The Interrogation

The soldiers were clearing the battlefield, gathering the bodies of their fallen comrades to take back to their families for burial. Fortunately, the battle hadn't been too severe. Although there were many enemies, they crucially lacked metal cutting weapons and had no heavy impact units like cavalry. As a result, few soldiers had suffered dismemberment.

Clearing the battlefield took several hours. By the time everything was done, it was almost dark. From the Krad People, Reiner obtained animal hides worth about eight or nine gold coins.

It looked like a lot, piled up like a small mountain, quite impressive. However, compared to a full set of chainmail, which cost five gold coins and could even fetch ten gold coins in the Empire's interior, this was still insignificant.

While animal hides provided warmth and slight defense, they were far inferior to iron armor. Firstly, lords had small populations and couldn't mobilize many soldiers for battle, so heavily armored knights played a huge role and could decide the outcome of a fight, making iron armor very important. Furthermore, the small population meant iron ore couldn't be mined in large quantities, leading to a scarcity of iron ore.

Blacksmiths, a specialized profession, were also few in number and difficult to train. All these factors combined made iron armor expensive. To put it in perspective, the annual maintenance cost for a standing army like the Moreland Family's was only five gold coins.

In other words, the price of one full set of chainmail could sustain a regular standing army of eighty men for a year, including equipment maintenance, food costs, and their wages.

However, this was an unexpected bonus for the soldiers. Each of them would receive three or four copper coins, which was nearly a year's wages for them. Even if it wasn't a high salary, they didn't have to pay for their own food and drink, so this was pure income. Now, with this unexpected windfall, how could they not be delighted?

"Set up camp here! We'll stay tonight, and tomorrow we'll bring back news of our victory!" Reiner told the soldiers.

Since Reiner didn't know when the Krad People might return, he ordered the army to carry a large amount of supplies. Thus, they set up camp and rested, and the wounded soldiers were properly attended to. However, the rest was left to fate.

After all, there were virtually no medical facilities in this era. Being able to use linen for bandaging was already quite good. Reiner even specifically had them boil the linen in hot water for disinfection. He could only try his best to keep these wounded soldiers alive.

They were rare veterans, soldiers who had engaged in real combat with the enemy on the battlefield, not merely archers shooting enemies from city walls.

Such soldiers were rare even throughout The Empire. After twenty years of peace, The Empire, under the Emperor's rule, rarely experienced war. The battle-hardened elite standing armies accumulated during the Empire's tumultuous period had either grown old and died, or perished during the Emperor's eastern campaigns against the nomadic tribes, and could no longer fight.

Meanwhile, at Morland Castle, three days prior, Logan coldly observed the battered spy in the castle dungeon. His eyes were filled with bloodlust and savagery, devoid of any mercy, appearing utterly insane and terrifying.

"State your name, where you're from, who you serve, and why you are here!" His voice was devoid of emotion; he had always been exceptionally cruel to his enemies.

"Pah! Bullshit! You'll go to hell sooner or later! I curse you! You pig will never get any information out of me!"

"Excellent!" Logan, far from being angered by his words, let out a cackle like a hooting owl. "I like a tough nut like you, because only such people can withstand my torture!"

The spy said nothing more, instead glaring at Logan with hateful eyes.

With that, Logan pulled out a few wooden splinters from a small backpack, gesturing with them as he addressed the man. "You know what? These will soon be inserted under your fingernails, completely separating your nails from your flesh. I'm really looking forward to your reaction, because I've never seen anyone last beyond five fingers!"

Logan stared at the spy with a sinister smile, then turned to the two jailers beside him. "Take him to the chair! A spectacular show awaits you!"

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

"Are you sure you don't intend to say anything?" Logan lightly touched the spy's face with a wooden splinter. The sharp sting made goosebumps rise on the man's skin, and he looked at the small splinter with terror.

Seeing the man's reaction, Logan said approvingly, "Very good, very good, sir. You are a competent spy! I admire you, but I have no choice but to do this. Please forgive me!"

Logan slowly moved the wooden splinter closer to the man's thumb. He seemed in no hurry to inflict pain quickly, preferring to toy with the man's emotions and instill fear.

The spy's breathing quickened as the splinter approached, his face pale and looking quite terrified. It certainly wouldn't be warm in this cold, damp winter dungeon, but a few trickles of cold sweat ran down his face.

In his mind, Logan at this moment was no different from a demon. He had never heard of such torture; it was simply the work of the devil. He thought at most he would be sentenced to hanging or a beating; beheading or dismemberment were already terrifying enough.

Such horrific methods reminded him of the dreadful stories told by bards, and he, evidently, was about to become like the victims in those horror stories.

His body trembled violently, utterly terrified of the impending pain. Now, the wooden splinter was already placed in his nail bed, and a small wooden mallet was ready to drive it in at any moment.

The stinging pain of the wooden splinter in his nail made him feel like he was breaking. He struggled intensely internally. As a spy, he wasn't afraid of death, but such terrifying and painful methods were something he deeply feared from the bottom of his heart.

The psychological pressure generated by torture before it is even applied is often more terrifying than the torture itself, a fact Logan understood well.

Seeing the other man's eyes widen, his body trembling and drenched in cold sweat, Logan knew it was only one step away. He raised the small wooden mallet in his hand, about to bring it down.

"No! My lord! Please, my lord! I'll talk! I'll tell you everything! Please stop!" The spy finally couldn't bear it anymore, his mental defenses completely crumbling, as he wailed and begged Logan for mercy.

"Excellent! A wise choice! I'm proud of your decision! Now, please answer my questions!"