#rollo flamm

Cat o’ nine tails. The weapon of torture lay neatly in your hands, and you nearly dropped it in your shock. It was coarse, firm, and slightly dirtied as if recently used. When you let go of it, the whip didn’t fall straight down. It fell to the side, attached to the belt at your hip. These were certainly not the dull prison attires you were forced into and this was not your prison cell. 

Extending down, down past your knees and near the floor was the garment you wore. It was an outdated thing, nearly entirely black with hints of red and pieces of bronze. It reminded you of priestly attires, but a bit more intricately decorated with puffed up sleeves that ended at your forearms and some sort of symbol of bronze over your torso. You knew it wasn’t some sort of sacred attire, as holy folk don’t casually carry instruments of torture. 

This only caused you further confusion, so you decided to lift your head and look around. It was dark, dim, the space you were in was grand and spacious, lit by candles and only slivers of sunlight pouring in through multicolored stained glass windows. It was a temple that most resembled a church, you realized. You had been in an unlit corner, but you were drawn out by the sight of the occasional person kneeling in silent prayer at the wooden pews and the scent of frankincense mixed in myrrh from passing monks with their gently swinging thuribles. 

You walked across the space, conscious of each and every step you made which seemed to echo far too loud. Normally, you would’ve gone up to someone, asked all the questions in your mind and demanded an answer. However, the space was too quiet, too reverent, it felt wrong to even speak too loudly. This meant all you could do was search for an answer. That’s when you heard bells, loud and many that seemed to shake the very rigid stone walls of the cathedral. In your curiosity, you wandered out past those towering wooden doors at the entrance, away from the stone and glass. A way out. For whom do those bells toll, you wonder. 

Before you could completely push those doors open, a shadowy figure shifted out of the corner of your eye. You turned, and saw for a split second a hunched figure lingering by the distant curved column of stone stairs before disappearing further up into the darkness.

Bells and a grand cathedral with a hunched figure… It sounded a lot like a story you heard once in which the protagonist was a disfigured individual who dwelled alone in the bell tower of a cathedral, where their only friends were the stone gargoyles perched atop the architecture. The antagonist was a religious zealot of a Justice Minister who acted as a guardian to the bell ringer, keeping him isolated by manipulation. That is until the bell ringer ventured out of his lonely tower and befriended one of the people the justice minister viewed as heretics in the population. Then the justice minister practically went mad trying to find them, even going so far as to imprison countless others and burn the city. 

But that was just a story. You nearly laughed at that brief second of paranoia that you felt. Pushing open the large wooden doors to slip outside into freedom, you were greeted by the familiar sensation of warm sunlight upon your skin and the breeze of fresh air. If there was a god, perhaps this was their way of apologizing for everything you had been put through. There was something else, or rather someone else, that greeted you outside the grand cathedral. It wiped that smile upon the taste of freedom, straight off your face. 

“My enforcer.” Soulless forest green eyes gazed directly into the depths of your soul, as if searching to claim yours. You nearly screamed as the stranger with a solemn expression appeared so close to you. That voice matched his expression, monotonous and detached. 

He practically looked like a ghost with those tired eyes and pale skin, not to mention that choppy gray hair. Whoever did his haircut was not granting him any favors, but at least his triangular shaped hat of black and purple managed to hide the white streaks in his hair. It wasn’t age that caused that white to appear, you could guess that much since he actually looked fairly young, it was probably stress. Although those black robes on his thin figure did nothing to revitalize his appearance, it just made him look like a walking phantom. 

That’s when you realized he looked an awful lot like the Justice Minister from the story. “Holy s––” Immediately you clasped your hands over your mouth as he narrowed his gaze. Technically you were still on the steps of the cathedral which was hallowed ground and if this man was like the Justice Minister at all, he frowned upon many things. He probably wouldn’t appreciate your choice of words. 

“Holy…” The man glanced at the cathedral that towered above them, it reached even the gray clouds hanging in the sky. “That’s right. Although I never took you devout sort, as you usually only devote yourself to seeing that the heathens shed their blood, sweat, and tears. So… what changed, I wonder?” 

You had the sinking feeling he was talking about something far more gruesome as his gaze momentarily went to the tool at your belt, and he stepped behind you with grace. “Me? What? Pfft, no! I was just… lost.” This man unsettled you, and you didn’t even want to ask the questions in your head.

“Lost?” He stopped beside you, briefly looking puzzled. Perhaps he had mistaken you for someone and had yet to realize you were not who he believed you were. Placing a cold hand on your shoulder, he assured, “My dear, you shall never be lost if you trust in my judgement. Have I ever led you astray?” His thin fingers trailed down to the strip of fabric around your neck like a scarf. 

You stood agape, fumbling for some sort of response. “Uh, no, technically no.” This man hadn’t led you anywhere since you did just meet him. So it wasn’t a lie.

This couldn’t be real, could it? It’s as if you fell smack in the middle of a story! If that was the case… This man dressed exactly like a certain infamous judge and if that hunched figure you saw moments ago was the protagonist, then what did that make you…? An executioner, tormenter, some other wicked evildoer? It was obvious enough that this man appeared to think you were someone who may have worked for him. What did he call you before? Enforcer? In the story, the judge was exceptionally cruel and often employed the help of brutish guards and vicious lackeys to do the dirty work like torture. But why? Why were you here? At first you thought it a blessing, but now as you stand before this judge, you realize how wrong you were. 

“Technically no.” Rollo hummed, nodding at your uncertain answer but it was satisfactory for now. “So tell me then, why do you come here and hide behind the cathedral’s walls? Is it perhaps to seek the light of a higher being in a desperate pursuit for forgiveness that would soothe any emerging traces of guilt burning at your conscience?” 

Your gaze began to drift away as it suddenly hit you. This was your punishment. Being here, taking the role of a lackey under the judge’s command, with your only hope being to survive to the end of the story. If you failed… well, you could easily be replaced, become like the people who were no doubt tortured at the hands of his men, or perhaps you would meet a fiery fate like he did in the end. No doubt he saw you as a pawn to be used and tossed aside when necessary. However, if you could somehow prove that you were far more valuable…

As soon as your gaze had turned away, his hand around the cloth by your collar slid upwards. His cold palm was flat against your chin, his even colder metal rings against your warm flesh as he forced your gaze back up to meet his own. “Well?” 

If all you had to do was play the role of a subordinate, then that was easy enough. You could act. All you could do was hope that he wouldn’t think you suspicious, as you had nothing to base your act on. Just improvise. “Of course not, my lord!” Your tone raised with bravado as you moved his hand away from your chin, and instead placed his knuckles to your head bowed in reverence. “Please, have mercy on me and my poor misguided soul. I was merely searching for a quiet place to rest my weary eyes!” The lie slipped out so easily. 

It must have worked, at least, that’s what you had to assume as the judge only looked down at you, unimpressed by your smile and attempt at charm. Even upon hearing the teasing hint in your voice, he wasn’t swayed. “Poor indeed, but not so misguided. Not under my careful vigilance.” 

You slowly lowered his hand once he seemed satisfied with your response, and you smiled despite the pit of fear in your stomach. There weren’t too many people out on this cloudy day, but those present kept a wide berth between themselves and the judge. Most opted to avoid him entirely by using different entrances to the temple as they whispered of Judge Rollo. So that was his name. Didn’t the judge in the original story commit the most heinous acts? There was the scene where he murder a woman in cold blood and was seconds away from drowning a baby in a freezing well after considering it to be an unholy demon that deserved to be sent back to hell. That was just in the first chapters you could remember. You were bad, yeah, but this man must have been downright evil.