Both the bandits and his own soldiers were incredibly excited at this moment.
What Arthur wanted was precisely this effect; he wanted everyone to see that those who served him, regardless of their origin, would gain something, and their merits would never be buried.
Just then, two soldiers escorted a tightly bound man over, forcing him to his knees before Arthur. One of them spoke:
"Lord Arthur, this is the messenger we captured."
Arthur lowered his head, scrutinizing the man who was curled into a ball, pinned to the ground by the two soldiers. The man looked up, his eyes filled with calm and defiance.
Lucien gasped, having forgotten the most crucial detail. He hastily began to explain to Arthur how unusual this person was.
"Search him," Arthur said with just one word.
The soldiers immediately acted, patting down the messenger from head to toe, even tearing open the lining of his clothes. Yet, they found nothing. One soldier, somewhat flustered, whispered, "Lord Arthur, there's nothing."
Arthur was not surprised; his expression remained unchanged. He even poked the bonfire with a stick, then looked at the messenger who was staring back at him, and finally spoke: "Who is your master?"
The messenger sneered, turned his head away, and clamped his mouth shut.
"Do you think you're tough?" Arthur's tone was flat. He picked up the carbonized end of the stick and slowly pressed it against the messenger's face, producing a sizzling sound of burning flesh.
The messenger's body stiffened imperceptibly. It was a minor pain, and he still showed no change in expression.
Arthur chuckled softly, his gaze leaving the messenger. He drew his short dagger and began to gently whittle the stick in his hand, speaking slowly, "Have you heard of the Yi Lands Heavenly Dynasty?"
"It is said that during the era of the Valyrian Empire, they and Valyria were both masters of the world, only one was in the west and the other in the east."
The messenger frowned, looking at Arthur, who was gently blowing dust from the whittled stick, wondering why he had brought up such a topic.
Arthur did not look at him, continuing to whittle the stick, narrating slowly as if telling a story: "It is said they are very skilled in torture."
"Lingchi, the executioner uses a small knife, little by little, slowly, gently, ensuring you are fully conscious throughout, until the very last cut takes your breath away."
"Peeling skin and stuffing with straw, it is said they pull the entire person out of their skin and stuff them into a scarecrow."
The messenger continuously swallowed, still looking down and remaining silent. The soldiers, greatly interested in the world beyond Westeros, also gathered around to listen to Lord Arthur's story, but they never imagined such torment could exist, and they felt a deep chill.
Arthur looked up at the messenger, his voice softening: "But I have a few novel ideas that I'd like you to try."
"No one has ever tried them, you will be fortunate to be the first in history to experience them."
"I want to put you in a large pot, with a small fire lit underneath—this process is very long, and you will slowly perceive all the pain."
"Or."
"I could cage you, cutting off a small part of your body each time. I will send the best physicians to ensure you do not die easily from pain or infection. This process will last for weeks until you become a breathing, incomplete chunk of flesh."
"Or I could strip you naked and cover your entire body with syrup. Do you know, snakes, insects, and mosquitoes love syrup the most; they will crawl all over your body."
Arthur gently stroked his face: "Which one do you want to choose?"
Before he finished speaking, the entire place fell silent. The soldiers swallowed hard and scurried off to patrol the surroundings.
The messenger's face turned from red to white, then from white to green. His breathing became rapid, large beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, and his body began to tremble uncontrollably.
He tried to remain defiant, but every word Arthur described formed an incredibly clear image in his mind.
His psychological defenses were collapsing, piece by piece.
"Who is it?" Arthur asked again.
The messenger's lips trembled, his teeth chattered, but he still did not speak.
Arthur stood up, no longer looking at him.
The two soldiers, whose faces had turned pale from listening to the story and who were holding him, instantly understood. They grabbed the messenger's hair, forcefully pressing his head to the ground.
Another soldier drew the dagger from his waist and stepped forward.
The messenger struggled in terror. A flash of white, and a piercing scream ripped through the night. The soldier's movements were astonishingly fast; with a swift motion, one of the messenger's fingers had already fallen into the dust, blood gushing out.
"I'll talk!!! I'll talk!!!" The messenger's defenses completely crumbled. Tears and snot streamed down his face. One hand tightly clutched the other, severed finger, blood gushing like a spring. His voice was distorted by extreme pain and fear. "It's the Legg family from Willowwood City! It's them!"
Arthur gently stroked his jaw: "Briefly, what do they want to do?"
"War! Organize bandits! Harass your territory! Create chaos!" The messenger blurted out like beans from a bamboo tube, "I've already successfully organized three other bandit groups! Formed an alliance! Including Mad Dog's men! There were originally over a hundred!"
Arthur's eyes narrowed: "How many people are there now?"
"Seventy!!! About seventy-something people!!!!" The messenger felt himself starting to faint. "Lord!!! Damn it!!! I need to stop the bleeding!!! Lord Arthur!!!"
Arthur did not respond, only continued to speak slowly:
"One more question."
"Where is their lair?"
The messenger's body began to tremble again, his eyes darting, seemingly caught in hesitation.
Arthur said nothing more, looking up at the soldiers behind him.
The messenger hastily looked up, only to see the soldier behind him raise the dagger in his hand again, blood dripping from the tip of the blade onto his face.
The messenger was utterly terrified, practically screaming: "I know the location!! I'll take you there!!! Lord!!!"
"I can help you trick them into opening their gates!!!!"
"You can't kill me!!! Lord Arthur!!!"
"Gods!!!! I am useful to you!!!!"
"Very well." Arthur waved his hand. "Bandage him up."
The two soldiers immediately dragged the screaming messenger away, leaving only a pool of blood and a finger on the ground.
Lucien and Hakon swallowed, thoroughly frightened by Arthur's story. They quietly approached Arthur, lowering their voices as they asked, "Lord Arthur, what do we do now?"
"Should we first go back down the mountain, mobilize the soldiers, and plan for the long term?"
Arthur did not answer. He stood up, sheathed his dagger, then gently brushed the dust from his body, patting off the embers scattered from the bonfire. He turned to the two men:
"Since we've already come this far, there's no reason to go back down the mountain. We'll achieve it all in one go."
-------------------------------
I've already uploaded 70 chapters of this story on Patreon!
If you enjoy it, come check out the latest chapters in advance.
Here's the link:
[patreon.com/Greyhounds]
Thank you so much for your support!!
"And If you're enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!"