Free A Whisper After Midnight by Christian Warren Freed

their homes all day if necessary. I will not let this kingdom fall apart now.”
    “The curfew isn’t working. Rebels violate it at will, raiding store rooms or small guard outposts. The Wolfsreik reserves we have aren’t fully trained soldiers and because of it our casualty ratio is worse than three to one. Numbers are against us, Harnin.”
    Thoughts of having Skaning flayed danced in his eyes. Reluctantly, Harnin was forced to admit he still needed the big captain in order to secure his newly stolen kingdom. Once that was finished he would have the luxury of disposing of the more uncooperative members at will. “You bring me problems but no solutions. What then do you propose to do about Lord Argis and his little insurrection?”
    The assembled captains of Delranan shuffled anxiously. Argis had been one of their best. Now a rogue, his knowledge of the inner workings of the kingdom was wreaking havoc on the defenders. Even imprisoned, his name lent strength to those disaffected by Harnin’s rule. As much as Harnin wanted to execute him, they knew Argis was more useful alive than dead. A fact that continually gnawed at the one eye.
    “Argis rots in our dungeons, but his name inspires many who would otherwise not take up arms,” Jarrik answered. “We can’t kill him or the entire population will turn against us. They’d rout us out of Chadra Keep in a matter of days and we’d be the ones hanging from the gibbets.”
    “My torturers are ineffective. Argis has not said a word against his rebel friends,” Skaning added. “He’s one tough, old bastard.”
    “Break him! I don’t care how, but break him,” Harnin snapped. His thin frame trembled with rage. Veins popped out of his temples. His remaining eye threatened to tear. “He is becoming a bane to my rule.”
    “We can’t kill him! Not even secretly,” Jarrik reiterated. “He has become the rebellion. Posters and crude images plaster every street and alley. We tear them down but they are back the next day. His name is revered as a god among the lower class. Destroy him physically and all you succeed in doing is making him a martyr.”
    “At this point I’m willing to make that concession,” Harnin replied. “What will it take to bring this rebellion to its knees?”
    No one answered, telling Harnin everything he needed to know about his captains. It was time for a change. Delranan wallowed under the ineffective guidance of former leaders lacking the vision to push the kingdom to greater heights. Complacency rendered them all but useless. Only he knew the truth. The truth that history was written on deeds of Men willing to step outside of their comfort zones, step forward to make their claim against the stars and even the gods. Men fought and died in the name of kings but the future changed only at the behest of visionaries.
    The arrival of the Dae’shan Pelthit Re, initially foreboding, turned into greed, corruption. Harnin came to realize and accept the Dae’shan was a blessing to his dreams of power. He’d languished under Badron’s rule for decades, growing increasingly frustrated with the direction the kingdom went. He knew he could do better; achieve more and bring Delranan to the front of Malweir’s mighty kingdoms. His dreams rivaled the strength and power of Averon in the south. The north deserved to rule, deserved to take its rightful place among the true powers in the world. Harnin intended to make that happen. He only needed to remove the captains standing in his way.
    *****
    Hours turned to days. Days to nights and then weeks. He sat in a windowless room, locked in total darkness until time lost meaning. Rotten food and stagnant water was delivered at random intervals. He’d tried keeping track in the beginning but soon gave up. A pair of rats occasionally crawled out from the walls to nibble on his toes and fingers when he slept, scurrying away to safety before he could kill them. He lived in his own filth. The five-by-five-foot