Empire Ascension: The Rise of the Fated One-Chapter 175: Hidden Truths

Pakistan sultanate, Dungeon of Lahore fort, 31 march 1557.

’Splash!’

"Ha! Huf... Huff!" Shahrokh gasped, jerking awake as cold water splashed across his face. His vision swam in the dim light, only able to make out the flickering shadows of torch flames far in the distance. Two figures loomed before him, but his sight remained blurry.

He instinctively tried to rub his eyes but quickly realized his hands were bound. The rough weight of shackles tightened around his wrists, neck, and legs. Taking slow, deep breaths, he forced himself to calm down. As the haze gradually lifted, his surroundings came into focus.

Standing in front of him was Bairam Khan, stroking his pointed beard. His bald head gleamed under the faint light. Beside him, a masked figure dressed in dark clothing remained still.

Shahrokh’s heart sank. He was chained inside some hidden dungeon, most likely deep underground, where time didn’t matter. The last thing he remembered was enjoying the company of two alluring dancers. Then everything spiraled, the world turning dark before he woke up in this miserable place.

"Hope you enjoyed the gifts. They were the finest quality," Bairam Khan said with a sly grin.

Shahrokh’s eyes narrowed, rage flickering in his gaze. "You despicable bastard! Release me at once!"

He clutched his chest dramatically. "Oh, Shahrokh, this wounds me. I personally selected those gifts for you, and this is how you repay me? I trust they were... to your liking? Or is this fury because of your own poor performance?"

Shahrokh strained against the chains, the metallic clank echoing through the cell. Gritting his teeth, he growled, "You’ll regret this, Bairam Khan. Persia’s wrath will descend upon you like a storm, and your pathetic sultanate will be wiped from existence."

’Bam!’

Shahrokh’s words were abruptly silenced by a punch to his gut. Kasim, the masked figure, struck with ruthless precision. Shahrokh doubled over, coughing violently as blood dripped from his lips. Bairam Khan raised a hand, signaling Kasim to step back. Seizing the moment, Shahrokh gasped for air, his glare sharp with defiance despite the pain.

Bairam Khan smiled coldly. "Is that what your ’joint patrol’ was about? A prelude to war?"

Shahrokh’s gaze remained defiant. "We came in peace, you fool! Diplomats, sent to maintain balance between our sultanate. And this is how you treat an emissary? You’re begging for war."

Bairam Khan chuckled, seemingly amused by the threat. "Begging for war?" he mused. "We have our reasons for suspicion, Shahrokh. Don’t waste my time. Tell me what you’re hiding."

Shahrokh spat in response, his voice cold. "That’s all you’re getting."

Bairam Khan casually wiped the spit from his cheek, his smile unbroken. Turning to a table in the center of the cell, he opened a small box to reveal a collection of cruel instruments. Picking up a pair of pliers, he examined them with feigned thoughtfulness. "You see, we don’t need to do this, Shahrokh. Give me the information I seek, and I can set you free. No need for unnecessary pain."

Shahrokh’s lips curled into a sneer. "We both know I won’t leave this place alive. Kill me if you must, but you’ll get nothing from me. My men will have their vengeance."

Bairam Khan mocked ,"If only your men had any evidence to back your threats."

He took one of Shahrokh’s hands and gripped a nail with the pliers. With a sadistic smile, he yanked it off, tearing it from the skin.

A sharp, searing jolt of pain shot through Shahrokh’s hand, but he gritted his teeth, refusing to give Bairam the satisfaction of hearing him scream. One by one, Bairam Khan tore the nails from his fingers, the agony growing with each violent pull. Still, Shahrokh held firm, bloodshot eyes locked on his captor.

Bairam Khan clicked his tongue in mock disappointment. "You’re a stubborn one. You know, we’re both men of faith. You could just tell me what I want, and die with dignity. Why endure this?"

Shahrokh retorted, "Betray my Shah? Don’t make me laugh. I may have done many wrong things in my life, but I am a proud Persian and loyal to the throne."

Bairam Khan arched an eyebrow, amused by his prisoner’s resolve. "Playing the martyr, I see. But I know your sins, Shahrokh. You and I are more alike than you care to admit."

He clapped his hands, and from the shadows, a woman stepped forward. Shahrokh’s eyes widened in shock as she approached, her face veiled but unmistakable.

"Nagma..." Shahrokh muttered under his breath, horror creeping into his voice.

Shahrokh’s eyes widened in shock as he connected the dots. He realized why Bairam Khan had targeted him. Nagma had once been a dancer in Persia, admired for her beauty. Prince Ismail had offered her a night with him, which she had refused. Driven by his ego, the prince had raped her for a week while her family was executed, then passed her around to his friends before abandoning her to a servant. Shahrokh had been part of this corruption, and it was during Prince Ismail’s captivity that Nagma had seen their true, predatory and power hungry nature. He cursed himself for letting his guard down and wondered if Nagma had incited Bairam Khan to kidnap him.

He glared at Nagma. "So, it was you who betrayed us to the Mughals. You should have drowned in the sea out of shame."

Nagma’s eyes blazed with fury. "Shame? For being raped by your precious prince? For losing my family? Or because I survived only to be sold to a slave trader instead of being thrown to the fishes? You and your prince should be ashamed of your very existence."

Shahrokh sneered, "You should be honored to have been with the prince. It’s a rare privilege, one that comes once in a millennium, and yet you refused. If he had desired a concubine, I would have gladly offered my own daughter." He said with pride .

Crack!

Bairam Khan’s fist collided with Shahrokh’s face, blood spraying from his mouth. "She is my property, and I’ll break every bone in your body for insulting my possession."

Blow after blow rained down on Shahrokh, his joints snapping under the force of Bairam’s strikes. His body was a broken mess, yet he grinned, blood-stained teeth bared in defiance.

Exhausted, Bairam turned to Nagma. "I’ve kept my first promise . Make him suffer."

Nagma approached, her voice cold and filled with venom. "Thank you hazur, I’ll show him the meaning of pain."

"Aaaaarrrrggh!"

With a knife in hand, she twisted it into Shahrokh’s thighs, eliciting a scream that echoed in the dungeon’s stone walls. Again and again, she stabbed, her rage pouring into each strike. Shahrokh’s will was fading, but he held on.

Bairam Khan glanced at Kasim. "Bring the hakim. We’ll need him to keep this one alive a little longer."

Kasim nodded. "Yes, Hazur."

Bairam Khan smirked, "Now, Nagma, You can go all out."

The dungeon filled with the sound of Shahrokh’s tortured cries, each more harrowing than the last. His body was pushed beyond its limits, the physical and mental agony unbearable.

Shahrokh’s body was a twisted mess, every joint aching in protest, his senses dulled by four hours of relentless torment, had left him barely conscious. His eyes were gouged out, his body stabbed and roughly sewed. For worse hot water mixed with salt was threw, at that time he couldn’t control and finally broke.

Through his fractured state, he revealed, "The Safavids... they plan to plant spies... contact an insider... who I don’t know... and wage war on the Mughals..."

Bairam Khan leaned in closer, pressing for more. "And the joint patrol? What was its real purpose?"

Shahrokh gasped through his pain, he uttered each word through laborious effort. "The patrol... was a cover... to scout territories... gather intelligence... their real aim... is Balochistan..."

Bairam Khan’s expression darkened. "Balochistan? But why balochistan? that’s an arid land with not much use."

Shahrokh’s voice was barely a whisper now. "Balochistan... they see it as the key... to further incursions... an advantageous position... " he pleaded ,"Now... kill me."

With the crucial information finally extracted, Bairam Khan stepped back, his expression a mix of grim satisfaction and cold resolve. He turned to Kasim, whose hands were smeared with Shahrokh’s blood.

"I want you to find out who the insider is," Bairam Khan said, his voice steely. "Moles are more dangerous than foreign invaders."

Kasim bowed deeply. "Will be done, Hazur."

Bairam Khan’s gaze returned to Shahrokh, a sinister smile playing on his lips. "Well done, Shahrokh. It seems you’ve finally proven useful. I will honor my promise."

He signaled to Nagma, who approached Shahrokh’s with grim satisfaction and slit his throat to free him from the suffering.

As they exited the cell, Nagma asked, "Hazur, even if they don’t have evidence, they could still accuse us of the attack since it occurred on our soil."

Bairam Khan, leading the way, responded with a dismissive wave. "No, they won’t. They’ll be occupied with the intelligence we provide from the patrol. They’ll send another diplomat to discuss further actions. Their real target is Balochistan."

Nagma considered this for a moment before asking, "Then won’t we do anything about it?"

Bairam Khan’s eyes glinted with greed as he replied, "No need. We’ll seize Balochistan before they get the chance."