Time moved slowly in the darkness of her cell, the monotonous hours of Julie val Mond’s imprisonment broken only by the drip of rainwater leaking in from the ceiling, the heavy crash of oaken doors slamming shut somewhere down the corridor, and the agonized screams of a fellow prisoner being put to the question. Chateau du Désespoir was as bleak and hopeless as its reputation maintained, and once more, the dark-haired troubadour wondered how her colleagues at the Artist’s Collective were fairing, holding onto the thought that they’d been more successful in evading the Temple Guards than she’d been.
Ignoring the discomfort that came from kneeling on the cold stone for several hours, Julie methodically examined her bonds yet again, hoping against hope of finding a weakness. Metal shackles secured her wrists and elbows behind her back, keeping her arms locked and forcing her generous bosom outward, while beneath her, her ankles and thighs had received the same treatment, ensuring she could not rise from her kneeling position, let alone run. As an additional measure, her captors had strapped a wide leather belt around her waist, from which a short length of chain connected to her wrist shackles, further ensuring her arms remained bound. The metal collar about her slim neck was mere overkill, the chain linking it to the wall clinking with every slight motion, and after a few moments, Julie felt the fear creep back into her soul, stronger than ever. Every tale she’d heard, and more than a few she’d sung, of the prison described it as a monument to cruelty, a place where innocent souls were dragged away by the Temple Guard on any number of charges, never to be seen again. Don’t give up… she told herself, blinking away the first tears welling up in her soft brown eyes. You can free yourself, you just have to keep trying!
Then came the rattle of keys, and the door to her cell opened with the screech of rusted hinges, revealing a handsome blonde woman clad in the close-fitting robes of the Temple of the Eternal Light. “Leave us,” the Lady Inquisitor Pershaw ordered the turnkey, before striding towards her helpless prisoner, high-heeled boots clicking on the stone. “Welcome to Chateau du Désespoir, Julie val Mond. It is not every day that we play host to a heretic of such importance.”
“Mmmpppggh!” Julie cried out, flushing red with embarrassment as the bit gag reduced her words to inane babble unworthy of a troubadour. Gloved hands reached out, seizing her lower jaw, and she vainly tried to jerk her head away from the Inquisitor’s cold scrutiny.
“You did not honestly think such subversive lyrics and ideas would go unchallenged, did you?” Pershaw remarked in a husky, dangerous whisper. Cold grey eyes looked over her prisoner, lingering on the partially unlaced bodice of her green tunic and the cut of her white silk skirt, and the smile she offered had all the warmth and charm of a deep sea predator on the hunt. “A pyre awaits you at dawn in Purity Square, with the entire populace encouraged to attend, so all might witness the fate of treasonous sluts like yourself.”
“MMMMPPPGGH!” The dam of Julie’s resolve burst, and fear flooded in, her chains rattling mockingly in answer to her struggles. “Mmmmpgghg, mmmmppggh!”
“Though, of course, if you were to tell me where your fellow heretics might be hiding, I could be inclined to offer leniency,” Pershaw continued, free hand resting on her knee. “Seems a shame to let a pretty young woman like yourself feed the fires.”
With an angry grunt, Julie jerked away as far as the chains would permit, offering her captor a hard stare. “If that’s the way you intend on behaving…” Pershaw snarled, turning on her heel and moving for the door. “I’ll come again before the dawn. For your sake, I hope you’re more compliant then.”
The heavy door slammed shut like a magistrate’s gavel, and the dark-haired beauty gave into her fear, the first sobs echoing within the tiny prison cell. For Chateau du Désespoir was well-named, and the Temple Guard never relinquished those they had taken…