Chapter 21: Cenric

Chapter

Twenty-One

CENRIC

Three men sit bound to chairs, their faces bruised and bloodied. Gabriel and Luc stand next to me, while Praxis watches the entrance.

"Let's start with you." I stop in front of the man I threw the jar at in the ale house. "Who sent you to attack my men?"

The man spits at my feet. "I'm not telling you anything."

I look at Gabriel, and he steps forward and lands a solid punch to the man's gut. The prisoner doubles over, wheezing.

"I'll ask again," I say. "Who sent you?"

Silence stretches between us, broken only by the man's labored breathing. I straighten and reach for the dagger at my hip. The blade gleams in the torchlight as I test its edge against my thumb.

"Last chance," I warn.

The prisoner lifts his head and glares. "Go to Hades!"

In one fluid motion, I drive the dagger into his thigh. The man screams as I twist the blade, and his cries turn to choked sobs.

"Talk," I growl, "or the next one goes somewhere far less pleasant."

"All right. All right," he gasps. "It's Alvina and Hawke. They're planning to overthrow you."

Coldness settles around my heart. Alvina is here too? I should have known she wouldn't be far from her half-brother, Hawke.

It takes people like them to stir up this much unrest—people who can rally support and gain followers. Someone with connections, and more coin than they know what to do with.

My hands curl into fists. Alvina thinks she can destroy all I've built here. I won't let her succeed!

I jerk the dagger free, wiping the blade clean on the man's surcoat. "Tell me everything."

The words pour out of him like blood from a wound. "They got people everywhere. In the markets, the taverns, even some of the noble houses."

I exchange glances with Gabriel and Luc. This is worse than we thought.

"Where do they meet?" I demand.

The prisoner hesitates, and I press the tip of my dagger against his other thigh.

He flinches and speaks in a rush, his words tumbling over each other. "The old tannery on the east side of town. That's all I know."

I turn my attention to the second prisoner, a wiry man with dark red hair. His eyes dart nervously between me and the bleeding man beside him. "Your turn. Care to save us both some time?"

The red-haired man swallows hard. "I—I don't know anything."

"Wrong answer." I grab a fistful of his hair and yank his head back. The edge of my blade presses against his throat, drawing a thin line of blood.

"Every lie costs you," I say coldly. "How much are you willing to pay?"

Tears stream down the man's dirty cheeks. "Please, I…"

I dig the blade in deeper. "Names. Now."

"Merrick," he blurts out. "Balik. They're the ones who gave us orders."

Merrick and Balik? I'm not as familiar with them, but I know enough to not be surprised that they're involved.

I ease the pressure on the red-haired man's throat, but don't release him. "Keep talking."

He spills everything he knows—meeting places, drop points for messages, even a crude description of their insignia.

The third man proves more resilient. It takes Gabriel breaking two of his fingers before he cracks. But crack he does, confirming what the others have said and adding a few new details about their weapon caches.

When we're done, I nod to Praxis. "Bring them outside. Let everyone see what happens to those who defy us."

We drag the prisoners into the center of the camp. My warriors gather around, their faces hard and expectant.

"These men," I say, my voice carrying across the crowd, " thought they could attack my warriors and get away with it. They were wrong."

I turn to the first prisoner, the one who spat at me. "May the gods forgive you. For we do not." Without hesitation, I plunge my dagger into his heart. He gasps, eyes wide with shock, then falls to the ground.

The other two plead for mercy. I silence them with swift, lethal efficiency. Their bodies hit the dirt, blood pooling beneath them.

I face the crowd again. "We are Bloodstone. We do not forgive. We do not forget. And we will crush anyone who stands against us."

After the executions, I mount my horse again and signal to my men. "We ride for Karra. No rebel escapes tonight."

Luc, Liam, Praxis, Gabriel, and the same fifty men follow me as I lead the charge through the dense forest.

The icy wind whips through my hair, but I barely notice the cold. My focus is singular—to crush this rebellion before it can take root.

The trees blur past as we race toward Karra, their bare branches reaching out like skeletal fingers.

The lights of Karra flicker in the distance, growing closer with each passing moment. My grip tightens on the reins. Tonight, the rebels will learn to not oppose me .

The city gates creak open, and we thunder through.

Our first stop is a dilapidated tavern on the outskirts of the city. I kick in the door. Inside, patrons scatter like rats. My men flood the room, pinning suspects against walls and tables.

"Check the cellar," I say.

Liam turns to do my bidding, along with three other warriors. They return a short while later, dragging two men by their collars.

"We found these rats hiding behind some barrels," Liam says.

I nod. "Bind them."

We continue storming through the city, each location yielding more rebels. A bakery with a false wall. A tannery reeking of more than leather. Even a high-end brothel, where we find three rebels cowering in a hidden room.

At an abandoned warehouse, we meet resistance. Arrows whistle past my head as we breach the entrance. I duck and draw my sword.

"Take them alive if you can," I shout, "but don't risk your lives for theirs."

The clash of steel fills the air as I cut down two men.

When the dust settles, we've captured five more rebels.

Our final stop is a noble's manor. The owner, a portly man with thinning hair, protests loudly as we force our way in.

"This is an outrage! You have no right—"

I silence him with a look. "I have every right, Merrick."

We find a secret passage behind a bookshelf, leading to an underground meeting room. Maps of Karra cover the walls, with battle plans scrawled across them .

"Burn it all," I say. "And arrest the noble."

As dusk settles over us, we return to camp with our prisoners—twenty in total. It's fewer than I'd hoped, but it's a start.

I dismount, surveying the rebels. There's no sign of Hawke or Alvina among them.

They've slipped through our fingers...for now.