When Marion slowly came to, he found two unfamiliar men's faces in front of him, their eyes fixed intently on him.
"Ah, this guy's awake."
"He got lucky. The lead ball that hit his shoulder didn't shatter the bone, and the stray arrow that hit his head only grazed his temple. It didn't go through his skull."
Marion instinctively looked down at his chest. His clothes had been stripped off, leaving only layers of bloodstained bandages wrapped around his left shoulder. His forehead throbbed with pain, too.
Were these two talking about him?
Marion instinctively tried to raise a hand to his head, only to find that his hands wouldn't move behind his back. They seemed to be tied with rope.
Only then did Marion realize he was sitting in a chair, his hands bound behind him and his feet tied together. He couldn't break free.
Marion was certain he had been captured. Did that mean these two men in front of him were enemies?
"What's your name?"
One of them asked the question.
Marion said nothing. His thin lips were pressed tightly together, and hatred shone in his blue eyes.
The two men immediately realized that questioning him like this wouldn't work. They stepped a little farther away and huddled together, whispering what they assumed Marion couldn't hear.
"What do we do?"
"I don't know either. This isn't going to work... I think we've gotten ourselves into trouble."
"It's fine. I have a way to make him talk."
With that, one of them turned, pushed aside the tent flap, and left. The other stayed where he was.
Marion took the opportunity to look around the tent. One glance was enough to tell him there was nothing worth examining... This was his own tent.
After attacking him, these bastards had