CHAPTER 877: A TASTE OF THINGS TO COME (PART THREE)

Clearly, the Inquisitor was trying to draw her into a conversation, though to what end, it was impossible for Jocelynn to say. He framed things as an offer, but offers were made between parties for mutual benefit. While there were certainly things that he could do that would benefit Jocelynn, in her eyes, the scales were so far out of balance that calling anything an offer or a negotiation was a farce.

He wanted her to surrender and he wanted her to do it on his terms, just like he’d forced her to stand in the nude while he ’inspected’ her for a mark that they both knew full well he wouldn’t find. So, rather than play along with his game, Jocelynn said nothing, waiting for the Inquisitor to say something.

"Not speaking?" Percivus said, raising an amused eyebrow at the defiant young noblewoman. They all started this way, finding petty moments of resistance to cling to, but things would change soon enough. "Then, perhaps I should take your meal away," he said as he placed the lid back on the earthenware pot. "Since you don’t seem to be interested in hearing what I have to offer.

"F-fine," Jocelynn said, hating the way her jaw still shook and her lips trembled in the bitter chill of the cramped cell. She’d hoped that the small, portable stove the Inquisitor carried would help to heat the room, but the handful of small coals burning in the base of the stove could barely heat whatever was placed directly atop the stove, to say nothing of the rest of the room.

"W-what do you w-want?" Jocelynn stammered as her eyes stared hungrily at the earthenware pot that contained not only food her body desperately needed, but warmth that would help her fight off the dangerous, icy cold that had seeped into her bones. "I’ll answer y-your quest-tions, w-whatever you w-want to k-know."

"Oh, no, you misunderstand," Percivus said with a dark, calculating grin. "I don’t want answers from you. I just want to barter. This is a pottage of millet and sour turnips," he said as he wrapped a small cloth handkerchief around the earthenware pot, providing just enough protection from its heat to make it easy to handle. "I’ll sell it to you for the necklace you’re wearing," he said as he placed the pot down on the table next to the intricately carved box.

"M-my necklace?" Jocelynn said, reaching up to clutch the aquamarine pendant that her mother had given her for her tenth birthday. It wasn’t a treasured heirloom the way her grandmother’s pearls were a treasure she couldn’t bear to part with, but it was special to her because it had marked her entry into polite society.

The Countess insisted that her daughter have something fitting to wear to tea parties and other gatherings of young ladies, and this necklace had been her first ’real’ piece of jewelry that reflected her status.

"Y-you could feed a w-whole f-family, f-for a y-year for w-what this c-cost," Jocelynn stammered as she clutched the necklace, sounding both shocked and offended that he would offer up a single pot of millet porridge in exchange for such a valuable piece.

"I’m sure that’s true," Percivus said as he opened the small, intricately carved box to reveal its empty interior. "So the Church will gladly accept your donation and see that it feeds a family in need for the next year. Or, if you’d prefer, we can feed thirteen families through the leanest month of winter," he added with a predatory gleam in his eyes.

"Surely a kind woman of means like yourself feels no heartache at giving up a bauble or two in order to feed the needy through the winter," the Inquisitor said in a slow, exaggerated tone. "And you stand to benefit as well. The necklace can’t warm your body or fill your belly, now can it?"

"I can even add a bit of meat if you’d like," he said, opening the second earthenware pot to reveal a few pieces of dull gray meat that looked like it had been boiled beyond recognition. "For each of your rings that you’re willing to donate to the Church, I’ll add a bit of meat to your breakfast. I’m sure you’re very hungry after skipping dinner last night," he said suggestively.

For a moment, Jocelynn’s hands wrapped around each other protectively, as if she was afraid that he would strip away the delicate silver rings that adorned her fingers. But he wouldn’t. That was the whole point of this. This wasn’t about ’donating’ to the Church or helping the poor. It was about forcing her to give up things that she treasured in order to stay alive, and in the process, humbling herself and bending to his will.

She knew it. She knew that he was bullying her far worse than any merchant or guildmaster in Blackwell City had ever bullied a customer, holding her life hostage to force her into accepting a terrible ’offer’... Because right now, he held all the power, and there was nothing she could do other than bow down to it.

This entire time, the temple guard had stood passively, never raising their voices in protest, never speaking out against the cruelty of the Inquisitor, who seemed to delight in what he was doing to Jocelynn. They were as stoic as statues and equally useful to her in resisting the merciless Inquisitor. So if she was going to survive this, then the only way to survive was to play along and hope that an opportunity to resist would present itself before it was too late.

"Fine," Jocelynn said as she began tugging off the rings on her fingers. "S-see that as m-many families as p-p-posible are f-fed this w-winter," she said with as much dignity as she could muster while her numb, frozen fingers fumbled at the clasp of her necklace.

Moments later, she slowly forced herself out of the corner of her cell, placing her feet on the freezing cold stone floor and walking the two short steps to where Inquisitor Percivus sat. Opening her stiff fingers, she dropped the necklace and her precious rings into the empty box, staring directly into the Inquisitor’s eyes as she did.

The warm food on the table called out to her, but she refused to look at it as she instead focused all of her strength and the simmering hatred within her eyes on the man sitting calmly behind the table. He was playing a game with her life, and even now, he was smiling as if he was winning, but Jocelynn refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her defeated.

Instead, she reached out for the two warm containers, taking one in each hand, cradling them to their chest for warmth as she made her way back to the cot. And as she did, her mind spun forward, just as it had when she thought that she would be escaping through the countryside. She would find a way out of this nightmare... but first, she had to survive the Inquisitor, and if he truly intended to kill her, then she would resist him every step of the way.