"I bet he faints."
Amidst whispers, the bell tolled.
The iron cage cart transporting the prisoner slowly made its entrance.
The cage carrying the prisoner creaked to a stop, its iron door opened, and several fully armed guards stepped forward, dragging out the "man" inside.
It was a blood-stained, bone-twisted human wreckage.
Joseph Kadari, once a noble seated high at banquets, speaking eloquently, now almost couldn't remember who he was in this shadow.
He was dragged by two soldiers, like a bag of broken straw.
Just last night, the interrogator unusually summoned a military medic.
"Make him at least look like a 'man'."
"A beheading needs to look decent, or it might scare the children."
Thus, his face was washed, his broken nose brutally set, the scabs on his face scraped away, and the fractures bandaged to appear, outwardly, "whole."
