The sight turns my stomach, but I force myself not to look away from this open wound of depravity. Let the images burn into my mind to stoke the flames of vengeance when the time comes.
At last, Chavo leads me to a sturdy-looking structure set apart from the rest - a combination dormitory and interrogation block by the look of it. He raps twice on the heavy wooden door with the pommel of his ornate sword.
"Enter," a gruff voice calls from within.
Chavo pushes through, motioning for me to follow. I find myself in a dimly lit anteroom housing a battered table and chairs. Shelves along one wall are crammed with ledgers, instruments of torture, and other grisly accoutrements.
A hulking brute of a man sits cleaning his nails with a wicked-looking skinning knife, studying us impassively as w
