Miestryri : A Dreg Novella 2.5 by Bethany Hoeflich

Author:Bethany Hoeflich [Hoeflich, Bethany]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-07-11T22:00:00+00:00

8

Silvano returned to the castle with his mind in tatters. He stopped by the kitchens for something to eat, but not even the scent of freshly baked bread and steamed shrimp could tempt him. His stomach turned as the weight of his burdens slowly crushed him. How could he keep his hold on Crystalmoor when his own people were suffering? Moving forward, he would need to make radical changes, starting with the small council meeting tomorrow. His proposal would undoubtedly test the strength of their loyalties.

The afternoon passed quickly, and Silvano grew more restless. After pushing away dinner, unable to eat a bite, he decided that a distraction was in order.

If a visit with his father’s treacherous advisor couldn’t snap him out of this melancholy mood, nothing would.

As he descended the steps to the lower level of the castle, he decided that the dungeons were perhaps misnamed. The word ‘dungeon’ conjured images of dark, moldy cells, iron bars, prisoners screaming from torture, and a copious number of rats. Instead, prisoners were not starved or beaten. The Miestryris of the past declared the practice barbaric and fashioned the cells for seclusion and relative comfort. The rooms beneath the castle were just that—rooms. Each was fully furnished with a bed, table, chair, washbasin, and a locked door from the outside, of course.

When Silvano was a child, he often wondered why the accommodations were so fine. What would dissuade people from committing crimes if their punishment was a cushy stay in the palace? His father had adopted a particularly terrifying smile and replied that, for the most deserving of criminals, justice was swift and brutal, usually involving sharks of some kind. Now, he realized that his father was simply trying to scare him. Most criminals never set foot inside the dungeons. Justice for petty crimes such as theft was handled by the chief overseer in each zone of East Rock, freeing the cells for those accused of treason, espionage, and sedition until the time of their trial. In reality, it was a genius tactic. Harsh punishments for minor crimes would turn the people against the Miestryri and incite a rebellion. The nobility appreciated knowing that their sons and daughters would not be tortured as traitors for the rebellious thoughts associated with youthful insolence.

He stepped off the stairs and strode down the hall. A guard that Silvano didn’t recognize walked by his side. He seemed like a steady sort of man—middle-aged, with a close-shaved beard and a head of tightly-coiled black hair that fit his scalp like a helmet. Desperate to break the uncomfortable silence, Silvano asked, “He seems in good spirits?”

The guard jumped as if startled by his words. Hm, perhaps not as steady as he’d thought. “Yes, Miestryri. He eats all his meals and asks for seconds.”

“Does he ask for entertainment?”

“Just a quill and parchment. He’d asked if we could send a letter to relatives outside the castle, but I declined his request. Then he asked for books. He must do little but read because he goes through two a day.

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