Young Writers Society

The marketplace was nothing like Rana expected. She’d anticipated bustling streets and pushy vendors trying to sell their product. Instead, the town seemed almost as dead as the rest of the country. Soldiers patrolled the streets, and the customers were solemn as they wandered from one stand to the next in search of reasonable prices.

Rana wandered through the stalls for a while but didn’t see anything she wanted to buy. There were lovely scarves and small trinkets, but nothing in her wanted a keepsake from this journey. Instead she settled for a greasy lunch at a small pub.

She spent the remainder of the afternoon wandering around the city, trying to get a feel for the lay out. A small river ran through the palace grounds and exited the city on the south side. The city itself was organized by hierarchy.

The wealthier class lived in nice houses by the castle grounds. The men who were skilled in trades such as carpentry and stone masonry lived in suitable housing nearby. Beyond them were the peasants. Outside the protection of the city gate, to the west, was the poor village where the serfs lived and worked.

As solemn as the landscape was, it was fascinating to Rana. And it provided her an escape from the formality of the court. She remained in the city until well after dinner time, when the streets began to grow dark. Slowly the peasants began disappearing within their houses, and a soldier informed her of the city-wide curfew. She grudgingly made her way back to her room.

She slept heavily, exhausted from her afternoon in the town. Rana was surprised the following morning when she woke to light spilling in through the windows. The servant girl was patiently waiting in the corner for her to wake up.

Rana dressed as quick as she could and belatedly made her way to breakfast. She breathlessly strode into the dining hall, bowing as she entered. “Forgive me, sire. I fear I overslept.”

“For shame—”

Father started to bellow, but Synakrein cut him off before he could start with a sharp wave of his hand. “That’s quite alright. It happens. I’m glad you rested well.”

“Prince,” she said, curtsying low before taking her seat at the table.

She ate in silence, hoping to keep the attention away from herself as much as possible. She knew it was shameful to be late to a meal with royalty – but it wasn’t exactly her fault that she hadn’t woke in time. Itani always roused her if there was something important she needed to be awake for in Algnes and she’d expected the same treatment here.

“Darrana,” Synakrein said at the end of breakfast, taking a step away from the table.

“Prince?”

“I have some business to attend to this morning,” he said. “Please feel free to use my library or garden if they were already your own. I will see you this afternoon.”

“Yes, Prince,” she answered. “Thank you, sire.”

Rana first went to the library and selected another military book from the shelves, then made her way to the gardens to read. She remained there until Nikolas came to escort her to her tense lunch with Father and Synakrein.

“I have a surprise for you,” Synakrein said as they finished the meal.

“Sire?” Rana asked, curious. Part of her still didn’t trust the prince and she wasn’t sure she wanted a surprise from him. Still, he’d been nothing but gracious and kind since her arrival.

“You’ll have to come with me,” Synakrein said, leading her from the table into the hallway. He waited until the door was closed, blocking them away from Father. “A peasant was brought to me yesterday. I wish for you to assist me in the discipline.”

“Sire, I really don’t think—”

“I insist,” Synakrein interrupted. “It will be most interesting, I assure you.”

“It wouldn’t be proper.”

“I’ll hear none of it,” he said dismissively.

“Sire,” she answered, making no attempt to conceal her sigh. She swallowed hard and walked with him in silence, heart racing, desperately hoping he didn’t intend to put her in a difficult position. She didn’t see this ending well for either of them.

His stride was brisk as he led her down a long hallway, through the low doorway, and down a steep set of stairs. He turned and took her to the south side of the palace. She hesitated as he started down the incline that led to the dungeon.

“Come,” he said firmly, turning a harsh gaze on her. He held his hand out to her, all but daring her to defy him. She sighed and reluctantly placed her hand in his outstretched one. His fingers clamped down around her own, and he half-led half-dragged her down to the gate that barred the path.

He paused to unlock the gate, then ushered her through and locked it behind them. The path that opened before them was narrow and dimly lit. Torches were placed every hundred meters, but in between the area was pitch black.

The hallway was straight and closed in by solid walls on either side for the first several meters, then cells began to appear. On the left the solid wall remained, adorned with torches, on the right open cells with ominous iron bars. They kept walking.

Beyond the cells with the open bars, the hallway cut sharply to the left. Another path led straight forward. Synakrein led Rana down the path to the left. There was a single torch on the wall that was about fifty meters straight ahead.

On either side of the hall there were doors made of solid wood, making it impossible to see what was inside. Synakrein walked straight forward until he reached the third cell from the end on the right, then strode inside. The guards inside snapped to attention, saluting.

Rana tensely walked inside, but stopped in the doorway, horrified by what she saw. On the wall opposite her there were numerous saws and knives and blades. On either side of the door stood a huge guard. And in the middle of the room there was a wooden table on which a pale, scrawny man laid.

He was tied down by ropes on each wrist and ankle, holding him flat on his back. His abdomen was exposed, and face tear-stained as he craned his neck to look at them. He began whimpering, urgently begging in Gnamreyian. Rana felt sick to her stomach.

“This is my prisoner,” Synakrein said, strolling over to the wall. He picked a knife and looked it over. When he was satisfied he looked towards Rana. “And he will pay for his crimes.”

“This is ridiculous,” Rana said, eyes flicking between the prisoner and Synakrein.

“It is part of maintaining law and order,” Synakrein said.

Rana watched, horrified, as Synakrein approached the man on the table. She didn’t know what he intended to do, but she doubted she wanted to watch. Synakrein slowly placed the tip of his blade on the man’s bare abdomen.

“Stop!” Rana said, stepping forward. She was trembling, but her anger was enough to outweigh her fear of defying the prince. “How could you possibly justify the torture of your citizens?”

“He is barely a citizen,” Synakrein said, turning his glare on her. “He’s a mere serf.”

“A life is a life.”

“He’s a thief,” Synakrein answered, glancing towards the man with contempt. “He stole a goat from the royal pastures.”

“A goat?” Rana demanded, anger building. “A man’s life is worth more than a goat.”

“A serf’s life is not worth more than a king’s goat.”

Synakrein sank the tip of his knife into the man’s abdomen, making him cry out in pain. Rana watched in horror as crimson blood poured from the incision. Her head felt light. She turned on her heel and stalked towards the door.

Synakrein snapped. Instantly the two guards stepped together, barring her path. Their hands shot out and clamped down on her upper arms. She struggled, doing her best to get free — but their grasp was true, and she couldn’t get enough leverage to land a blow.

“I invited the lady to join me,” Synakrein said as the guards dragged her closer to the table.

“I have no interest in your barbaric practices.”

“I don’t recall asking if you had an interest,” Synakrein growled, narrowing his eyes.

“Let me go!” Rana demanded, making one final attempt to free herself.

“I will,” Synakrein answered. “When I’m good and ready to.”

Rana stopped struggling and turned a venomous glare towards the cocky prince, resentful at his smug tone and arrogant smirk. She flipped her hair out of her face and clenched her fists. “I demand you release me this instant.”

Synakrein laughed coldly, the chill of his malice filling the entire cell. The prisoner stopped whimpering as he watched the exchange with wide eyes. Rana took a deep breath, forcing herself not to shrink back as the prince approached her, blood-covered dagger still in his hand.

“A prince doesn’t have to answer the demands of anyone,” he said, standing too close to Rana as he spoke down to her. “Much less the demands of the half - grown daughter of a minor Algnesian lord.”

Rana fell silent, a sense of dread settling in to the pit of her stomach. She began to realize the position she was in — trapped in the prince’s dungeon, over a hundred kilometers from home, with no one to even know where she was. She was completely at his mercy, and she hated every second of it.

“Now,” Synakrein said, satisfied by her grudging silence. He turned his back and walked back to the man on the table. “Let us continue.”

“No!” Rana leapt forward, but the guards held tight to her arms, wrenching them hard. Synakrein ignored her. He went about making small cuts in the man’s abdomen, making him cry out in pain, as Rana continued struggling with the guards. “Stop it! You monster!”

Rana did her best to elbow the guards in the side. She stomped towards their toes as best she could and threw her head back, trying to catch one by surprise and make his nose bleed. They didn’t seem to mind. The guards held her in place with very little difficulty, growling in irritation as she fought them.

After several long minutes, Synakrein finally looked up from the man on the table. He had a sneer on his face as he regarded her coldly. “Good heavens, Darrana. You’re making more of a fuss than he is.”

Rana’s eyes traveled to the man on the table. His skin had flushed an even paler shade of white, and his brow was covered in a cold sweat. His eyes were screwed shut tightly, chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled for breath. Abdomen slick with crimson blood that still burbled from the fresh wounds.

“I do not appreciate you dragging me down here to watch this,” she hissed, turning her eyes back towards the prince.

“Oh, how rude of me,” Synakrein said, his voice suddenly growing sickly sweet. “Guards.”

The guards instantly released her. Rana stumbled forward breathlessly, tugging her clothes straight indignantly. She wet her lips and looked at the prince distrustfully, wondering what he intended to do next. She doubted this nightmare was over yet.

“You don’t have to merely watch,” Synakrein said, stepping towards her. He held the knife out to her. “By all means, take part of the fun.”