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The dungeon was filled with the typical stench that you never find anywhere else. Sure, the most important components were easily identifiable; the piss, shit and sometimes vomit created a unique a truly… [i]personalised [/i]mixture that differed from person to person. The subtle smell of blood from drying splatters on the table and walls was in sharp contrast with sour, sharp odour of burned flesh. But there was something different here, a soft scent of something else, permeating the air, almost like special spices, a secret ingredient thrown into a pot with nearly perfect soup. Not many people who entered the dark place below the House of Questions were able to identify it, but everyone was affected by it. The smell of hopelessness and desperation, evaporating from every pore of people who were locked up down here.

This was the smell that Eva enjoyed, because it meant she was doing her job well. Some people might think that she enjoyed torturing people, hurting them until they reached the breaking point, but that wasn't really the truth. She didn't love it, she didn't hate it. It simply needed to be done and she was one of the best at it.

As she entered the cell, a soft smile appeared on her lips. Today was a good day. Her knee hurt, but it was that normal everyday kind of pain she was used to living with. She even managed to get out of bed on her own and required only a short massage on the stuff muscles to be able to walk the stairs down to the dungeon. And she got to work on this traitor, an older chubby baker, who was caught last night singing that damn song. Just the thought of that was enough to erase the smile from her lips. How dare they? The people in the kingdom owe everything to the royal family - there has been nothing but peace, stability and prosperity for the past decades. And still, there are individuals who would riot and rebel, not giving a thought to the chaos that would ensue if the king had ever been overthrown. Such ingratitude.

One of her two henchmen, Garret, had already prepared a softly cushioned chair for her. It looked almost inappropriate compared to the simple wooden chair the baker had been tied to. But it was the prisoners who were supposed to be feeling uncomfortable, not her, she thought as she slowly maneuvered her body into the chair, trying to avoid putting her knee into some uncomfortable position. Garret stood by, ready to help her, but since today was a good day, she didn’t need any assistance. Once she was settled in comfortably, her leg resting on a smaller stool, she finally looked at the prisoner.

The man was sobbing slightly, the sound muffled by the gag in his mouth, his arms tied to the chair by wide leather straps, hands clenched into fists to mask fear, or maybe even anger? Anger would be much more interesting, but judging by the large wet spot on the front of man’s trousers, it was probably just fear.

Eva reached into the pile of papers on a small table next to her, taking a while to find the right one. Not that she would actually need it, she had already read and memorized everything that was publicly known about this man before entering this room, but it was all a part of the show. Her eyes slowly followed the letters on the paper, while the tip of her index finger tapped on her lower lip. The prisoner’s eyes jumped between her and Garret, who was playing his own part, preparing the show for act two. Several tools were carefully spread on the big table, and the large man was taking the rest out of a box, closely examining each one. Eva had to suppress a giggle as she saw him shake a small speck of dust off an old, rusty and bloodstained cleaver. She liked working with this man. While he wasn't the smartest man alive, he had certain sense for dramatic moments. Not to mention his strength, which was useful not only in their job, but he also helped her to move around, sometimes even carrying her when she had one of the bad days. And he did all this with blind silent devotion she never truly understood.

The baker squirmed in his restraints, shook his head and tried to speak. Eva just smiled and looked into his eyes.[color=ed145b] “Stop that.”[/color] She made a short pause to make sure she had his undivided attention. [color=ed145b]“Now I'm pretty sure you are dying to tell me a lot of things. You wouldn't believe how even the most quiet people can't seem to keep their mouths shut when they're down here. But,”[/color] she tilted her head a bit, narrowing her eyes, [color=ed145b]“most of what people tell me here is just useless bullshit. ‘I'm innocent!’ ‘I didn't do anything!’ ‘This is all a mistake.’ Do you think I would waste my energy coming here if this was all a MISTAKE?”[/color] she raised her voice unexpectedly, pleased to see that the man jerked, startled by the sudden change in her tone.

[color=ed145b]“I wouldn't be happier if we could just go straight to the moment when we have a decent and meaningful conversation. But I have a very bad experience with people just not taking it seriously. Can you imagine they even try to lie to me? Even though I have an authority granted by the king himself. And disrespecting me like that is disrespecting his majesty.”[/color] She shook her head, sighing. [color=ed145b]“So let's just make sure that everyone in this room knows exactly what is going on, and what will continue to go on in case there is someone who doesn't get the message the first time. Garret, I will leave the first choice to you today.”[/color]

Smiling, the man turned to the table, moving his hand over the tools. He sometimes enjoyed this part a bit too much, a flaw easily forgiven given his other benefits. The baker started squirming and squealing again, trying to scream through the gag. Garret frowned at him, a big pair of cutting pliers gripped tightly in his left hand. His right fist now flung forward, hitting the prisoner's stomach and silencing him for a few moments. Eva gave Garret an appreciating nod, those sounds were really starting to get annoying. With precision acquired by the years of practice Garret placed the sharp blades of the pliers around the base of man's little finger and pressed on the handles. The bone snapped with a quiet crack and as always, there was a moment of silence before the baker started screaming, staring in disbelief on the finger that was now lying in the dirt on the ground.

Garret raised an eyebrow in an unspoken question whether he should punch the man again to shut him up, but Eva sighed and shook her head. She stretched her back and waited patiently for the screams to die out, massaging her thigh. The muscles tended to get stiff when she didn’t move for some time and she could already tell that getting up from this chair will not be very nice. [i]‘Not for me and certainly not for you,’[/i] she thought and looked at the prisoner who was now just sobbing quietly, hypnotizing his bleeding hand, as if in hope that the finger will suddenly grow back.

[color=ed145b]“So,”[/color] she growled and put her foot on the ground, grabbing her cane, [color=ed145b]“I think now we can talk like two responsible adults, don’t you think?”[/color]

[hr]

She left the cell two hours later, carefully wiping the blood from her cane-holding hand (slippery hands led to very painful accidents), and headed to a small bathroom to wash the rest of the blood from her face and arms. She was a bit sad because the baker really wasn’t a part of any secret group of rebels, but just a lonely old man who got drunk and whistled the wrong tune. She made sure that were no lies and nothing left untold, at the end he would have told her about every single thought that had ever passed through his head without a split second of hesitation. Now all that she had to do was sign the execution order. [i]‘And take a long hot bath,’[/i] she thought while scrubbing a blood splatter from behind her ear, wondering how the hell did it get there.

A quiet knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. [color=ed145b]“What?”[/color] she snapped out.

[b]“I have a message for you, inquisitor Gallard,”[/b] a startled voice answered. Eva opened the door and a young acolyte handed her a sealed note. She glanced at the symbol imprinted in the wax, not surprised to see it was from Superior Jennal, the inquisition leader. This could either be very good or very bad, but it was certain he wasn’t inviting her for a nice cup of tea.

Her eyes widened as she read the few lines Jennal scratched in hurry.

[center][i]“Assassination attempt on the king, he is unharmed.
Suspect arrested by the Woodsmen (V.), in the castle now.
I’m meeting with high council, you are in charge of the investigation.
J.”[/i][/center]

She frowned at the mention of the Woodsmen. They could be useful from time to time, but otherwise they were just a pain in the ass, sneaking around in their capes, looking all gloomy and mysterious. [color=ed145b]“Garret! Pack the things and get the carriage ready, please. We have some work at the castle.”[/color]