At Dragonjaw Gate, in a lonely cell…
How much time had passed since the raid had failed? The Black Dog judged it couldn’t have been that long. He suspected it was about time for the sun to rise, but there were no windows to confirm or deny this theory.
Bound with chains, he continued to reflect on his battle the night before. No matter how many times he went over it, he could only consider it a failure on his part. It seemed at first that everything had been going well. The enemy had fallen for their schemes and concentrated their forces on the decoy unit. Or had the humans set a trap of their own? Had the enemy seen through their plan from the start, pretending they had fallen for the scheme, while in reality lying in wait at the tower? Why else would the Demon King have been in readiness there? He was their greatest asset, and they would’ve certainly made use of him.
The Black Dog seethed when he thought of his fallen comrades and aquilup, yet he wasn’t as angry at the enemy as he was with himself for his own carelessness. Even if he did recognize his failure, that didn’t mean he was giving up. So long as he was alive, there would be a chance to redeem himself. Luckily, the humans wanted to keep him alive, even if he didn’t know why. He had noticed during the battle that the Demon King had sought to take him in one piece. In any case, the Black Dog convinced himself his chance would come, and he’d wait for it. Next time, he wouldn’t fail. Still, it took quite a bit of willpower to keep from falling into despair at this present situation.
Suddenly, in the distance he heard a heavy door being opened and then closed. This was followed by multiple footsteps, echoing in the hallway as they came in this direction. His body was bound, but his wits were sharp.
When the door to his cell opened it was the Demon King who entered, as expected. He had suffered a shallow gunshot wound to the face. The Black Dog felt gratified knowing it was he who had inflicted that mark.
Next came a small human male, holding a length of chain. At the other end of the chain, a captive young orc woman entered into view. She had not been given shoes despite the winter cold, and she wore nothing but thin, shoddy clothing.
What terrible treatment! The Black Dog was enraged. What were they planning to do with this maiden?
He knew of an interrogation method that involved forcing the prisoner to watch helplessly as a friend was tortured. This often proved more effective than torturing the subject of the interrogation himself. He imagined and feared what was to come. His one eye glared at the Demon King.
Surprisingly, he thought he saw hesitation in the Demon King’s face, as he no doubt guessed the source of the Black Dog’s fury. Once the door was closed behind them, the smaller human undid the maiden’s collar. The woman’s manner surprised him. She didn’t seem anxious in the slightest, simply raising her chin to make the removal of her collar easier. She must have trusted the humans considerably. On closer inspection, the Black Dog thought her complexion was good, and she didn’t seem underfed or injured. Perhaps she was actually being treated properly, after all.
As he continued to watch her, the Black Dog thought he recognized her face from somewhere. She stepped forward and bowed. It was the elegant gesture of someone accustomed to bowing before a noble. The moment he saw this, the Black Dog recognized her. This woman was definitely the personal maid of the margrave’s daughter. Seeking to confirm this, he spoke to her urgently in their orcish language, and she gave the affirmative. What fantastic luck!
If the maid was alive, that meant there was a chance the daughter was alive as well. The possibility was wonderful news. The margrave would be uplifted to hear it, and it might even give him the strength to overcome his illness.
Ignoring the others in the cell, the Black Dog hammered her with questions.
“Where is your mistress?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is she alive?”
“I don’t know.”
“When did you last see her?”
“Three years ago. We parted as soon as we were captured.”
“Where did you last see her?”
“At the slave market.”
“Why didn’t you remain with her?”
“We were separated by force.”
“Why do you help humans now—have you no shame?!”
Under his harsh chastisement, the maid finally crumpled in tears. The small human drew close and attempted to console her. Listening to her piteous wails, the Black Dog finally regained his self-control. What could this weak young lady have done differently under those conditions? No doubt she had overcome many hardships and struggled desperately to survive, her situation much like the one he found himself in now. Why had he spat such venom at her?
As he awkwardly fiddled with his chains, his gaze met that of the Demon King. Unable to endure the rebuke in his eyes, the Black Dog turned away.