I nodded at a farmer on a wagon with rough, woven fabric tossed over the back. His donkey took each step forward as if it had no plans to make it anywhere before sundown. The farmer tilted his brim hat at me and continued rocking with the wagon. A stalk of something in his mouth and the old man humming some song.

The stone wall that towers over the golden heads looked no more than a brief walk. Yet, the sounds of bows releasing arrows brought fear to my heart. I tossed my back to my left, unsheathe my sword, and then used it to form a sphere barrier that blocked out the arrows that formed a gloomy cloud.

The second wave came before I could even retreat. The poor old man laid buried under the merciless arrows. Men in black, scaled armor ran out of the golden heads, spears thrusting at me from all angles.

Did they think trapping a lone wolf would be an easy kill? Must not have ever hunted a cunning sea wolf!

My illusory wolves dashed from my sword tip and broke through a wall of spears. I dove in their midst and guided them to the lethality of a wolf that is filled with fear but a thirst to live.

It became impossible to tell when the first spray of blood blurred my vision or made my nose burn. But everybody knew the moment my boots began to slip on broken armor that failed to protect their masters. I lost count of the men I downed but I counted every cut they gave me. I made it a point to return every cut with two deaths of their own men until they left me in a circle. Somewhere, I began to give less deaths than cuts but more fear than deaths.

Like--why are we in a lull?

Lay low to the ground, my arms limped with my sword and scabbard drenched in blood. Chipped but still managed to snag flesh, stretches of cloth, and what looked to be some hair strands from the scalp. Yet, they looked at me as if I was a wild beast. Maybe, I was but it was they who brought it out of me. I watched these cowards tremble with their swords held aloft, the tip pointed downwards. Could they be trying to wait out my adrenaline?

But they were just giving me more time to recover to resume my wolf spirits.

A man walked out through the crowd with a smirk. A stalk between his lips and a scar on his forehead. “Young man,” he said in a smooth voice. “Can you understand me?”

In a blink of an eye, he had me pinned to the bed of wheat. A look of amusement colored his eyes.

“Do you understand me,” he asked for the second time.

With nothing else to offer in terms of resistances, I nod my head.

“Good, surrender to me and you can live. You understand what will happen if you don’t.”

I closed my eyes and then nodded my head. This guy was old and would die before I would. His scions would not be able to hold me back in the least. With his death, comes the death of his family and my freedom.

“I like your tenacity but don’t worry--” He stood up and smiled down at me. “I’ll teach you how to be civilized.”

***

A blurry, red light fell into focus before the feelings of chains wrapped around my arms. I shook my sore neck and looked into the storm, cloud eyes of my captor. That forehead scar laughed at me or at least it looked as if it was laughing with the way it moved along with the chewing.

“Oh,” the captor said, standing up from his chair. “So glad you are awake.” He put down wood carving that was half formed into a lady. “I just wanted to start off by saying that I admire your courage. I could really feel the calm rage rolling off you.” He bounced his arms twice as if to place emphasis on something. “I’m sure you know that, we--” He gestured at himself and the two men and little lady standing behind him. “I think your people call us flatlanders which is accurate and fair. We do live in a relative flatland.”

I licked my dry lips and turned away from this talkative man. Sounded like a nagging baka that had nothing better to do. I wouldn’t stop him from beating me with time. He didn’t have it but I was just hanging. Nothing better to do than watching him chew whatever that was like his lips couldn’t fully meet this century.

One of the other men was tall and straight, he held the subservient frame of mind like a badge of honor and you could tell at a glance. His hair didn’t have a strand out of place, slick back, and shining black even in this terrible light. I have never seen anyone with such a clean and sharp face. He must cut steak with his chin.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Tsk, he didn’t matter.

The other man looked like a soldier. Gruff beard and he couldn’t stop chewing on pieces of jerky while watching me with the kind of alertness that didn’t exist in the other man. I moved on past him to the mala. Her eyes held a curious glint. Her lips almost twitched non-stop as if she was annoyed at the talkative guy but also amused. Her body profile made me think about those two malas that look more like my big brother than me little brother.

But this girl was an oar and her lower body was the paddy. She was a good distraction though. Pretty green eyes and crazy, red hair unlike the other three men.

“I want you to work for my family but that doesn’t mean I mind if you act rebellious.” He grabbed my chin and pulled my attention back to him. “I can’t stand disobedience and I believe that I should show it first and foremost, right?” He let go of my chin and turned to the soldier. “Teach him what the price of disobediences is.”

The soldier cracked a smile and unwrapped a whip from his arm. He snapped it and must have assumed that I would flinch at the sound but, I have been whipped before. I wasn’t a flatlander that didn’t know the feeling of a good strap.

The first strike came with a blinding pain that radiates down my chest. The second and third followed so fast that I couldn’t even keep count after that. Yet, I looked down at my chest and back up at the fool with a smirk I knew must have slipped on. Because the guy's eyes narrowed and the laugh lines disappeared. The strikes came faster but soon he must have hit the limit because the man grabbed his shoulder.

“As I have said, very courageous but as long as you obey. We won’t have to see how far your pain tolerance can hold you.” The man waved at the sharp-faced man. “Let him down and get him some food.”

My captor left with the girl who was looking at me with the kind of desire that I have seen men reserved for women who sold their bodies. That left a far greater chill in my body than this fool’s glare. Yet, I didn’t do anything when they untied me but landed on my feet. The sharp-faced man studied me and my dripping chest. He said nothing about patching me up but made a sharp turn. He motioned for me to follow him and saunter out with crisps steps that made me think of the war drums.

I stumbled the first three steps and then the numbness slipped away. The sharp man walked slowly for me, right out the cell into a long corridor lit by floating lanterns shaped like beasts heads with glowing eyes and opened mauls. It was a weird thing to do as if they often show off their dungeons and prisoners. Some of the guys looked as if they were festering sand bags, with dirty moss covering a part of them.

“They are enemies of the Duke but you don’t have to worry.” The sharp man looked at me while leading me up a set of stone stairs tucked into a corner while the hallway still continued on for a good while. “He values your talent and recklessness.”

Recklessness? How was I supposed to know you bastards marched several days' journey by river to attack a remote town of hunters? Most people wouldn’t even bother crossing a bloody mountain range just to wage war on a tiny town.

Big men you lot are!

“What stage are your parents at,” the servant asked.

“Hunter,” I replied.

The way he looked at me as if I was spoiling for a beating. I cracked a smile through the pain of having dry lips and parched mouth. His eyes narrowed and he turned around to continue up the stairs.

“Do you not have levels or the name is just purely Hunter?” His voice was a tad less welcoming this time.

“Yes, hunter.”

“Are you speaking like that to annoy me or what?”

“Speak how?”

“Like that? Did they not teach you the common tongue?”

“Yes.”

He paused at the top of the stairs once again. Highlighted by the brighter light that looks more like sunlight pouring down instead of the lanterns that I had a clear sight of. His jaws shifted and then he spun around and marched through.

“I will have a tutor teach you common tongue amongst proper etiquette. Cannot be seen with a lowly animal.” His lips pulled up into a smile but his scorn looked more like he was constipated.

“Sure.” I shrugged and looked around this much more appealing room. It was a wide area without a trace of the filth or iron bars that existed below. Colorful plants released a fragrant aroma that carried caring fairies on its tail.

The Servant brought me out of the prison and into the sunlight that didn’t sting like I thought it would. Guess that is why they had such a drastic shift in the decor and lightening of the room. I half expected to be in some outpost in some forest. This--was a bit of a difference.

Through the gap of people, I could spot large walls that blocked off the compound. Further back, some buildings peaked over the wall but on this street, here. People in colorful attire were going from stall to store. None of them looked at me with my chest bare and bloodied as if it wasn’t anything abnormal.

These weren’t hardened men but ladies in street gowns and riding pants. Some out with littles ones that they held by their tiny paws. Boys buying a single flower to hand it off to a blushing maiden.

Guess we weren't a civilized nation anymore.

I was led right through the crowd to a small building on the outskirts of the compound. There was nothing but trees and a nice pathway carved from stone. The man pushed open the curtain and waved for me to go in. If not for the smell of food, I might have thought I was about to be killed.

“Everything you need to recover is in there.” The Servant waved at the limited accommodations. “We will bring you your assignment in the coming days. Just wait and rest.”

Stepping into the room, my eyes landed on the big pot with a ladle sticking out. It is set into the ground surrounded by white stones and a bedding of ashes. In a corner was a small sleeping roll and at the foot, the bag I packed along with my weapons. I sighed, and fixed a bowl before settling down on the hard floor.

Life of a prisoner.

The first tears in days fell into my bowl.