual, and this was a particular medium that Vex took real pleasure in. To him, it was music and dance to him; the only difference came in which instruments he wielded to create the show. It was a display that not everyone understood, and that was okay. Choice defines one’s place in the world, and the two men in this horse-drawn wagon had made their choices. That was why one drove and the other sat, waiting for the real work to come.
Before too long, the silhouette of a cottage could been seen ahead, a pair of torches marking its own place in the night. The driver flicked the reins and the horses responded, carrying the wagon straight towards the front of the home. It wasn’t too long until they drew to a halt outside the small building. Outside stood another man standing beneath fur-lined clothing, hand resting on the hilt on a sword at his side, guarding the entrance to the home. He too had made his choice, one could say, though it was debatable whether he realized at the time what that choice meant. Perhaps he regretted his decision. Perhaps he did not question it at all. There were certainly questions to be asked about the whole situation. Why was there a need for a guard outside a farmhouse? Why, too, a torturer?
Vex snatched up the bag sitting between his legs as he climbed out of the wagon, dropping with a thud onto the snow beneath him; metal clanged against each other within the bag at the impact. He nodded to the guard and stepped through the front entrance, leaving the other two men to their choices. The door shut behind him, and with it, the darkness of the night; within, he was blessed with light, and the warmth of a roaring fireplace.
And a woman, tied and gagged to a hard-back, wooden chair.
She watched him with wary eyes as he crossed across the room, dropping his bag on the top of a dining table. A few strands of her curly brown hair had fallen across her brow, and she was not unable to even knock them away. Her dress, green in color, was of a nice cut but had been torn slightly one sleeve and stained across the abdomen area. There were black bags under her eyes, and despite her best efforts, she had an air of exhaustion about her. She had been a captive for a while now, it appeared; Vex respected her resolve, at least, even if it did not appear to be in her best interest in the long run.
Vex looked around the room and its sparse furnishings. Besides the table, their was a kitchen area that he assumed was well-stocked for the Cylus season, a bed that was most likely for the guard outside staying with her, and a door that most likely opened to a small bathroom. It was a cottage of simplicity; no wonder the Faction had chosen it. It was relatively close to Andaris, but not close enough for anyone to hear the screams.
A particular piece of furniture caught his eye: a three-legged stool in the corner of the room. Vex retrieved it and set it opposite the woman. He gave one last glance around the room, before nodding; he had stalled long enough. It was time to do what he had come here to do.
Vex reached behind himself and unsheathed the blade from its harness on the small of his back. Stepping towards the girl, who did not flinch at his approach, he gently cut the gag away from her mouth, tossing the cloth aside. The woman took the opportunity to take a few unfiltered breathes of the air while Vex took a seat on the stool, propping his feet up on the wooden rings between the legs.
“Let’s begin, shall we?”
