20th of Cylus, 717
“A-are you sure this is okay?”The servant was anxious, fidgeting like a rabbit in a cage, wide eyed and scared. In his hands were a number of apparatuses and the table next to him held a tray of dubious vials and syringes. Meanwhile, Andráska was squirming in a chair, already pressing his wrists into a restraint and buckling in. His feet were the first to be secured and he was mostly naked, save for the pair of dark briefs that covered his manhood. He grinned nervously at the other man, “It's fine; I promise.”
The servant, Kenneth, didn't look convinced, “But...m'lord... isn't it illegal to do this to you?” Perhaps he was being too forward with asking, but what the young noble was requesting was dangerous.
Andras was finishing up the restraint and settling his other arm into the next leather hold, looking up with a light smile, “Kenneth, if I could choose anyone else and put your mind at ease, I would. But it has to be you.”
Ken shuffled the items in his hand, trying to set down rags and not drop a wooden club that threatened to spill from his arms. His expression was pained when he answered. He had no qualms against the young knight, “Yes, m'lord.”
“Look,” Andras said, waiting for Ken to come over and finish tying him down, “You're the physician. If anything goes wrong, you can save my life.”
Ken kept quiet, organizing the items and tightening the last buckle. It wasn't unforgivably tight, but it wasn't loose either, “I'm a knight, Ken. Perhaps an Ourorboro Guard. I need to train my body for situations like this. For... torture,” Andras had told himself the same lie so many times, even he was beginning to believe it, “There are still those that serve the rebels. If I run into a few and they want intel, I have to make sure I die with my mouth shut, or can survive long enough to escape.”
Ken's face changed slightly, looking a touch more understanding. Andras had to keep convincing him this was morally alright, “Do it for the country, Ken.”
A long pause followed but the servant relented, pushing his shoulders back and chasing away fears. He nodded and began to prep a syringe, turning into the doctor Andras knew he could be,. While he waited, the noble looked around the enclosed cell. It was damp and smelled like urine. The walls had a slimy sheen and he could hear the whimpering of other prisoners from down the hall. A far cry from the beauty of Venora and soft music that played in the rooms above.
This was a place he could very well end up. If he continued down his path of aiming to kill his father... he had to think of all the possibilities. He had to be strong enough to survive anything.
“We are going to begin with an injection of Buzz,” Ken stepped forward slightly, flicking the glass and looking at Andras with sad eyes, “This will enhance your pain. It's common in interrogation and...” The last word was unspoken, but he knew what he meant. Torture.
“Sounds good,” he answered, trying to mentally prep himself.
Ken found the spot on Andras' arm that worked and began to count. One. Two. Three.
The needle pierced his forearm, the liquid spreading within his muscles and Andras winced. Ken finished the injection and set aside the needle. It felt like a regular shot at first, making Andras arch a brow.
“So far, so good,” he started, “That wasn't so...” he stopped, his eyes flying to his arm. There was a warm ache building, the subtle feeling far too reminiscent of the many times he felt drugs take their effect. Except this time... it started as a small itch, but soon, the injection site began to burn and sting. Andráska was very aware of the pinprick of blood that dribbled down his arm, “Fast acting, innit?”
The joke didn't seem to help his sudden nervousness. What had he gotten himself into?
