A Silent Game of Spies

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At first didn’t think his balls could shrink any higher up than they already were. Now he couldn’t even feel them anymore, or anything else, for that matter.

Nabol had been asleep when they’d pounded at his door. All he’d had time to do was sit up before the castle guards had rammed down his door.

“Are you Nabol, servant to His Royal Majesty, King Munsolrysche?” asked the foremost guard.

Nabol had nodded.

“We find you guilty of the regicide of His Royal Majesty, by means of your knife!”

He had blinked. Shock had washed over him. Had he wanted to kill the bastard? Of course, he was such a pompous, disgusting ass. Would he have done so? And by his own knife? Nabol was smarter than that. Poison, perhaps, had he ever decided to kill Munsolrysche, but….

It mattered not. They had stuffed him in one of the old crow’s cages, high above the Palace. It was a means of torture, for it had spikes inside and was too small for a man to sit comfortably in any position. But in this weather – freezing cold weather….

The spikes had drawn blood, but the blood froze nearly immediately after they’d hoisted the chain. Finally, the guards set him on the crow hook. They threw ice and snow at him from down below on the tower top, though most of it didn’t reach Nabol – the cage was too high.

It must have been that bitch who had stolen his knife, for he’d missed it two days ago. Gods, what a bitch. And she knew that he could hardly ask either of the Royals if he’d left it in their suites. Conniving slut.

Nabol had known nothing good would have come of that bitch having his knife. But framing him for the King’s murder? That was beyond his expectations.

Nabol had been out here nearly half an hour now, and he knew, naked as he was, that his entire body was frostbitten. He wasn’t shivering anymore, and he knew his body was shutting down.

At least now he could act like himself – up here, in the swirling gray wind and ice, where no one would see. Instead of the silly, petrified runt they believed him to be. He thought of his family, his parents and siblings, the house he’d grown up in… just one last time….

Nabol opened his eyes for a second. “To Ambsellon!” he croaked, then closed his eyes and fell asleep.

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