The man wheezed, his head sagging against the scarred wood of the table, as the steady, drip-drip-drip of something splashing onto the stone floor echoed in the quiet cellar.
Hypathio's hand, which had been gripping the merchant's left arm like an iron vice, let go at Laedio's brief nod. The prisoner's wet, tear-streaked eyes rose to meet the commander's own. He trembled violently as Laedio's fingers idly drifted over to touch the merchant's manicured hand.
