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Victory Palace, Golden Hall.
Holy Light I sat upright upon a throne of pure gold, silver radiance blazing around him as he looked down like a god upon Iseda standing below. The atmosphere within the Golden Hall was exceptionally grave, exceptionally stifling. Several civil and military ministers standing to either side were even trembling in the calves.
Bruised and swollen, Iseda stood wretchedly beneath the throne, his head hanging in misery.
He had been dragged out of his own little building by the palace guards, and those ruthless guards had given him quite a beating. Although the potion was taking effect within his body, and he possessed more than enough strength to break free from their restraint, the guards had had a demigod backing them. That demigod had brutally sealed away every scrap of power within Iseda's body.
Iseda had once again learned a truth—an ordinary person's bones and flesh were absolutely not as sturdy as solid-metal batons.
So he had been viciously beaten, nearly bludgeoned unconscious. Then he had been sent to the secret prison beneath Victory Palace. The hysterical Bicus had personally given the order, and every kind of physical torture had been applied to him in turn.
If Holy Light I had not personally ordered him brought out of prison, if Nasso had not personally treated his injuries, who knew what state Iseda would be in now. Just before Holy Light I's decree arrived, Bicus had been having people heat branding irons red-hot, preparing to scorch Iseda from head to toe. Had those red-hot irons gotten their way with him, Iseda