Chapter 27: Side Story 2 – Sins of the Blood Demon

WARNING! This chapter contains graphic depictions of cruel torture, mental breakdown, and infanticide. If any of those sound like something you are not comfortable reading about, consider skipping this chapter. You have been warned.

 

This side story takes place in darker moments of Cal's past, and also to prepare readers for her crueler side which surfaces from time to time in the future. My world is a nice place because it is currently on its golden age. It didn't use to be such a nice place.

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"The Al-Shan Empire is by far one of the most civilized countries in the world… in peacetime. The people of Al-Shan held a strong belief in exacting revenge with extreme prejudice, ideally with one's own hands, which manifested to many horrible things done in wartime." - Yulissia Adrariel, Elven Bard and Traveller, known for having roamed every nation in the world.

Al-Shan Archipelago, Summer of Year 660 FP

 

"So that whoreson of a pox-ridden bastard is in there?" Cal asked the assembled people before her. Halmout, his daughter Samira, and many other of the oldest loyalists had gathered before the entrance of a large tent.

 

"Yes, indeed. It took much effort to capture him, mostly because he fled at the first sight of trouble most of the time. This time, he ran too slow." Answered Halmout, the now elderly man well into his seventies had a proud look on his face, as he had been the one who chose to serve as bait in order to net their target. "The third son of the usurper, Ishak Haroone, awaits your hands."

 

It was an old custom in the Al-Shan Archipelago - and the Empire later established there - for one to exact vengeance with their own hands whenever possible. All the people assembled before the tent had been the loyalists particularly close to the late princess Dinah, yet they all deferred the right to Cal, who they agreed was the late princess's one true friend, whereas they see themselves more as subordinates than friend to their liege.

 

Ishak Haroone, the man who was tied to the main support post of the tent with a gag on his mouth, which prevented him so that he could not have commited suicide by way of biting and swallowing his own tongue, was a man in his thirties with handsome features and a thick mustache. He was also the man the loyalists wanted to capture for the past two years at all costs, because he was the man responsible for the death of Xane Barajas.

 

Xane was a young man who joined the loyalists before he came of age, and rose through the ranks as he displayed his courage and loyalty. He was also the man the late princess Dinah fell in love with, and he reciprocated the older princess's feelings. Dinah had been heartbroken when she learned of his death, which was only made worse by complications during the delivery of her only child, complications which eventually claimed her life before her infant son Xain - named after his father - even reached his first year.

 

And now the man responsible for part of that grief was in the loyalist's hands.

 

Cal eagerly flexed her fingers as her face sported a savage grin when she looked at the usurper's third son, who squirmed and tried to yell something when he caught sight of her. She went to the table nearby and checked the prepared tools there, before she nodded in satisfaction. At her gesture, two of the assembled people removed Ishak from the post and strapped him in a chair with metal shackles to hold his wrists and ankles in place.

 

"This, Ishak, will hurt you a lot more than me." Cal said as she extracted a set of twenty large needles from the table. "You know what? I think I shall even enjoy myself while I do this." She added with a cold, merciless voice.

 

Ishak Haroone gave a muffled scream through his gag when Cal began to stick the needles one at a time under each of his nails, with a twist given to each just so that the pain he felt would be amplified.

 

He screamed some more when she pulled out his fingernails and toenails one at a time with the help of a pair of pliers, made worse by how she took her time with the task and did it slowly so as to allow him to savor even more pain.

 

He lost control over his bladder and bowels after she made many lines of shallow cuts all over his skin - the cuts themselves were nothing in comparison to the pain he already felt - only to then rub a mixture of vinegar and salt over all of his open wounds, and left him to marinate under those for an hour.

 

When she followed by that up and broke every, single small bone in his hands and feet, followed by his arms and legs, he couldn't even scream anymore, his existence had been reduced to a whirlwind of agony and torment, from which death would be a release.

 

Ishak did not even have the presence of mind to attempt to bite and swallow his tongue when they removed his gag, and soon that was not even an option, for she removed his teeth, one at a time, in as painful a manner as possible with a plier. Before she poked at the exposed nerves under his teeth with a red-hot poker.

 

Not even the sweet release of death was allowed him, for when she had pushed his body and mind to the brink and he was about to expire, Cal signaled to Samira, and the now middle-aged daughter of Halmout stepped forward with a look of grim satisfaction and called upon her magic. Her light affinity healed and preserved life, and denied Ishak from a release from his torment.

 

It took four days and nights of constant, inhuman agony before Ishak finally expired.

 

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Al-Shan Archipelago, Autumn of Year 671 FP

 

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The civil war that had consumed the empire for the past four decades was at its end at long last.

 

Just this very morning, loyalist forces in support of the previous king and his descendants stormed the royal palace, where the last defenders of the usurper - and the usurper himself as well as his remaining family - were cornered.

 

Cal had personally led the loyalist troops who spearheaded the charge into the palace. She had been in tatters by the time she broke into the throne room and faced the usurper's last remaining royal guards, most of the soldiers who charged with her was either injured badly enough to prevent them from continuing or had laid down their lives already.

 

Even in bad shape - with many injuries that would kill nearly any non blood-affinity mage many times over - she still put down the last of the usurper's royal guards. The usurper himself, she left seated on his throne, impaled on a spear from arse to mouth for the other loyalists to find. She had naturally taken care to ensure that the impalement would not kill him any time soon, of course.

 

Cal went straight to the royal harem next, and the sight that greeted her only fueled her anger.

 

To one side of the harem were women who despite pretty faces, showed signs of those who had lived a life more humble by far, while some still had calluses on their hands. What truly stoked her anger was how those women all saw her like they saw a savior, clearly women forced into the harem against their wills - acts that the previous emperor had decried as lowly and unbefitting of nobility, one of the many ways he clashed with the many nobles that later backed the usurper instead. The old emperor, Dinah's father, was in many ways a man too kind for this world, but that did make him beloved amongst his people.

 

To the opposite side of the harem were other women, more richly dressed and many with arrogant looks still on their faces. Some she recognized as daughters or sisters of nobles that had backed the usurper, and from their attitude they clearly willingly joined his harem for either their own ambitions or greed. One of the younger women was the usurper's fourth child, his only daughter, with arrogant looks that mirrored many of the women around her.

 

Cal gave neither mercy nor listened to the fearful entreaties the second group of women offered, as she started to slaughter every last one of them without even a blink. The first group she left alone. Once the rest of the loyalists took over, she suspected that many would be repatriated to their homes where it was a possibility, and once the health and mental states of the rest were ascertained, the rest would likely be employed by the crown in some manner. She left them behind and headed for a room to the back, however, as the women had informed her that the usurper had one more child inside.

 

Cal kicked the door open and cut down the woman who hysterically screamed and jumped at her with a dagger in her hands, but she paused, and her mind blanked at the sight of what awaited next.

 

The usurper's youngest child was but an infant, probably not even six months old, and he smiled as he looked at her with bright, innocent eyes from the bundle of clothes he was swaddled in.

 

Cal was truly at a loss of what to do for a moment. She knew in her heart that there was no way the loyalists would leave the child alive. If not her, someone more emotional would do the deed. Maybe if she hid away the child he might survive, but what then? What would happen when he grew up and some surviving supporters of his father caught wind of his existence? They would either rally to him, or worse, use him as a figurehead puppet. Either option would shatter the fragile peace she and all the loyalists spent the past four decades fighting for.

 

Some time later, while she stood there, indecisive, with her right hand near the baby's neck, several other senior members of the rebellion reached the room as well, old Halmout - now an old man in his eighties - amongst them. They peeked inside the room as they tried to see what caused her to be so indecisive, and soon came to realization as the infant cooed and grabbed Cal's hand with his pudgy fingers, then put one of her fingers into his mouth and suckled on it.

 

Cal felt her heart break inside, and tears streamed down her blood-crusted cheeks as she came to a decision she knew she would come to regret all her life. Yet she would choose the same were she given the choice again. Better her already filthy hands than let one of the others bear the sin.

 

One gentle twist of her hand, and the small life went still.

 

Everyone in the room turned their faces away as the feared Blood Demon of Al-Shan collapsed to her knees, sobbed loudly with her hands covering her face, and broke down crying.

 

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Two weeks later.

 

Cal laid restlessly on her bed in the room of the royal palace given to her for her stay. She had another sleepless night, what she did, haunted her still to this day. Her heart felt heavy with guilt, which some part of her felt was irrational, for why would the death of one child who would not be left alive either way affect her so, when she already had the blood of countless others in her hand, and even took pleasure in the demise of some?

 

Then a realization dawned on her and filled her with mounting horror and grief. She had already planned and decided to leave the empire after the war. She could likely have convinced the other loyalists to leave the infant in her care, where she would make sure his existence never endangered the fragile peace they fought so long for. None of those thoughts had crossed her mind on that fateful day two weeks ago.

 

That night, Celeysria Ambervale, the Blood Demon of Al-Shan hugged her knees and cried her heart out until the morning came.

 

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