Fahil's gaze lingered on the bloodied man before him, a storm of doubt and suspicion brewing behind his otherwise composed expression.
But then, relief.Gods so much relief...
As he stepped closer and studied the prisoner's face, a weight lifted. This wasn't the man he had contact with.
His breath escaped in a slow exhale, carefully disguised as a sigh of indifference.
Suppressing the knot in his gut, Fahil kept his tone even. "Who is he?" he asked, disinterested on the surface, very interested below.
"Ah, now that," Alpheo replied with a cryptic smirk, "is a tale best told by our newfound friend here."
Without waiting for further cue, Alpheo stepped forward and grabbed the prisoner by a handful of matted hair, yanking his bloodied face up to meet his own.
—PFFT—
The man spat.
The gob of blood and spit struck Alpheo's cheek.
He didn't flinch.
With a sigh, as it was more of a bother than anything, Alpheo wiped the spit off, then delivered a backhanded slap with such force it rang across the chamber. The prisoner's head lolled as Alpheo released his grip, strands of hair still clenched in his fist.
Fahil winced. The blow had silenced the man completely, his body slumping like a sack of rags.
"Return him to his cell," Alpheo ordered without turning. "Give him another round. Harder this time. I want him missing a few teeth by morning."
Fahil stayed silent, even as the guards dragged the spy away. Inside, though, his thoughts were in disarray. He had no head for these power games. If he were a better schemer, he might have seen his own role more clearly and know he was already compromised. For now, he could only cling to the fragile hope that Alpheo had summoned him for no more than a routine briefing.
Trying to anchor himself, he asked, "Do we know where they'll be attacking?"
"Not yet," Alpheo said, a flicker of irritation tightening his jaw. "The bastard claims ignorance of that."
Then his expression shifted, lowering his voice, his lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile.
"But," he said, tone conspiratorial, "we did manage to extract something else."
Fahil leaned in slightly, dreading the answer.
"He wasn't working alone."
The words hit like ice water. Fahil's throat tightened.
"I presume… you captured them all?" he asked, voice strained.
Alpheo gave a slight nod. "Most of them," he said. "But…" He paused. "There may be one or two I missed."
Fahil felt the floor tilt beneath him. His mind raced, scrambling for an escape.
"If you'll permit it," he said quickly, "I'll dispatch a watch party through the city. Extra patrols. Just in case.I will have them delivered to you by the end of the night"
Silence.
Alpheo didn't respond. He simply looked at him. A neutral expression. Empty of malice… or mercy.
Fahil's heart began to pound.
His eyes darted toward his flanks, Jarza and Egil had stepped closer, too close, their presence pressing in like a vice.
And then, Alpheo smiled.
Fahil's stomach dropped.
He had been caught.
He sprang forward, hand diving toward his hip to draw his dagger, one desperate, wild chance to escape this tightening noose.
But pain exploded in his left hand before the blade ever left its sheath, breaking that hope as it rose.
A steel-tipped dagger slammed through his palm and pinned it to the table. The force of it dragged him back into his seat with a jolt.
He let out a strangled cry, mouth open in shock, the scream choked off by the failure..
His eyes flicked to the blade now embedded in his flesh. Blood pooled across the table. His fingers twitched once, then stopped.
Alpheo stepped forward, eyes calm, voice quiet.
"Now," he said, "shall we speak honestly?I hate lies..."
"Lay your palms flat," Egil ordered, before Fahil could make a whimper or summon a response.
With a casual flick, his dagger twisted slightly, sending a fresh surge of white-hot pain through Fahil's impaled hand.
"You fucking bastard," Fahil hissed through clenched teeth, venom dripping from every syllable. His eyes, alight with hatred, locked on Alpheo's, burning with defiance despite the agony.
Alpheo met the stare with a calm smile. "I imagine you'll be delighted to know," he began smoothly, "that the 'spy' we caught was one of mine. Fine actor, don't you think?You should really mask your expressions, you know? You have at least breathed in relief a dozen times in one minute."
Fahil didn't answer. He just let out a long, bitter sigh and looked away. The silence was confirmation enough.
Alpheo inhaled, then continued, tone measured and conversational. "At first, I considered torture. But it's a clumsy method, really. How can I ever know if a man speaks the truth under duress or if he just wishes for the pain to stop? I mean, with time I could have proceeded, but honestly?That is the one thing we lack."
He paced slowly, hands clasped behind his back, his voice carrying a detached curiosity. "Things rarely go according to plan. In truth, if you'd played dumb a while longer, I might've started to doubt my own suspicions.Gods you are not really made for this, are you?"
He stopped, turned. " What did he promise you?"
Fahil's lip curled. "The lordship of Aracina," he spat.
"A generous offer," Alpheo mused. "Let me guess, you were to open a gate? Quietly, in the dead of night?"
But Fahil didn't answer. Instead, he ranted, his desperation bubbling over. "Arkawatt is finished! He's clinging to power only because of your blades. Shamleik is the future. If you had any sense, you'd abandon this sinking ship. Join him, and you'd live like a king."
Alpheo regarded him silently for a moment, eyes hard. "Unlikely a mercenary can live like a king in the service of a prince.
You overestimate your leverage. And your value."
He turned his back to Fahil, voice casual. "But as it happens, I've more pressing matters to attend to. Still, there's the question of what to do with you…"
Panic flickered in Fahil's voice. "Did you not hear me? Join his grace, and your wealth will rival the nobility of the capital!"
"You're a terrible liar," Alpheo said lightly, smiling as he tapped Fahil on the forehead with two fingers.
Fahil exhaled slowly, resignation beginning to settle over him. "Very well," he muttered, his eyes sinking to the floor. "Go on, then. Do what you came here to do. But know this, your head will soon lie beside mine. The prince will breach these walls, before or after you're gone."
Alpheo approached, slow and deliberate. Fahil flinched, bracing for a blade, but instead, a hand settled gently on his shoulder.
"Why so grim?" Alpheo asked, his voice warm, almost fatherly. "Death may be final, yes. But you're not at that door yet. There's still a road left for you, if you choose to walk it."
Fahil narrowed his eyes, searching the commander's face for deceit. "If you don't take my head," he said darkly, "Arkawatt will. Do me a favor and make it quick."
Alpheo chuckled softly. "That's what would happen. If I weren't here. But lucky you, there's someone willing to cover for your ass."
Fahil's expression twisted with disbelief. "You?" he scoffed. "Don't tell me this is charity. I assume there's something you want. If it's silver, you've picked the wrong city. There's barely a coin left to melt.And I don't think you will receive much from the prince too."
"I'm not after gold or silver," Alpheo said, still smiling. "What I need is... a favor. A small one."
Fahil didn't speak, but the glint of hope was unmistakable.
He wanted to live.
Alpheo leaned in slightly. "You help me, and I'll make sure your betrayal is forgotten. Not only will you keep your head, but you'll come out of this richer than when you went in."
He gestured vaguely, as if brushing dust from his coat. "You scratch my back… I scratch yours. And we are deserted of itch both, isn't that great?"
He paused.
"So....do I have your attention and interest?"