“It wasn’t hard to decipher your identity, nor find others who recognized you, Coin. You’re not a businessman. You’re not a noble or a merchant. Your real name is Hozier Frommeson, some out-of-work actor. Do not try to convince me you are somehow the secret wealthy backer funding the insurgence.”

“Then I won’t tell you that,” Hozier said. “I’ll let the others tell you instead.”

Magus smacked his knuckles across the man’s mouth. Blood splattered across the front of his armor. His temper flaring, the Imperator grabbed Hozier by the front of his shirt and pulled him as close as the wall manacles allowed.

“Do you think this some sort of game?” he asked. “I can bind you here for a thousand days, chained perfectly still as your muscles atrophy and sores eat away at your skin. Your hair will wither, and your teeth will rot and fall from your mouth. You’ll suffer, and cry, and beg for death as the pain grows so great, you’ll fantasize about being able to stand up and stretch your poor, bent back. But you won’t have that. You’ll shit yourself, and you’ll piss in a puddle directly in front of you so often, its smell will be all you know. That is the power I have over you. Think on that before you deign to mock my questions.”

Instead of retreating, the older man leaned closer. A smile tugged at the edges of his lips, as if he were direly amused by his predicament.

“A thousand days of suffering, you threaten me with. But it has been a thousand three hundred and twenty since one of your soldiers shoved a sword into my wife’s stomach for the terrible crime of publicly praying to Endarius. Your threats mean nothing. They never will. They are the pale curses of a man doomed to spend eternity in the Heldeep.”

“Shall I show you how cruel those curses might be?” Magus said. He smashed the man’s head against the wall with a satisfying crack, but he waged a losing battle. Hozier may not be the true Coin, but Magus could tell why others believed him. His devotion was unshakable. The way he conveyed his rage was masterful, even as his head rocked side to side from the pain.

“A thousand, thousand years may pass, and they will be but the blink of an eye in the lands beyond. I will not forsake the future awaiting me, nor will I tremble in fear of pain that cannot surpass the hurt you have already given me. My wife awaits. So does my death. Who are you, Imperator, in the face of either?”

Magus almost killed him. Almost.