Eight armored men sat around a fire looking towards the mountains. They had been left behind to make sure their commanders target didn't sneak out from the path. The outskirts of the mountain storm howled, the horrifying sounds brought along with a cold gust of wind. The fire crackled, threatening to go out with the wind. One of them stabbed the fire with his sword to keep it lit.
Off in the distance they could see a group of frozen men coming their way. The group was covered in snow and ice from head to toe, their armor was stiff and hard to maneuver. To the untrained eye they looked like a pack of beasts. The sight was worthy of legend and myth. It had been hours since they left the warm shelter of the cavern.
"Sir Drake you're alive," called out one of the men seated around the fire. All of them rose to their feet and saluted their commander as he approached dragging the Monk behind him.
"D-D Don't just stand there fools," the Knight stuttered, his whole body shaking from the cold. Drake fell to his knees in a coughing fit, those behind him staggered closer to the fire. Those that had been seated around the fire rushed to the new comers' aid.
"Sir there's so few of you, what happened to everyone else?"
The Knight looked over to the Monk with pure hatred in his eyes. "They didn't make it. Only eight of us survived the storm, two more died on our way here." He sat down close to the fire, rubbing his arms with his hands in an attempt to get warm.
Yshomatsu laughed, he seemed unaffected by the cold. "Rub your chest not your arms, your body will take care of the rest." He told his captor, not realizing that he was helping his enemy. His thoughts were distracted by constant images of the sexy demoness. He secretly hated himself for being so foolish by thinking he could prepare himself to fight a succubus.
He sought to free his fellow Monks and had succeeded. However he couldn't help but think that they were beyond help. Left as sex starved husks. The price Yshomatsu was paying for freeing his comrades may have been too high. For the Succubus now seemed to hold a mental link to his mind. A link the Monk would do everything in his power to remove once and for all.
Sir Drake rose to his feet once he was warmed by the fire. "We have to get moving, the faster we get to a holding cell, the fewer chances he has to attempt another escape," the Knight said as he pulled the Monk to his feet and pushed him forward. Within the Knight's order there was a prophecy of sorts, or perhaps a warning. It detailed a mysterious being of great power appearing in the world, that being would be a foreshadowing to the end of mankind. Sir Drake believed in his heart that this was the being of great power, and he would put an end to it and be a hero to his king... his people.
The sun began to rise off in the distance as they made their way back to town. Drake was all too eager to get this over with. Once the Monk was safely behind bars he would prepare the gallows. The small town was adequate for the job, but Drake had little choice in the matter. The next closest town or city would be far too risky traveling to.
Along the way Drake told the horrifying tale of how the rest of his men had died in the storm, while the Monk had attempted to escape. Even though he didn't make another attempt, Yshomatsu kept his eyes open for any opportunities. He only allowed himself a few distractions from the Succubus, as if he had a choice in the matter. Once he even caught himself thinking of Bree.
The brief thought had caught the Succubus' attention. Although she didn't let the Monk know, she began to plot her entry into the waking world. Bree would come to be a blessing, she was sure. The Succubus stretched out her arms into the fluffy white clouds she laid upon in the dream realm, a shiver ran up her spin at the thought.
***
A week later the Knight walked through the dusty streets back in town. His heavy armor shined brightly in the morning light. All signs of the mountain storm had been washed off, yet it still caused a chill down his spine anytime he thought about it. Sir Drake entered a small building that had been the town's prison, holding cells were in the back of the old abandoned building. He didn't acknowledge the guards he had posted as he approached his prisoners cell. They saluted him as he past regardless.
The prison was in poor condition. Iron bars rusted, slowly falling apart as the years went by without use. All save one, in the back of the prison, where a single cell had been rebuilt. The Knight's men had thrown some dry hay into the cell for their Monk prisoner to sleep on. In the center of that cell sat Yshomatsu, with his legs crossed and his hands resting palms-up on his thighs.
Over the past week Sir Drake's prisoner had remained in that same seated position. Calmly meditating, it annoyed Drake immensely. The Monk's wounds, caused by the Knight and avalanche had completely healed in that small amount of time. As he closed in on the cell Drake kicked the iron bars and coughed to bring all attention onto him, as if the Monk didn't already feel his presence.
"The time to hang is approaching... Monk," he stated with a smirk upon his lips. The response he got was far from what he had wished to receive. Yshomatsu's eyes had remained closed, his face as calm as ever. Drake's patience was at an all time low, he had hoped to get a response. It would give him great pleasure to see remorse or even guilt on the Monk's face before he hung, or ever better a confession to being part of the order's prophecy.
He couldn't understand how the man on the floor before him had such great self-control or power. None of it made any sense to Sir Drake. While blind folded, the man had bested a whole squad of his men including himself on horseback. Yet any wound he had inflicted upon the man had vanished without a trace. Part of him wanted the man to hang and serve as an example; any resistance against the King's men would end in death. The other part of him wanted to study him, to find out if there was any truth to the rumored end of mankind. But without any cooperation from the Monk Sir Drake couldn't learn anything.
Sir Drake had considered feeding the Monk at first but second guessed himself.
Why waste the food on someone you were just going to hang
, he thought. The little food he had access to would be best used to keep his men happy. Each morning he would wake thinking that today would be the day he would break his prisoner, get answers to all his questions. However each day his wish was not granted, and he became angrier than the day before.
His thoughts were turning to torture, but the last thing he wanted to do was give the man a chance to escape, like he almost escaped on the mountain pass, even if it meant he would never learn the Monk's secrets, the least he could do was put an end to the prophecy. Sir Drake dragged his boots across the filthy floor impatiently as he paced back and forth. He took a few moments to study his prisoner. On the outside he looked completely calm, but there were small, hardly noticeable, signs of his distress. His skin for one was slowly going pale. His body was also showing signs of hunger, even if the Monk wouldn't admit it his body was slowly eating itself.
A few moments passed, Sir Drake cleared his throat, about to speak once again. He opened his mouth but at the last second he decided against it.
Perhaps the silent treatment would shake things up for tomorrows visit
, he thought. The Knight raised his head up high and turned to leave. An idea sparked within his mind. On his way out of the room he motioned for the posted guards to follow him, and to stand out of sight of their prisoner.
With the guards posted outside Sir Drake moved to the side of the building. There in the dusty alleyway the Knight waited, peering into the room through a crack in the wall. Since the cell was recently rebuilt there was no fear of escape without aid. Perhaps with a little patience the Knight would over hear a starving man blabbering to himself, revealing secrets.
Hours went by, the sun set before anything of note happened. Sir Drake sighed in disbelief. He had waited hours for the Monk to do anything, anything at all. Yet all he did was lay back into the dry hay and drift to sleep. The Knight cursed at himself for letting another day be wasted.
***
Days went by for Yshomatsu as he sat in the small cell meditating, hoping... no wishing that an opportunity would present itself to him. The Knight would come in each day offering food while demanding conversation. Yshomatsu respectfully declined his offers, or did he? Nah he simply ignored the Knight while inwardly laughing. In reaction the Knight had refused food each day. After a week he had started to feel weakness seep into his body, getting worse slowly each day.
Yet he held strong, meditating each day to keep his spirit up. Unbeknownst to his captor, the old building allowed rain to drop from the ceiling. Had it not been for the small amounts of water, he wouldn't have held on for so long.
