The first thing he felt was cold, a foul-smelling cold, from the hard ground, the standing water, his skin to his muscles and bones.

He remembered that he had been in a coma for a short time, that the wound Penny had left him had bled too much, and that his extreme thirst had made him stick out his tongue to lick the rippling water on his cheeks, but he had no success—two stout guards pulled him up from behind, fixed him to an iron chair with countless tiny nails, and shackled his hands and feet with strong shackles, and he heard the soft command to burn his broken arm with a soldering iron.

The heat, and then the unbearable pain, he screamed loudly, twisted his body, his clothes had been removed before he was thrown into the dungeon, the blood-soaked black and shiny nails pierced his hips and waist, he frantically tried to break free, but the two executioners, who were already quite skilled at this, deftly and accurately pressed his joints and head and neck, forcing the arm that had lost its palm to cling to a soldering iron the size of a horseshoe, and the blood dripping from the wound rose smoke on the red iron, and then the stench and aroma of roasted meat.

A collar made of boar skin was put around his neck, and the two ends of the collar were pierced through the small hole in the back of the iron high-backed chair and then clasped against each other, forcing him to lean back so that his back could feel the sharpness of the nail and at the same time see the person in front of him.

The man swung a slender whip and struck Berdwin in the eye, only one, because he wanted him to watch it well.

"I hope Your Highness doesn't take it too seriously," he muttered, "but I hate you so much, Baldwin, some say you have a pair of Doncree eyes, but I think they're a pair of frozen grapes, and the gods are on top - how happy it would be to be able to poke them out with my own hands and crush them with a pop." He shook his head in feigned surprise, "But I didn't expect to be back so soon that day." ”

Baldwin's guts were churning, he knew this man, even if the blood had soaked one of his eyes, this despicable man was a fanatic under Fouquet, a guy known as a hyena, and one of Princess Diane's many lovers, when Baldwin first set foot in the royal capital, he found a small trouble for Baldwin in order to please the eldest princess. The problem was that Berdwin hadn't really realized the danger of the royal capital at that time, and he almost killed the man, if it wasn't for Moreton Donkray stopping him in time.

After Baldwin became the master of Thundercastle, inherited the family name and fiefdom of Morton Donkray, and was favored by the king, the man was so clever that he thought he would never see him again - but he was all there, at his feet, in the gloomy dungeons of the royal court. Watching all the time, looking for opportunities.

"Honorable, great, exalted Norman king of the Highlands......" Fouquet's hyena pursed his lips at the sight of Baldwin's expression. Exaggerated to the extreme, he sneered, "No, Berdwin, it's not the one you killed, poor old king. He had been pierced in the throat by the man he trusted most, and what a fish bone it was, and even the presence of the benevolent Ilmot could have saved him from his mortal fate—I was talking about our new king. I do not wish to mention his name here lest his glory be tainted by you, in short, you know, and my master Fouquet, who have asked me to spare your life so that you may be judged tomorrow," he muttered, bowing his head, "though I don't think it's necessary at all. ”

"But my other master," continued the hyena, "ah, you know, noble mistress, that she cannot disobey the demands of the first two, but it is not difficult for me to ensure that you still have reason and life. He pursed his lips and smiled, almost shyly, "I must admit that I am not strong enough or smart enough, but fortunately I am still of some use—Birdwin, it's a shame that my mistress can't come and watch her brother's wake in person." ”

He sat in a chair, not a high-backed chair with iron nails, of course, but a chair wrapped in soft sheepskin, with a goose-down cushion, dressed as if he were going to some great banquet, and he kept his head down and kept fiddling with his fingers as if calculating something: "I must give you some medicine to stop the bleeding," he said, sighing: " Because you've lost Tyre's favor, ah, you should know, it's said that once the White Robe loses his charisma, he won't be able to accept the healing spells cast by the priest, which is too bad, otherwise we could have played many more tricks. ”

He raised his hand, and one of the guards brought a steaming potion, and the other pry open Berdwin's mouth with a tongue puller, and the cup of potion that seemed to be still boiling was poured down.

The hyena waited a moment so that Birdwin could sober up a little enough to hear what he was saying: "-I'm going to cut off all the fingers of your left hand, yes, the one you have left, then all your toes, and maybe some of the soles, until your feet fit into the iron shoes that would fit a woman......"

"Do you like skirts, I can give you one, so that you will be especially attractive when you dance over the coal-fire—oh yes," he clapped his hands, "and to avoid any unpleasant mistakes, I have to use a knife on you, rest assured, clean and flawless, as the lords of the southern islands do to those pretty little boys." It's a pity that you're going to die soon, or you'll be able to visit their harem and serve their wives and daughters. ”

Baldwin forced himself to concentrate, he had been wounded, had nearly died several times, but now he was facing the most terrible and despicable enemy, he had no weapons, no strength—no friends, no one willing to shelter him, the light of Tyre no longer fell on him—he could feel the light, which had once been abundant in him, The fiery gifts are gone, and the power and pride they bring are slowly flowing away, as the kings of men have bestowed upon him, and they have disappeared without a trace, as if they had never appeared, but he has fallen into the palm of the devil, and he cannot hear or see.

He prayed intermittently, to no avail.

Plum curled up in a damp corner of the room, the best one in the whole dungeon, with few rats and lots of bugs, but bugs only make you pustules, and rats the size of dogs and cats will gnaw off your ears and toes.

She looked across from her, and there was a strange box, rough of iron, with lead in the cracks, and only a few breathable holes in it.

(To be continued)(To be continued......)

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