Fabrik Castle was filled with many sergeants, and Marcus was among the last to arrive. There were no cordial greetings among colleagues, only coldness and hidden enmity.
He alone had yet to report to Zote.
After finding out Zote’s location, Marcus ordered his men to stand by and wait for his return.
In an airtight stone chamber, candles provided light, casting a warm glow on the blood-stained torture tools on the wooden table—basic implements, tweezers, pliers, small knives.
This was the first time Marcus had ever seen Zote.
Zote, with his back to Marcus, was tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in the plain black uniform of the Secret Department, with thick black hair, decidedly not an old man.
Since he was conducting a torture session, Marcus prudently did not disturb him and just stood at the half-open door, waiting for it to end.
The chief of the opposition in the south, Duke Fabrik, was the protagonist of this torture session.
Duke Fabrik was stripped of his past glory and bound disgracefully on a torture rack; this arc-shaped rack could bend and stretch to break a person’s spine.
Contrary to Marcus’s expectations, Zote wasn’t questioning about his accomplices but was asking some trivial questions instead.
"You learn very slowly, Fabrik. What is three plus three?"
Zote asked a mundane arithmetic question.
Fabrik responded weakly with the answer Zote told him.
But Zote was not satisfied, he continued to pull the lever, bending the rack even more.
Marcus could hear the crisp sound of large spinal bones and ligaments breaking, but Fabrik did not scream at the top of his lungs; instead, he just breathed in fits and starts.
"Sometimes it’s seven, sometimes six. Sometimes, it can be any number."
As Zote spoke, he noticed Marcus at his side and motioned him to come over.
Marcus, not daring to delay, stood respectfully beside Zote.
Marcus said with basic respect, not using the title of deputy, as no one liked that word, although he was the second in command of this powerful organization. Chapters first released on novel⸺fire.net
"What’s with your eyes and jaw?"
"I was captured by cult members during a suppression against the heretics; thanks to the Secret Department’s doctor, I was given a second chance at life."
"Cult members? Miracle of Suffering?"
"Hmm? I think I’ve heard about you. A demon swordsman capable of perceiving with a force field; being blind is hardly a significant matter then."
Zote, with interested amusement, as the battle had already ended, and he had also ordered the other sergeants to stand by. The captured magician scholars would later be gathered for execution; there were no pressing matters at the moment.
He vacated his position.
"Interrogate him, honestly, I’m really not good at this, you’re much stronger."
Zote commanded, pressing Marcus onto the chair and signaling him to pull the lever, which would bend and contort the rack, probably breaking Fabrik’s spine completely with three more pulls.
Marcus had never personally conducted torture; he always delegated it to his subordinates. Zote’s command made him extremely uneasy.
But actually, Fabrik had already divulged everything he knew.
Zote was merely indulging in cruelty.
Fabrik felt very cold, shivering uncontrollably, his teeth chattering, tears streaming down his face. In an instant, he seemed like a child, reaching out to grab Zote.
He had a feeling that Zote was his guardian deity, that all the pain came from the outside, from other places, only Zote could spare him from this agony.
"Anything is fine; the main thing is to consolidate the power of the Secret Department."
"Sergeant, I really don’t know what to do."
"I’ve heard your name, which means even among all the sergeants, your performance is outstanding. You’re a major contributor to the Secret Department’s power today. The organization is now unmatched. You... Marcus, after this victory in the southern campaign, you could walk into the Royal Court, kill the influential ministers, and even the Monarch would not blame you."
Zote’s powerful hand was on Marcus’s shoulder. Yes, the Witch Hunting Secret Department was slowly overshadowing the royal power; Ogne was indeed the most powerful man in Aran.
This power must be secured, both externally and internally, deep into everyone’s mind.
"If it’s your command, Sergeant, I will do so."
Anyone opposing the suppression movement by the Witch Hunting Secret Department would be considered a traitor, and their families would be executed; he responded without hesitation.
And Zote was very satisfied with Marcus’s response.
"Opposition in the south wants to abolish the Monarch. Fabrik pretends, or perhaps truly believes, that they are not seizing power willingly, only intending to control it for a limited period, making way for a utopia where everyone is free and equal.
"We wouldn’t do that. We know that whoever seizes power never aims to relinquish it.
Power is the goal; it’s not a means. The purpose of oppression is oppression itself, of torture is torture, and of power is power. Do you understand what I’m saying now?"
Zote looked at Fabrik, making him feel that experiencing power was far more effective than merely executing him.
He was tall and large, blocking the candlelight entirely, casting Marcus into darkness.
Blind Marcus did not need light to see.