I'll Know

Schnitzel opened his eyes. A sharp pain seared through his stiff neck, and his body ached from the bindings that held him to the chair. The dim glow of torches cast flickering shadows along the damp walls of the basement room. His mouth was gagged, his wrists and ankles bound tightly. He recognized the place, it was the same suffocating basement where Nathan Snowfell had had brought him the day before. 

Across the table, a man sat slumped forward, his head resting on crossed arms. As the figure stirred and lifted his head, Schnitzel's heart sank. It was Nate. 

"Oh, you're awake," Nate said, his voice smooth yet dripping with malice.

"Mmmph! Mmph!" Schnitzel tried to speak but forgot his mouth was gagged.

"Let him speak, Sight."

A figure emerged from the shadows behind Schnitzel. Sight's presence was unnerving, a man cloaked in black, his movements very silent. The light slowly revealed his pale, featureless face. He stepped forward, pulled the gag from Schnitzel's mouth, and stepped back into the shadows.

Schnitzel's words poured out in an angry torrent. "What is wrong with you?! Can't you just ask me to come here? I went to my home like you said! Why the hell drag me back here like some criminal? I'm a knight of the realm, not some dog you can throw around as you please!"

"Shut up!" Nate barked, slamming his fist on the table. His voice echoed off the stone walls, cold and commanding. "You did not obey me. You tried to escape. Shall I take that as an act of defiance? Shall I take you for an enemy?"

"One thing history has taught me," Nate continued, his voice dark and deliberate, "is that a recoverable injury leads to vengeance. Never give an enemy a recoverable wound. He will crawl back, fueled by vengeance." His gaze flicked briefly to Sight, who re-emerged from the shadows holding a tongue puller and a rusty saw, placing them on the table with a chilling clang. "So tell me, Schnitzel, should I consider you an enemy? Shall I pull your tongue out to silence you for good?"

Schnitzel's breath quickened as cold sweat drenched his face.

"But you can still write, can't you?" Nate mused, his voice calm yet venomous. "And your hands still work. Perhaps I should take them too. Or…" His tone grew darker, "…maybe I'll deafen you as well, like Sight here. Or carve out your eyes so you can't see your betrayal coming."

Nate leaned forward, locking eyes with Schnitzel. His lips curled into a sinister grin. "That wouldn't be recoverable… would it, Schnitzel?"

The weight of Nate's words crushed Schnitzel's resolve. His trembling legs felt like jelly, and a suffocating pressure built in his chest.

"I…I…" Schnitzel stammered, his throat dry as his body shook uncontrollably.

"Speak up!" Nate's fist slammed the table, his voice like a thunderclap.

"I was scared!" Schnitzel finally burst out, tears streaming down his face. "I… I didn't want to run. But I… I thought you'd kill me."

"Kill you?" Nate echoed mockingly. He leaned back in his chair, feigning contemplation. "Well, what choice do I have? Shall I?"

Schnitzel's head dropped, his gaze fixated on the stone floor. His entire body trembled under the weight of his fear.

"Or… maybe you do have a chance."

Schnitzel's head snapped up, hope flickering briefly in his teary eyes. Nate smiled, a slow, wicked smile that turned Schnitzel's blood cold. Nate knew now that Schnitzel would obey whatever he says next. Fear had gripped him completely. But for how long? Nate wondered. How long would this fear keep Schnitzel in my control? He thought.

"The deal remains the same," Nate said, his tone colder now. "Kill the blonde. That's all I ask. I'll make sure you join his company today."

He paused, studying Schnitzel's broken expression before adding with a smirk, "Your bags are already packed, aren't they? Why not make this a journey to remember?"

The torchlight flickered across Nate's face as his twisted smile cut through Schnitzel's very soul. His voice dropped to a menacing whisper, each word laced with chilling certainty.

"Always remember," Nate said, leaning closer, his face just inches from Schnitzel's. "Wherever you go… I'll know. Whomever you speak to… I'll know. Whatever you say… I'll know."

"W…were you sitting here s…since I…was out?" Schnitzel stammered, his voice trembling.

"I was," Nate replied, his tone calm but unsettlingly cold. He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. "I don't like waking people up, you see. When I was young, my brother used to wake me up at 4 in the morning. Every day. He'd torture my body all day long—training, drills, punishment, over and over. It was hell."

Nate's voice grew quieter, almost reflective, yet the bitterness in his words was unmistakable. "Though he eventually realized I wasn't made for strength, it didn't matter by then. He ruined my sleep forever. Now, no matter what… I always wake up at 4."

Schnitzel gulped, his eyes wide as he took in Nate's expression, a mixture of hatred and something even darker, buried deep. It made the room feel colder, the torches flickering in uneasy rhythm.