The Return pt.17
In the city of Salver an emaciated Morrigan was wearing an ever-present arrogant smile. The howl that had shaken half of Vyrna was enough for her to know that her king was still on the move. Death was coming to Salver, if only Morrigan was not alone in believing in its approach then the city might have begun preparing the graves.
The complete arrogance Morrigan was showing in the face of her coming rescue was only serving to fuel the abuse she was suffering. Duke Castellen was incensed by it and greatly increased his attempts to break her. Every little wrong she committed was not only met with physical abuse by him or by others but also by the forced intake of numerous apothecarial concoctions that served no purpose against her well-trained bodily systems. None of the torture, despite all the talk from the duke and others, was done for more than cruelty’s sake. Morrigan was not going to break and her continued verbal lashings of all involved only made them revel in their cruelty even more.
Even the mistress of the slave harem Livia had increased her volume of vengeful attempts at killing Morrigan. After it had become obvious that small doses of poison were not going to kill the resistant woman, Livia began using entire vials of poison in Morrigan’s drinks. The use of so much poison had become so prominent and frequent that no number of tricks could hide the now poisonous nature of Morrigan’s breath. It was all entertaining to Morrigan though. The amount of money being spent in attempts to kill her with poisons must have hurt Livia greatly and that alone made the constant awful taste of poison worth it.
The only real respite for her while in the duke’s care was when she was taken off the cross and thrown into the baths by the friendly guard Tomas. There a few of the duke’s slave harem took care of her. Elizabeth was the friendliest and most caring of the bunch. Krystyna, while caring and friendly in her own way, was obviously enjoying Morrigan’s punishments and the verbal wars she engaged in while constantly looking for ways to manipulate the situation to improve her own situation. There were others who were in-between those two in how they interacted with Morrigan and it made her time in the baths the best moments of her imprisonment.
Looking down at the mix of slaves and servants attending to the duke, Morrigan could not help but mock them, earning an empty wine bottle thrown at her head. The duke was preparing for tonight’s lavish feast, something that was getting grander and grander with each one held. He was still trying to use his wealth to influence Morrigan’s mind but only served to earn more mockery from her instead.
With her new wound pouring blood down into her eyes, Morrigan noticed a familiar nobleman walk up to the duke. This nobleman’s name remained a mystery to Morrigan as she did not feel the need to learn a soon to be dead man’s name, but the slave he led in behind him, she did learn the name of, Anabelle Frelsen. Anabelle was the beautiful woman who had been caged next to Morrigan after she had been captured by the mercenaries. And Morrigan held a special hatred for this woman.
The first time Anabelle was brought to the duke’s estate she reminded Morrigan she was told there was no escape. Morrigan spat at Anabelle before speaking of her coming rescue. The slave woman would only roll her eyes before offering a small snide remark and returning to her owner’s side.
Since that first encounter, the originally timid Anabelle, had grown quite accepting of the debauchery of the nobles and the savage treatment of Morrigan. While at first, she was hesitant to engage in the physical abuse of Morrigan, she soon began revel in it and eagerly looked forward to each of the duke’s feasts.
This day was no different. After Morrigan offered another verbal lashing towards the two noblemen and Anabelle, the slave woman reached up with a wooden staff and beat Morrigan with a corrupted smile on her face. Morrigan spit blood at the woman before threatening “I will personally kill you bitch. Just you wait for my lord to rescue me.”
Duke Castellen would break out in laughter as he stood his overweight body up from his daybed and approached the wall Morrigan’s cross was hung from. “You’ve been speaking of rescue for months now, yet it hasn’t arrived. I’m starting to wonder if you’re still attempting to bluff or just crazed.”
Scoffing, Morrigan looked down at him with a threatening tone continuing to fill her voice “Boneless we all heard Draekia’s laughter and howl. That tells me my lord is on the war path, and he’s coming to devour the swine before me.”
It was now the duke’s turn to scoff as he denied it all “That was just the wind playing tricks. That devil would never set foot on Vyrna.”
Morrigan openly laughed at this before continuing “Fine swine. If you don’t believe in the howls and the laughter, then maybe you should believe in that ever-growing pressure building in the air. The feeling of power, true power, coming closer and closer and closer. Each step bringing your doom closer and closer. The air is thick with my lord’s presence now and grows thicker by the day. He is coming for me, and he will soon arrive.”
Her arrogant smile seemed to grow larger as she looked towards the hall’s doors “Or maybe you should accept the warm breezes breaking into this hall. The grace of Panno might convince you of my impending rescue and your demise.” A sigh then escaped her before her eyes peered deep into Duke Castellen’s “If you’re not convinced by the gods’ warnings Boneless, then you are truly daft beyond measure.”
“My lord is coming,” her words were cut off by the deep sense of pressure filling the air around them building in intensity, briefly drawing her eyes to the east. Her smile then grew to reach each ear as she returned her eyes to the duke’s “And he will slaughter you all very soon.”
Another scoff came from the duke as he turned to leave Morrigan crucified on the wall. In his mind Morrigan would submit eventually but he lacked any sense for the coming destruction. The guards could sense it. The captain, Gregory, could sense it. The duke and his noble compatriots were willfully ignorant and blind to the foreboding pressure building in the air. And they would soon pay for this.
