1st of Saun 719
Just as Reed had said, it didn’t take long for a press-gang to notice him. He was pushed into conscription almost as soon as he was spotted a few days after leaving the committee. There was little argument to be had, even should Woe have been one to do so. He was able bodied, and ready to fight with all the equipment necessary for conscription ready on him. He couldn't expect to abide in Etzos while evading duty in the army. There were few enough able-bodied soldiers among the living, that those few who could stand and were as yet not touched by plague were scooped up as if they were worth their weight in silver.
So he was marched along with the newly forming regiment, toward a forward camp, onto the invasion force. He barely had time to don his armor. As it was, he slipped one of his spare shirts around his face, covering his breathing holes so as to prevent disease material from creeping into them. He didn’t imagine it would be anything close to fullproof, but it was better than braving the acrid smoke and miasma of the killing fields.
Their march took them breaks to the south, down to the towns on the edge of conflict with Rhakros. On the way, Woe finally had time to settle his gear, putting on a very basic set of scale brigantine, with a riveted, linen overcoat. He carried his own weapons, a one-handed executioner sword, and his scourge. It wasn’t ideal for war, perhaps, but it would do for the sort of enemies they’d face.
They stopped at a forward camp just outside the zone Etzos was invading. That was where Woe finally was addressed directly by another soldier.
”You, come with me.” A regular soldier beckoned to Woe, ”So you said you’re a interrogator?”
Woe nodded.
”Well, we have plenty of captives. Before we set the magi to flaying them, we thought we’d squeeze them for whatever they might know of their movements.”
”And?” Woe quirked a brow, ”How amenable to questioning have they proven?”
”Not very.” The regular admitted, ”The Rhakros soldiers come in several varieties, at least the ones that are suitable for capture and not killing from the outset. They’re either drugged into a devoted frenzy toward their ends, or else broken men, halfway to death already. Then there are the plagued, we don’t keep those around.”
The regular nodded toward a large mound of burning corpses, at which Woe gripped his face cloth, wincing.
”Fine, lead me to one of these soldiers and I’ll see if I can break them.”
They led him along, behind the makeshift palisades they'd set up, with spears and provision crates and barrels to halt whatever horrors crept out of the ground to assail them. In truth the palisades would scarcely suffice against the bulk of the terrors that lurked beyond the plaguefields, but they were a bit closer to Etzos to be worrying about a counterattack this deep in their own territory. Besides, they had the ghost forces securing the air, in large part with the help of magi.
There were several men tied up to crosses behind their line, all of them looked healthy enough, but who really knew where Lisirran forces were involved? They didn't look like much, probably scouts that were required to be clean, mentally and physically in order to provide reliable intelligence. The gibbering madmen that made up the larger part of the Rharkros forces were not well suited to such tasks.
They were already being attended to by an experienced interrogator. The man had the look of a blackguard, long of face, grim in expression. He reminded Woe of what he might look like in twenty or so years.
"What have you learned so far?" Woe asked him, "And how much damage have you already done?" It was difficult to tell exactly how damaged the man was, with Woe's ability for medical assessment. Certainly the man wasn't missing any fingers or limbs, but he knew well enough there were plenty of ways to abuse a prisoner without leaving visible marks.
"The man won't talk." The blackguard interrogator muttered, then pulled Woe to the side, where they might not be heard by the prisoner. "I suspect his secrets and information is on the tip of his tongue. We only need someone to make him feel pain to make the proper inducements."
Woe quirked a brow, "You've never tortured anyone?"
"By all accounts, from what I've seen of your personell file, you're a far better torturer than I. More experienced anyhow. I'm more used to persuading them to tell the truth. Pain hasn't been in my toolbox, to be frank."
Woe nodded, then turned to look at the man on the lowered wooden 'X' cross. He moved to stand beside the prisoner, staying out of sight. He rifled through his toolkit, the torture implements clinking and clanking outside of the viewing of the prisoner. Woe knew well enough the contemplation of what those sounds might mean would provide a sufficient scare to the prisoner. Often enough, just thinking of torture was in itself torture.
Meanwhile, the interrogator came back to the cross, and was smiling at the prisoner. "This is my friend." The Blackguard said to him, pointing at Woe. "He's going to help you remember."
"I know you must be very flustered." More clinking and clanking from Woe, as he intentionally rifled through his kit. The sound of scraping metal against metal made the prisoner wince.
Woe began muttering, just loud enough for the prisoner to hear, "Tooth chipper, gum scraper, hmmm... Might not be good if we want him to talk. We'll save that for last, maybe."
The blackguard continued, "Now, what do you and your superiors know of our movements, when was the last time you reported to them? And what do you know of your own side's movements?"
The prisoner's eyes widened, or Woe could just imagine they were. This was the moment of truth or deception. Woe wondered what side his tongue would land on.
"We... We know you're holed up somewhere north of... Muster. We have twin forces coming around to flank the troops in that position."
Woe could detect some dishonesty in that answer, but said nothing. He only let the Interrogator do the work. Which he did, "Hmm, it's true, from what I hear... But we know you've already recalled the bulk of Lisirran forces to Rhakros."
"No no... We, I... I don't know our movements, I!"
But it was already too late, Woe descended upon the man's hands, wedging a sharp file beneath his toenail, and peeling it off, little by little.
"Ahh ahhh! Curse you! I spit on your ground, Etzori scum! Ahhhh!"
Woe let up, long enough for the prisoner to regain his composure. Then the Interrogator continued. "What do your superiors know of our movements? When was the last time you reported to them?"
Woe fiddled with the man's half-ripped off toenail, as if a reminder to cooperate. The prisoner gulped, and then hung his head. He was defeated, Woe felt. It really took that little? He could probably do the Interrogator's job for him, just by applying pain...
"Two tentrials ago. I informed them to your positions south and west of Muster."
The blackguard made a note in a nearby ledger, and then nodded to a courier. "Bring these missives to our men at the Rhakros front. Inform the commanders, they will make the necessary adjustments, as they see fit."
The blackguard stood up, and then nodded to Woe. Woe nodded back.
The grim ex-slave then turned to the prisoner, and shook his head, "I don't think there's anything else we require of you, scout." He said, then removed his sword from it's sheath. Moving himself to the prisoner's upper torso, he held the blade over his head, and was going to take a slash at his neck, when a hand covered his shoulder.
"No no, recruit. We'll have the mages or ghosts feast on that one. You just get to helping the Interrogator with the other guests."
Woe sighed, sheathing his sword. He went off toward the next prisoner in line to be tortured.
