Advisory:
The chapter contains gory violence and hateful speech. Reader discretion is advised.

Lothar, Traetos Province, Southern Avestria

Herios was trapped in the dungeon alongside Ramusa Vorcerus. Both of them were perturbed in a thought when they discovered that the Queen of Lothar was still alive and she needed to be rescued. Ramusa knew very well that Krora, the Parso chief, was not going to be lenient if he finds the Queen. He will probably kill her or even worse, take her as a slave. Herios on the other hand, was worried for Kiyara, the Queen's daughter and the princess of Lothar. After knowing the precarious conundrum in which Kiyara and her mother were trapped, Ramusa had to do something. It was his duty.

He felt compunction about his negligence. Meanwhile, the civilians who were taken as hostages were forced to work in the fields and in the pantries and as valets and servants. Ikshah and the other soldiers of Lothar continued to suffer the atrocities from the Parso troops, as they were coerced to work in the mining camps for mining stone and for collecting wood. The meals of the slaves were reduced to one meal per day. This was the condition until they hand over the Queen to Krora. But nobody revealed her identity. Either they were too loyal to their Queen or they were completely oblivious to her identity.

It was time for the midday meal and everyone had gathered in the central bailey with plates in their hands and shackles in their limbs. Every meal was filled with gory fights and assaults against the civilians and the soldiers of Lothar. As Ikshah and his comrades returned from the camps and entered through the gate of the middle bailey, they were petrified. Never in their life, had they felt so infuriated. Ikshah's hands started shivering in anger.

He couldn't bear to see such depravity, over and over again. There were four people who were tied to the columns, in the central part of the bailey. Out of the four, two were young women. The other two were boys, just about Herios's age. One of them was the boy who was saved by Herios, the other day. Herios had lent him his bowl of water, when the boy had fallen comatose.

These four people were tied on the cylindrical columns with their hands and legs in shackles. All four of them were crying. It was quite blatant for all the hostages to be afraid because the Parso were oppressive, inclement tyrants. One of the women, tied to the column, was begging to spare her life as she had a toddler of her own. With her death, he would be an orphan, left in the hands of these vile Parso.

Krora, the commander of Parso, was standing on the platform of the middle bailey. His fat belly was hanging low from his waist belt which was covered by a plackart. His hair was tied behind in a bow. His sword was sheathed in a scabbard which was brushing against his plackart. Although Krora was an opulent man, he had strength in his arms. He wasn't just a slob. He was a fully bred warrior, a commander of an entire battalion. He was staring at those four people who were about to be executed. He turned behind to face the civilians and the soldiers of Lothar. Before speaking, he cleared his throat and then spoke in a hoarse voice. It could be heard distinctly across the entire bailey.

"For those of you who know the whereabouts of the Queen, hand her over to me...and you shall be rewarded. Failing to do it..." he said and looked behind at the four individuals who were quivering and begging for their life.

"Let this be an example..." he said and signalled his troops with a wave of his hand. In the next instant, the Parso executioners drew out their swords and mercilessly impaled them in the abdomen of the tied individuals.

The two women shrieked loudly, when the tips of those swords penetrated deep inside their guts. They suffered an excruciating pain as the swords dug deeper and their blood was dripping down in torrents. They started quivering and yelping in order to relieve their bodies from this insufferable torment, but they were restrained by the shackles.

Their bodies shuddered in the trauma of that pain. They had to suffer this torture. This was their fate. All their life, they were being led up to this affliction at the hands of Parso. The boys were screaming and yelping, as the swords penetrated deeper into their intestines. Death would have been more comforting for them. It was as if they were trapped in an eternal inferno, with no escape.

Their bodies were shivering in spasms as the swords of the Parso pierced into their abdomen through blood and flesh. One of the boys was yelping, with his eyes fixated at the Parso who was killing him, slowly and brutally. He could feel that impulse of his spirit, where he still wanted to survive from this devilry and kill his murderer, as an act of vengeance. The Parso soldier stared into the boy's eyes with a smirk on his face. He made the boy realize what was being done to him. The boy could see his life being taken away by this injustice and depravity. He could feel the powerlessness.

There was nothing he could do anymore, but surrender his body to this torment. He had to bear it all and die. There wasn't going to be any revenge for him. He was going to die here, right here. This is where his life would be concluded, drowning in his own blood, disfigured and murdered. There would be no saviours for him. There would be no gods to deliver justice over these oppressive and iniquitous conquerors. Perhaps, it is the penultimate moment of death, when we realize, that we ourselves are the makers and saviours of our lives. There is no creator deity or a god who is going to save us from the injustice.

The rest of the civilians were shuddering at their own places on seeing this heinous act. Their agony was to watch these innocent boys and women die, while they stood there, unable to overcome their vulnerability and cowardice. They felt ashamed of themselves as they cried the rivers of tears. They felt infuriated, as the boiling blood ran faster through their veins. But they felt equally afraid about their own sons and daughters being butchered, if they decided to rebel against these invaders.

"NO!!" Ikshah led out a thunderous roar. He was stranded and fettered in shackles, as big as his hands. There was nothing that he could do to save those four individuals. His hands were shivering in fury when he worked himself into a frenzy of rage. It was pure hatred that he felt for these vile beings. It was Pure, downright, acrimonious --- hatred. If his hands weren't tied, he would have ripped those Parso soldiers apart, piece by piece. His rage had culminated into insanity as he tried to vigorously pull his hand out of those shackles, but he couldn't. His wrists were getting wounded, but he was persistent.

He wouldn't hesitate to even chew his arm off, if that was going to free him from those chains. Eventually, he began doing just the same, trying to pull his wrists with his teeth to remove those shackles. But the chains that were strapped to his waist, didn't allow him to bend down. He wanted to kill each and every one of those Parso soldiers but he couldn't. The Parso troops who had gathered in that arena, guffawed at this restless and manic figure of Ikshah, fighting persistently to save his people. Ikshah was mentally tormented, on seeing this brutality being inflicted on his people.

Nothing could be more opprobrious, for a warrior, than watching his people die in front of him, even when his fists had the strength and his spine had the will. Suddenly, Ikshah heard the swinging of the swords and the collective yelps that followed. When he turned his head upwards, he was thunderstruck. The Parso had already done their work of slitting the throats of those four individuals. Ikshah plummeted to the ground on his knees, filled with dereliction. He could do nothing to save them.

His pupils widened, his face dispirited, his hands shivering and his heart quailed, as he watched the corpses of those four individuals, butchered by the Parso troops in front of him. Krora stood on the platform, utterly phlegmatic when he saw these slaves getting butchered. There was no hint of remorse that could be seen over his face. After all, they were not his people. He wasn't their king but merely a tyrant. These slaves were his property now and he could do whatever he wanted to them.

Ikshah glared at the opulent figure of Krora in gritted teeth. His fists were clenched, even when his hands were bleeding from the strenuous task that he was attempting to do earlier. He was determined to kill Krora before his death. He was going to unleash the fire of vengeance when he would be freed.

"Listen carefully you bloody swine!!" he roared in a stentorian voice. Krora glanced at Ikshah, with a smirk on his face.

"The day I get out of these shackles, would be the day when I'll drink your blood and feast on your bones!" Ikshah yelled again, in gritted teeth. He was apoplectic with rage. Krora smirked and snorted.

"Sure" he replied, impassively and turned away.

"Burn the corpses...in front of them...I want all of them to see their future if they continue to be obstinate" commanded Krora. He turned towards Ikshah.

"I want this one__" he said, pointing at Ikshah. "To see the burning bodies of his people, reduced to ashes...I want him to see, as the bones of these four corpses, turn to dust...I want him to inhale the ashes of his people which he could not protect...I want him to feel the fire of these innocent souls that he failed" said Krora, staring Ikshah.

Even though Krora's posture was equipoise on the outside, his eyes and words could reflect the psychotic state of his mind. Krora's pretentious face displaying his apathy, could not veil his sadism. It was conspicuous from his bestial actions.

The Parso troops followed the command of their chief. One of them brought forth a firebrand and the others lit their own torches from that fire. Ikshah saw, as the Parso troops lit the corpses on fire. He could smell the burnt blood of his people who were butchered by Krora and his men. He had to see his people getting reduced to ashes. The very people whom he had sworn to protect with his life. That was his duty as a Kyshatar. His eyes were filled with tears as he saw those bodies aflame.

"With each passing day, I shall kill more and more of you...I don't care if all of you are dead...The Parso empire isn't short of slaves...if you don't hand over the Queen to me, I shall slaughter and burn everyone! Maybe even alive" commanded Krora. The civilians cringed on hearing this remark. They had seen what Krora was capable of doing. They were horrified. Each and every one of them was terror stricken. Amidst this petrified crowd, a woman stepped forward.

"I know who the Queen is," she said. Krora smirked and walked towards her. Everyone turned towards this woman who claimed to know the whereabouts of the Queen. "Do you, now?" he asked.

"Yes...I do," she replied. "And how do I know that you aren't bluffing?" he asked, dubiously.

"I am not bluffing. I really know the Queen" she replied confidently.

"Alright then...Where is she?" he asked. He strolled ahead, staring at the entire crowd, waiting for the woman to point him towards the Queen.

"I am the Queen" she replied. Everyone was dumbfounded. Ikshah was restless when he recognized the Queen, submitting herself to Krora.

"Your highness...Don't do it!!" he yelled. This was a confirmation for Krora that the woman was, indeed, the Queen. Krora looked back over his shoulder at the woman. She was a woman of medium stature. Krora walked closer to her. Her chestnut hair and her black eyes stared at Krora, enraged. She was a woman in her middle age but she was still a beauty. Krora scanned the Queen from her feet to her eyes. The Queen felt disgusted from Krora's perverted look.

"I am told that you had a daughter with you," he said. The Queen sobbed but she was stern. She couldn't fall weak in front of this vile man who had destroyed her kingdom.

"My daughter is dead," she said. "Dead?...Really?" asked Krora, his tone was wily.

"How did she die, may I know?" he asked, as he revolved around her.

"I killed her. When your people invaded the kingdom, I strangled her to death, with my own hands...something I will have to carry to my death" she replied. Her voice faltered as she uttered those words. The crowd was flabbergasted on hearing this.

"You killed your own daughter?" he asked, mocking her.

"That's kind of cruel, isn't it?" he asked.

"It was better for her to be dead, than to fall into your hands" she replied, still sobbing. Krora guffawed, boisterously. He was still revolving around her.

"As if your people are so safe in your hands..." he taunted, hinting at the burning corpses of the four individuals.

"All these deaths are because of your stubbornness!...If you had come forth a bit earlier, you could have saved them.." he said. The Queen didn't respond. She continued to stare at Krora with her infuriated eyes.

"Look at her...At your heedless and selfish Queen..." he announced to the civilians. But as soon as he turned behind to look at her, she spit on his face. All the Parso soldiers were shocked and so were the villagers. However, Krora was surprisingly calm. He smirked at her, as he slowly wiped the spit by his fingers.

"Such a downtrodden behaviour from a woman from royalty?" he taunted. He placed his palm, covered with her spit, and rubbed it over the Queen's cheeks. He went behind her and pulled her hair vigorously.

"You deserve to be spitted on...Not me" he murmured. The Queen resisted his hold but he was too strong for her.

"I am going to enjoy your screams when I take you as my whore" he muttered, as he breathed over her neck.

"Take her away!" he shouted, shoving her away. One of the Parso soldiers stepped forward to take the Queen to Krora's chamber, just like the other woman who was dragged to his chamber, a few days ago.

"Don't you dare!!!....Lay a finger on her!!" shouted Ikshah as the Parso attempted to touch the Queen. Krora ignored Ikshah's yelling.

But just when the Parso clutched her hair and started pulling her away, a girl shouted from the crowd. Krora grinned deviously. He turned towards the little girl who had shouted, on seeing the Queen getting dragged away.

"NO!....Leave her alone!" the Queen begged, but Krora was deaf to her beseeching. The girl was Kiyara, daughter of the Queen, the princess of Lothar. Kiyara was merely five Mesha old, ergo it was quite blatant for her to be terrified on seeing her mother getting dragged away in this cruel manner.

"Ahh!! A Miracle! The princess is alive!" taunted Krora.

"I wonder how?" he said, smirking at the girl. He signalled his men to bring the girl in front of him.

"NO please!" begged the Queen as she tried to run towards her in order to save her daughter, but she was yanked by the soldier who had clutched her hair.

"Krora!!...I will skin you if you touch her!!" shouted Ikshah, as he struggled frantically, to get out of his shackles. He had witnessed the death of his people, but he was not prepared to see a girl of merely five Mesha, the princess of their kingdom, die such a horrible death.

"Put the man to sleep," said Krora, calmly. One of the Parso soldiers, who had restrained Krora in shackles, raised his club and banged it over Ikshah's head. Ikshah crashed to the ground. In the next few moments, there was a pool of blood formed around his head. The Queen and her daughter Kiyara were dragged away by Krora and his men.