Since then, his life had become a nightmare of daily beatings, starvation, and sleep deprivation.
The tiny flame of anger sparked again at that thought, growing slowly, smoldering away, and he took a deep breath, trying to bury it. It was dangerous; for a prisoner with no hope of escape, it came at just too high a cost.
“What is this filth?” A voice called out, carrying over the screech of seabirds and the grunts and shouts of men working.
“New recruits, sir!” came a shout inches away from Thomas, making him jump in panic, his heart racing.
“Worthless!” The first voice snarled, and the sound of steel-shod boots smashing into the cobbles moved closer.
“What the hell happened here?” the voice of authority demanded, coming to a stop somewhere to the right.
“Fell outta the wagon, sir!” came Boris’s voice, and Thomas flinched instinctively.
“Then you’re even more of a fool than I thought, jailor. You’re responsible for this scum. Don’t think I didn’t see who got the recruitment bonus for them, yet still you’re trying to hand them over damaged?”
“It’s ‘is own fault, sir, tried t' escape.” came Boris’s voice, and a laugh rose from the man in charge.
“’Tried to escape’? With his wrists and ankles bound? Blindfolded and a slave collar on him? Don’t be stupid.” Hands tore the blindfold free of Thomas’s face, and he squinted in the suddenly revealed sunlight, wincing back from the glare.
“Well, boy? Were you trying to escape?” The man standing before Thomas asked gruffly, his gleaming black and gold-highlighted armor showing that he was a Paladin of the Death God, Nimon.
“No...” Thomas started, then spat out a tooth and a glob of blood onto the floor.
“No…sir.”
“’Sir,’ is it?” the man asked, snorting. “Humph…well, at least he’s got a brain. Tell me, son, what were you in jail for? Murder? Rape?”
“He assaulted a guar…” Boris started, only to have the Paladin cut him off with a roar.
“Silence!” he screamed, stepping forward and gritting his teeth as he glared at Thomas’ tormentor.
“As far as I’m concerned, you’re no better than them! They committed crimes, but you pulled strings to make sure they were accepted into MY forces, and even had the sheer fucking gall to take a recruiter’s purse for them! Your little ploy means I’m stuck with them, nearly twenty fucking prisoner scum I’ll have to train and watch over, instead of the honest men I asked for! The least you can do is shut the fuck up!”
Boris straightened to attention and swallowed hard, keeping silent as the Paladin turned back to Thomas, breathing hard as he tried to get his fury under control.
“Well, boy?” he snapped eventually, then shook his head. “I’m wasting my damn time…” He muttered, starting to turn away.
“I took word of my friend’s death back to his family, sir…and they attacked me for it.” Thomas said, desperate to seize the slim chance before him.
“Yer lyin’ bast…!” Boris screamed, yanking his infamous cosh from his belt and lunging for Thomas.
The Paladin had half turned back, only to see the jailor smash the cosh into Thomas’ side, then his jaw on the backswing. Thomas collapsed to the floor, blood spraying from the severed half of his tongue, caught between his teeth when the cosh had landed.
“Restrain him!” The Paladin of Nimon ordered and stepped forward, looking down at Thomas and seeing the blood rapidly spreading from his mouth. “Fucking idiot!” he raged, twisting his hands rapidly as he muttered out a spell. Thomas was struck with a black and purple lance of power that made his entire body go rigid.
“Arrrgh!” Thomas screamed, thrashing about, his tongue regrowing, bones and cartilage popping as they shifted back into place. He rolled back and forth, as far as his chains would let him, crying out in pain as the ‘Dark Mending’ spell tore into him.
When it finally stopped, he lay there gasping and staring up at the Paladin, who stood regarding him thoughtfully.
“You were a soldier?” he asked flatly, and Thomas nodded, still trying to catch his breath. “Freelance or sworn?”
“Freelance…sir.” he managed to get out.
“Interesting…”
“E’s lyin’, sir!” Boris wheezed from the restraining grasp two of the Paladin’s guards, arms wrenched awkwardly behind his back. The guards were dressed in the black and gold livery of the Church of Nimon’s forces, and they evidently regarded the city guards and jailors with obvious contempt.
“Really? Well, let’s look at this, shall we? We’ve got a prisoner who’s been purchased from the city to be used as a soldier by the Church, a prisoner who arrives in a sorry state, then is further injured, and almost killed. A prisoner who is already the property of the Church…yet a lowly jailor believes that he can not only damage the Church's property, but can kill it? I have to step in and heal the Church's property personally, only after he accuses you of what would be laughed off if there was no truth to it…? Does this seem accurate to you…jailor?” The Paladin asked, forcing obvious patience into his voice as he finished with a snarl.
“I…I…”
“I have been forced to accept this…this dross... in place of real soldiers,” the Paladin continued, “and not only are they far poorer quality than the Church was promised, but you dare to injure them further?”
“They…they all be murderers an’ such, sir! They all be violent criminals!” Boris stammered out.
“Well, let’s find out, shall we? You have an obvious issue with one of them, and if there’s a grain of truth in what he’s said against you, he’s certainly got one with you… Release him.” the Paladin said, gesturing toward Thomas, and another of the Church soldiers tore the keys from Boris’s belt and knelt to free Thomas of his restraints.
“And the collar, sir?” the guard asked as he removed the shackles. Thomas slowly rose to
