Everything looked faint to Jonan as he was dragged by the bandits. After some time, he could see the hustle and bustle, as he could see from the corner of his eye that many of the bandits looked disheveled with rag-tag armor.
One of the bandits said, "This brat has been a lot of trouble for us these past few days, let's see what the boss will offer us for him, he's got some good quality weapons and gold coins, too.
Damn, this must be some rich brat."
"Don't even think about it," warned another bandit. "We'll have to offer everything to the boss. You remember what happened to the last guy who tried stealing from him, right? The one who got his skin flayed? Damn, that still gives me the creeps. So, don't do anything stupid."
One of the younger bandits among them said smugly, "Whatever, I was the one who discovered this brat, so I guess I will be getting the best reward out of all of you."
Listening to the younger bandit, made other bandits grit their teeth in jealousy and annoyance. Meanwhile, Jonan tried carefully to open his eyes. His hands and feet were tied down, leaving him unable to move. The bandits dragging him through the forest only made his wounds worse.
When they finally reached the bandit stronghold, Jonan saw two old men guarding the gate. The place looked run-down with broken walls, shabby huts scattered around, and an air of neglect everywhere.
They dragged him to the largest hut, where the bandit leader, Shakaan, resided. The other bandits feared him for his strength and savagery.
Inside the hut, Jonan was thrown roughly onto the floor. While it was easier to breathe, the pain from being dragged mercilessly along the way still throbbed in his body. He didn't show it, but his fury was building inside him.
Jonan was furious, not only at the bandits but also at himself. He could already imagine what his cohort must think of him for showing mercy to his enemies. Now, it had come back to bite him in the ass, he knew they were watching from the shadows, waiting for him to solve this problem on his own.
The issue was that Jonan didn't know how to get out of this situation. he was trapped at the heart of the bandit stronghold, surrounded by their members, and the leader Shakaan was no doubt a powerful man.
For now, Jonan decided to bide his time. When the right moment came, he would find his way out.
Shakaan was seated on a makeshift throne, one made of bamboo and wooden sticks. It wasn't much, but in this bandit camp, it was a symbol of fear and respect.
Shakaan was a burly man, his thick arms and legs bulging with muscle. A menacing scar marred his face, and his thick mustache framed a wicked sneer.
His eyes, cold and calculating, fixed on Jonan. With a sneer, he said, "So, this is the brat who's been causing all the trouble? And you've all brought quite a haul, I must say. I'm impressed. It's a rare treat to catch such a foolish kid from a rich household. If only this were an everyday thing... but alas, that's just a dream. Anyway, throw this one in the cell. Tonight, we celebrate."
"Yeahhhhh! Hurraaaahhhh! Yeeeheeeeeee!"
The bandits cheered in loud, reckless joy.
As Jonan was dragged toward his cell, he noticed the menacing grin on Shakaan, the bandit leader, when their eyes met.
A cold shudder ran through Jonan at the thought of what awaited him. He kept a sliver of hope, though, that his cohort would come to rescue him at the right moment. He found a bit of relief in that, but he had no idea when or even if they would even come to rescue him.
Once inside the cell, Jonan noticed that he wasn't alone. The cell was made of wood, flimsy and barely strong enough to hold anyone. Still, all of them were bound, unable to make any moves.
After a brief moment of rest, Jonan crawled into a corner, he didn't want to be out in the middle of the room, exposed for everyone to see him in such a pathetic state.
Once settled in the corner, he sat upright, his eyes scanning the other prisoners, in one corner, a chubby, disheveled man sat next to a small girl, the man's posture was tense, as though he was constantly on alert, keeping a close eye on everything around them, he was clearly very protective of the girl.
To Jonan's left was a disheveled old man who looked like a beggar, he was in the worst state of all the others; his lips were parched and dry, but they were also bleeding; his hands were raw and trembling with pain.
In the far corner, Jonan noticed three others, a middle-aged man and two teenagers around his age, a boy and a girl, they looked to be twins.
Jonan wanted to speak with them, to ask if any of them had a plan for escape, but his hands and feet were tied, his throat sore from everything that had happened, it was hard for him to even think straight, let alone speak.
Most of all, now that he was finally able to rest, his body was screaming in pain, he felt fatigue and weakness fall on him at the same time, he was in such agony for the first time.
With no strength left, all he could do now was just close his eyes and lie down sleeping.
It was only after he fell asleep that the others in the cell began to speak.
"Damn another young soul is caught by these mongrels, who knows what they might do with him," said the disheveled old man.
The middle-aged man nodded and said, "Yes, this boy looks too young to be here, and worst of all, his injuries are severe. If he were not treated fast, he might not survive. We have to find our way out of this anyhow."
"Uncle, he is good-looking. Maybe if we tell him our plan, he will also be able to help us," said the small girl.
"Keep Quiet," the chubby man snapped at the small girl beside him, glaring at her. He said, "We can't just trust this new guy out of nowhere. Who knows what kind of person he is? What if he turns on us or leaks our plan? I'm not taking that risk." Just the thought shuddered him.