The Elf Rides a Wooden Horse

In the distant past, the Empire had fought wars for almost every reason imaginable.

As armies marched and prisoners accumulated, methods of interrogation had grown crueler and more elaborate. Few captives revealed their secrets willingly, and torture became a common part of warfare.

Those methods had since fallen out of favor.

Magic and magical devices could now uncover much of what an interrogator wanted to know without physical pain. Torture instruments had become shameful relics of a more brutal age.

House Pelgaroin, despite its long record of service in imperial wars, had stopped employing such devices. They were considered beneath the count's dignity.

Fortunately for my immediate predicament, the old equipment hadn't all been destroyed.

“This is the room,” Marhan said. “It's been unused for a long time, but I believe the contents are still here.”

She seized the handle of a heavy iron door and pushed.

At first the door refused to move. The iron hinges rasped against the frame.

“Hup!”

Marhan braced herself and shoved harder. The door finally swung open with an ugly shriek.

She shook out her hand and led me inside.

The chamber was almost completely dark.

I snapped my fingers, kindling a small spark of light in the air. I had no special talent for sorcery, but even someone like me could manage a little everyday magic.

“What a dreadful place.”

Cobwebs hung from the ceiling, and old candle wax lay hardened in untidy patches on the floor. Nothing here had been cleaned in a very long time.

I was used to the meticulous housekeeping at my own mansion. This abandoned chamber was enough to make my skin crawl.

I suppose that's to be expected.

I lit the wall candles one by one.

Their light revealed the ancient instruments arranged in the center of the room.

Among them stood a triangular wooden horse.

It wasn't really shaped like a horse. It was a narrow ridge supported by a wooden frame, with a sharp edge along its back. A prisoner forced to sit astride it would bear their weight painfully on the groin.

I'd seen illustrations in books. I hadn't expected to see one in person.

Using such an instrument was the sort of thing a villain would do.

And yet here I am.

“This will do,” I told Marhan. “Please fetch my slave.”

“Your slave, Your Excellency?”

“Yes. She scratched a drawing into the commander's breastplate without permission. It's time she learned that repeated disobedience has consequences.”

“Your slave did that?”

“Must I repeat myself?”

“No, Your Excellency. I'll bring her.”

Marhan scratched the back of her neck, bowed, and left.

As soon as she was gone, I approached the wooden horse for a closer inspection.

My confidence evaporated.

This is far too dangerous.

It was designed to hurt someone, nothing more. The ridge was much sharper than I'd expected. If the elf sat on it without protection, she could injure herself badly.

And I couldn't rely on her mana to prevent that.

She hadn't protected herself when I'd accidentally pierced her skin with the quill. At times, it seemed, she deliberately lowered her defenses during the punishments she demanded.

If she gets hurt this time…

The thought made my stomach turn.

She'd looked at me with chilling displeasure after that little accident. I couldn't imagine what she'd do if I placed her on a genuinely dangerous instrument and drew blood.

I needed to make it safe.

After considering the problem, I removed my coat and draped it over the wooden ridge.

The fabric covered the sharp edge.

Better.

I hoped the coat would cushion the edge enough to spare her a cut.

But it wasn't enough.

If I wanted to satisfy her, I needed a convincing performance. If I wanted to survive it, I needed another precaution.

I opened a drawer in a cabinet at the side of the room and looked through its contents.

I found a metal ring with a pointed end, a strong length of rope, and a small hammer.

These should work.

I dragged the cabinet closer to the wooden horse and climbed onto it with the ring and hammer.

The old ceiling had gaps where age had opened its joints. I chose one that looked sturdy and drove the pointed ring into it.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

After several blows, the ring sat firmly in the ceiling.

I caught hold of it and pulled.

It didn't budge.

Excellent.

I put down the hammer and checked the rope. The length was just right; there was no need to cut it. I threaded it through the ring, tied it securely, and pulled it down.

When the elf sat on the horse and raised her arms, the rope would be at just the right height to bind her wrists.

There. Finished.

I surveyed my work with a little burst of pride.

Do I have a talent for this?

The thought was so ridiculous that I immediately felt ashamed of it.

I cleared my throat and climbed down.

Footsteps sounded outside.

Marhan must have returned with the elf.

Time for the performance.

I moved to the wall and leaned against it at an angle. I deliberately mussed my bangs, lowered my gaze and tried to arrange my face into the sort of expression a bloodthirsty madman might wear.

I'm a cold-blooded psychopath.

I repeated it to myself.

“Your Excellency the Regent.”

Marhan entered with the elf beside her, holding her by the wrist.

The elf's red eyes were wet. She looked as though she might burst into tears.

She'd evidently been told she was about to be punished. Instead of her usual neat maid's uniform, she'd changed into an older, worn servant's outfit.

“I've brought your slave,” Marhan said.

“Hmm.”

“Your Excellency?”

I clicked my tongue, pushed my hair back and lifted one corner of my mouth in what I hoped was a malicious smile.

“Forgive me. For a moment I thought I could hear all the prisoners who suffered in this room. Their screams are such sweet music that they drowned out your voice.”

The elf trembled.

Marhan gave me a look of utter disbelief.

“But, Your Excellency, I was told this is your first time entering—”

“Ah, the screams! The voices of those who curse me for my sins!”

I interrupted her quickly.

Marhan's expression suggested she was questioning my sanity.

I couldn't blame her. This was embarrassing beyond words.

But I couldn't stop now.

“M-Master…”

The elf looked up at me, her long ears drooping, her eyes still full of tears.

I felt an instinctive pang of pity.

It's an act.

I took a breath, seized one of her ears and yanked her toward me.

“Ah!”

“You worthless creature. I heard what you did to the knight commander's armor. You dared scratch a picture on it with those filthy hands?”

“It hurts, Master…!”

“I've warned you again and again, and you still refuse to learn. There's a limit to my patience. Today you'll receive a proper punishment.”

I released her ear and stepped aside to reveal the wooden horse.

The elf lifted her head.

An old torture instrument stood in the middle of the dim chamber, with a length of rope hanging from the ceiling above it.

Her pointed ears pricked up slightly.

Was that a fleeting smile behind her frightened expression?

“P-please forgive me,” she whimpered. “I won't do it again…”

Thank goodness.

That reaction seemed promising.

“If forgiveness were enough to correct your behavior, I'd forgive you. But you keep repeating your mistakes despite all my generosity, don't you?”

“I…”

“Marhan. Put her on the wooden horse and secure her wrists to the rope above.”

Marhan looked at me as if to ask whether I was serious.

Then, evidently remembering that I was acting as regent, she led the elf toward the instrument.

“Sit down,” she instructed.

The elf obeyed, climbing onto the covered ridge with a small whimper. She flinched at the pressure and let out a strained sound.

Marhan paid no attention to the elf's body. She moved behind her, raised both arms and tied her wrists to the rope.

With her arms lifted, the elf's short clothing shifted upward, leaving part of her groin exposed against the coat-padded ridge.

“Ah… there's a strange feeling in my lower body…” the elf murmured.

The posture also drew attention to the shape of her chest.

Good heavens.

She really was extraordinarily beautiful. In another life—one in which I hadn't learned what she wanted from me—I might have found her irresistible.

But this was the life I had.

And the elf might kill me if she decided I'd disappointed her.

I forced my face into a contemptuous smile.

“Well? How do you like it?”

Outwardly I was a cruel master enjoying his captive's humiliation. Inside, I felt like a candle burning down to its last inch.

If the punishment failed to please her, I might not leave this chamber alive.

Ashley had warned me about another possibility: the elf might carry me off to the Great Forest and keep me as her toy for the rest of my life.

Either prospect was unbearable.

Every punishment was another gamble with my future.

Please. Let this be enough.

The elf's shoulders trembled. She lowered her head and began to sob.

Then came her answer.

“I hate it…!”

An overwhelming success!