Ser Tristan the Brave

Tristan Taylor felt someone punch him in the face. "OW!" he shouted.

The blow freed him from his slumber, lights flashed in his eyes, and his cheek was stinging from the strike he just received. Yes, yes, now he remembered. He had been captured? But by who? The last thing he remembered was traveling on the Royal Road back to Rasaay.

The next thing he knew, monsters called Pale Beast jumped out of the forest. They pounced on top of him, knocking him off his steed and he fell to the ground, hitting his head. Thankfully, he had his helmet on.

Though it prevented him from getting any serious damage, it wasn't enough to prevent him from getting knocked out. Even though the world was growing foggy and spun all around him, he could see the double-headed monsters devouring his steed and then men in black cloaks laughed whilst they surrounded him.

"Wakey, wakey," someone with a raspy voice said.

Must be them, Tristan thought sourly. Tristan opened his eyes. He saw nothing. He couldn't see anything.

The world around him was dark and...smelly. At first, he thought he was blind, but as he came to, he realized he had a bag over his head. It must have been made in a rush, for the fibers were prickling his face and were falling apart in some places.

There was a hole, small, but it was just enough for Tristan to see what was going on. He could see the black leather of the cloaks his captors wore. They had zippers as well, flashing in the light of a torch somewhere.

"What the hell is going on!?" Tristan yelled. "I can't see anything!"

"Ser Tristan," a voice said in a mocking tone. "How are things going?"

Tristan heard other men chuckling. It sounded like they were all around him. His ears picked up the sound of boots scratching and shuffling on the damp stone floor. "Are you kidding?" he groaned. "Bad obviously!"

He heard more footsteps coming towards him, then the sound of clothes hobbling as whoever it was in front of him knelt down to speak to him face-to-face. "Well, it's only going to get worse, Sunny Jim."

Man! This guy's breath stinks! "Worse!?" Tristan shouted, moving his head from side to side to escape the noxious smell of decaying gums and a dried tongue. "How can it get any worse? I was kidnapped by three smelly, big, hairy thugs while I was taking a piss. And the inside of this sack smells like ass!"

"Mmmm," said the voice. "That's a very bad day."

Whoosh!

The sack was ripped off Tristan's head. He looked around and gasped, sucking in the fresh air - for lack of a better word. It smelled awfully rank wherever he was, but it sure as hell beat the shitty-smelling sack that was over his face.

The room was dark, lit only by candles placed conveniently on shelves, desks, wooden crates, and barrels. In the fiery-orange glow, he could make out his captors. There were ten of them, clad in leather armor with hooded capes. They wore eerie masks with floral engravings under the eyes and on the cheeks.

They carried four rapiers, each one enhanced with a magical enchantment based on the owner's desire. The leader had his enchanted with Drain Life, giving his weapon a strange red aura. He swished it around to scare him.

Tristan knew who they were at once. Rare Hunters.

"What the hell?" Tristan groaned. "What did I do this time? If this is for what happened to that Crimson Maiden, I assure you, it was just a kiss. Now that you mention it, she was kind of drunk on the sacramental wine and I took advantage of the situation - uh - nevertheless, she came on to me."

"Shut up," the leader of the group said calmly.

Tristan's eyes widened and he slowly cocked his head to the side. Despite the situation, he found that rather rude.

"We're not here to play games, Ser Tristan," the leader said. "So you can save the satire." He unsheathed a dagger from his belt. "We know you've been very busy. We know where you put the Song."

Tristan gulped. "What? How did...?"

"We always know. There's no hiding things from us. Master Marik always knows what goes on in these lands."

Tristan clenched his teeth together to fight the rage burning within him. He was ashamed that he - a veteran knight of the king's royal guard - could allow himself to be captured by thugs who stole cards for a living. "You'll never find him," he said.

"Of course, we won't." The leader walked in circles around Tristan, who started to get nervous. "The world is so big; you could have hidden him anywhere for all I know. We can't find him without your help. So be a pal and tell us where he is, won't you?"

Tristan was ready for whatever they had in store for him. Ten years as a soldier in the Golden Guard, Tristan prepared himself for torture. But now that such a situation was at hand, he felt as though all his training went out the window.

He felt his legs shaking, his teeth wanted to chatter, but he clamped them down as hard as he could to keep these ruffians from thinking he was afraid. He was, there was no doubt about that. But if these men saw it, there was no doubt they were going to relish in the agony they would inflict upon him.

Nevertheless, he had to be brave. Now that the secret of the Song was out, more than just his life was at stake. "I won't tell you a thing."

The Rare Hunters looked at one another, bobbing their heads and chortling with glee. This is what they've been looking for the whole night. They were eager to break Tristan's bones or peel his flesh off with red-hot tools.

The man interrogating Tristan flashed a big smile. A breath of humor escaped through his teeth, blasting Tristan again with his terrible breath. He coughed and moved his head around in desperation for a patch of fresh air. The interrogator laughed, holding a knife close to Tristan's face. "Oh, playing the tough guy, I see. I can fix that."

The leader snapped his fingers. One of his subordinates chuckled, wheeling in a cart next to Tristan. It was covered in a white sheet. How cliche. Frightening, but cliche. Tristan already knew the whole act.

Even when he was afraid, he couldn't help but look at the ceiling and pout.

"Just pull it off," Tristan said through his teeth. "I know a lot of painful crap is under there."

"You Golden Guard knights are no fun," said the thug, yanking the sheet away to reveal pliers, serrated blades, clamps, wrenches, and scissors.

The leader picked up the pliers and snapped them over Tristan's face. They were getting closer and closer to his nose. He could practically feel the cold steel brushing against the tip. Without warning, the leader took the pliers and clamped it on one of Tristan's fingernails. "You're going to tell me where he is, Ser Tristan."

Tristan braced himself as the man put pressure on the pliers. The pain grew to be white-hot. He could take it no more and let out a horrible scream until the nail came completely off.

"That's one little piggy," the man said, readying the pliers for another finger.

His men laughed. "Now, you are going to tell me where Lord Yugi put the Song. Otherwise, I will take more and more. If you refuse to speak, we will start removing your fingers."

Tristan growled with anger. But then...he started to laugh. "Real smart, dumbass," he said. "Make me even lamer. Ruin me. It's just going to make it harder for me to talk." He leaned forward and laughed in the man's face.

"I say we just kill him now, boss," said one of the Rare Hunters. "He's of the High King's most elite knights. He aint gonna talk. He's a tough one."

"All men can break. All men have their weaknesses." He snapped his fingers.

A door creaked open. Two Rare Hunters came in, dragging someone by the arms. Tristan couldn't see the person's face, for they had a black sack over their head. But by the timid squeaks and airy gasps, it sounded like a girl.

Oh yes, it was a girl.

She wore tattered brown linen pants and a matching long-sleeve linen shirt that revealed her midriff. They brought her before Tristan and forced the girl on her knees. A pock-marked Rare Hunter pulled the bag off her head.

Red hair flowed past her shoulders and down her back. Long, thick bangs covered her face. The same Rare Hunter grabbed handfuls of hair from the top of her head to lift her face up. She whimpered from the pain.

"No!" Tristan gasped.

The Rare Hunter brushed the girl's hair off her face so Tristan could have a better look at her. But there was no need. Tristan already knew who it was. Serenity Wheeler. She gazed at Tristan sadly with red, weepy, eyes. Her nose was cherry-red from constant sobbing.

There was a bruise on her cheek from when they slapped her. Even though it was dark, Tristan could see dirty handprints over her shirt, meaning they had been fondling her for who knew how long.

"Tristan..."Serenity sighed. "Don't tell them anything. No matter what they do to me, please! Don't tell them anything!"

The Rare Hunters laughed at her pleas.

"So, we've got another tough one," said the lead hunter. "Ooooh, I love it when girls like to think they're hard like the big boys. Ollie! Bring in the bone mangler."

"DON'T!" shouted Tristan.

"Tristan don't you tell them a thing!" Serenity begged as they dragged her to the wall on the far left side of the room. Moonlight shone down from the barred windows, illuminating the men as they shackled Serenity's wrists to the ceiling. One of them tried to muffle her with a scarf, but the leader held up his hand in protest.

"No, no, no, no," he said. "Let her squeal. I want him to listen to her squeal." He looked at Tristan as his men struggled to chain Serenity up. "You think because you do not talk...you are strong? There will be no Song sitting on the Diamond Throne, Ser Tristan. It was simply not meant to be. Killing a Dark Lord does not make one a king."

"Torturing a girl does not make you a man," said Tristan. He pulled on his bindings, hoping he could rip them apart to no avail. "Coward! Savage! Leave her alone!"

"Tell us where Yugi hid the Song, and she won't feel a thing." The door burst open. Two more Rare Hunters wheeled in a horrid-looking contraption with straps, vices, spikes, and cranks.

"What should we do to her first, boss?"

The lead Rare Hunter stood up and looked at Serenity. He tsked mockingly at her. "Such a shame. What a pretty body she's got." He removed his glove and slid his hand up and down her curves, exposed by the tattered shirt. "I would certainly hate having to ruin it, but this man is such a stubborn bastard. Turn her around."

The Rare Hunters did as he commanded. But it wasn't a quick command. They spun her around and around for fun before they faced her against the wall and ripped up the back of her shirt.

"Whip her. Do it fifteen times. If Ser Tristan refuses to talk, poke her flesh with the hot iron. If the knight still refuses to talk, bend her over the table and shove it up her ass."

"NO!" Tristan shouted over the jeers and howls of the Rare Hunters.

A Rare Hunter went for the wall where the whip was hung from two hooks. Another one took an iron from the Bone Mangler's nightmarish tool chest and then held it over one of the torches lighting up the room. He kept it over the flames until the iron burned red hot.

Serenity tried her best not to struggle. If she did, she would make Tristan feel guilty. If she showed any signs of suffering, Tristan could break and then talk. And then they would find the Song they were looking for. They would kill it. The Divine Music that saved her world, dead at the hands of these barbarians. She could not allow it.

"This ain't gonna be pretty," taunted the leader. "Would you like a blindfold, love?"

Serenity turned her head and spit to show defiance. But just before the Rare Hunter could put the first strike in motion — BAM!

Something burst through the walls. The large cement blocks fell on two Rare Hunters, crushing them to death. The moonlight shone through the cloud of dust. A large figure could be seen walking through the dust cloud. He held up two swords. A flash of red light lit up the room. The swords were engulfed in flames. The swordsman wielding them was a Duel Monster known as Ferocious Flame Swordsman.

The Rare Hunters attacked. Ferocious Flame Swordsman was quick to counter. He spun to the right, avoiding a man with a spiked club. He then jabbed his orange-glass blade into his back and lit it on fire, burning the man's insides.

He screamed in agony and gurgled. He was no more. Ferocious Flame Swordsman saw two more coming his way. With one swing of his sword, the two men's heads came clean off. He held up his palm and launched a stream of fire at five more.

Suddenly, a blonde man came running into the room. He drew a sword with a fiery-orange blade with bright red runes and a deep blue hilt covered in red rubies. The handle was handsomely wrapped in black leather. A gold chain hung from the orange-diamond pommel clinging onto a crystal with a flame flickering inside.

He ran towards a Rare Hunter and ignited the blade with a thought. "Nyeh!" he shouted. "HASSAN CHOP!" He slashed the man across the chest. Flames licked his open wounds as he fell dead.