Arslan Senki

In the end, Guiscard turned a deaf ear to Hilmes's confession. At times, overthinking choices in political and military strategy would render him indecisive, and he could not alter his original plan at such short notice. The most important thing now was to let his trusty Montferrat and Baudouin win their battles.

A terrible strategy flashed through Guiscard's mind that very night. He suddenly laughed maniacally, causing the Maryami woman in bed with him to glare furiously into his teal eyes.

"Hmmmm! Why didn't I think of this sooner? Perhaps I was still ashamed of such a thing?"

There was a darkness in Guiscard's laughter. He was certain of this once he had thought about this strategy more clearly. The plan was to let Silver Mask, that is, Hilmes, kill Guiscard's brother, King Innocentis.

Of course, Hilmes would not fall for Guiscard's trick so easily, but it was possible to make him kill King Innocentis by taking advantage of his exceptional sense of legitimacy. This was Guiscard's conclusion.

Of course, after killing Innocentis, Hilmes would not be let off the hook. The person who killed the king of Lusitania would be punished by the heir to the throne of Lusitania. And who is the heir to the throne? His Highness Guiscard, the king's brother, of course. In this way, Guiscard can rout two enemies in one move.

"Where is Silver Mask?"

Guiscard came out from inside the bedchamber and asked a servant, and the question was passed along several retainers. The answer, which reached Guiscard's ears with great difficulty, said that Silver Mask did not stay overnight in his official residence inside the royal capital and had left the city as soon as it got dark. He told the city gate guards that he had left the city on the order of His Highness the King's brother, so they did not stop him. Of course, Guiscard had not given any such orders to Silver Mask.

Then, this could be an opportunity. Shouldn't he go see King Andragoras, who was locked up in the dungeon? Guiscard considered it. He was an important prisoner who had been captured alive with great difficulty, and it was a pity to let him live just to satisfy Hilmes's vengeance. If he used him well, he might be able to divide Andragoras’s faction against Arslan’s faction and Hilmes’s faction, and make things even more chaotic.

In the past, Guiscard had wanted to meet with King Andragoras, but was prevented from doing so by the torturers who worked under Silver Mask's orders. This time, Guiscard intended to take his own knights to suppress the torturers and forcibly meet with Andragoras.

However, it was best to wait until dawn. Guiscard called a knight named Olaberria and ordered him to go after Silver Mask.

"There’s no need to capture him. After you find him, follow closely and see what he’s up to."

"Yes, sir. How many men should I take with me?"

"I’ll leave that up to you. Be careful!"

After receiving His Highness the King's Brother's order and the heavy bag of gold coins, the knight Olaberria hurriedly set out.

At dawn, the day began for Guiscard, who was again overwhelmed by political and military affairs. However, before dinner, Guiscard found a gap in time that allowed him to visit the dungeon with six knights working directly under him.

Tempted by both money and the threat of violence, the torturer agreed to Guiscard's request after a brief moment of hesitation. Guiscard was led down a long staircase, guarded by his knights. With great difficulty, he finally came face to face with the prisoner chained to the stone wall.

"King Andragoras, right? It's a pleasure to meet you. I am Duke Guiscard, brother of the King of Lusitania."

The prisoner did not respond to Guiscard's name. A foul stench permeated the room, like blood, sweat and dirt mixed together. The smell was hard to describe in concrete terms. The prisoner's hair and beard were unkempt, his clothes were torn and he looked filthy. His right hand was chained to the wall, while his left hand hung down helplessly, scars from whips and fire wounds covered his entire body, and his skin was barely visible beneath the wounds and dirt. The giant body, which was stronger than Guiscard, looked like a tired beast.

"You’ve been feeding him, right?"

After saying that, Guiscard couldn't help but feel ridiculous for asking this silly question. It was impossible for someone to go without food for six months and still survive. The torturer did not laugh. He answered Guiscard in a tired voice.

"We must allow him to retain enough strength to withstand the torture, so we give him two bowls of rice a day."

"Well, it must be difficult for a king who has always been accustomed to a life of wine and luxuries."

Feeling as if his tone had been too flippant, Guiscard could not help but feel a bit nervous, deep down. He had an intense sense of foreboding. Perhaps it was because this was such an uncomfortable place, dark and deep underground. However, King Andragoras himself gave Guiscard a sense of foreboding far beyond that.

Suddenly, the prisoner who had remained silent until now, made a sound.

"What does the royal family of Lusitania want from me?"

The sense of oppression implied in the voice was extraordinary. Guiscard couldn't help but take a half step back, and managed to control his emotions with great difficulty.

"I met your nephew recently, King Andragoras."

"Nephew…?"

"Yes, the orphan of your deceased brother, Osroes, called Hilmes."

"Hilmes is dead."

"Ohhh, that’s funny. Hilmes is dead? Then who was it that I met?"

Guiscard's laughter stopped after a moment, and a nervous, puzzled glint swept over his slender eyes. King Andragoras' lips twisted wonderfully behind his tangled black beard, and the one who laughed was now the king. When Guiscard was about to ask him what was so funny, Andragoras opened his mouth first.

"Do you know the real Hilmes, O King's brother of Lusitania? And how do you know if that man wearing a strange silver mask claiming to be Hilmes is really him?"

"…"

"Just because he said so, you believe him? Well, Lusitanians are not too smart, are they? How can such a society defeat us? Incredible!"

There was a strong provocation in his tone. Guiscard's forehead glistened with a light sweat. Guiscard was not stupid, much less a cowardly man. Yet, he felt that his tongue, hands and feet seemed strangely heavy, and he was pinned to the spot. A red light flashed in his mind, thinking that it was only right that he should kill Andragoras III, the king of Pars, right now. He should kill him while he had the chance.

Then, a sudden change occurred.

A fierce crash sounded, and the Lusitanians held their breath. The chains flew in mid-air in front of their eyes, as they broke and flew apart.

"Look out!"

When Guiscard shouted, the Lusitanian knight on his right, who was about to draw his sword, let out a miserable cry. Guiscard thought he saw the knight's face splashed with blood in that instant, and his eyes widened. As the knight's armor made a loud clang, blood and screams shot into the air at the same time. Darkness and light and sound pulsed around Guiscard as the knights fell to the ground on his left and right. Guiscard also drew his sword, but as soon as it left its scabbard, it was caught in the chains.

Now the king of Pars and the Lusitanian King’s brother faced each other one-on-one.

"This is the Nabataean iron chain technique that slaves practiced in order to resist their brutal and abusive masters."

"Well…"

Guiscard groaned. His knees were weak from the severe sense of defeat. Had he been too careless? Had he assessed the situation too optimistically? However, it was unimaginable that someone who had been imprisoned in a dungeon for six months and tortured for days on end could still break the chains on his body and launch a counterattack. Guiscard barely managed to squeeze out a sound.

"You, are you a demon?! How can you still have such strength?"

"You ask how I broke the chains?"

Andragoras threw down the chains that now stunk of blood and flesh with great force.

"Iron is different from gold, and it will decay. After six months of pissing in the same place, sweating, pouring salty soup on it, it finally rotted away. Now…"

Andragoras stepped forward and snatched the sword from the fallen Lusitanian knight's hand. Guiscard could not move his feet as if they were stuck to the floor, and he thought he was about to be killed. Wasn’t this a pathetic way to die? That he had led himself to his own death…

However, the king's eyes were cast to another place.

"O torturers, come over here. I'll let you have a chance to atone for offending the king!"

It took Guiscard a moment to realize that the torturers had not fled. They stood frozen in the corner of the room like clay dolls. Like Guiscard, no, more so than Guiscard, they had been ensnared by the awesome power of the resurrected King Andragoras.

As if they were being controlled, the torturers crouched on the floor with their backs bowed, practically curling up. The chief torturer groaned as if he was dying.

"O King, please spare my wife…"

"I'm not interested in your wife."

The sword was swung high and dropped heavily. The head of the chief torturer was split like a ripe melon, and a stray drop of blood splashed onto Guiscard's face.

King Andragoras, who had put away his sword, shot a cold glance at Guiscard.

"The rest of you stand up. Your sins are unforgivable, but I’ll spare you this once. If you swear allegiance to me, tie up the Lusitanians standing over there!"

Andragoras pointed the tip of his blood-stained sword toward Guiscard, and the torturers, who had recovered their wits, rose from the ground with eyes that looked as if they had been possessed. So quickly, they had become a group of human dolls, made of flesh and easily manipulated, meticulously carrying out the orders of King Andragoras. Surrounded by several men with huge bodies and thick arms, Guiscard was put in chains without being able to do anything about it.

"Be at ease, I won't kill you. You are a rare hostage, the safety of me and my queen depends on you."

King Andragoras said with a flourish, holding out his wrists to the torturers who had become his loyal minions. One of the torturers took the key from the dead chief torturer and unlocked the iron shackle around the king's right wrist. The wrist, which had regained its freedom for the first time in six months, was wounded, but King Andragoras did not show any particular pain; he just shook his hand gently.

"Now, let's go up!"

He shot a glance at Guiscard, and it was then that Andragoras' eyes shone as if vengeful from the days of confinement.

"How does it feel to be imprisoned? The King’s Brother of Lusitania should be able to endure it, right? For the king of Pars has endured it for half a year now. Hm hm hm… hahaha…"