Cruel and Unusual Punishment (Part 2)

Neve received treatment and slept for the remainder of the day. Kalina tended to her infected shoulder diligently. The necrotic flesh had been cut away and the wound was stitched back together, tucked underneath a neatly wrapped bandage.

The nurse did her best to ease the tension by making conversation with Neve. Kalina informed Neve about the order of command at Hell's Gate, as well as the daily life of those stationed here.

The Commanding Officer was a senior knight, third son of a Count from the south. The knight who originally detained Reed, Sir Erwood, was the second-most senior knight.

While Prince Hale and his deputy, Lieutenant Wolstan Hewes, were well-liked by the lower-ranked knights and men-at-arms, the Commanding Officer and Sir Erwood were not.

The Order of the Black Rose was, as a whole, much younger than the other knightly Orders. Neve attributed it to the fact that the Order of the Black Rose was often tasked with the most deadly campaigns, thus having the highest mortality rates.

Neve could only await Prince Hale's return. And even then, Reed's fate was uncertain.

Night had long arrived, shrouding the medical ward in darkness. Only the warm light of an oil lamp, placed on Neve's bedside table, and the pale glow of moonlight illuminated the large room.

The temperature dropped significantly as night fell. Neve burrowed further into her woolen blanket, eagerly anticipating the arrival of morning.

A knock at the door startled Neve out of her own thoughts.

"Lady Neve, are you awake?" a muted voice said through the door.

Neve sat upright, keeping her blanket wrapped tightly around her frame. "Yes. Come in."

The door opened just a crack, a cloaked man slipping into the room quietly. He shut the door carefully behind him.

The man quickly pulled down his hood, revealing himself to Neve. It was Beavin, wearing a nervous but resolute expression. He carried an oil lamp in one hand and a canvas sack in the other.

"What brings you here, Sir Beavin?" Neve asked pointedly, a cold edge to her voice.

"I'm here to escort you to the dungeons, My Lady," Beavin responded. "Reed has been released from interrogation and is to be held until tomorrow–for his trial."

Neve scrambled to her feet, growing slightly lightheaded at the sudden movement. Beavin quickly reached out, offering her a steadying hand.

"You'd best bring some medical supplies," Beavin suggested hesitantly. "He's not...in very good shape."

Neve nodded grimmly. She slipped on a pair of loose-fitting hide boots, left behind by Kalina, and headed to the cabinets lining the south wall. She grabbed all the supplies she could–bandages, salves, vials of alcohol–and stuffed them into the deep pockets of her skirt.

She turned back to Beavin, who had opened the door for her.

Pausing for a moment, she regarded Beavin with worry. 'Can I trust him?' she wondered. 'Am I falling into a trap?'

Neve clenched her fists. She had no choice but to trust him. Reed's life was on the line. Taking a deep breath, Neve walked past Beavin and through the doorway. He followed in suit, beckoning to Neve with his head.

He led Neve down the dark and winding hallways of the fortress. She could already sense the horrors awaiting her.

–––

Before long, Neve and Beavin found themselves in the underbelly of the fortress. The air grew cold and damp as they descended further underground. The steep stone steps, lined with moisture, seemed to go on forever.

They reached the bottom after what felt like hours. Alarmed, Neve realized an unknown knight was standing guard. But he simply nodded at Neve and Beavin as they approached.

Beavin and the knight shared a hushed exchange, but they were able to pass through without difficulty. Neve dismissed any growing apprehensions she had. They didn't matter. Right now, she had to find Reed.

Beavin led Neve into a vast chamber, lined with small, empty cells contained by iron bars. Their steps echoed against the stone brickwork ominously.

As they travelled deeper into the chamber, a moving shadow appeared in the corner of Neve's eye. She whipped around, seeing a dimly-lit figure crawl forward, trapped behind a row of iron bars.

"Reed?" Neve called out.

A weak groan was all she received in reply, but it was enough. Neve ran toward the sound, Beavin following close behind her.

The oil lamp revealed the gruesome sight before them.

Reed was lying on the damp stone, struggling to support his upper body with his arms. His skin was covered in crusted blood and dirt, barely concealing the multi-coloured bruises that bloomed on the skin underneath. Taking a closer look, Neve realized his fingernails had been ripped off, leaving bloody stumps behind.

But in worse condition was Reed's face. His bottom lip was split, a line of dried blood cascading down his chin. Both of the boy's eyes were swollen and blackened. A blood vessel in his right eye had burst, staining the white of the eye scarlet.

"Oh, Reed," Neve gasped, falling to her knees. She grabbed the iron bars with both hands, tightening her fists painfully. "I'm so sorry."

"I'm okay," the boy replied, his voice barely a whisper.

Reed placed one of his hands over hers. Tears sprung to Neve's eyes, but she blinked them away. She had no right to cry in front of Reed, who was in infinitely more pain than she.

Instead, Neve reached into her pockets, producing the medical supplies she had taken earlier.

"Put your hands through the bars," Neve instructed. "I'll treat your wounds."

Reed obeyed Neve's command wordlessly. He remained quiet as Neve worked, only wincing as she poured alcohol over the bloody nubs that were once his fingernails. Neve bandaged him quickly, wrapping the linen over each of his fingers with as much care as she could manage.

Beavin knelt beside Neve. Reed's eyes flickered to the knight, recognition flitting over his features.

"I am Sir Theodore Beavin," the knight said, his tone solemn. "I was present at your arrival at Hell's Gate."

Reed nodded slowly, looking to Neve in confusion.

"I apologize for the maltreatment you have received at Hell's Gate," Beavin continued. "Not all of the knights believe you are guilty."

Beavin laid out the contents of his canvas sack. He handed a bundle of bread, wrapped in cloth, to Reed through the iron bars. Then, he pushed several jars over the stone floors. They were full of soups and stews–soft enough for Reed to eat despite his injuries.

"Thank you," Reed rasped.

He dug into the food with animalistic vigour. Neve assumed the Order had starved Reed throughout the duration of his "investigation." She could only seethe in silence at the abuse Reed had endured.

Neve and Beavin watched as Reed ate, hoping they were able to soothe some of the boy's pain. He didn't seem to mind the weight of their gazes.

Suddenly, Reed paused mid-bite and addressed Neve with sudden urgency. "I haven't told them anything about Bluhera yet. It's the only leverage I have."

"Yes, I heard," Neve replied. "You made the right decision."

"My trial is tomorrow," Reed pressed on. "What will happen?"

Neve clenched her fists. "I cannot say for sure, but I will be in attendance. And I do not intend to allow the Order to disgrace us any further."

She stood up, motioning for Beavin to follow. The knight quickly gathered the empty jars Reed had licked clean. "Rest assured, Reed. I will not allow any further harm to befall you."

Reed nodded. Neve was unsure if he believed her, but she could see the hope behind his bruised eyes.

Beavin led Neve away from Reed's cell. She looked over her shoulder as they departed, watching as the shadows completely enveloped Reed's figure.

Neve did not know how she was going to save Reed. After all, what power did she hold at Hell's Gate? Still, she was adamant on protecting her companion.

She turned to Beavin, steely determination in her voice. "Help me prepare parchment and ink. I must send a letter to my brother."