One phrase was repeated among Samson and his workers as they walked through the camp gates.

I can't believe it worked.

They repeated it to each other in murmurs of disbelief.

"That was unbelievable, kid," praised one of the farmers.

"T-Thanks a lot," he replied, giggling nervously.

"I didn't think we would get in without using violence," the akajsi girl was honest.

The boy turned to watch her friend still with a nervous smile, "I didn't think it would work either. I didn't think, and it worked."

"And now?" asked the girl.

The boy smiled at his companion and Samson, "Now all that's left is to find out where Ruelle is."

Searching for the farmer's son would be difficult.

Samson was even amazed by that place. The place looked like a small fortification. It was clear that those bandits planned to make that place their home. Tents populated the area; dozens surrounded the enclosure up to the palisades. Further, into the site, dozens of men could be seen working on the foundations of what would become a building. None seemed to want to be there, and the group soon realized they were forced to work there. Blacksmiths were forced to work in the forges, and if one wished to stop, he was pushed and beaten.

The marked boy watched in disbelief at what was happening, his hands trembling on the reins of his horse.

"This place is..." said the akajsi girl.

"H-Horrible..." exclaimed the boy.

"I don't know where to start," said Samson, seeing everywhere and trying to find his son.

"Didn't you say you've been here before?" asked the boy.

Samson explained, "The last time I was here was several months ago. Then, there were barely a couple of logs in the stockade, and there were maybe twice as many tents. The forge and the watchtowers are new."

Samson pointed to the back of the camp; two towers from a quartet of men watched around with bows in hand at the far end.

"They did this in such a short time. Wow..."

"Why did you stop coming?" the akajsi girl asked the farmer.

Samson turned to the girl, confused by that question.

"Well, after a while, they told me that only my son and one of the men who work for me should come."

"Ah, I see."

The girl reached a point that apparently no one had noticed. She sighed in annoyance at being perhaps the only one who understood that.

"If you don't pay, your son would be the payment for them."

Samson widened his eyes in fear, "Oh, by Lithal..."

The man clenched his fists and gritted his teeth at not having realized that.

The marked boy looked at Samson and rested his hand on the guy's arm to get his attention. The huge reddish-bearded fellow turned to him.

"D-Don't worry, Samson. Ruelle will be home safe and sound."

The smile and confidence in the boy's eyes returned and made the lump forming in the farmer's throat loosen. Nevertheless, he could only nod at those words.

"Now, where will he be...?"

"Where is who?"

The voice of a nosy person in the group was heard to their side. That person soon went ahead of them to where the marked boy was.

The horses came to an abrupt halt, and the boy saw this shaggy, rangy bandit stagger to stand in front of them.

The man had long black hair, dirty perhaps for how long, and a scruffy beard. However, with a bottle in hand, he seemed to become friends with anyone in no time. Or at least, that thief thought so.

"Come on, tell me, it'll be a secret, kid," the man said, staggering as he put an arm around the marked boy.

The boy was clearly feeling the awful smell of alcohol and filth that the drunken man was giving off.

"T-To a friend," the boy tried to say without sounding rude. But instead, he slowly brought his hand to the man's arm and tried to pull the man's arm away from him.

"Oh!" exclaimed the man in amazement. "look at that! What a good drawing!" the bandit smiled with rotten teeth and took the boy's hand, observing the mark, "In what port did you get that?" asked the man.

"In none," said the boy awkwardly.

"Come on, you don't have to be embarrassed by such things," the fellow jokingly. Then, to the boy's delight, he stepped out of his presence, "A good drawing, worthy of a good tattoo artist..."

Staggering, he soon went after the boy and headed towards the akajsi girl's horse.

"Oh! Look!" said the drunken bandit, trying to take the hand of the girl on horseback.

The man could never take the akajsi's hand because she directed her feet to his nose when he tried to do so.

The man let out a scream and fell to the ground, and then several bandits saw him there, trying to understand what had happened.

Several bandits looked annoyed at the akajsi girl, ready to knock her off her horse at sword point. But, despite her state of health, she was not intimidated and returned the look.

However, the drunken thief could sit down on the muddy ground and take a deep swig from his bottle.

"Come on, now..." whispered the marked boy, tugging on the reins of his companion's horse.

Slowly, the horses moved forward again, and the situation remained only a couple of dagger glances and little else.

Or at least, that's what it looked like.

As the guards told them, their leader was found in the center of the fortification, where the buildings were. Then, however, their path was truncated again when some men came toward them with spears and swords. The horses had to stop abruptly for it, whinnying and stamping their feet on the ground.

"Who let them in?" asked one of them, pointing at the marked boy with his spear.

"Easy, this is not necessary..." said the boy while raising his hands.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" the man smirked even more.

The marked boy turned his look towards his group, the bandits outnumbered them, and the concern on the face of Samson and his farmers was evident. The girl watched one of them out of the corner of her eye, ready to give another of those bandits a punch in the face again.

"Easy," the boy insisted, turning his gaze back to the bandit, "I came to talk to Feber. That was his name, correct?"

The boy turned to Samson, feigning unconcern.

"Yes, that's right." the big guy said with a nod.

"I just want to talk to him about some business..."

The boy lowered his hand to the end of that bandit's spear, leaving his mark visible before that man.

The thief evidently saw the mark and opened his eyes at that.

"Wow, so you make deals with demons," the bandit exclaimed contemptuously, watching the farmers, "we don't ask for your souls in exchange for your cooperation."

"Hey, talk to me," the boy caught the man's attention, "Where's Feber?"

That thief and his companions doubted what was going on. A couple of farmers hired a group of corrupted creatures?

The situation was strange.

"I'm getting impatient..." said the marked boy. A look of annoyance and anger formed on his face, his hazel eyes locked on that man, waiting for an answer.

The boy felt the man's hands tremble, and the grip on the gun seemed to waver.

"Berne, go get the boss," the bandit ordered one of his companions.

"What, no, are you crazy?"

"I said go get him!" shouted that man in desperation. It was his first time in front of a marked one, and if all the stories were true, he wanted to stay away from that affair.

After glancing at the group of visitors, the thief sheathed his sword and hurried after his boss.

After a few minutes, the thief himself returned to the group.

"The boss wants to see you, you, " he said as he caught his breath. Then, he points to the marked boy.

"What? Only him?" asked Samson.

"You all can go with him, but he just wants to talk to the boy."

The boy turned to Samson and his companion with incredulous eyes. Then, the bandit group led the visitors to the center of the camp. In a more minor camp of much better equipped and decorated tents, the chief of the Black Rats was located.

"Ruelle!" shouted Samson in despair.

"Shut up!" shouted one of the bandits menacingly as the farmer tried to get off his horse, pointing a crossbow at the man.

The marked boy turned his eye to where Samson could see and found him there. Ruelle and a group of young men have tied to wooden posts a short distance from the central camp. Bruised and blindfolded, the boy heard his father's voice but was soon silenced by his jailer with a blow.

"No!" cried the farmer.

"If you get off, we'll kill him," the bandit shouted.

"Oh, really?" said a low, menacing voice.

Approaching them came a man to greet them. The bandit was tall, much taller than Samson, and he looked much more intimidating with that black leather armor adorned with pouches and knives.

"Feber, I didn't mean to..."

"It's not smart to make threats to someone who hired the services of a marked one," the man argued, eyeing the dark-skinned boy. However, his eye soon moved up to the Akajsi girl,

"Oh, the service of two of them..."

The girl watched him coolly, clutching her marked hand to her horse's mane.

With a gesture, the guards accompanying them put away their weapons and took several steps back.

"So, a marked one..." began Feber, who soon caught sight of Samson, "you are either a fool or desperate to do this. Do you think it was a joke when we said there would be reprisals if you don't pay on time?"

"Please, Feber..." pleaded Samson.

"Did you pay the rest you owe us to these guys?" he asked with a smirk.

"Hey," caught the marked boy's eye, "I thought you wanted to talk to me. Here I am."

The man lowered his eye to the boy, who was at least a couple of heads taller than him.

"Ah, right. I forgot you were there," Feber looked mischievously at the boy and fixed his eyes.

The boy's stare was serene. But, more inwardly, he had significant doubt about it all.

"What do you want?" asked Feber.

"I think it's obvious."

"Yes. The big boy, isn't it?"

"Let him go, now."

The man leaned over the boy, taking a closer look. The man's black eyes looked dead, something that made the boy tremble slightly on his own feet.

"That would ruin my business, boy," the man indicated, "my word would be worth as much as horse shit. So when we came here, with nothing but our hands, we were clear with all the farmers, traders, and workers, 'funds or consequences.' I think I was clear enough, and I didn't have to do much to get them to start cooperating."

The boy frowned at the man's words.

Feber smiled and continued.

"But of course, then along comes a farmer with a couple of marked ones to impose himself on us," the man grimaced in mock frustration, "I guess this day would come. But, you know, it's been a while since I've seen one of your kind," Feber pointed out, pointing his finger at the mark on the boy's hand. "The last time I saw one of you, it was on the battlefield a few years back, against the kingdom of Soramel."

"You must have fought well," the boy said, grimacing mockingly to reinforce that role he was trying to follow.

The man stifled a chuckle and looked at the boy again. In his head, there was a machination for that moment.

After a few moments, Feber decided, "Fine, you can take him..."

Samson's eyes sparkled at those words, the boy remained composed, but inside, there was great joy in knowing that his ruse had worked.

"But I will if you do it in exchange for a 'four corner duel.'"

The face of Samson and his men paled as the akajsi girl looked at them quizzically. The boy was no slouch in his confusion either.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Feber, there has to be another way," Samson pleaded.

"The duel, or nothing. It's my final offer," the man smiled coaxingly, "Three of my men against you. If you beat all three, I'll accept."

"He has the right to choose his opponents," Samson pointed out.

"He could, only if he were a human. Not a marked one," replied Feber, smiling.

"That's not...!"

"I accept." sealed the boy marking his fate with those words without hesitation.

Samson was speechless.

"Very well..." Feber turned around. Then, after squealing to one of his colleagues, the latter went to the highest part of the construction.

"Boy, you don't know what you've gotten yourself into..." said Samson, pale.

"Don't worry, Samson. I'm not going to lose..." the boy smiled and turned to him, "Ruelle will be coming home with you."

"B-But you don't understand!" the man shouted tremblingly.

"All right, get back!" called one of the bandits, taking the reins of Samson's horse. Then others did the same with the others, including the akajsi girl. Rather than a permissive gesture, she was busy, trying to discern what would happen.

After a few moments, the thunderous sound of a horn was heard throughout the camp, and it was then that at least half the base moved toward the spot.

"Down, now!" shouted one of the bandits, "No one can be mounted."

"Dare touch me," spat the girl, threatening to brandish her knife.

"G-Girl, get off, listen to him," said Samson fearfully, "Your friend got into something very dangerous..."

The elf girl watched the farmer, who wore a face of fear.

Then, after a few moments, a circle of men ready to watch the fight began to shout expectantly. The boy watched everyone around him and began to doubt whether that had been a good idea. He should have been more cautious. At least he should have taken the mace his horse was carrying. But instead, he was unarmed, and when he saw the front, he knew it would be difficult.

Feber was sent into the fighting circle that had formed three men. Two of them wore heavy chain mail armor and plates from the many fights they had been in. The third was different; thinner and without good armor, he was the man who had threatened them a few moments ago and whom Feber ordered to be quiet with a look and calm words.

From a higher vantage point, Feber watched the boy with a smirk, "Here's your four corners duel, boy. Three of my men against a marked one," the man smiled and soon spoke to his men, "My people! In keeping with our traditions, the boy agreed to a four-corner match, so he shall have it."

Confused by the number of people, the boy did not understand what was happening. Worse, he soon saw that one of them was coming toward him. The two men with better armor remained behind, for it was one of them who almost threw that almost unarmed bandit into the jaws of the marketplace.

With trembling legs and a charging cry that denoted his fear, the man charged at the marked boy.

He saw him coming in his direction. With a frantic heart but with a steady and concentrated mind, he stared at the oncoming man with a spear in hand.

"Oh, it has begun!" cried Samson from the audience.

The akajsi girl couldn't see because people were piling up in front of them quickly. She couldn't stand up well and held on to her animal's mane.

"Hey, get off!" she threatened.

She was weak and held on to her horse's saddle to stay on her feet.

Someone saw that and took the opportunity to go after her. Holding her while covering her mouth, the person moved away from there. The girl opened her eyes and began to kick. Then, with a scream drowned out by the voices of the bandits and almost unconscious complicity, she saw how she was carried away by that sea of thieves.

When the boy finally had that man near, the voices in his head and visions returned to him. Then, with a swift movement of feet and hands, he slid down the man's side and swiftly and dryly struck the bandit in the face; holding the spear, he wrenched it from his hands as the thief fell to the ground.

Even though they had knocked down one of their own, the bandits cheered for the boy. They all wanted to see that fight, whoever won. The man held his bleeding nose and writhed on the ground in pain. The boy watched him but turned around, confusing the bandit's companions.

"Come on, with the spear!" shouted some.

The boy turned his look to Feber.

The man grinned mischievously, "You must kill him, boy. So the tradition dictates; 'After a defeat, blood must flow.'"

"What?" he exclaimed incredulously. The boy was not going to kill anyone, had no plans to do so, and soon went into denial, "I don't plan to kill him!" he shouted loudly for the audience and Feber.

Upon his refusal, the boy snapped the spear in two.

A brief silence, followed by shouts from the thieves, flooded the boy's ears.

Feber calmed the masses with several hand gestures, then signaled a group to make room for another show.

The boy turned his gaze to where the bandits were moving away; there were the prisoners. There was Ruelle.

The boy looked and asked, "What are you...?"

Feber gestured, and it was as the scarred boy saw one of the jailers, ax in hand, raise it against the neck of one of the prisoners.

"No!" cried the boy in vain.

The blade fell, and one of the prisoners was decapitated.