Sam, despite their whole situation, still flinched when Jigano yelled. He didn't have any time to apologise or explain himself though before he was bound and the room became transfixed with the presentation of the large cauldron.
Once as a teenager he had come across a book in the Atheneum containing diagrams of methods of torture. The text was illegible but the pictures had stuck in his mind, particularly the one of the man being boiled alive, his red skin and panicked face practically bleeding off of the page. It seemed almost ironic that now, in a book in the Atheneum, he would meet the same fate.
"It-it's just some cups. That I didn't steal." He mumbled under his breath in response, having to speak bitterly so he wouldn't cry. When asked for last words by the King he thought for a moment, looking back to Jigano then forward to the King. If this was truly just fiction and he would end up back alive in the Atheneum, it didn't matter anyway. If it wasn't...he still didn't have much to say. He shook his head.
He stood (more appropriately, was dragged) to his feet and approached the steps to the cauldron. The bubbling liquid within was frightening enough even if it ran the chance of being fake, and he was aware of his hands shaking behind him.
Once as a teenager he had come across a book in the Atheneum containing diagrams of methods of torture. The text was illegible but the pictures had stuck in his mind, particularly the one of the man being boiled alive, his red skin and panicked face practically bleeding off of the page. It seemed almost ironic that now, in a book in the Atheneum, he would meet the same fate.
"It-it's just some cups. That I didn't steal." He mumbled under his breath in response, having to speak bitterly so he wouldn't cry. When asked for last words by the King he thought for a moment, looking back to Jigano then forward to the King. If this was truly just fiction and he would end up back alive in the Atheneum, it didn't matter anyway. If it wasn't...he still didn't have much to say. He shook his head.
He stood (more appropriately, was dragged) to his feet and approached the steps to the cauldron. The bubbling liquid within was frightening enough even if it ran the chance of being fake, and he was aware of his hands shaking behind him.
