They brought the prisoner in chains, dirt-streaked, bloodied, and trying very hard not to trip over his own feet.
Behind him, two demons pushed him forward. One was seven feet tall and mostly fang. The other wore a flower crown. Neither of them seemed especially trained in prisoner handling.
"Captain of the Holy Alliance scout unit", I murmured, studying the trembling man. "Twenty-three years old. Good at cartography. Terrible at running away."
He blinked at me. I blinked back.
Then I whispered, "You scream in your sleep."
"W-What?" he stammered.
"Your camp. Three days ago. You fell asleep during second watch. I was listening."
The room fell quiet. Valekhar, seated nearby and trying very hard not to interrupt, let out a low chuckle. "You spied on his dreams?"
"No", I said simply. "I spied on his snoring."
One of the demon guards raised a hand. "Lady Rin, should we take him to the pit of despair or the room of moderate doom?"
I turned slowly. "The what?"
"The Room of Moderate Doom. We just...uh...we converted the old pantry."
Valekhar coughed. "We're… low on terrifying chambers."
I sighed. "Just bring him to the chamber with the uncomfortable chairs. He'll break faster."
Day One - Interrogation
"You're not going to win", the scout muttered, his wrists bound to a rusted table. "The Alliance has gods on its side."
I sat across from him, sipping tea from a cracked porcelain cup. (Technically stolen from the Holy Alliance's own caravans. Irony.)
"Mm". I glanced at my notes. "The gods also had your last commander on their side. He's currently fertilizer."
"You're bluffing."
I slid a map toward him. "This is where he exploded."
He stared at it, aghast.
"Wrong word?" I asked.
"No...'exploded' is fine. Just… fast delivery."
I shrugged. "We aim for efficiency."
Day Two - Moral Deterioration (and Tea)
He was weaker today. Physically. Emotionally. Spiritually? That too.
"You realize they left you to die, yes?" I asked.
"They didn't know I was captured."
"They retreated. Fast. Like cockroaches. I would know, I've studied cockroaches."
I poured him tea. He hesitated.
"It's not poisoned", I said. "That would waste a good cup."
He took a sip. Grimaced. "It's… very bitter."
"Yes", I nodded. "I made it myself."
He blinked. "Oh. That explains it."
Valekhar entered unannounced. "Why are you making tea again?"
"It soothes the mind. Weakens resistance."
"Right. Well, it also tastes like regret."
"I know", I said. "That's the secret ingredient."
Day Three - Loyalty (Mildly Coerced)
"You're going to let me go?" he asked, looking both hopeful and terrified.
"No", I said. "You're going to walk back to them willingly, with these plans, and pretend you escaped."
He stared at the forged scrolls. "These are… fake?"
"No. They're true, but designed to appear fake, so they'll assume you're lying, which means they'll react exactly how I want."
"…What?"
I smiled. "Good. Confusion is the first sign of obedience."
Valekhar peeked over my shoulder. "You've weaponized nonsense."
"No", I corrected, "I've weaponized paranoia."
Valekhar nodded. "Fair".
The scout took the scrolls and stood up, dazed. "What's my name now?"
"Captain Darien Silvertongue."
"That's… not my name."
"It is now."
Later That Night
I walked the edge of the camp walls, glancing over the flickering fires below. My soldiers, human, demon, hybrid, drank, ate, argued, and occasionally set things on fire.
Rok, one of the ogre commanders, waved at me from a distance.
"I fixed the latrines!" he shouted.
"…Good", I called back. "Try not to break them again."
A small demon child ran by screaming with a frying pan on its head.
All was in order.
Valekhar appeared beside me, silent for a moment.
"He'll make it back?"
"Yes", I said. "They'll believe his story. And once they shift their lines…"
"You'll gut them", he finished.
I smiled faintly. "With precision. Like a chef."
He raised an eyebrow. "Please stop comparing war to cooking."
"No promises."