A Clear Conscience

The door to the confinement cell opened. Two believers dragged Taxisis inside, unable to walk under her own power, and threw her onto the hard wooden bed.

After the soul-searching interrogation, she looked as though she had just been hauled from the water, drenched head to toe in beads of sweat. A fine sheen of oil glistened across her skin.

It had been anything but a pleasant experience. Violent stabs of pain still lingered in her mind; even the most basic thoughts made her convulse. She had long since vomited everything in her stomach, yet dry heaves still escaped her now and then, as if her entire gut had been twisted into a hemp rope.

Only after lying there for a long while did Taxisis feel control over her body gradually return.

So this was the secret art of soul-searching...

She had read about it before. It was the strongest means of proving one's innocence. Several legendary figures of The Church had used soul-searching to demonstrate their loyalty. She had prepared herself for the pain, but the real sensation had far surpassed anything she had expected.

Now she understood why the interrogation chamber had to be built deep underground, and why the subject had to be fastened securely to a stone platform with iron clasps before questioning began. Under pain that tore at the soul itself, struggling with all one's strength was almost an instinctive response. No matter how noble a person was, they could not help displaying all manner of undignified reactions.

She even suspected that, if she had not been Dragonborn, she might have died directly on the interrogation table.

Suddenly, a soft click came from the entrance as someone stepped inside.

Taxisis forced herself upright and sat against the wall—she did not want to show this weak