Chapter 259: The Executioner’s Hourglass

The icy dampness of the dungeon’s stone walls seeped into Valerius’s bones. Chained hand and foot against the central dungeon’s iron rack, the former general held a single thought carved into his mind: survival.

He was confident the King would not execute him outright after Gideon’s revelations, but he knew with certainty that Beatrix Le Croix would turn every passing hour into a living hell until he begged for death. His sole option was to endure the torment, stand firm, and wait for Prince Caelen or the course of the campaign to offer him a chance at redemption.

The screech of the iron door shattered the cell’s silence.

Beatrix stepped into the chamber with slowness, followed by two guards bearing two brass-reinforced wooden chests. The chests were set down upon an auxiliary table with a heavy thud. Upon being opened, they displayed dozens of surgical and torture implements: crisscrossed-tooth pliers, magic silver scalpels, serrated daggers, mana-extraction needles, and glowing hot tongs.

"Well now, General... this is your first time down here," purred Beatrix with a captivating smirk as she stroked the edge of a fine blade, "so I am certain this will be an incredible experience for the both of us. I hold quite a bit of experience being the first time for many prisoners. And to be a bit fairer to you, I will extend the exact same offer I always extend to my guests."

Beatrix pulled an object of fused glass and bronze framework from her belt, placing it on a table in front of Valerius’s face.

"This is a specialized hourglass. The fine quartz sand within takes five minutes to drop," explained the executioner, leaning toward the prisoner’s ear with a whisper that froze the surrounding air. "The rule is simple: if you do not beg for your life before the very last grain of sand falls, I will grant you your freedom. A genuine bargain... wouldn’t you say?"

Valerius ground his teeth, feeling cold sweat streak down his forehead as Beatrix picked up the first pair of tongs from the chest.

Beatrix ran her fingertips across the array of torture implements, clinking the metal together with a ring.

"Where should I begin?" asked she in a playful voice, tilting her head. "Perhaps with your teeth? Or your eyes? Mmm... I could rip off your dick, but that would be far too quick and easy. I wouldn’t want you saying I didn’t give you a fair chance at all."

She halted and picked up a pair of serrated steel tongs, holding them right before the warrior’s face.

"Let’s start with something simple: your fingernails. Ready?"

Valerius ground his jaws until his teeth creaked. He closed his eyes for a second and let out a heavy sigh, pooling every drop of courage to brace himself for the impending hell.

BANG!

The cell door burst open, and one of the executioner’s young servants rushed inside, stumbling over his own robes and gasping for air.

"Mistress! Wait, please, wait!" cried out the boy with a panicked breath.

Beatrix froze mid-motion. Slowly, she turned her head toward the servant, her gaze so icy that it seemed to freeze the dampness on the stone walls.

"Little one... you know full well how much I despise being interrupted right when I am about to have fun," purred she with calm.

A chill shot down the young servant’s spine, and he nearly bolted out of the room. Gathering every ounce of strength to avoid fainting, he dropped to his knees upon the cell floor.

"M-My Lady!" stammered the servant, slamming his forehead against the stone. "Prince Caelen has arrived in person... and he comes bearing a signed decree directly from the King!"

"Tsk..." scoffed Beatrix, clicking her tongue in annoyance.

The executioner tossed the tongs onto the metal table with a clatter. She glanced sideways at Valerius, a cold smirk playing on her lips.

"It seems you got lucky this time, Valerius. Next time, I don’t think you’ll be quite as fortunate..."

Without wasting another moment, Beatrix turned on her heel and strode out of the cell before even listening to Caelen officially request the prisoner, though in her mind she already suspected what this was all about. As she passed her kneeling servant in the corridor, she nudged his shoulder with the toe of her boot.

"Take him away and bring me a couple of common prisoners from the lower cells," commanded Beatrix coldly, tightening her leather gloves. "I’ve already brought out my tools, and I have no intention of putting them back until they’ve seen some blood."

As soon as the executioner walked away down the corridor, the young servant unfastened Valerius’s chains and helped him to his feet. Without wasting a second, he guided him at speed toward a reception chamber at the entrance of the dungeons, where a royal medical team was waiting.

The healers tended to him with care. They washed his battle wounds, applied soothing ointments to the deep cuts, and delicately bandaged the raw gashes left by Beatrix’s barbed whip.

Valerius let out a long sigh of relief. A couple of stifled tears began to streak down his cheeks. He had believed that this time was his end... No one in the kingdom’s history had walked out in one piece after that psychopathic lunatic had a moment alone with them. Seeing such a battle-tested veteran broken and vulnerable, even the healers themselves looked upon him with sympathy and compassion.

The heavy wooden door of the medical chamber swung wide open.

Prince Caelen stepped through the threshold. He halted a few paces from the healing cot, inspected the former general’s condition closely, and offered a faint smile.

"It is good to see you are still in one piece, Valerius," said the prince in a calm voice.

Upon seeing the heir enter, Valerius did not hesitate for a fraction of a second. He slid off the cot and collapsed to his knees upon the floor, pressing his forehead against Caelen’s silk boots, weeping with gratitude.

"Your Highness...! Thank you! Thank you for saving my life!" gasped he, his chest heaving.

Caelen extended a hand and gave him a firm pat on the shoulder, motioning for him to rise.

"It is no big deal..." replied the prince, locking eyes with him with the composure his father had demanded of him. "Let them finish healing you. Gather your strength, for we have much to do at dawn."