Interrogation

The soldiers were cleaning up the battlefield. They gathered the bodies of their fallen comrades, preparing to take them back so their families could bury them. Fortunately, the battle had not reached a great scale. Although there had been many enemies, they were severely lacking in metal chopping weapons and had no heavy-impact units such as cavalry. As a result, few soldiers had suffered mutilating injuries.

It took several hours to finish cleaning the battlefield. By the time everything was over, it was nearly dark. From the Krad People, Reiner obtained animal hides worth roughly eight or nine gold coins.

It looked like quite a lot. They were piled up like a small mountain, creating a rather spectacular sight. However, compared to a full suit of chainmail that cost five gold coins per set—or even ten gold coins per set in the heartland of the Empire—it was still insignificant.

Animal hides offered warmth and slight protection, but they were still far inferior to iron armor. For one thing, each lord's territory had a small population and could not mobilize many soldiers for battle. Therefore, heavily armored knights played a tremendous role and could determine the outcome of a battle, making iron armor extremely important. On top of that, the lack of population meant that iron ore could not be mined on a large scale, so iron was also scarce.

Blacksmiths were even fewer in number and difficult to train. All of this combined to make iron armor expensive. One had to understand that maintaining the Moreland Family's standing army for an entire year cost only five gold coins.

In other words, the price of a full suit of chainmail could support a standing regular army of eighty men for a whole year. That included equipment maintenance, food expenses, and their wages.

Still, this was an unexpected surprise for the soldiers. Calculated out, each of them could receive three or four copper coins—nearly a year's wages for them. Even if that could not be considered a high salary, they did not need to pay for their own food and drink, so those wages were pure income. Now that they had gained an unexpected fortune as well, how could they not be delighted?

"Set up camp here! We'll stay here for the night and take the news of our victory back tomorrow!" Reiner told the soldiers.

Since no one knew when the Krad People might return, Reiner had ordered the army to carry a large quantity of supplies. Thus, they set up camp and rested where they were, while the wounded were properly tended to. As for what happened next, they could only leave it to fate.

After all, this era could hardly be said to possess any medical care at all. Having some linen cloth for bandaging was already a blessing. Reiner had even specifically ordered the bandages to be boiled in hot water for sterilization. He could only do his best to keep these wounded soldiers alive.

They were all precious veterans—soldiers who had fought the enemy in genuine field battles, rather than people who merely shot arrows from atop city walls.

Soldiers like these were rare even throughout the entire Empire. After twenty years of peace, the Empire had seen very little warfare under the emperor's rule. The battle-hardened standing troops accumulated during the Empire's former period of turmoil had either grown old, died, or been lost during the emperor's eastern campaigns against the nomadic peoples. They could no longer return to the battlefield.

Meanwhile, in Morland Castle, three days earlier, Logan had stared coldly at the heavily wounded spy in front of him in the castle dungeon. His eyes were filled with bloodlust and bestial cruelty, without the slightest trace of pity. He looked utterly mad and terrifying.

"State your name, where you're from, whom you serve, and why you appeared here!" His voice held not a trace of emotion. He had always been extremely brutal toward enemies.

"Pah! Shit! You'll go to hell sooner or later! I curse you! You swine, don't even dream of getting any information from me!"

"Excellent!" Logan did not become angry upon hearing this. Instead, he let out a cackling laugh like a night owl. "I like tough bones like you, because only people like that can withstand my torture!"

The spy said nothing more, merely glaring fixedly at Logan with hatred.

As he spoke, Logan took several wooden spikes from a small backpack. He waved them up and down as he said, "Do you know? In a moment, these will be inserted beneath your fingernails. Then your nails will be completely separated from the flesh underneath. I'm really looking forward to your reaction, because I've never met anyone who could endure more than five fingers!"

Logan stared at the spy with an eerie smile, then said to the two jailers beside him, "Take him to the chair! A wonderful performance is about to unfold before your eyes!"

He was bound tightly to the chair, with only his two hands laid flat on the armrests.

"Are you sure you still don't intend to say anything?" Logan lightly tapped the wooden spike against the spy's face. The sting made him break out in gooseflesh, and he stared at the tiny spike in terror.

Seeing his reaction, Logan said approvingly, "Very good, very good, sir. You're a qualified spy! I admire you greatly, but I have no choice but to do this. Please forgive me!"

Logan slowly brought the wooden spike toward the spy's thumb. He did not seem eager to inflict pain quickly. Instead, he preferred to toy with the other man's emotions and make him afraid.

The spy's breathing grew more rapid as the wooden spike approached. His face had gone pale, and he looked utterly terrified. It certainly was not warm in the cold dungeon during winter, yet several beads of sweat slid down his face.

In his heart, Logan was no different from a demon. He had never heard of such torture before—it was practically the work of the devil. He had thought that at worst, he would be sentenced to hanging or beaten severely. Beheading or dismemberment were already terrifying enough.

Such horrifying methods reminded him of the dreadful stories told by wandering minstrels. And he was clearly about to become just like the victims in those terrifying tales.

His body began to tremble violently, filled with terror at the pain that was about to come. The wooden spike was already positioned beneath his fingernail, while a small mallet was ready to drive it in at any moment.

The stabbing pain of the spike beneath his nail drove him toward collapse. His heart struggled fiercely. As a spy, he did not fear death, but he was terrified from the depths of his soul by such a horrifying and painful method.

The psychological pressure caused by torture before it was inflicted could be even more terrifying than the torture itself. Logan understood this principle thoroughly.

Seeing the spy's eyes widen as his whole body trembled and cold sweat poured down his face, Logan knew that only the final step remained. He raised the small mallet in his hand and was about to bring it down.

"No! My lord! Please, my lord! I'll talk! I'll tell you everything! Please stop!" The spy finally could not endure it any longer. His mental defenses completely collapsed, and he wailed as he begged Logan for mercy.

"Wonderful! A wise choice! I'm proud of you for making it! Now, please answer my next questions!"