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A pale-faced man was locked in an underground cell. Scars from knife cuts were clearly visible on his ankles and wrists where his tendons had been severed, leaving him unable to use his hands and feet.
Wheeze, wheeze.
Only the faint sound of Emperor Yanchinus' breathing filled the air.
“You’re a tenacious one. After all that, you still want to live?” the warrior assigned to guard the cell sneered.
Yanchinus had endured six months of humiliation and torture, living a life where death would have been a sweet release. Almost daily, he was dragged to the square to be mocked, and there was no part of his body left unscathed by prolonged torture.
At first, there had been attempts to rescue the emperor. But those efforts had faded away until no one even joked about rescuing the crippled emperor anymore.
“Drink this. If you die, the Great Chief will be displeased. Ptui!”
The warrior spat into the watery gruel before handing it over. His orders were simple: ‘Keep him alive and make him suffer for as long as possible.’
The warriors faithfully followed Urich’s command.
Initially, Urich would occasionally visit to watch Yanchinus from a distance. But at some point, even his interest in Yanchinus had vanished.
“Maybe the Great Chief has forgotten you even exist…”
Yanchinus was now a nobody. He had lost even the dignity of an emperor, and even if he somehow managed to escape by miracle, recovering in his current state was impossible.
Slurp.
Yanchinus shamelessly...
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